Small Town Talk [Log] [Attn: Snow]

The stars can be seen , so lovely for such a sorrowful place. Suicide cliffs are a expanse of rock face that has green foliage and trees near the top. At the bottom the waves of the ocean crash against jagged rocks. Sometimes crimson can be seen in the waves and legend has it that is the blood of those poor souls that have chosen to take their life and all they left behind was blood in the water.
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QuicksilverFox85
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Small Town Talk [Log] [Attn: Snow]

Postby QuicksilverFox85 » Sun Feb 26, 2017 8:17 pm

Brandon Killingsworth
Brandon had been in town for nearly two months, and somehow the only wolf that he had come across had been the one he'd tripped over in the main park. Coming from a city that had had dozens of the People within its borders, the apparent paucity was both odd and somewhat concerting.

His reason for coming to the Cliffs this evening was two-fold. One was to meet a client who was looking to get a new tattoo inspired by the place and has wanted him to see the place beforehand, and the other was to see if there was any sign of a pack looking over the place. There were enough stories of ghosts and other strangeness to make it a possibility, after all...

His client had headed back to her car, the meeting a fruitful one, but Brandon remained on the bench looking over the cliffs for the time being. It was a hell of a view, he had to admit; made some amount of sense that some folks would pick it as their last one.


Snow
The Cliffs. They had a horrible history about themselves. A beautiful, serene, sorrowful place - this was often a site for those who had lost their way to come to.

One of the most common parts of patrolling was, of course, to keep an eye on those people who decided they actually wanted to come. Whether it was just a bunch of tourists who wanted to see the landmark, to rowdy kids who partied at the precipice of death, to that poor smhuck who sat at the edge thinking about his daughter who'd decided to take that fateful plunge - the herd needed to be watched in that area. At all times.

No point in feeding the Wound.

Standing there, even if you weren't at the very edge - it's easy to feel that pull. To contemplate the deaths of all the people who'd stepped into those bloody rocks and think - how could they do it? Why would they do it? It was easy to find the answers, too.

They were stupid. They thought they had it bad? Your life is probably much worse. Your life wasn't the best one. Every life can find horrible, miserable flaws to exploit. As a wolfblooded, there is so much to hate - isn't there? So many things you wish you didn't have to know. Wolves themselves are not kind - even to their family. The rage is a tether that some barely have any control over. Too many blooded ended up in families that could only dream of the day social services took them away. Too many went mad from the voices, or from the idea that at any time, any point they could be taken and controlled.

What was the point of it all? In this mad, mad world following a mad god, did anything ever really make sense? It's so easy to reach out and wonder, what is it like? Falling? That experience and rush of exhiliration, of freedom. And then finally, after a brief instance of pain - true freedom.

It was questions like these, thoughts like these, emotions like these that made suicide cliff dangerous. People didn't jump off the cliff the first time they came - they entered it and something starts to click. They are the kind of people who get too close to the Abyss - and just once, only once, they think 'maybe all these people are right'.

They were the weak, in Snow's mind. But the fact that they were weak was not for Snow to judge. She simply was to remain strong. Tonight, she's the only one within the Wound at the edge. On the other side, there would be the cancerous entity of the rocks, but here it looked so pretty. Even she had to be wary of the resonance of the location.

The girl there - the only other person there, at the moment - is a young thing. She's dressed in the kind of clothes you wear to protect yourself from weather and a beating - thick torn leathers and multiple layers. But despite the fact that she has a notable hint of street on her, she seems... elevated, compared to most urchins. Perhaps that style was simply designer - the kind of clothes you pay a hundred and fifty dollars on to look like you have torn jeans and the like. Her hair is white as the snow that litters the ground, and her eyes remind one of what it feels like to look at a storm at sea. She seems... contemplative. She doesn't look directly at the other person here - but she's aware of him. Her senses are sharper than any humans ought to be, because she's focusing on the things about him that might suggest he was here for that cliff drop, and not any of the other stupid reasons the herd made up to be here.


Brandon Killingsworth
Brandon, for his part, was dressed in jeans and boots with a worn leather jacket keeping the chill off of him. The way he carried himself was different from the majority of the herd; he had the air of someone who had fought, the look of someone who saw what others couldn't but had gotten pretty good at hiding it.

He watched the cliff edge and the sea beyond with a quiet curiosity, more than anything. He was familiar with death, grandson of Kamduis-Ur that he was, but he had no intention of jumping into her embrace any time soon.


Snow
Then again - no one does. No one walks up to the cliffs and thinks that it's their time. Thinks that it's a good idea. They take the leap knowing it's a bad one, but feeling like there is no other option. Suicide is a complex phenomena, not a pull or a push, but a weave - a weave around every bit of help, every good thing, every thought that will take you away from the edge.

The call was subtle. It was always subtle.

The girl breaths in - and then pauses. There is, of course, the faintest trace of wet dog in the air. Someone was in the territory and, as luck would have it, there was only one other person here. Unless, of course, Vali had snuck in or Alex or Saint were talking to the secret spirits and had drifted over this way. Or she was smelling a drift from the wind. That had happened before.

It was always a strange experience, getting to know another of your kind. It was usually done in a wolf-form, because well... it was not unusual to smell everything around you. Coming up to a person, getting into their personal space and smelling them - usually didn't create a beneficial reaction when it turned out they were not one of yours.

Still, her gaze turned to him, and she tilted her head. Easiest way to get him away from the cliff was, ironically, the same way she could get close to him to smell him and verify. The benefit of being a street kid is that they were known to be weird and crazy. She looks to him tilting her head, and finally says, starting to move closer, "You waiting on someone?"


Brandon Killingsworth
"Hmm?" Brandon's mental wanderings stopped as she spoke, looking in her direction; for a brief moment, the faint light of the moon above reflected off of his eyes, turning them a brilliant wolf yellow. "Nah...just finished meeting with someone, hadn't headed out yet. You?"


Snow
"Really? You sure? You look remarkably like the description of the guy I was sent here to meet. Brown hair, kinda curly - five foot nine or ten, curly hair?" She grinned and then moved closer. "Kinda -sounds- like you."


Brandon Killingsworth
His eyebrow arched a touch at that, giving her a curious look as she came closer. "Who sent you, if you don't mind my asking? Don't know a whole lot of people in town..."


Management:
0 | 01/30/2017 4:45 am Snow has rolled an Presence 2 + Persuasion 3 + Striking Looks 2 + Voice of Glory 3 roll (10 dice), getting 1, 3, 10, 7, 8, 10, 1, 3, 5, 4, 4, 7, with a difficulty of 8 on a 10 sided die. Snow has 3 successes.
Management:
0 | 01/30/2017 4:45 am Snow has rolled an *Sniff Sniff* Wits + Primal Urge roll (5 dice), getting 9, 2, 3, 5, 9, with a difficulty of 8 on a 10 sided die. Snow has 2 successes.

Snow
She smiled and then said, "Just a mutual friend. That's okay if you don't know a lot of folks in town." She moved to easy into a seat, and quietly touched his hand. There is a warmth at her fingertips - and that's all he feels because she's only barely touching him. She speaks softly - in hushed tones that seem to hold promise behind them, "That's part of the point, sometimes - isn't it?"

And of course - the crowning achievement as she moves close enough to be in his personal space - she breathed in.


Brandon Killingsworth
The smell that came from him was not of the wolf, at least not fully - he was kin, touched by the Death Wolf - along with a small hint of arousal as her honeyed words went to work. He sat up a little straighter, looking her over as a small smile creeped across his features. "Yeah...guess so. I'm Brandon."


Snow
She smiled a bit more, and said, "Well then. Brandon." She breathed in for the scent of anyone else - things that might suggest he was sent from another pack, or otherwise. He was blooded, so that didn't necessarily mean he knew the truth - so she'd not necessarily call him out on it. "I'm Snow. Pleasure to meet you."


Brandon Killingsworth
No scent of wolf-claim was upon him; instead, she noticed the light scent of ink, which she could also see a hint of on a fingernail or two, along with an unscented soap.

"Good meeting you too, Snow." He continued to smile, giving her a quick once-over before looking back to her. "You from around here?"


Snow
"Oh yeah. Been here for pretty much my entire life. I'm guessing your not? You don't look like the kinda guy who'd want for company." Not necessarily true - he didn't smell like the kind of guy who'd want for company.


Brandon Killingsworth
"Nah...got here about two months ago from farther up north." He motioned in a roughly northward direction with a free hand. "Needed a change in scenery."


Snow
"Oh yeah?" She said, smiling and kicking her feet. "So you came to New Haven of all places? Place is kind of a dump, don't you think? Depressing as hell." She grinned, despite that statement.


Brandon Killingsworth
"Eh...kinda, yeah." He smirked. "I grew up in a pretty small town myself, though, so it's familiar enough."


Snow
"Oh really? And what was this... small town of yours that so resonates with this place like this?"


Brandon Killingsworth
"Doubt you've heard of it. It's a little spit of land north of here in New Brunswick, maybe two hundred people in it and most of them family." His smile faded a bit at that, though, the thought of well, it used to be that way flitting through his mind. "If I hadn't gone somewhere else for school this place would be big for me, which says something."


Snow
"Aha. So that place was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay smaller than New Haven. Gosh if we had two hundred people in here..." She paused and said, "I'd probably move. Way too weird knowing everyone's name."


Brandon Killingsworth
"Eh...it's kinda like knowing everyone in your neighborhood, except it's just your neighborhood in the middle of the woods." He chuckled a bit. "It was nice enough, all told."


Snow
"Sounds like one of those towns where either nothing happens, or no one talks about what's happening," She said.


Brandon Killingsworth
"More that if something was happening, just about everyone was in on it."


Snow
"Fair enough. Compromise between the two. Big on the 'no outsiders' bit?" She asked with a grin


Brandon Killingsworth
"Most part, yeah. Then again, didn't have many folks passing through unless they got lost."
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