Kaz Meets Apoc

[hazlogs]

6/17/2002

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (49% full).

It is currently 19:18 Pacific Time on Mon Jun 17 2002.

You make your way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.

Kaz is talking to a dog, as if the dog could understand quite well. She's perched, again, on the back of a bench. "Yeah. Well. We can both work on 'em, because we're fuckin' better'n that, an' pain's necessary sometimes, 'cause otherwise you can't learn."

Sees-True's left forlimb appears to be damaged and the dog is holding it ver close to her chest. They remember me as a cub. Its hard for them to take me seriously sometimes. I think that you should tell them why its important to practice with otehr ~garou.~ It hurts, but you learn with every fight and get better. They're more likely to listen too you.

Apocalypse's singing voice drifts across the grass before her, upbeat and energenic, almost manic. "You 'n me, baby, we ain't nothin' but mammals, so lets do-it like they do on th' Discovery Channel..." She doesn't know all the words, and doesn't seem to give a shit that she doesn't; she just bops along, shoulders slouched and posture lazy, head bobbing along in time.

Kaz nods. "Check. Makes sense. An'... I know that transitional problem. If you can ever fuckin' /find/ Bernie, ask her about Rotem sometime."

Sees-True tilts her head to one side. Okay. If I find her. The wolf-dog licks at her injured leg. I'm going to find somewhere to sleep. Standing back up, the Galliard starts to make her way out of the park.

Kaz says, "Ok." Then she asks, "You an' your leg gonna be ok?"

Apocalypse spots Kaz and the dog off in the distance and waves to the former, but isn't making any real effort to get near them anytime soon. Quick, snappy, and somewhat mangled lyrics continue to emit from her direction, every line a sexual innuendo. And she isn't even wearing a Walkman.

Sees-True looks over her shoulder at the woman perched in the tree. In another day or two. I was making them practice. I only used a ~knife,~ but I let Fights-While-Dancing use her teeth and claws. Ears twist back in an almost rueful expression. She managed to bite my arm a good one.

Kaz glances toward Apocalypse, as well, and then back. "OK, cool. I'm glad she's got /some/ guts, at least. I'll catch you later."

Sees-True looks over at Apocalypse and snorts softly, as she picks up on some of the words. Afterward, the canine continues on her orrigional path.

Kaz watches her out of sight, and then considers Apoc', silently.

Apocalypse wiggles fingers at the dog in a cheerful way as she bops along, not missing a beat on Bloodhound Gang lyrics. "...and we'll do it doggy style so we can both watch X-Files..." Then the chorus again, slouching and bopping along in time, orange sneakers occasionally doing a funny little two-bit shuffle.

Kaz raises an eyebrow, just slightly.

Apocalypse eventually makes it over toward Kaz, somewhere around the time the repetitious chorus runs out of steam. "Hey, yo, sunshine's friend, park-person, hi!" Her eyes have a manic little gleam, and her grin is broad and toothy. "'Sup, gee-dog-homeslice?"

The metis looks vaguely amused. "I ain't really Sunshine's friend, just, I /know/ him, you know? But hi, an' howareya?"

"Abso-fuckin'-spiffy," Apocalypse declares, hooking her thumbs into her beltloops. "This town has some pretty good fuckin' beer. I'm fuckin' shocked. I mean, I figured you people didn't have fuckin' nothin' this way but trees, rain, an' Seattle." Her grin never wavers, and despite the words, her tone is nothing but friendly.

Kaz shakes her head. "Dude, no. I grew up East Coastwards, but you know? St. Claire is goddam huge. Surprisingly, amazingly huge." She shrugs. "Anyways, so yeah, good beer. Also, copious really shitty beer."

Sees-True steps out of the glade and into the surrounding meadow.
Sees-True has left.

Apocalypse nods. "Yeah, fuckin' surprisin'." She rakes fingers through the bird's nest pale hair, then sticks it out to shake hands. "Yo, I din' get your fuckin' name last night."

Kaz's shake is firm, but not overly so. "Kaz. An' you're... what, again?"

"Apocalypse," replies the New York punk, perhaps a little too gleefully. "My friends call me 'Apoc' fa' short."

This gets a blink or two. "That's a... cheerful kinda name. Where'd you get it?"

Apocalypse hooks her thumb back into her beltloop and rocks on her heels a bit. "Fucked up hippie mom," is her explanation, accompanied by a crinkled nose. She shrugs carelessly. "Fucked up hippie mom with some fucked up postpartum sulky-sulk, ya know?" She grins again. "Ah, I ain't fuckin' complainin' though, not fuckin' much anyway."

Kaz quirks a grin. "My mom din' give me no name I kept. I mean, she was fucked up an' all, but I din' feel like keepin' shit that didn't fit."

Apocalypse chuckles, a brief bark of a 'heh!' noise. "Yeah, ya fuckin' caught me, I liked it. Fuckin' hellion name, ya know? Din' mean mom wasn't a dip, but eh, whattya gonna do?" She cocks her head, a few stray strands of white hair, longer than the rest, falling over one mad, weird eye. "So, where from out east ya from?"

Kaz grins. "Works f'me. You wanna be a hellion, havin' a name that fits makes it easier..." The Gnawer shrugs at the question, and puts her comic down entirely. "Buncha places. West Virginia originally, hung out in Pittsburgh awhile, New York for like 2 seconds, Boston, then I lit out f'Vegas. Lotta stops in between, though, 'cause I was messenger gal."

"Color me _yokel_!" declares Apocalypse. "Yo, this is like, the fuckin' first time I've been outta the fuckin' Apple."

Kaz tilts her head slightly. "Yeah? So why you here now?"

Apocalypse opens her mouth, closes it, and goes 'hmm'. Her grin turns into a crooked half-quirky thing, lopsided. "Gotta call from my cousin. Her 'n her folks needed some help with shit. Ya know, the fuckin' family obligation shit." She doesn't sound all that put-out, though. Closer to the opposite.

"Yeah? Who's your cousin?" Kaz taps her foot on the bench. "I might know her. It's a small world out there, after all."

Apocalypse hesitates about half a second, which is probably like several minutes to less spastic people; she bounces on the balls of her feet a couple of times. "Brigid... ah, shit." She squints up her eyes. "Brigid St. David."

"Oh, yeah," Kaz says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world for this spastic ragamuffin to be a Silver Fang, "I know her. She's kinda spacy."

Apocalypse lifts eyebrows. "You know her? No shit?"

"Oh, yeah," repeats Kaz. "She ain't someone I know too good, 'cause, well, she been stuck out in the woods til recently, but yeah, she's pretty cool. I mean," she adds, with the slightest of grins, "For a Silver Fang, anyways."

Apocalypse rocks back, heels going flat on the ground, mouth hanging open slightly. She gets a bit of an unbelieving-but-wanna-believe kind of half-grin and says, "No way." Then a hand snaps out, thumb up like an artist squinting at a model; her eyes unfocus like she's trying to see one of those Magic Eye things. "No... fuckin'... _way_..."

The Gnawer grins further at this reaction, after a slight pause for some sort of concentration. "/Way/. You wanna fuller introduction than just "Hey, I know who you are?""

Apocalypse's gaze comes back from la-la land, and she barks out a laugh of delight. "Fuckin' _yes_! Hah! Oh, ain't that just th' fuckin' _bomb_." She settles down enough to glance around at the park, then asks, "'Zit, ya know, fuckin' kosher? I mean, here?"

Kaz nods. "Yeah. We kinda hang out here a lot, so there ain't a lot of humans as can deal with it. It's kinda shared territory between my pack, the Walker's pack, an' some Get pack. So you know, don' go shiftin' in public, but talkin', it's mostly ok, unless random strangers come up singin' about dogs. Anyways, so yeah. I'm Kaz, like I said. Ears, if you want. Ears-to-the-Ground, if you're feelin' formal. Bone Gnawer, Galliard, an' Elder of th' tribe here. Alpha of Trouble, hangin' with Raccoon. Fostern. An' oh," she adds, regarding Apoc' through her hair, "Metis."

Apocalypse snickers at the 'singing about dogs' part, then rocks back on her heels, face split by the grin. "This is too fuckin' _much_. Okay." A beat. "Defies-the-Apocalypse, Silver Fangs, yeah-bob, Galliard, Cliath for _three_ years, 'n yeah, my parents were fuckin' charachs, too." She pushes fingers through her hair. "That's the fuckin' short version, a' course."

Kaz nods at all of this. Then asks, as if she can't quite help herself, "What's the long version?"

Apocalypse takes a deep breath, then recites, "I am the daughter of Bright-Howl-of-Morning, charach and disgrace, and Falcon's Glory, charach and disgrace, and disowned by House Wyrmfoe, born under the waxing aspect of Luna's Gibbous face in Central Park within the Sept of the Green, trained and Rited in honor by Ian Steadfast, formerly of the Sept of Fallen Snows in England, passing with Falcon's blessing three years ago, I am Defies-the-Apocalypse of the First Tribe, the Silver Fangs." She gasps, then adds, "_Word_."

Kaz suggests, amusement in her eyes, "Breathe more in the middle, there."

"Naaah, more fuckin' fun the other way." Apocalypse grins toothily. "Shit, I left stuff out. I mean, th' rest of it's s'posed to go on 'bout shit I did between Rite 'n comin' here, but fuck. I always tried t' sing th' fuckin' Major General Song on one breath, too."

Kaz gets a gleam in her eye. She takes an ostensibly not-very-large breath and starts, "Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii am the very model of a modern major general, I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral, I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical; I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical, I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical..." At this point, Kaz is losing ground, but she goes on, "About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news, With many cheerful facts about the square of the hyPO--" breath "tenuse." There's a long pause. "What kinda shit you done, then?"

Apocalypse grins, visibly restraining herself from launching into the chorus. She bounces on her toes a bit instead. "Mostly a little fuckin' Wyrm-ass-kickin', ya know the fuckin' drill, I'm sure. Never managed ta get with a pack, and then, ya know, the word came down. Bad fuckin' shit out west, ya know? So." She spreads her arms. "Here I am!"

Kaz mutters, "...The square of the hyPOtenuse" one more time, and then nods. "Yah, big ol' shit. You gotten in touch with Brigid yet? She's actually lookin' to throw a pack together, 'cause, you know. Need people at your back."

"No fuckin' shit," Apocalypse agrees, and then shakes her head. "Nah, I dropped a line her way, but we ain't fuckin' got together yet. 'N all Uncle Ian back home could give me was a fuckin' phone number."

Kez says, "Well... you don' smell. So yeah." She reels off the address of Falcon's Rest. "There's a whole buttload of Fangs hangin' out there. Brigid, an' her sister Kristine, an' Brittany, who's Miss Traditionalist, an' Wilbur, an' a couple cubs on their Rite of Passage."

Apocalypse fishes out a black felt-tip pen and scribbles the address on the back of her hand. "Uh-huh... so, who's the fuckin' high-muckity mini-local-kinglet?"

Apocalypse adds, "...Of the tribe, I mean."

"Brittany's Elder, but she's never really around, so it kinda fucks with doin' anythin'. I think Kris wants to take over or somethin', but I dunno, I don' talk politics of other tribes." She pauses. "Well, not /much/, anyway."

"Hey, mebbe _I'll_ take over," says the New Yorker, and then barks a laugh.

Kez grins. "Hey, who knows. Weirder things've happened. Like /me/, fuckin' takin' over a tribe."

Apocalypse tucks the pen behind her ear. "Yeah, but you Gnawery folks are fuckin' more hip with that shit. Cripes, you know Mama Larissa? That woman is _still_ _fuckin'_ _alive_, can you fucking _beat_ that?"

Kaz's grin is large, and heartfelt. "See, /that's/ why I gotta fuckin' live through this, so I can fuckin' meet /her/, sometime."

Apocalypse lifts her eyebrows and makes her eyes all wide. "Oh, man, _yeah_. You ain't fuckin' lived 'til you've seen Mama Larissa smack a Red Talon on the ass with her cane."

"Oh... Hell no, I ain't." Kaz's grin doesn't fade. "So yeah, put that on the list of Reasons to Live. Right beside good sex."

"Good sex, good beer, and fuckin' _loud_ ass good music." Apocalypse bobs her head in emphatic agreement. "Ohyeah."

Kaz glances upwards. "Right," she mutters. "Ok." She studies Apoc' for a moment, and then asks, "Lookit, kid, you wanna go patrollin' with me? I could use the help."

Apocalypse snaps her heels together and executes a picture-perfect Rimmer salute. "Jawohl!" Then she breaks the stiff pose and grins. "An' you can show a fuckin' yokel the fuckin' ups an' downs, yeah?"

"Sure the fuck can," agrees Kaz, and leads the way Umbral.

Kez pages to the room: Presume she told Apoc a lot of the recent history and where people hang out and who some folks (like Robert) are.

Apocalypse says, "Bitchin'," and falls into heel with the Gnawer.