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Sierra Roen:
Just off of the historic roadway and major drag that is Chestnut Street and through the densest bits of Philadelphia, there's an alleyway -- or what used to be an alleyway. Calling it such would be uncharitable now; it's a proper park, if an inordinately small one, and indeed no larger than, well a large alleyway. But now it possesses the rustic charm as would befit such an esteemed locale, just down the street from Independence Hall, UPenn, the US Custom House, the Second Bank, and so much more besides.
It's practically quaint, separated by a painted-black steel grate, the door presently swung open, and creeping vines scale the walls, verdant plant life and trees sprout from patches of soil, and a water feature dominates the small, narrow space.
Sierra, for her part, sits on a bench before the water feature, columns and pillars of stone that regurgitate an endless stream of recycled water into something too small to call a pond, too ornate to call a puddle.
And, she's not alone. Visible in Twilight and Twilight only, a small spirit that most looks like a kingfisher delicately wades through the pool, its ephemeral feathers puffed. Once or twice, it regards Sierra as she regards it, but it carries on, and pays the Irraka no mind, content to absorb the resonant Essence of the space amidst urban sprawl that dwells just outside the gate.
Jolene Logan:
Jo ended up places. Sometimes it seemed purposeful, most times it was coincidence. Though she always wondered if it wasn't some bit of fate putting her where she should be. Lacking a proper job, or really, even an improper one, she spent a fair amount of time exploring the parts of the city that weren't likely to get her killed, and 3 steps past the park when it registered, and she walked several steps backwards to reaffirm that what she thought she'd caught a glimpse of, was in fact there.
Making a chirp of sound she began to wander into the little hidden away gem of a find.
Sierra Roen:
Sierra is seated on one of the wooden benches, leaned back and arm draped along the edge, the corner. She ticks her head in Jolene's direction a moment before the chirp and a moment before the kingfisher spirit does likewise; wolf senses, naturally, and before she can see through through the swooping foliage to match face, general body shape and smell does the rest. "Come in," she invites like it's up to her.
Jolene Logan:
It doesn't matter if it's up to her or not, Jo responds as if it is, stepping deeper in, her eyes glittering at the site of the kingfisher. "....amazing birds." Of course this one was a spirit, but the sentiment stood. Moving closer and smiling softly before she gave a little trill of greeting to the spirit and then looking to Sierra. "It's a lovely place you found." She offers with a crooked smile.
Sierra Roen:
"This is a pocket park," Sierra starts to explain to Jolene, gesturing around at it with a languid flick of her hand, and then she uses that same hand to beckon Jolene closer while the kingfisher spirit eyes them both with suspicion. It's small, but likely not harmless. No spirit truly is.
"I used to cut school and smoke loose joints here." She gestures at the water feature. "But that's new," she admits, assessing it for likely the umpteenth time since she got here before she flicks her dark green eyes back to the urugarum. "Just out for a stroll?"
Roger Teague:
Walked around, walked around, walked around town... found his nerve and a good place to hide only to find some souls inside. Roger's feet had their own ways to them and resonance had its own magic. The man's feet found places and spaces and dressed as he was for the work that some might think he did, the suit and the long coat that he donned over it like a cloak or even a robe. No boots today but the finer shoes that matched the rest of him.
The phone in his hand slipped away, finishing something that he'd been doing, drinking in the world's loose connections. The thing with the kingfishers were the eyes, like pools of water, some of them would think them good enough, others would find the hats offensive, terrible beaks of greater birds which their gusto might ask to disrupt... each bird was different. He'd met Foster... and Foster like his squishy jelly puddles and hated the beaks of the very large featherless birds. Kingfishers were questions... Kookaburra's their kings... if you knew the songs and the stories, poor lost spirits living in worlds so far from their selves.
Jolene Logan:
"Pocket Park." Like she's testing the words, but then English wasn't her first language, and did so love coming up with new phrases. "In Los Angeles, there is a guerilla gardner, they're not an actual gorilla, I looked into it, but they take the bits of neglected greenery along sidewalks and streets in poor neighborhoods, and plant fruits and vegetables there....it's apparently illegal which makes no sense." She muses as she eyes the spirit, but she's relaxed about it, almost pleased. She hadn't been kidding she did have a soft spot for Kingfishers.
"Have you asked why it's here?" curiously, she had on her usual uniform of attire, though her hands were out, on her legs, palms up, like some sort of assurance of truce, or movement in a ritual.
Sierra Roen:
Sierra indulges in a long blink and a muffled, snorted laugh when Jolene sees it germane to emphasis that the gardener was not an actual gorilla, and she gestures at the seat next to her in front of the water feature and the little spirit.
"It doesn't talk," Sierra replies, shaking her head. "It's too little. Only barely a hursih." She gestures around the park. "Possible it was born here. Little thing in a big city." She puts a fractional emphasis on the words, like it could apply to more than one of the entities here.
Roger Teague:
His phone out of his sight, he slipped hands into his pockets and let the little bit of a smile come out, "Hello, again." The words coming as he glanced about the place, his eyes missing the water fowl, unopened as they were in that moment. One who had the choice to see or not see.
Jolene Logan:
She nods at that, giving a wolfish grin that says she knows the gorilla bit is funny, but her eyes promise, she legit checked, just in case. Still she moves to the offered seat, and makes a thoughtful sound, at the possible origins of the bird, or was it Sierra. Looking sideways to her, and smiling faintly. "Is it weird to be in a space you once knew, with it so changed? Like someone has been in your room and moved everything?" Her eyes momentarily fixed on her before the voice broke the moment.
She looked to the man, the gesture a little faster than normal, she didn't have wolf senses, and had in fact, apparently, been a tiny bit startled. "Hey." she offers, her smile falling back in place.
Sierra Roen:
"Something like that," Sierra replies, wagging her head from side to side in slow consideration as she digests the analogy. "It doesn't feel like my room anymore. It's familiar. I know the streets, and the corners, and the boltholes, and I know the way, but it's almost like the same map on a different city, if that makes sense," she muses after some consideration, and the kingfisher spirit takes small but pronounced, ballerina steps though the pool.
She tips her head in the direction of Roger and upnods her head. "Cheers," she buzzes. "Small world, twice in as many weeks."
Roger Teague:
He nods to the pair, "Small world that we just keep making smaller." Taking the moments and the steps to come closer and take in more of the space, a sound chirping from his pocket that goes unheeded, but causes a little twist to his lips. "All the better to grow out from sometimes..." He looks to the pair and takes a seat at a table after twisting a chair about to face them.
Jolene Logan:
She nods as Sierra at least partially confirms her suspicions, thinking if she ever goes 'home' it'll feel the same, everything just wrong. "It does make sense." It's clear her thoughts are working through something or other, grinning a bit at the birds dancing, delicate struts, praising it with nonsense sounds, since it was, as Sierra had told her, a small spirit.
She looked back to Roger. "You do show up in the most curious of places." She offers.
Sierra Roen:
The kingfisher spirit eyes Roger now. He might not see it, but it sees him, and it narrows its beaky little gaze, takes an even longer strut through the water, as if it's now flexing in the Mage's general direction. Its feather puffies do look more puffy, a primitive little affectation.
Sierra notices this but doesn't let on more than the faintest of grins, and a grin could be at anything, right? "And how did this most democratic of days treat the pair of you?" Mortal politics are of little consequence to a Bone Shadow and Sierra is no exception, but the city of Philadelphia, in all of its historical significance, is awash in reds and whites and blues, heralding the end of This One's Term and the beginning of That One's Term, and it seems fitting to touch on it in some respect.
Roger Teague:
He offers a shrug, reclining back, one leg pulling up over the other, arms dropping the coat to drape over the chair behind him, "Better than the one before, but days are days and I'm hoping to see something come of it all among the norms that doesn't just continue the slide..." His chin settles against a hand, a thing that requires him to slump deep in the wooden seat. His eyes flicking from Sierra to Jolene, considering what she might be making noises for, and turns back, "There's too much to do... and changing hats..." A shrug. "Change gives potential, but we'll see if it's wasted."
Jolene Logan:
She moves to brush hair from her lips, truly she's hiding the little smirk at the puffed up, strutting spirit who clearly was making sure everyone, but especially Roger, knew who was boss here. She pauses though at Sierra's question. "Transitions are always interesting things, these cusps of possibility....I think I'm pretty happy about it, all this new potential out in the world, I feel like being here has been like that for me, all this new potential." She was often truthful, if not honest. She knew how to use words just so. But this felt raw, and introspective, more than she'd normally share with relative strangers.
"...I've also been training, I have a punch bag now, and I've discovered, things that don't really hurt at the time...you wake up like you've been hit by a ton of bricks." Laughing a little startled. Her body was sore, winter was already reminding her of every bit of her that had been hurt in the happenings of the past year, and now there was the ache of muscles really being used for the first time in a long time, if not forever.
Sierra Roen:
Sierra still wears a congenial smile, and she bobs her head in an amiable way. "Sure," she acknowledges with nearly dismissive brevity, and if she has an opinion one way or the other, it doesn't rise to the level of needing to be shared. "Who holds power matters, everywhere, and don't let anyone tell you differently." She lets her head hang to the side in a somewhat exaggerated affectation of thoughtfulness. "But what I meant was, did you have a good day?" she clarifies.
At the mention of training, the green-eyed Irraka flickers her attention sidelong to her urugarum comrade. "Good," she replies, and it's not entirely clear if that's in response to the notion of Jolene training, or the notion of Jolene being sore from training. Both seem likely. Both are true. "Growth hurts. Let it. Suck it up." And she ribs Jolene, elbow to flank, just like that. "You'll be fine," she counsels in a voice half-consoling, and half-daring, but all the way friendly.
Roger Teague:
A chuckle, nodding, "My day has been a delightful exercise in mapping... which I enjoy as a side hobby, soo... yes, it's been a lovely day for me." His eyes move from Jolene's vacant space to her, looking her over and nodding appreciatively. "Growing hurts..." Toying with the words. "Yeah... that works... change is always violence... art is violence... people are violent..." He tilts his head a moment and nods. "Is it... honey and willow for the relieving teas and salves?" Wondering if either might have the answer to that which slipped from him at some point.
Jolene Logan:
She laughs and ducks her head down, but nods "I did, I had an amazing sandwich, with the most atrocious form of cheese that is still surprisingly delicious." She gave a sharp, toothy grin. "Some stretching, some exploring, last night I tore out the carpet in my master bedroom, I'm remodeling the house, and I think it's becoming...cathartic?" Like she was checking to make sure that was the right word. English wasn't her first language.
She laughed at the ribbing, the little tease "I'm suuuucking it up, also doing epson salt baths and stretching seems to help." She offers, clearly intent on working through it. "We rarely become better at things by doing easy stuff..." She looks to Roger "You map things as a hobby?" Looking perplexed like that never even occurred to her as a potential hobby. The words about violence are met with just a bit of silence though before she perks up "Willow, it's aspirin...honey too, it's delicious." As if delicious was vital for relief.
Salome Perez:
Three sizeable dog precedes her, well, more like drags her along without much of her opinion being considered. "Oh fuck's sake, let me catch up." she scolds the two Bloodhounds and the dark grey pibbles with her. Salome has arrived! Leather, denim and probably a bit of dog fur.
The dogs seems as if they're on a hunt for something, sniffing around and mildly playing with each other. Salome looks over the other people in the small park and nods to their presence, heading closer to Jolene, since she recognizes the woman, but greeting the others in the conversation as wlel. "Hey."
Sierra Roen:
"Mapping," Sierra repeats the word, grinning sidelong to Jolene and at her humored response to the light cajoling. She pushes up from where she's seated and takes a long stride towards the pool where the kingfisher struts and marches to and fro, feathers still puffy with self-exaltation. "Someone might have beaten you to it," she replies to Roger. "But I can appreciate the exercise in spatial curiosity." A Herculean undersell.
She turns her chin, and the rest of her head, towards the gate where Salome and a pack of hounds enter, and recognizing the woman for what she is on sight, she ticks her head in the most familiar way you can to a stranger. "Hi. This is a lucky day, isn't it?" she remarks. She throws her eyes over towards the Mage. "He hasn't got the smell, but he used to be urugarum. Let me just," and she burns away a wisp of Essence, and the gate behind Salome and her dogs edges closed as if by automation, folding shut and barring out the rest of Chestnut Street's passersby. There. Now they have some privacy.
"We haven't met. I'm Sierra Roen." She flickers her eyes at the dogs. "Ooooh," she chirps in that voice people use for dogs and dogs alone, the voice everyone uses for dogs. "Hey there, guys," she gushes.
Roger Teague:
"Luckier and luckier?" He slips out his phone, tapping a few icons and sliding it over to Jolene. A google map, as someone had mapped it previously, time and time and time again, his was a little different, spacially, vertically up to date, but had little individual pin pricks where signals touched and pushed... not useful to most or understandable, but useful for him all the same... a digital map laid over the physical.
Turning to the new face, giving a wave as he was introduced, what had been a reminder that word, the blood that still ran through him, even if it wasn't his calling any longer, "I think I've got some bit of smell still... just not what it used to be, bit of an eau de sang?" A chuckle, pleased with himself, "Roger, here."
Jolene Logan:
She gave a smile to Salome, the two having done some work together, and had at least one adventure together! "...and this is Salome..." She offers and then frowns and apologizes, looking to the dogs "I'm sorry, I don't think I know your names." And this is how you can tell who grew up with spirits, because most things got a level attention that said she half suspected they understood her and deserved the same basic levels of acknowledgement and respect afforded to people. But she falls off letting the little group cover the rest of their introductions, as her attention slides to the gate, giving a sound that is a curious question.
Salome Perez:
"Pleasure to meet you, Roger, Sierra." A look over her shoulder at the door closing, then back at the people here. "Is this some form of social trap or something?" Salome ask, half joking as she untangle her wrists and hand from the leashes, letting the dog go a bit freeer.
"This is Yeti." pointing to one of the blood hound, one with a lighter shade of fur. Then to the other, much darker "This is Sasquatch" and then looks to the Pibble "And this is Bib." All of them seem rather enthused by the greetings given by Sierra, approaching to smell her, all of them well-behaved, if not a bit loud with the greeting growls.
She makes a weird sound that's a mixture of word in a strange language and a bark and the dogs responds each in turn. "Is there a topic ongoing?"
Sierra Roen:
"Not a trap," she assures with a grin that indicates that this could be a lie. "But so many in once place might invite some excitement, and I don't want anyone else coming in." She eyes the introduced dogs in turn. "Yeti and Sasquatch and Bib," Sierra purrs, sinking down to their level and holding out her hands, palms up, so the woofers can sniff at her and take her measure.
When it's presented, Sierra seizes on the opportunity. "Well, Jolene here," she gestures at the smaller of her companions. "Has been practicing the more martial of arts," she quips, the grin slinking across her face like a snake through the grass. "She was going to show us."
Roger Teague:
Roger took in each of the dogs in turn and waited for his turn to offer them a greeting, the ritual of offerings and small sounds, looked between the three and relaxed back, eyes set on Jolene, "Now that's an idea... a bit of a dance?" The amusement flickering in his eyes as he laced fingers in his lap after he disappeared his phone to a pocket.
Jolene Logan:
She mouths each dogs name in turn, before nodding as if committing them to memory. She looks to Sierra and the scheming gleam in her eyes, giving a slow crooooon of sound that says 'oooooh you dirty bastard, you're up to no good' more or less. But a grin spreads her lips, and she does something she never would have down a few days before and slid her jacket off. The shirt she wore underneath was short sleeved, and revealed arms that bore thick ropes of scarring, the sort that had to have been made with intention.
The little sprite moves to a center position, bowing to the King Fisher, and then each of the other three in turn, as if they were cardinal directions, and then she strikes a pose, that looks like it could have come from any over the top martial arts movie. And then her pose shifts with a snap, and there's a combat baton in each hand, who knew from where?!
What follows is a demonstration of martial arts in the way 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' was, all art and dance, and very little in the way of function, and she spun this way and that. It looked good, really good actually, but to a trained eye there would be no mistaking this dance for someone who actually knew what they were doing. It did however become clear, that she knew just how to move her body, and how to put on a show. Even going so far as to duck in a back bend ala Matrix before coming up right and finishing the dance of a demonstration, by striking another pose. One brief final moment of theatrics, before she let out a peel of laughter.
Salome Perez:
Salome moves back from the dancing and air punching, she watches with interest, the dog clear the way, avoiding getting accidentally hit by the dance and settling near Salome, Roger and Sierra, looking far less motivated than they did when they came in here earlier.
"Those sticks look like they might pack a firm punch."
Sierra Roen:
Sierra still gives her foremost attention to the mushy puppy faces in her immediate midst before she uncoils from her crouched position on the ground and rises. "Impressive," she buzzes with some amusement. "But that's not what I meant," she murmurs mirthfully, shaking her head and rounding about to face the little one. "Hit me," she offers. She doesn't even take offer her jacket. The kingfisher spirit stares up at her, half-indignation, expression full of don't you dare make a mess in my pond, wolf. She ignores it.
She makes a beckoning gesture. "Come on. You know I'll heal," she motivates. "Hit me."
Roger Teague:
He watches the presentation thoughtfully and there's a gentle applause that follows the conclusion, but he shakes his head at its conclusion a little and waits, the smile returning a touch wider when that statement is made, something which makes his fingers flex and strain a moment against each other in his lap sitting a little higher, "There it is... that's what I remember being the way... Proof. Real proof that shows what can be done." His fingers laced tighter together, forming a single taut fist before slowly relaxing, slower breaths, resisting something.
Jolene Logan:
She gave a sly smile to Sierra as she called her out on not performing quite as intended, but nods slowly, closing the batons and setting them with her jacket. She knew, logically, that the batons wouldn't hurt her, possibly couldn't hurt her, but it still felt wrong. She moved in front of Sierra, and took a slow breath. "I've never really hit a person like this." Like this being operative "Though Sonja, Ludwig's sister in law, said I could practice with her." Have to give it to them, most wolves encouraged each other to learn, but of course, they had a war to fight.
After taking a moment to steel herself, she positioned herself in front of Sierra, really hoping this didn't end up poorly for either of them....she knew the basics of hitting things! Don't tuck your thumb, follow through, and she wound up for her hit....which definitely went better in her head.
Salome Perez:
Salome wraps her arms around the pibble near her and barks a word softly in its ear and his tail start waving rapidly, causing the Ithaeur to giggle a little bit at the response. "Sierra can really heal, you don,t have to hold back." She comment, misinterpreting the moment.
Sierra Roen:
Sierra watches Jolene approach range, and doesn't move, and her eyes are on Jolene's but her periphery is focused more center-mass, about the point in between Jolene's collarbones, mindful of their latitude and positioning and movements. The body telegraphs much more than the eyes. Sometimes.
When the neat and downward strike comes, she's moving as soon as the Wolf-Blooded is, tilting just outside the sweeping trajectory of the baton's arc; it's a clean miss, and whatever momentum Jolene had put into the strike keeps carrying her, possibly onwards and beyond where the Irraka stood. Sierra has the wherewithal to take stock of the small pool of the water feature behind her, burning away another wisp of Essence to strengthen the surface tension of the water. Now anyone could be Christ, and walk on water, and the urugarum's wayward blow, should she fall, would not leave her in wet clothes.
Roger Teague:
The observer does just that, settling in and putting aside mischief as a hand idly wanders to the nearest of the dogs, watching the shifts and balances, some part of him opening his eyes to the layer of the world that revealed the energies spent and exhausted, the flow from one to the next. The exorcist's eye meanwhile escaping his lazy and inattentive grasp.
Jolene Logan:
If there was ever a moment to illustrate the difference of martial grace as a dance versus a style, Sierra was showing it. As she deftly moved out of Jo's way, letting the sprite of a blooded know defeat at the hand of her own momentum versus another. She does indeed spill forward, ready to wipe out in the pond, but she lands on it, like a child down a massive water bed...save it wasn't massive. But landing was all the same, the water like jello beneath her.
Which earned the most delighted sound from the mess of a girl, truly joyful, unlike so many of the little sounds she made. Her eyes wide, as she sits up, and chirps at the air...except it was really at the king fisher, who was no doubt a bit indignant about all of this, as there clearly wasn't enough pond for the bond of them. She couldn't resist, giving another little bounce before laughing again, and carefully starting to work to her feet, which had the exact same obstacles as escaping a water bed.
Salome Perez:
Salome gets a mischievous look in her eyes, for a brief moment as she recognizes the gift being used and considers using her own for a moment or two, deciding against it, no need to antagonize people she could be working with, not for some laugh anyway.
"The mess of wet mud I could make..." she chuckles, shaking her head a little bit, watching the other two Uratha perform and move about each others. "So, Rogers, what brings you out tonight?"
Sierra Roen:
The waterbed-like surface of the water bobbles harmlessly underneath Jolene as she non-literally takes a dive, and the kingfisher spirit flutters from its position to 'perch' on top of the Wolf-Blooded like it is, in fact, the true victor on this battlefield. Of course, it's not really perched on her, and requires no purchase at all, being able to zip about in Twilight without the whims and worries of silly things like gravity, but the affectation is plain as day.
Sierra rounds closer to Jolene to kneel and offer her a hand up. "That wasn't bad," she offers. "Obviously, I couldn't just let you hit me," she goes on sensibly. "But the approach was not bad at all. Up you go." The kingfisher spirit glares reproachfully at Sierra and she makes a face at it, making a little shooing motion with her hand.
Roger Teague:
He smirks at the effect as it pulled taut beneath and his eyes flick from the figure of joyful Jolene, pond conqueror, to Salome, "Drawing funny digital maps of the city that aren't terribly useful for people who aren't me." A little shrug, "I could do it from home but..." He gestures at the space, "The fresh air makes it substantially more pleasant, and who could ever turn down the company one finds in the spaces you don't expect."
Jolene Logan:
She laughed as the Kingfisher declared himself conqueror, and like a ham she played it up, back of wrist to her brow, dramatic 'oooohs', before laughing as Sierra shoos it offer, gives the most of apologetic sounds, and takes the offering, working to her feet with Sierra's help. "No, no, of course not...they do say avoiding a fight is always the best decision, though I think you and I interpreted that widely differently." She teases once she's back on her feet nodding. "Thank you....I know I still have a lot to learn...I grew up always knowing someone was looking out for me, I think i took that for granted." don't most people who have such arrangements?
Salome Perez:
"Yeah those kind of endeavor always bring more eventful nights than you'd expect." Salome points to her dogs "I was trying to get them some exercise and practice while I was keeping an eye on things around the city." she points to her eyes.
"Sometimes avoiding it isn't possible, so it's a good idea to keep yourself sharp!"
Sierra Roen:
Almost as soon as Jolene is up and off the wobbly surface of the altered pool, the tensile strength collapses, and is plain again. The kingfisher spirit poofs his ephemeral feathers, and resumes his bath, or at least, his mimicry of a bath.
"Everyone grows up knowing something," she returns once the smaller girl is right-side up. "Then they learn something else." Much Shadow. Very Bone.
She flickers a look back over to Roger and Salome, and tips her head in that direction, indicating to Jolene that they might return to the other pair. She peels her lips back in another grin and winks at Bib as she gets closer to the nexus of bodies still by the bench. "I can think of a lot of company I would turn down," she lobs candidly. "But you'll do." Another cat-like grin.
Roger Teague:
He nods to the dogs, looking them over, before setting eyes on Salome. "Demanding bunch that they are, it's still easier than children in most cases." A chuckle, "Cheaper too last I figured... And so much more personable.. Yes... Yes you are, aren't you... At least to start." Looking over the trio and for a moment looking from them to the owner, "Why Three?" Considering it as though some thought had just crossed his mind that had been missed...
A shake of his head, clarity, A sigh, gesturing outward and clutching his hands together over his heart, grinning wide to Sierra, "That I will do is perhaps the greatest of complements I might earn in the company... I will treasure it... perhaps even put it on a pin."
Jolene Logan:
She considers Sierra's words, and actually holds her hand a moment longer than needed, before nodding and letting her go, as if coming back to reality she moves to rejoin the others, her hands moving to pull back on her jacket and the armor it represented. Before settling back in the seats they'd occupied before their little play time. She nods slowly "Some company is meant for short duration, if at all." apparently she too had a list.
"Cerebus." She declares before giving a small laugh at the notion of the three dogs being the tri headed hound.
Salome Perez:
"Happenstance? Honestly there wasn't a point to it. I just found two puppies one day and another a few months later and made them part of my life." Salome shrug and smiles "And now, part of my pack." she reaches down to let Bib headbutt her as the dogs wander around the people.
"Next furry companion I get is likely to be something like a raccoon or a pigeon, they seem super interesting to interact with." Salome comment
then a look toward Jolene and Sierra "Maybe when I find another dog, I can name him that." a beat "You two okay?" a normal question to levy after a fight, even a short, planned one.
Sierra Roen:
"Quite right to," the Irraka buzzes back at Roger.
Sierra performs the affectation of looking around curiously, from side to side at Salome's inquiry, gesturing at herself in the universally understood 'Me?' and then twitching a hooked thumb over at Jolene for clarification. "Sure," she beeps. "Just wanted to see what she could do." She holds out an open palm for a passing snoot to rub its muzzle in, and provides scritches on demand. "A pack hound, are you?" she talks to the animal. "Good boy," she purrs.
Roger Teague:
He smiled wide as Jolene gave the answer to the question, a clap at the word, the name, "Just had the feeling of the Guardian Hound for a moment as I thought about them... but happenstance'll do family is family." The question at the end of the battle, a moment's care. "Our lot know it better than most..." Maybe he was the one that wasn't okay for it, drawing in a breath and relaxing back in his seat, drawing his coat back about himself. "Ah well... I should get going. Think I'm going to call it."
Jolene Logan:
She looked up surprised at the question "....she made me a jello bed, it was awesome." She declares with a cheesy grin, but then she pauses to think about it. It was the first bit of anything resembling fighting she'd done in....nine months? Ten....and after a moment of thinking she nods as if to reaffirm her decision. "It was a good way to start." Looking sidelong "....if needed can we try again, in earnest?" A little tentatively.
She was not as good with animals as the others, she'd never had pets, she'd had spirits and was great with them, but she seemed respectful of them! She looked to Roger and nodded as he began to collect himself.
Salome Perez:
"Have a nice rest, Rogers, I hope you find it easily." Salome says as he decides to announce his leave, she speaks to the dog in the odd words she's put together so far and they come sit around her quickly, possibly preventing them from following the man out.
"Yeah, controlling water is really a fun way to interact with the world, it's also idea for prank too." she replies toward Sierra and Jolene.
Sierra Roen:
Sierra upnods her head at Roger as he rises to leave. "Good running into you again. Cheers," she tells him before she glances sideways at Jolene and gives her a short and singular nod, a bob of her chin. "Whenever you like," she returns.
"It can be useful, yes," she agrees, sliding back into the seat at the bench that she had occupied before, going back to a certain level with the dogs and giving the nearest one's head a gentle skritchy-scratch. "What well-trained dogs these are," she compliments Salome. "Are you a dog trainer, of some kind?"
Roger Teague:
"That's the plan, good seeing everyone... Stay safe..." He gives a wave and heads off.
Jolene Logan:
"I'm told she can train dogs to be okay with cats too...." as if this might some day be an important detail, to someone, maybe. Leaning back and rolling her shoulders, as if they were stiff, winter told her every part of her body that ached these days.
Salome Perez:
"I can and it's not as much of a problem as the legends and myths of nowadays would lead you to believe." She responds with a smile, remembering the little kitten from Ludwig's place.
"I'm very good with animals and I can train them, dogs happen to be a bit of a specialty, since I've had a lot of practice." a beat. "I have a few special tricks up my sleeves that most of the People don't have either, so if you need me to teach your dog a few tricks, I can do it."
Sierra Roen:
The corners of Sierra's mouth quirk in a soft grin. "I don't have a dog," she clarifies. "But I like them." Who the hell doesn't? Honestly.
"What do you do when you are not using special tricks to teach animals special tricks?" she chirps at Salome, eyeing her down and up with a perfunctory onceover. "I'm just back in town after some time, you have to forgive my curiosity. There are so many new faces."
Jolene Logan:
She had a smug little grin on her lips as if Salome's assurances were a notch in some battle the universe didn't know it was having with her. Which was largely, how to sneak a kitten into her life. "A convergence, a lot of people are new here....maybe the wound draws us, maybe we sense a place that needs us." She muses voicing her little theory outloud for the first time really.
Salome Perez:
"It's pretty much the same, I left the city a while ago because my presence was a danger to people and I'm back here because my absence would mean more danger to people." A vague answer. "I spent a lot of the last few years out in the wild, outsides, mostly in Georgia."
"I help the Watchdogs and do my work as a crescent moon. I don't exactly have a mundane occupation." she scratches the top of one of the bloodhound's head. "Though I suppose I could find something fulfilling easily."
Sierra Roen:
Sierra regards the little Wolf-Blooded for a moment. "Wounds draw other things, too." But what those other things are is a sober conversation into which she doesn't seem to care to further tread, nor does she tug on the cryptic string of Salome's vagueries. "Oh, Georgia, yeah?" she chirps back, canting her head to the side. "How'd you like it?"
Jolene Logan:
She nods, she'd been studying with Ludwig extensively about that, and didn't feel much need to expand on that. She rose to her feet. "Thank you for tonight Sierra..." then she offers Salome a smile in turn "I think I'm going to find my way home." She offers giving one more long stretch.
Salome Perez:
"I found Georgia just peachy honestly." A little pun, even if only judging by the smile that follows the statement. "It was a bit strange, it was the first place I experienced through location more than people." an idle scratch of her chin.
"Oh, Be safe on the way home, Jolene!" Salome offers the other woman.
Sierra Roen:
Sierra winces theatrically at Salome's pun, and raises a hand to wave off to Jolene. "Anytime," she repeats. "Get home safe." And then her attention wanders back over to the Ithaeur. "I never spent much time in Georgia, only in passing, really, but I did hike the Appalachian Trail. Not the whole thing, a part of it, but the ending bit was there. Why were you sleeping rough out there?" she wonders.
Jolene Logan:
And off she goes...
Salome Perez:
"Honestly, it's what the circumstances presented to me and I took it? I spent my whole life in a cozy, fancy situation being completely isolated from the world in a way and this was some form of 'catching up'." Salome explains "Plus, having some idea of how to conduct yourself in civilized society can make you pretty valuable to people who's been roughing it for a long time. They lose their touch, to put it... politely."
"So I have a van and I run errands for them, once in a while. We have a lot of tools to deal with isolation, but sometimes physical delivery is what you need."
Sierra Roen:
"We," Sierra repeats, putting singular emphasis on the word and making a rolling gesture with her wrist, as if fishing the rest out by reel.
Salome Perez:
"My old pack, and other who hunt in darkness around less populated areas." Salome explains. "No much need for my kind of delivery for people who live in a city."
Sierra Roen:
"Not unless Sasquatch here can get certified as an Uber driver," Sierra buzzes, flashing a grin at the animal that she's pretty sure is Sasquatch. Yeah. Yeah that's the one.
"Yeah," she circles back. "It's six of one, half a dozen of the other to me. Urban, rural, cities, not-cities. They can both be just as noisy as the other," she muses, an icy mist hazing off her words as breath hits cold air. "I've not stayed in one place very long for the better part of two decades. I've come to appreciate them all." She clicks her tongue behind her teeth. "The strangest place I've been, I think, is home," she acknowledges, gesturing around, not so much to the park as to the greater city itself.
Salome Perez:
"Yeah, if you travel a whole lot, I imagine things start to blend in a way they don't for other people. I've mostly only been between here and Georgia, with maybe a single trip to Florida when I was young." an exaggerated wince at the memory of that trip. "Calling Philadelphia my home is... difficult, but then again I'd say that of the woodlands I spent a long time with." a shrug. "And as for calling people home, that's pretty much the same."
Sierra Roen:
"Oof. Florida," Sierra partakes in a commiserating wince, and shakes her head. "You must never go there, Simba." She sags her head back on her shoulders, and rolls her neck from side to side, stretching an arm out across the back of the bench in what would have been a certifiably smooth junior high move, if she had used the other arm.
"Did you come back here with your pack, or did you meet them here? I didn't ask how long you'd been back," she notes, more of an outloud observation than a follow-up question.
Salome Perez:
"I left them over there and then joined my sister's pack here." A shrug and a sigh "That's a bit of a complicated story the shiny ones are very invested in." the said shiny ones are designated with wiggling fingers toward the sky. "I've been back a couple of months now."
Sierra Roen:
"The shiny ones," Sierra repeats, and she seems to do that from time to time - just repeat what someone said back at them, making the words her own and painting them with a different coat of paint, a different finish in tone or meaning, and it's clear here that her interest has been suitably piqued. But she seems to be well-groomed in the locutionary arts, asking without asking so as not to put someone on the spot, leave them in the position of being crass or rude should they choose not to answer.
She coils her outstretched arm back in and brings both hands together before her mouth, breathing warm breath into them and then rubbing them together before shoving them so deep into her jacket pockets that whomsoever pulls them free shall be declared the King of England. "A few weeks for me. I've been doing the rounds, catching up with old faces. Getting the good gossip. You know how it goes."
Salome Perez:
"There's a few things I can catch you up on, but if you're in with Jolene, she probably already did." Salome roll her shoulder. "There's city hall stuff and then Ludwig who managed to get some information on the stuff at Bancroft...." and fade.
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