airport.

Brand

17|128.12.162.37

Wed 11:52PM CST
Mercedes-Benz.

Blood of the ages, tradition of the ancients - but not so backwards as to not realize the benefits of modern living. The impressive CL-class (silver, of course.) slides through the sparse late-night traffic, turns off the exit to Chicago O'Hare and glides beneath rows of amber lights. Signs flash by overhead, lit up and levitated against the darkness of the sky. United. American. Lufthansa - the same airline they arrived by not three days ago.

Turn right.

In the car trip Brand has said little. In fact, he said little all day, ever since he ripped open the thin overnight DHL package and read the brief note inside. His packmate can sense the turmoil inside the cool and collected shell, though: a curious warring between near-ecstatic anticipation and thunderous fury.

"God damned American drivers," Brand murmurs as he gets stuck behind a row of minivans and sedans waiting to pick up mothers, daughters, fathers, brothers, lovers, cousins... there's no accent in his voice, a low thick rumble. He's a powerfully built man, almost burly, with the somewhat darker complexion and coloration of a lowland German rather than the ice-and-pale of the nordlanders. Even so, with the pure breed, the carriage, the simple presence he casts, it's impossible to mistake him for anything but royalty descended to the masses. An impatience suddenly flashes like ice freezing in an instant and he parks roughly, stabbing the nose of the car between an SUV and a taxi trying to depart. The taxi honks complaint. Brand ignores it utterly, doesn't even seem to hear it at all, and pulls up the handbrake. Kills the ignition.

Exhales. Glances at Jaan, grins suddenly ("Well, let's go then."), gets out of the car and suddenly seems to tower head and shoulders above the faceless masses.

Behold the kings of old.


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Wed 11:57PM CST
Rafe rides along. Having arrived int he Vanguard of the pack he'd been here a day or two. Looking out the window of the car as they drive. Noting the difference of the land here.
Reclined in the seat he relaxes.

He was halfmoon. And there fore rode his rage well. He felts the alpha's anger but he let it wash over and though him. leaving only his own mind there in the wake.

He even has a bit of a smile for his alpha's less than social driving skills.

Once they were parked he pops the handel of the car and slips out too.

Not a small man he carrys himself with that same carriage fo those whom ruled before.
Speaking in German to ally the anger of the Alpha a bit he falls into step. The long coat he wears taylored to a european cut, much like the clothes beneith* They do seem to be a bit laxidasial about their destination don't they?

*Entering the terminal with Brand he looks around* So, you excited to see her?
*ohhhh a brave lad to be adding a quirp of play to the proceedings*


Brand

17|128.12.162.37

Thu 12:06AM CST
It's a weighing, judging stare he casts first over the surroundings and the crowds. Only after does he reach into the backseat for his own coat. Cashmere wool, matte black, thick, beautifully tailored but low-key. He slips it on across wide shoulders and buttons it. The glance he shoots Jaan crackles like breaking ice, but a minute later subsides to a simple chuckle. In German now, "Don't be ridiculous."

Shutting the door he gets up on the curb with a surprisingly lithe-footed lope. Wolf-light. There's a cop coming to complain about parking, and Brand, of course, looks right past him. Ignores him so completely it wasn't even properly ignoring anymore, but instead simply - non-existence of a source of irritation. Of course, he'll have the ticket paid out of his coffers when it's issued and simply consider it part of the overhead of running a royal household. Something for the servants to fret over.

The automatic doors sweep open for he and his Beta. Beneath the heavy German brow his eyes look up at the departure/arrival signs. Hm. Lufthansa flight 2032. Delayed 20 minutes. "Lackadaisical doesn't even begin to describe it," he chuckles, and folds his arms across his chest to wait. They didn't allow people into the terminals without a ticket anymore.


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 12:09AM CST
*He looks down on the cop as a bit of intrest. He in his own way was a bit like the officer. All about laws and the like. Granted they were garou laws, not the petty laws of the mortals. Nodding a bit to the Police officers protest he answers back in Estonian. Seemingly delighted to see the officer. Shaking the mans hand he points to the trunck and slips him a $20, as if tipping a sky cap. Grinning he turns and follows brand into the building.* Yes. because as we all know. Terrorist follow all the rules and go though the proper proceedures.
*He looks around and sniffs* They smell different. Well not as dirty but a bit more fried here don't they?

Aww puck up Brand. Your letter all but assured her following. You might as well have bought her ticket.


Brand

17|128.12.162.37

Thu 12:15AM CST
"Hm. Fried - fatter. Slower. Easier to catch." His right hand flexes against his left forearm as though hungering for the handle of a blade. Words like that remind him of eating. Eating reminds him of the big bloody steak he'd devoured just an hour before - he needs to pick his damn teeth. With a dagger. Yes, back to the blades, round and round and round we go.

Brand, once Aurich Eberstark von Doenhoff, frowns briefly then. "Most," stress on that, "follow my direct orders." Who wouldn't? Who dares? "Why this one insists otherwise escapes me." He exhales between his teeth and looks at his watch. "She could've at least picked a flight that would arrive when they said it would."


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 12:19AM CST
*Nodding to his words he's watching around them. Some obseenly obease man allll most touches Rafe brushing by but he turns and mutters darkly in his native language. That of cource has an immediate reaction in a airport these days and fatty fatty is scampering away. Perhaps to find a cop, perhaps the one outside still looking at the money in his hand totally boggeling at the audasity of the foriener.
Looking back to Brand*~G~ Well this would be twice in under a week. Your darling sister also made the voyage. Regreatably they no longer let folks fly the planes. I'm sure she didn't mean to be late.


Brand

17|128.12.162.37

Thu 12:25AM CST
A smile (that's been a very rare sight all day long) cracks the surface at the mention of the darling sister. "That is an exception. 'Bella never listens, never. Until it's too late, and then she cries. Remember the time with the Fiann boy--"

The display changes: Lufthansa 2032 is arrived. Brand makes a sound like a growl and shifts his weight, then resettles. His energy is amped up into the red now, crackling along his spine and sending the sheep scurrying faster around him.


Kevyn Munroe

8|66.168.131.195

Thu 12:25AM CST
*Deplaning with everyone else, feeling as if she had just been run through the ringer. Her laptop slung over her shoulder, slender hands pulling the Chanel suit jacket smooth, tendrils of natural black hair spilling over her back, pulled free over the course of her travels from the smooth roll at the back of her head, the silky strands framing a face of classic beauty, as if her features should be etched on a cameo. Thinkly lashed velvet black eyes sweep over the crowded airport, her carry on bag pulling behind her, her high heeled pumps adding three inches to her diminiutive height of 5'4" and giving her slow steps an almost seductive sway. Her full, rosepetal pink lips set in almost a frown as she makes her way through the crowd to the luggage carrosel*


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 12:27AM CST
*A bit of a nod* He was extreamly angust ridden when he was informed that he was not up to her breeding and well. Sore when he wouldn't take "no" for an answer. You know she actually told me that it was unfair of me to pull him out of the manyor by the hair. That he'd grown it long just for her? I thought he looked a bit frilly like one of those Lithawanian gals. I think she still holds the grudge to this day.


Genevieve Cavanaugh

52|205.188.198.164

Thu 12:27AM CST
It is a modern trend to dress-down when traveling. Jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, all the better to rumple up as one attempts a few hours fretful sleep while several rows down a toddler screams its ruddy head off and everday, average, mild-mannered people find themselves contemplating infanticide.

This is why alchoholic beverages are served inflight. First Class gets it for free because they paid out their ears knowing the nightmares to come and the airline wanted to sedate their wealthy passengers into stupours of inactivity, unaware that they are, indeed, in hell. A long, sleek, metal-plated, plastic-incoated, flying hell.

Alas, the passengers on this flight were lucky. From Heathrow, across the Puddle, a stop in Logan on the harbour and onward to Midway they were able to steal glances of a woman who did not at all succumb to modern laziness. Oh no, when she traveled.. she traveled with grace. A swan among unruly mallords and squalling ducklings. She floats down the escalators to the main terminal, carried upon mechanical wonders, this old-world princess; this otherworldly apparition deigning to risk the degredation of the mundane...

...except it's not like that. Not really. For there is the hint and play of a smile on her lips. The shadow of hinted anxiety in her indigo-blue gaze mingled with the stubbourn, determined setting of her fine-drawn, square jaw. Lithe this tall creature... seeming at once fragile and delicate, like the finest of spun glass aglow from within... and then a glimpse to said determined set and the stronger rooting of her foundation is glimpsed. Gossamer maiden, iron-jawed heroine...

The silk and satin one-piece pant suit fits snugly at her torso, a tank-top cut, flowing down to the full flare pants that swish and caress. Hinting at the shapeliness of her legs, then billowing away to make her mistily shapeless. Concealing more than is revealed, revealing just enough to show there is much worth keeping. The hue of the cloth a rich-auburn like finest chocolate, a sheen of brandy-red. Giving a healthy, ruddy tone to the gold-kissed fairness of her complextion. Fine blonde hair, dappled bronze and platinum, swept up with two jet hair sticks, whisps left loose to soften the distincitve bone structure of her face - tribute to warrior ancestry.

She simple isn't a woman you leave behind, dear.
And it's never so much that she comes after you, but rather that you happen to be where she's going.
Of course.


James F. W. Vaughn

32|172.160.155.156

Thu 12:34AM CST
Cellular phones are a marvel of the modern age. This marvel is deadened however when the person on the other end does not call until such time as their flight has landed, to tell you that they missed said flight. The man in his blue Armani suit clicks his tonuge once audibly, stopping next to the baggage claim to speak with out the distraction of moving pedestrians.

"No I understand mister DeVoss, it's quite allright. No, It's fine, I'me sure next week will fit into my schedule." No it won't but you couldn't tell it from his oscar worthy voice acting. "Yes, goodbye sir, tell the wife and children I send my love. See you then." The phone is hung up with a snap of the small chromlooking flap.

As he turns a striking young woman catches his eye. He addresses the Raven haired beauty nonchalantly. "Hello." Smile that could melt a lessser being, or orchestrate a hostile takeover, should the mood strike it's owner, were that type of man.


Brand

17|128.12.162.37

Thu 12:38AM CST
Brand laughs hard: "She's lucky I didn't take the hair off his shoulders - along with his head."

And then laughter escapes him. Pure breeding burns like a beacon no matter where you go, and the pure breeding of your one true mate - well. It catches his eye unerringly, and beside him Jaan can feel the Ahroun draw a little straighter, hold his head a little higher. A woman you cannot leave behind, indeed.

In the olden days they had chariots and carriages drawn by snow-white horses. Princesses delivered into the wooded lands of their mates-to-be with all due pomp and circumstance. Velvet carpets laid out, knights and men-at-arms, lesser Tribes waiting for miles out. In these days they had airplanes and terminals, first class and few retainers.

The effect is somehow still the same.

Brand doesn't move forward an inch. In fact, he doesn't even raise his hand to show her where he is. Let her find him. Let her come to him. She's come this far already, hasn't she? His brow is cleared of emotion; he's a mask of ice standing there, and beneath it seethes his full-moon rage.


Kevyn Munroe

8|66.168.131.195

Thu 12:40AM CST
*Thickly lashed almond shaped obsidian eyes lift to the man who addressed her, waiting for her baggage to come around the carrosel, her free hand lifting to secure the strap of her leather laptop case, biting back a sharp tongued retort...no sense in kicking off your first night in a new city with unplesantness, watching the regal beauty slip by with almost wide eye'd admiration before looking back to James*Good evening.....*her voice soft...well modulated and almost husky with weariness*


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 12:41AM CST
*Feeling the subtil change his eyes come around. Traking like a Raptor on wing hundreads of feet above the prey. Ahh there she was. A repressed smile crosses his lips. Can't show too much intrest. Might be preceived as a challenge and well they couldn't help that. There was still a scar under his 6th rib from that one night in Prague.
His green eyes shift instead to his alpha and watches hs reaction. Rafe had a love. It wasn't well knwn but you couldn't hide things from thepack. His love was... well forbidden wasn't the right word. Frowned upon might be better. And yes... she had come as well, she was at present setting up the 34th floor domicile they'd aquired with the other kin*~G~ She's breathtaking, brother.


James F. W. Vaughn

32|172.160.155.156

Thu 12:46AM CST
Pure breeding causes the hairs on the Walkers neck to stand, it's all he can do not to turn around, but how charming is it to stare at somone walking behing you when such a beautifull woman stand in front of you? Cell phone slips into inside pocket as the beautifully groomed young man slips it away.

"Long flight?" Her weariness picked up and responded to. The man's voice holds a concern like that of an old friend.


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 12:51AM CST
*a a flash of wariness lights her gleaming dark eyes, nibbling on her lush lower lip for a moment, taking a deep breath and silently counting to five*Too long.....I'd like nothing more then to go to my hotel, take a bath and sleep for 2 days....


Genevieve Cavanaugh

Thu 12:55AM CST
And is that not also the way? Let it not be said the Kinfolk of the Silver FAng are not without their willingness to take risks. Let it simply be said they are trained to be less reckless about it. It is more than looks. It is more than atriculation of speech, though certainly all those things are full of their own worth and uses...
...no, it is dignity and honour of Tribe and family and lineage and self. Words the human herd of the modern age have muddled and forgotten. Forsaken.
...thus has their nobility - their Grace - gone ill and died away.

Here.. here is an embodiement of those things forgotten.

Pausing briefly in her stride, her posture poised and erect. Her height true and sleek, skilled-bendable and firm-rooted strong... head canting smoothly as her eyes roove. A moment. A breath and they alight on their mark.
Did she doubt he'd be here?
If she did, she does not wear it on her sleeve...

With movement as everlasting as waters flow (luna ruled) she resumes her long stride. Floating more than she walks and cascading more than she floats. She carries naught but a draw-sting pouch-purse of the same colour and material as her Calvin Klein ensemble. A bronze arm-bracelet encircles her left bicep the entwining flow of raptoral wings. Ah yes.. for all her fluid grace, there is no doubting the feral, combative stock from which she comes.

At last before the pair - her Mate and his PackBrother - she flows to a halt, so smooth that there is little diference between motion and the apparant lack thereof.

Now watch her work...

...a hushed downsweep of her eyes. The most subtle - and yet all the more dignified and respectful for it - of nods. Most people would have to prostrate themselves on the floor to acheive the same amount of regality and true homage (...and perhaps - silently - seeking pardon?) she manages in those simple motions.

Jaan gets the nod, but not the complete downsweep of her eyes. Subordinate to him, yes.. but not so much as to her MAte. Then her attention returns - unerringly - to Brand... and she, yes, dares to smile. Slow. Smooth. Beckoning and modest all at once. Knowing and.. existant. More.

"You are angry. But you came. Thank you." Low. Hushed as twilight. Incandescent her words in their native tongue.


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 01:04AM CST
"Small luxuries, right?" Beaming smile follows. "Tell you what."

His hand comes out offering to carry her bag. "I'll take this load off your shoulders and perhaps I can buy you a drink, If you don't mind the conversation and perhaps a little company." Head motions to the small airport bar on the other side of the large 'staging area' as it were. "Give you a chance to relax a bit."

Smile continues, inviting.


Brand

Thu 01:06AM CST
Genevieve is not a small woman; at 5'9", she could easily be considered tall. Her mate seems to tower over that, impassive as stone. Only his eyes move, scanning slowly over her as if to catalogue virtues - or faults.

The smile doesn't make him so much as blink. The stillness goes on.

And then when he moves it's almost too fast to see. His right hand unfolding from across his chest, no, not hand, fist, lashing out to backhand her across her perfect cheek with a crack that has passerbies gasping, stopping and staring. His left hand catches her brutally by the arm, the one that does not wear the armlet; he catches her and refuses to let her fall, tugs her sharply irresistibly forward, shows her the truth of his terrible strength and

folds her into a hard, crushing embrace. She can feel his powerful chest heaving against her as he breathes deeply of her scent. From one breath he knows the details of the past 24 hours of her life. What she drank, what she ate, where she sat, what she washed with, if she'd wept, if she'd been afraid a second ago when he struck her without mercy.

None that have stopped to stare (all of whom he ignores utterly) have dared to come for offering aid. If he broke her cheekbone, then so be it. That's what Theurges are for. A moment later, when he lets go, he is collected and calm, glancing clinically at the mark he left on her face before looking over her shoulder.

"No baggage?"


Jaan Rafe

Thu 01:10AM CST
*Infact one red neck guy had turned towards and was heading for Brand when Jaan stepped inbetween. His Alpha having no fear that the man would be handeled. Switching back to english Jaan passes a hand much like Obi Wan in the original starwars. Invoking the gift of persuasian inherant in his training nd being he looks down to the Redneck and speaks softly* This is no concern of yours....

"No concern of mine..."

Move along.

"Moving.... along..."

*The mans mind nudged just right and he turns and storms off. Jaan looks over his shoulder to Brand and Gen and shakes his head. Ahhh the easily plyed minds of the weak*


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 01:12AM CST
I'm sorry sir.....*she steps foreard and scoops up her luggage, two fairly large suitcases, checking the tags, her shoulders seeming to sag with their weight but her slender chin lifting*I'm sorry sir.....but I don;t have 2 days to sleep....I an early appointment tomorrow and don;t think I would be any kind of company....but I think you.....*she nods politely and struggles under the weight of her baggage, giving the skycap a glare making her way onver to the pay carts, slipping her odllar in and pulling it out putting her baggage on it and making her way down the concourse, her gaze caught by the man who smacked the perfect beauty....the pure breed recognizable to even one such as her.....shaking her head slightly and lifting her head, pushing the cart towards the Herts rental car place*


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 01:21AM CST
"Fair enough." smile lessens but does not disappear. "I can respect that but..." He turns to match her stride. He stops and scowls at the Pure Bloods having their royal tissy, his small bit of Rage outraged at the boldnesss of such a move.

He follows her once she starts moving again, speeding to catch up. "At least, could I get your name?"

Good looks and a natural charm win most over almost immediatly, though not this one. She's more independant of mind, a good quality indeed.


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 01:27AM CST
*she quick steps don't slow, her heels clicking out a rapid staccato against the floor of the airport, the breeze of the recycled air teasing her gleaming dark hair, allowing a few strands to carress one silky cheek, her thick black lashes sweeping over her eyes as she murmurs*I'm sorry.....but I don't encourage strange men in airports.....*she stops at the Hertz desk, her nails tapping against the counter as the clerk continues to chat with her boyfriend*


Clint

Thu 01:30AM CST
*a teenage kid goes from shadow to shadow looking into the windows of cars parked along the street*


Genevieve Cavanaugh

Thu 01:32AM CST
And when we say they take risks, we mean they are those done with calculation.
Which is meant to say: This response (abuse? or simply what is natural? would the response somehow be more in the mans favour if he bit the scruff of her neck? Bent her down to the floor to enforce what comes down to reminders of place. Ahhh, humans.. where has your instinct gone? Give the creature breasts and automatically she can't possibly defend herself... fools.) is not truly surprising.

Not entirely so.
If she has not experienced the like from him she has indeed experienced it from other. Men and women alike. uch is their way...

..and hers is to let her head move with the blow, untruggling though her body stiffens, lithe musculature taut as a bowstring. The arrow is any suplurfluous hope she might yet have held onto, shot off with the softeft of responsive gasps. A sound she could no more stop than the rising angry red welt at her arched, high cheekbone - the watering of her eyes...

...then crushed. Embraced and inhaled as as quickly, as marked as it came so too does the tension of her formmelt away. Held there with her scents of her day, her prefered perfume and hygenic aides, the tastes that tickled her palate; the smell of her fear that - worse of all - he might not last out but rather turn his back on her; the natural ire of such having to be so public... and her strong, primal response to his acceptance. The cruching is returned, not so crushingly of course but strong as she can muster, her head ducking further beneath his chin in a final display of submission that she doesn't even conciously recognize.

...and then she is released and, barring the angry welt that will indeed linger - and grow worse - you would thing nothing out of the ordinary had occured. YOu would never realize that within the course of a few unmasked actions, many things have been settled. Established. Perhaps not everything.. but many things.

No shame to her stance. Her head still high, not in negation of his actions but rather in assertion of both her acceptance and simple knowledge of her continued worth. She speaks as calmly as her mate with a fine, resplendant rising of one bare slightly freckled shoulder.

"Not at the moment. It waits to be sent along."

THe spoken words giving due comment of the unspoken confession of her uncertainty as to weather he'd allow her to stay. Bold enough to follow him against his orders, yes.. not so much so to presume she could stay if he truly did not want her there.


Clint

Thu 01:32AM CST
*he is constantly moving around and twitching*


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 01:33AM CST
He laughs, "I'm strange, now?" He reaches into his pocket now, pulling from within a small metal case. He pulls a card from within and hands it over, replacing the case.

"James Vaughn, a pleasure to meet your aquaintance."

The card reads:

James F. W. Vaughn
Primary Shareholder BOD Centron Information Technologies

On it are various fax, cell office and other numbers of contact, along with an e-mail address.


Clint

Thu 01:37AM CST
*he stops at a car without an alarm and checks to see if its locked, which it is*


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 01:38AM CST
*she sighs and takes the card....her gaze dropping to peruse before they widen with surprise....one borw arching as she looks down at the card...oh foul coinsidence....the urge to turn back around and get back on the plan and return to KC almost overwelming. She tucks the card into her pocket....an almost careless gesture*Charmed I amsure, Mr. Vaughn.....but I really have no time for this.....*she turns tothe cleark, seeming to smite the girl with a glace befire she bustled over with fawning soliticiousness, pushing the appropriate forms at her*


Brand

Thu 01:39AM CST
A crisp, curt nod. In German, "Send for them in the morning." By the time he struck her, the decision had already been made. "You remember Jaan," unnecessary politeness; one does not simply forget the pack-brother of one's mate. He holds out his right hand now, the knuckles still red from impact, and touches her elbow gently as he glances her over again. "It's a long flight. You must be weary. Come along."

With the turn of his body and the touch of his fingertips to her elbow he envelopes her in his presence, though now he turns to Jaan. "They were staring. Do we know them?" He does not have to angle his head in the direction of James and Kevyn; of a terminal full of people, the only ones who dared more than a shocked stare and a hurried step past were those two at the counter.


Jaan Rafe

Thu 01:41AM CST
*A warm smile and bow of the head for the Alpha's concubine.* Genevieve, Allways a pleasure and privlidge to see you. I hope the flight wasn't overly borish for you.
*He turns and falls into step with them. A shake of the head* No though one does seem to have that lil' tingle of a moons breath.


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 01:43AM CST
"I'm sure you could find time enough for a name miss...?" Fishing now for an answer, fullly directing the length and bredth of his charm in her direction.


Clint

Thu 01:43AM CST
*moving along he decides to try his luck at the pickup terminal, but his spotted by the Airport security* "damn"

*he looks around frantically for a place to dart*


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 01:46AM CST
*she says nothing, the clerk peeking up at James with a flirtatious smile, taking the Visa offered by Kevyn as well as the completed paperwork. Reaching up to brush her long dark hair back away from her face, she says nothing to James, her sleek clear polished nails tapping impatiently against the counter, the clerk sliding the papers across to her as well as the keyts*Is there anything else I can help you with tonight....MS. Munroe....?


Clint

Thu 01:48AM CST
*he tries to play it cool, but his dirty appearance and rundown clothing give him away*


Genevieve Cavanaugh

Thu 01:51AM CST
How anyone could seem so utterly unflustered after being so blatantly backhanded in such a public setting... well, its a true testament to her upbringing or her breeding. Or, more likely, both.

A touch of fingertips to her elbow. Words of direction to which she nods simply. Folding her arms lightly so that the tips of her fingers rest lightly at the tender flesh of opposing inner-elbows, she moves along, looking over one shoulder to smile to Jaan.

...not a bright, chipper smile to say the least but nor is it a completely tense, somber one. If nothing else it seems... hintedly weary. Like some tight binding has now been released. She is too on gaurd to permit the weariness - and its accompanying emotions and thoughts, whatever they may be - to show, but even so a bit of it does slip forth.
Nonetheless, her words are more than simply polite - they are genuinely warm for what it is worth:

"The flight was as bearable as any, thank you. And you, Jaan? I trust you are well?"

A flicker. A flash. A sudden quickening of the river within, like she might ask her mates pack-brother about said mates well being... in the hopes of getting the truth. But just as quickly it dissapeares. It is mastered. SO that it may have been naught but passing whims of imagination bestered by such a lovely ()if marred) visage.

And then silence as they speak of two onlookers... if she looks around she does so with the utmost of subility. Not interfereing.


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 01:52AM CST
"Monroe...." Look to her bag, computer bag in fact. Remembering the piece of paper on his desk this morning.

"Related to a Kevyn Monroe? He applied at my company for the Netwroking Security cheif position this week." Quizzical look.

"Is he here?" Hand reaches up to adjust armani tie subconsciously.


Clint

Thu 01:53AM CST
*is ran off by the security*


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 01:55AM CST
*the glare she shot the clerk would have killed were it a blade, her head lifting propudly, her obsidian gaze meeting his boldly*No...I AM Kevyn Munroe...now....if consideration for the post is dependant on me having a drink with you.....I'll return theses keys and go home....or you can let me go....and I wll be prompt for my appointment tomorrow...and we can forget this ever happened....


Brand

Thu 01:56AM CST
"Oh?" - when Jaan speaks of moon's breath. "Well. Let's meet the neighbors." He turns toward James and Kevyn; pauses. Looks at Genevieve with a glimmering of something like concern. Like her own emotions, it's quickly mastered; it might not have been at all.

"If you're worn from the trip, you can rest in the car," he offers.


Jaan Rafe

Thu 01:59AM CST
Quite well. Thank you for asking.
*A nod of his head and he moves around to the left a bvit. The long coat swishing about his shins as he turns to get a better look at James and Kevyn.* Oh goodie... Slumming with the natives.
*A bit of a grin as they converse in german approaching the pair*


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 02:02AM CST
"Nothing of the sort my dear, and I wouldn't want anyone to think I was running my company with impropriety of any sort." Flash of a ragabash grin. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, have a good night, miss Munroe." He taps the palm of his hand once on the desk and stands up straight, turning to walk away, then spotting the two pure breeds coming in like missles directly toward them.


Genevieve Cavanaugh

Thu 02:03AM CST
Curious.
The fact that for a moment the lines of her mouth tighten at her mates request as if his question just managed to offend her far more than the physical blow of moments ago.

...the mere presumption that she cannot masterfully handle tactics of Society. Diplomacy.

Her displeasure is shown in the upsweep of one bronze-kissed eyebrow. But, as is the trenc, she masters her rankled temper; recognizing that concern did fuel his offer.
(can he be blamed for knowing her so little? a union arranged by others and consistant of little time actually spent together...no. no blame to be placed.)

So she shakes her head, the smile easing back upon her generously-formed lips. Politely refusing the offer. Without speaking one hand moves, brushing warm, soft fingetips along his lower bicep.. the breifest of touches offering forth her thanks for his mastered concern.

..then moves on with them.


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 02:07AM CST
Thank you Mr, Vaughn...*her weary voice with a hint of an icy bite to it, scooping up her keys and returning to her cart, gleaming black eyes sweeping over the (con)descending royal's.....this is not her city yet....with one slender hand she tucks a stray inky strand over the delicate whorl of her ear and turns smartly on her heel, pushing her luggage twoards the terminal entrance...to what for the shuttle to take her to the car lot to get her vehicle, the cool wind nipping at her nose, roses blooming on her silky cheeks as she waits*


Brand

Thu 02:09AM CST
And with that a phalanx of silver-pure breeding sweeps down on the rental desk. The two men are imposingly tall. European features; overcoats and expensive clothes. The woman is - well. Nobility. All three are, and it cannot be mistaken.

Brand's gaze zeroes in on James and locks out of sheer instinct. Head held high, back ramrod straight, everything about him breathes mastery and domination. The departure of the woman is noted with a brief and careless flick of his eyes; then, and henceforth, they do not budge from James' until the other looks away first.

"Pardon." Speaking in English now, his voice is a low, deep and undershot with a growl. You can hear the vibration a mile away. There's no accent, but nonetheless he uses the excessively careful enunciation of a non-native speaker. "Do you have a moment."

No, there's no question in that.


Jaan Rafe

Thu 02:11AM CST
*Jaan looks longer at the one leaving as he casually oh so casually circles off to the left a bit and crosses his arms infront of himself. hand gripping gloved hand infront of his hips. A seemingly causal pose, for the man now flanking James. Seperate but one. Unified though spiritual bond no words or even thoughts have to be passed. It just happens naturally. A smile given should he look Janns way but till then he falls silent*


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 02:13AM CST
*the shuttle arrives and she hands over her luggage....the royalty flanking her possible soon to be boss.....her teeth sinking into her lower lip....as the thought rolls through hrt mind.....using an overuttered movie quote, she murmurs*I have a bad feeling about this....


Brand

Thu 02:15AM CST
On second thought, and this is totemphone, see what the female is up to.


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 02:17AM CST
*she pushes the cart back in the park, getting 50 cents back, stuffing the change in her suit pocket, shifitng her laptop up on her shoulder she gets on the shuttle, waiting for it to pull away*


Jaan Rafe

Thu 02:18AM CST
*Peeling away he turns, heading out of the building. Seeming to some how stand head and shoulders above the rest even though his physical height isn't that much abve adverage. Moving towards his hand extends to catch the shuttle door and he slips up and inside. Nodding and moving to look for a seat. Smiling at Kevyn*


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 02:19AM CST
Rage.- Garou.

Slow surrounding of him at the desk. - Packed Garou

Creepy foreign non accent and enough breeding to make one vomit.- Fucking Packed-up high and mighty Silver Fang Garou.

"Depends." he stares right back into the nameless Fang's eyes. His gaze is calculated, that of a man who stares down men of more willpower than many Garou in the high finance battles of corporate life, everyday. "I don't have any women to smack about, if that's what you're after."


Genevieve Cavanaugh

Thu 02:21AM CST
The woman is nobility, indeed. Bespoken in carriage and stride. In self-possession and intelligent awareness. Americans love the underdog... Europeans know better.

And she angles herself when they come to a halt. Giving the unknown man a more profiled view, that mostly hides away her lividly red, bruising cheek. Because she is ashamed? No.. no, her indigo eyes betray no such frivolity. Perhaps she is simply vain, wishing to give off her 'best side' like some top line model.Still.. no... the polite, warm - though faint and controlled - curve of her lips doesn't suggest that either. It's more instinctive than that...
...a she-wolf does not show untrusted her weak side. It would tempt challenge. Liberties not to be taken.

Humans - Kinfolk - are not without instinct.

At James' words, she again arches a delicate brow and her smile broadens as if this is all a bemusing joke.

"ANd if you did have women in supply, would you be willing to entertain handing them over?" If she is mocking him.. if she is anyway egging him on.. it simply is so hard to tell with the warmth and culture of her words...

...and therein lies the magic.


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 02:22AM CST
*she feels him get on the shuttle...the feeling of the hair on her neck rising very disquieting. Her obsidian eyes lift, her classical beauty as exquiste as a delicate cameo, her gaze as cold as Lake MIchigan, sweeping over him before, returning her gaze back to the paperwork in her lap, the icy shield around her alost inpenitrible*


Jaan Rafe

Thu 02:23AM CST
*He's quite amused by the frosty look given to him. Giving her a moment to calm and relax. He wasn't the best reader of people but it seemed she'd parted with the other guy on less than loveable terms. Clearing his throat after a bit he nods to her* Intresting work?
*his accent hard to place. Not russian, Not german, A mix of the two. Estonian if you happened to know the place, though in his experiance few did.*


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 02:26AM CST
I would hardly call car rental papers interesting....the ingrediants on a tube of toothpaste hold more fascination....*her comment off handed as she pulls out a small leather bound book and a pen, caefull recording her expenses, the shuttle doors closing the little bus moving off as she slips the paperwork into her laptop case*


Jaan Rafe

Thu 02:28AM CST
*His smile unfaultered. Mentally childing over the totem link How come I always get the fun ones?" To her though he nods a bit* Well you seemed pretty intent on them.
Did the gentelman you were talking to insult you Miss? I saw you in passing inside.


James F. W. Vaughn

Thu 02:28AM CST
He never breaks gaze with the Rage machine before him. Though he addresses the kin first. "I don't believe I heard anyone address you." Then she is ignored. If she would back the man who just struck her as the one before him had, let her have him.

A frown covers in face, waiting for the pure bred man to respond.


Kevyn Munroe

Thu 02:31AM CST
*her brow lifts slightly at that*Your concern.....though warming....in unwarranted....*her tone saccarine sweet, unable to resist*Best you save it for the girl your friend decided to bitch slap....


Jaan Rafe

Thu 02:33AM CST
*He raises his brows and smiles gently. Nodding and leaning back to give her a bit of space* Ahh yes. Well they have an intresting relationship. I'm sure you've seen the type. Love to hurt one another. She's no angel herself. I've aquired the medical treatment myself a time or two.
*Tapping his chin* There was that once with the silver carving knife.. I thought it was in play but once somone's bleeding the joke is just ruined.


Brand

Thu 02:36AM CST
A dark eyebrow lifts. There are Silver Fangs who are willowy and sleek. And then there are Fangs like Brand, solid as an oak, descendant of the Teutonic kings of old. He breathes power - not rage, but power - like other men breathed oxygen.

"Your women? Thank you, but no." And the stare is held while his mate speaks, though not pressed. There's a sense that he may be humoring the unbred one. "My mind is more on matters of business."

Then.
Then.
Ice cold. "Watch your tongue. She's above your station. My patience has its limits."

Then the large Fang nods in the direction of the outside, where a policeman can be dimly seen writing a citation for Brand's illegally parked Mercedes. "Shall we?"


Kevyn Munroe

8|66.168.131.195

Thu 02:36AM CST
Well....word of advise....keep it in the bedroom....the natives on this isde of the pond lean toward puritannical....would hate for you gentlemen to see the inside of a jailcell....*her chilled voice almost light, the driver looking inhis mirror, watching the two carefully, the petite beuty given a little more sympathy then the blonde man, her amrs corssed over her breasts as she stonily waits for the trip to be over*


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 02:37AM CST
*He nods* Ahhh well I'll certinly tell them that such games might be better played there. I do apoligise should it have tarnished your gentler sensabilitys. Please forgive them. Their ways differ.


Genevieve Cavanaugh

52|205.188.208.137

Thu 02:39AM CST
Back him and then some.
Not that many understand such things.

She is unphased by the mans retort. His attempt to put her in her place. If naught else it seems to lengthen the curve of her lips a passing amusement kept to herself. The Others do go on about being so much kinder to Kin but when push came to shove... instinct always won. Some simply weren't hypocrits about it.

...amusing indeed.

She says nothing however, knowing full well that any moment now--

--ah yes. Her Mate supplies his own, quite more impressive response and she keeps her expression and poise clear and calm. Attentive. Passingly bemused.


Kevyn Munroe

8|66.168.131.195

Thu 02:41AM CST
There is a saying....when in Rome do as the Romans do....so I am sure when I visit your country, I will be sure to brush up on my etiquette and expect to be clobbered just off the jet...but that is just my gentle sensiblities....*she gives him a bland smile, the gesture not reaching her obsidian gaze as the shuttle rolls to a stop. She rises fluidly and grabs her cases, struggling twith them to her designated car, brushing off any help, the key sliding into the truck before she hefts theminside along with her carry on*


James F. W. Vaughn

32|172.164.62.50

Thu 02:42AM CST
Cool demeanor breaks. "Fuck the royals, sir. You want to stay in this city? or this country, keep your petty little hatemongering attitudes to yourself."

Flicker of his diminutive Rage. "You will find I am not a man to be trifled with. And keep your... dog on a leash, it seems that's what your good at, and what she wants apparently." Turning to her.

"Keep the abuse, if that's what you lie, wait to see what happens when that smack hits you to hard."

He lets a growl go uncharacteristically at the staring desk clerk before turning to exit in the opposite direction.


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 02:43AM CST
*A bit of laughter* Oh no. He's not from my country. In my country every lady from the richest executie to the lowliest peasent is treated as a queen and all but worshiped by her man. But as you say, when in Rome...

Do have a good night miss.

*Once she disembarks his cool green eyes fall on the driver and he points back the way they came* If you would please. Expidishously.


Kevyn Munroe

8|66.168.131.195

Thu 02:44AM CST
*mutters under her breath as she slams the trunk down*Male chauvinst fucking wolf.....*she hisses to herself*I should go back tot he airport and go right the hell back to Georgia.....better rednecks the the noblisse oblige crowd...


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 02:48AM CST
*Riding back towards the terminal he hops off and dusts a bit of lint from his jacket as he makes his way back in and towards the others.*
She seemed a good deal disgruntled by the other about something. Didn't press too hard but I woudn't worry about her spreading her milk white theighs for the guy at the counter. What ever he did pissed her off something fierce"


Brand

18|128.12.162.37

Thu 02:49AM CST
Actually, James doesn't get nearly that far. Before his first sentence is done Brand's hand shoots forward and grasps him by the throat.

Squeezes.

There's no emotion on the Fang's face. None at all. He searches the other's eyes a moment. Then, softly: "You forget the old ways. We do not. You are a slave to the machine and still you call yourself a name you no longer deserve. Name your weapon, bloodless pup. I will choose the arena. Or, run now and for your cowardice I will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

He shoves James back and, flexing his hand once, lets it fall to his side.


Kevyn Munroe

8|66.168.131.195

Thu 02:50AM CST
*gets ina nd drives to her hotel, more concerned about her interview thenshe was before*


James F. W. Vaughn

32|172.164.62.50

Thu 02:54AM CST
"Go ahead and hunt, but I'd start with leaving the airport." A head gesture behing the large man.

Sure enough, two security guards are eyeing him suspiciously, speaking into their radios. Both too afraid to approch him in a pair but with backup... mortal strength comes in numbers.

"I'll be leaving now, and if we meet under circumstances like this again. Expect to hear from my lawyers, or the police."

Now he does turn on his heel. Perfect pise carrying him to the far exit.


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 02:58AM CST
~G~ Making friends I see.
*Jaan strolls up to the other two fangs and slips his hands in his pockets. Tilts his head a bit and speaks to them in their native german* Did he seriously just threaten to sue you?

*He seems greatly amused*

Why.. that, I'd like to see. I mean really. Just the look on his face when the papers are served, and then returned to him rectally would almost be worth the minute bother.
*A shake of his head*


Brand

18|128.12.162.37

Thu 02:58AM CST
Go ahead and hunt--
"As you wish."


Genevieve Cavanaugh

52|205.188.208.137

Thu 03:00AM CST
The tall woman stiffens at the side of her far taller mate. A motion imperceptible to all but him most likely, rubbing her thumbs along the insides of her arms...

...whether it is James' words that make her thus respond, or Brand's reaction... who knows.

A pained grimace shimmers over her ethereal features for a moment. This was not what she envisioned when she dared to come here--
--and she can hear the voice of her mother in her head pointingly mercilessly that such is what happens when Kin are disobedient.

She could bow out now and go wait in the car... yes, she could. But she won't. Smoothing her expression with a brief closing of her eyes, she stands back slightly to be out of direct line of fire, so to speak. Clearly expecting the challenge terms to be settled...

...indeed, her eyes flash to James with an expression of unmasked surprise and, then, startled disgust as he gives his response. Slipping back into Germand as she murmers incredulously,

"Has his Wolf been stolen? Did he speak in jest or would he truly even consider handing you over to human authorities? How-- "

She breaks off as Jaan speaks up. Shaking her head slightly and settling into a full-lipped frown, distaste still apparent. Scadalized and perturbed at such dishonour.

"What sort of place have you come to?" This to her Mate, one 'brow rising once more.


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 03:02AM CST
*The young philodox smiles at Genevieve. A nod and shrug*~G~ Well 3 days in country and already perturbing the natives. Not a record. Especially for us but still in the top 5 I belive.
That time in Luxembourge wasn't our fault. That girl looked 18.
*He pulls one hand from his pocket and gently pushes back a cuff to check the time on his Hamilton Ventura watch*


Brand

18|128.12.162.37

Thu 03:05AM CST
After James' departure, Brand flashes Jaan a smirk. "Distractions," German again. "Upholding honor and the like. A waste of time in the end." Time was, after all, very short for Brand. "But."

Honor was honor.
And the Law was the Law.

With a quiet chuckle, he shakes his head at Genevieve. "Where I am needed most." The casualness he drapes his muscled arm around her shoulders with belies the fact that they've spent perhaps a season in one another's presence, all told, the days spread thin over three years or more. "I told you not to follow. Didn't I? Let's go home."

Speaking to his pack-brother over her head, then, "Jaan - tomorrow we seek out the state of the Nation in Chicago. Find out where our strength is required and strike, fast and hard. This time, we lead by example."


Jaan Rafe

7|24.213.53.220

Thu 03:07AM CST
*A nod as he fall into step with them. Such things were becoming SOP* I should get my leather cleaned then... I think it sill has some hair from the last time we lead by example...


Genevieve Cavanaugh

52|205.188.208.137

Thu 03:12AM CST
A mild, faint sound from the depths of her throat as she slips a bit of a lopsided smile at Jaan's response, a humoured glimmer in her eyes.

"Please, Jaan; the last thing I wish to hear of are your escapades with underaged girls." A look that chastizing in a joking, sisterly fashion... before the light humour is quite drained away as she looks to her mate. The frown descending once more as they move... cleared away with more effort this time, though in the end she simply replies, nonchalant as can be - firmly undertoned as ever before: "You did. But I came were I belong."

For now.
In what little time he has left.

She moves well with him... as though the whole of those three years were spent together rather than a season in all, if that.

She moves well with him.