Re: [M] Family, The Engineman, And The Emerald Gaze

Heading to Biff's Bar. All Welcome.

POSTED: Fri May 15, 2020 11:10 am

OOC: Well that could mean anything!
WC: 472

Paying close attention to her body language, he contemplated the impetus of the reckless decision. With an inclination to recklessness in general, Wrath found her quite fascinating. It was, after all, bland and predictable behaviour that lead to the demise of the other girl during his previous visit to Amherst.

He spoke with a different tone; as soft as his deep, rumbling voicebox would allow. "I doubt there is a warning that would suffice." He said, turning and grunting an order for another drink. "You'll end up learning the hard way, I'm sure."

The words were not necessarily a threat, more of an assurance. As if Wrath, somewhere deep down, felt sympathy for the horrible consequences of living a life while ignoring the warnings of others.

"It's a bit late to say so now ... but she's right." The softness dissipated at the end, and that rough growl returned. He wasn't looking at her, but concentrated as if considering something satisfying, or sick; both states of mind essentially the same to him.

The stick comment caught him off guard.

"It's a good job. With that mouth, I'd rip it out and beat you to death with it." His voice impassive, the tone giving away nothing. The shift in his gaze, and twitch of his cheek practically unreadable as well. He drank again, draining his second.

His eyes widened, and his jaw slackened. Asshole? When was the last time anyone called him that in such an off-the-cuff manner? When was the last time anyone of such a significant physical disadvantage even dared?

He stared at her, as if noticing something for the first time in his life; eyes narrowed, his brow creased inward and down. As if he must hurriedly form some sort of opinion to categorise her. "What!?

He was silenced for long enough that she ended up speaking again. He blinked, completely thrown. He did not rush to reply, he was too busy wondering why his haze of rage was not settling over his mind like a red silk cloth tinged with liquified, poisonous anger. He felt strangely calm, strangely uninclined to kill her. "No. I don't." Stated bluntly, batting away the questions whether rhetorical or not. He was too busy trying to work out what had changed.

The ring?

No. Because the second he glanced across to the dimly lit, rickety old tables to see the couple clearly watching, the anger returned.

He stared back at them. His features hardened, neck and shoulders tensed as thoughts of bounding across the room and smashing their table over their heads pervaded his previous perplexion.

Eventually, his gaze moved back to the girl. The shock and humour had abandoned him once again. Finally, he was interested enough to know ... "Who are you?"

Disregarding the devastation ruining the gift caused her, he went on seemingly unaware of the issue. But he knew as much of receiving presents as he did of responsibility. And she was right, he knew little of responsibility and cared nothing for consequence.
Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
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POSTED: Sun May 24, 2020 3:46 pm

Oh yes, thanks, dad. It wasn't as if she had heard that religiously in her childhood. Why on earth this man felt the divine need to remind her that she would learn things 'the hard way' was beyond her; why he had such a devoted interest in her was questionable, to be sure. But it didn't keep her from stoking that flame. She merely chuffed at his useless warnings, just as she had to Fennore's.

She almost forgot for a moment how edgy this guy was, but his words so graciously reminded her; again, she said nothing, content to just teeter on that edge. Tantalizing without going overboard. He did that well enough for the both of them.

For the first time in their interaction, it appeared Wither struck a nerve; and in light of how the male had messed up her shirt, it felt entirely justified. Her ears flicked at his outburst, but he quickly reigned it back in, returning to that cool, suave, totally handsome and alluring persona he occupied best. How surprising that he didn't have a lot of buddies as a result of it.

They seemed to attract the attention of other patrons, but the brute ushered them away with that same charm and guile. When his two-toned eyes returned to her, he had a simple question -- but even then, she hesitated with her answer.

The girl wasn't scared of him, not outright. There were aspects of him that left much to be desired, and as much as he wanted to strike fear into her and bend her to his will (as he was probably used to, all things considered), she was loathe to give him that sort of satisfaction. Still in vain, she fiddled with the stupid lace, no closer to fitting it back where it rightly belonged, but she managed to give an honest answer in spite of herself.

"Wither Rose Soul." He'd even get her full name, just for the hell of it. "Do I get to know yours?" 'Since you ruined my shirt,' she almost tacked on, but thought better of it.

sorry for the wait! [+300]
Last edited by Wither Rose Soul on Mon May 25, 2020 9:55 am, edited 1 time in total.

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POSTED: Mon May 25, 2020 5:06 am

OOC: No worries, I know what it's like...
WC: 469

He didn't face her for long but shifted to lean his enormous back against the bar again. He seemed to prefer the ability to keep a wide viewing angle, and the busier it got, the more pronounced the trait became. While he considered her reaction to his 'advice', the good side of his face possessed a smile that would have been wistful if not so wicked, he seemed pleased with her reaction, or lack thereof.

He glanced to her again, sideways and down, the amber eye flitting between her face and fidgeting fingers, seemingly pleased to witness her inconvenience.

"Who got you it?" He asked belatedly, apparently ignoring her question. "This 'friend' ... of yours?" He smirked as only a half-faced wolf can smirk, letting his gaze linger to catch her reaction.

With a surprising degree of deftness for such thick digits, he managed to thread 'his' half of the lace through the twin emerald emblazoned ring, before fastening it behind his neck. He appeared to have an unusual amount of freedom in his movements, despite his bulk. His musculature was intrinsically powerful without being overwrought.

"Where are you from?" was the next bluntly issued question, seemingly satisfied that she was telling the truth. Though he could not be sure, it gave him a gauge for future mistruths.

His multicoloured stare wandered from her face to her beer, then back again, one brow cocked slightly. His was empty again, so he reached out to sweep hers up into his large hand, his inherently tactful, charming nature eluding him once again. "You're done with this, I take it. You drink like a girl."

Despite being incapable of politeness, there was a little pause as he watched her reaction again, before starting to raise her glass to his malformed mouth. He appeared very calm, considering the dangerous game she was playing. But he was all for gameplaying; in fact, it was his speciality.

Breathing droplets and a small string of saliva into the top of her drink, he rasped his name, at last.

"Wrath." As if he'd carried the title his whole life; as if cognitively able parents would inflict that on a son.

The four burly individuals left their two tables, before another man wearing a patchworked mess of old overalls entered, flustered, out of breath, and cradling a floppy, painful and swollen right arm. Wrath recognised him as the engineman and the engineman recognised Wrath.

"No! You! You get the hell away from me! He cried out, reversing back towards the door, forgetting all about his need for a healer, looking around frantically, only to back himself into the table that two newcomers had chosen. One of them shoved him roughly back in the direction of Wither and Wrath, clearly pissed off that he almost knocked over their drinks.
Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
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POSTED: Wed Jun 03, 2020 10:09 am

Eventually she had to be content in the fact that this wasn't going to be the place where she fixed her shirt. This asshole made sure of that. With another irate sigh, she decided to just stuff the lace back in her pocket, willing to just let the front of her blouse flap awkwardly where it had been unraveled. It wasn't like she gave a shit who thought she looked stupid. Much less this particular patron.

"My mother," she answered flatly, not ignorant of his hovering gaze, but not entirely fond of returning it in full. He had a strange hunger in his eyes, one she couldn't quite place, nor did she want to.

Half of her wanted to ask about that ring, the one he just had to slice a bit of her lace off for. But his next question was rapid fire, one after the other, now that he had gotten her to give in a little. Could she really trust this guy with where she lived, though? What if he followed her home or something? In that case, she could at least count on Amon's backup, but. Still. At least she could answer without really answering, at least for now. "I came from a farm," she said, her tone strained, "Lived there with all my family. But it got kinda stuffy so I left, and here I am." A few lost encounters sprinkled in between, of course, but they weren't important.

And then he took her drink. It wasn't as if Wither was doing anything other than nursing it now and again, but it was the implications that bothered her. His reckless disregard for, well, everything, was really grating her nerves. And in any other situation, the mutt would've made her indignation known.

But, deep down, whether or not she fully recognized it, she was afraid. It was a silly sort of fear, or she tried to convince herself as much, but perhaps it was a wavering sense of self-preservation that held her tongue.

Yeah, no, I was totally done with that, she could at least say in her head. If he was expecting a reaction, she wouldn't give it to him.

His name came next, and it was just as pleasant as her own. Wither and Wrath. What a pair, she thought cynically. As if she expected anything less from him. But there was little time to dwell on this, because more commotion erupted at the door -- and with a shriek, a body was careening in their direction. Just enough to both startle her and provide cover, because already she had been looking for an out. Her stolen drink and cigarette were forgotten on the bar as she side-stepped this fellow, letting the blubbering man take her spot.

Unwillingly and not without a fair bit of squawking, but that wasn't her problem. Whatever the hell he was going off about was not her concern. He was just some drunkard, right? Unless...

"'Friend' of yours?" she asked him, raising a brow, relieved to get some distance between herself and Wrath. It was said sardonically, there was no way around it, and inadvertently she had parroted what he said earlier. But her eagerness to hop up and out of her seat was not subtle.


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POSTED: Wed Jun 10, 2020 7:25 am

WC: 425

Her mother.

"Dead?" He asked immediately, as her tone was hard to decipher and her gaze mostly avoided his. Sometimes he found poking someone with a hot stick revealed unexpected, intriguing results.

Her compelling nature had his undivided attention, but whether or not that was a good thing for Wither was a difficult prediction to make. His stare bore into and lingered over her as she spoke, and her vague and terse story received a contemplative silence before his gaze carved away again, and he uttered quietly.

"Yes, here you are..."

He had a multitude of questions, and no amount of tact to stop them spewing out. However, events forced the interrogation into a brief recess.

It did not sit well with the monster to have his dedicated line of interest ruptured by the re-introduction of the skinny man in the overalls. The sinews in his neck strained as rage came on strong enough to blur his vision. A deep growl began in his chest and tore through his throat in something akin to a roar. His eyes widened, flashing with intense severity as the skinny engineman somehow ended up becoming a problematic barricade and an unwelcome gap in the unravelling of his new ... curious little acquaintance.

"What!?" Bellowed Wrath.

"You, y-you broke my arm!" Offering up his cracked limb as grotesque proof.

There were a lot of angles to cover with this new distraction, and Wrath's mind kicked up a gear. Although, the performance was somewhat dimmed by the effects of the alcohol, as he searched the room to ensure everyone was still where they should be; the others were all sitting in their respective seats.

That encompassing survey included Wither, who had clearly moved away from him. He caught her raised brow and the sardonic tone of her voice. It was poorly timed, due to his short fuse having already been ignited.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? He shot the question to her. The intensity in his one good eye still lingered like amber-hued wildfire.

The tense events had pierced the fragile wall of patience he'd managed to build during their conversation, and he had to wrestle with himself to put it back in place. He knew if she ran from him, he'd do something stupid, and he knew if too much of his insanity became apparent, that she would probably feel no choice but to run.

His intent stare wavered, so as not to drill into hers, and he eased himself back slightly from the two of them.

"He needs help. Fix him."
Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
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POSTED: Fri Jun 26, 2020 11:56 am


"No?" It was pointed, like a question. Why did he automatically jump to that conclusion? Sure, they weren't on shining terms or anything, but Wither was also fairly certain she didn't wish death upon her mother. Maybe in times of angst, maybe when they argued, but it wasn't her usual sort of ill-will.

God, he was so fucking weird. And with the engineman's revelation, Wither Rose Soul knew she would be wise to get the hell out of there, because he was just the strain of weird that she did not want to deal with.

Wrath barked a question at her, clearly getting a little hot under the collar, and she shot an indignant look back at him. "How do I know you're not gonna break my arm like you did this guy's?" she questioned, her voice loud and clear for all to hear; a subtly-veiled SOS call, which definitely grabbed the attention of many a patron around them. They watched in a brooding silence, the air growing heavy and tense, but they didn't move quite yet.

'Yet' being the key word there.

She grew in confidence now that she was out of his reach, back in the corner of other luperci. Not to mention he had downed a few shots by now. Wrath was not in any position to mess around anymore, and the girl was just as happy not feeding into whatever the hell his game was.

"I dunno how to fix him," the mutt answered blankly, which earned her a whine from that poor skinny soul -- but in the end, she had to look out for number one. And it wasn't like Wrath really gave a shit about this guy, anyway. Not if he broke his arm in the first place.

"This has been great and all, but I gotta go," she said with finality, pushing down whatever fears wanted to creep into her voice.

He would not handle this well. And she did not want to see how he'd react. But large and drunk as he was, Wither was sure she could outrun him if need be; if no one stepped in.

probably can wrap it up here?! :> [+300]

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POSTED: Mon Jul 06, 2020 5:13 am

OOC: Great thread, thanks! One more from you and we're all done here.

WC: 431

Hers was a valid question and promulgation cast in a loud enough voice that most of the other patrons started watching the events unfold, be it surreptitiously or otherwise.

"I will break it..." The new threat trailed off as he once more attempted to harness his anger, again finding her opinion to matter an unusual amount.

Not only that, but having more pairs of eyes on him than he could simultaneously address with violence left him on the back foot. Under less emotional circumstances, he would have backed off, not confident in his wont — to annihilate all opponents. This time, however, the corrupted canine had a vendetta because:

"I didn't tell you that you could go anywhere!" He vociferated. His great arms flexed as he pushed from the bar to a standing position. His only working eye swept across the room in a long, steady arc, finally landing upon her.

His powerful chest expanded and contracted with each breath, and the room had become so quiet that they all would be able to hear the rattle of saliva on the open side of his mouth. Another string of it stretched to the floor, broke off and slopped. Even the skinny man had stopped whimpering and started backing up to the door, whilst Wrath's attention was on the girl.

All eyes were on them now. Some were poised ready, heroes, although even the bravest no doubt carried a measure of reluctance to tackle such a monstrosity. Although they weren't going to watch Wither brutalised in the middle of the bar, equally there was no trite warning issued like hey man, leave the girl alone. Something so predictable and boring may have sent him entirely over the edge. He still had a fingerhold on his temper, but the more she backed up, the further away it slipped.

Wither was too close to the door, and Wrath had too many bodies to fight through. He wouldn't catch her before she made it out into the street, and there was a chance he could be overwhelmed in the process.

"If you run, our neksht meeting won't be sho ... civilised" The speech impediment he worked hard at covering slipped through with the high emotions and high alcohol volume. Still, it took nothing away from the ominous undertone of that final word.

He let the final threat of the evening linger in the air, as the tense crowd unwound and resumed their conversations. Whatever choice she made, he turned back to the bar and ordered another drink.

Everyone ran from him. Any other wolf may have acquired a complex.
Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
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POSTED: Sun Jul 12, 2020 4:35 pm

She had no doubt he would make good on that promise. In fact, if no one else had been around, Wither would've already hightailed it out of here in fear of that promise. But as more eyes came to focus on the commotion, she grew more and more confident, even if his deteriorating rhetoric was worming its way into her mind.

Yeah, fuck that. She didn't give two shits what he told her she could and couldn't do at this point. Wrath could've said that she was off the hook and she'd never see him again and she'd still tune him right out, that's how eager she was to slip out of her and out of this hellhole.

It was wishful thinking on his part, that there would ever in a million years be a next meeting -- unless whatever god or Jesus up there had a sick sense of humor and wanted to put her through this again, this would be the first and last time he saw her face. Shoving the mangled lace deep in her pocket, she promptly ignored the brute's sloppy, lispy words -- he really had let himself go, hadn't he? -- and ducked through the crowd, briskly walking straight out of the tavern.

She reckoned the biggest shame of all was that her drink and her smoke were barely even touched through the whole ordeal. The bar was hyped up as this holy place to unwind -- Christ, she couldn't even think of that word anymore without a shiver -- but it turned out it was just a breeding ground for creeps and perverts.

Which, to be fair, he hadn't acted outwardly pervy, but Wither Rose was willing to bet it wasn't far out of the realm of possibility, had she stuck around.

No way she was gonna end up a little rag doll under his massive hand like the engineman had.

;D [+300]

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