01.01.3014: Corvids
Summary: An awkward morning after a new years party finds Rook and Crow in a compromising position.
Date: 06 November 2013
Related: None
Ithaca Luke 


A Safe House in the Oubliette — The Ring
See log
01 January 3014

January 1, 3014. Last night there was a party to end all parties on the Ring to welcome the new year. It was wild and crazy and drunkenly insane, as befits a celebration during a time of war. Ithaca Black, known to almost everyone simply as "Rook" was an attendee. She drank quite a bit, although she's thankfully not relapsed into the realm of Red Eye, and danced her heart out. Until the fight, that is. Then she wound up bringing a guy to one of her many little hidey hole safehouses in the Oubliette and patched him up. She doesn't remember much after that except for an interesting dream involving mathematics and children.

The dream is very rudely interrupted by the insistent bleeping from her datapad. She sits up on the old pull out sofa the safe house calls a bed, and momentarily wonders where her clothes are. Then she momentarily wonders who the naked dude beside her is. Whoops.

January 1, 3014. The Night before was marking the end of fighting for some of the Orelles. Many different vassals had called knights and some experienced troops back from the fronts for a bit of leave, before the big push was to be made anywhere. As it was, many flocked to the many different parties that were occurring. The wildest and craziest party however was on the Ring. There was a lot of booze and a lot of dancing. Something that Sir Luke 'Crowseye' Grantham partook in. Simply known to those in attendance as 'Crow' he had by far one of his more successful times ever. That includes the fight-which he doesn't remember if he won or loss. He does remember laughing and getting hit in the jaw. And then he remembers some dark haired girl taking him by the hand to get him patched up.

It's the bleeping that wakes him from darkness and reminds him of his bruises and cuts. One bleary blue eye opens, followed by the black cybernetic, which looks around in that post sleep panic. Where am I? Oh and where are my p-oh hello naked woman.

"Yours or mine?" that is all he can ask, as to the bleeping.

Interesting. Blue and black. Cybernetics. Rook's brain begins running through calculations for that as she sits up and plucks her datapad out from under the pile of discarded clothes beside the sofa bed. "Mine," she admits. She silences the alert, informing her that her latest program has finished compiling back at her apartment. Her back tattoo, a massive dragon which seems to be ripping its way out of her spine, is displayed by her movements. She scrubs her hands down her face and tries to remember what happened. "Jaw?" she asks, indicating how his injury feels.

It's there his eye focuses, as the blue one lazily closes, and then opens a moment later half lidded. he brings a hand up, almost to bring fingers to touch it, but it's the memory of his jaw-prompted that has him probing delicately. "Hurts, but not broken." Crow's fingers then go into his mouth as he feels around. "Still have teeth." added before he is stretching his jaw out carefully. As to what she might see of him, his torso is clad in religious icona, while his wings and feathers remain put on his arms, giving him a look of some fleshed bird.

"We're on the Ring?"

"Ah, yes." he replies before he is reaching to his ribs, as he sits up. Hands now coming to his face, before he is standing. Unlike the wisp of a woman, he doesn't seem concerned in finding his under garments or a shirt. Instead it's a simple movement towards the closet bathroom, as one hand scratches his ass before he disappears into the closet, for a short period of time. A flush, and then the sound of running water is heard, before he exits, hands and face wet. Crow glances back towards Rook, and then over to where he sees his pants laying in a heap. "Did I win?" his fight-asked before he is stepping in them and tugging them up.

Rook snorts softly as she pours coffee into the two mismatched mugs she has on hand. "Yes and no." She hands one of the cups to Crow as she glances at his tattoos with an arched brow beneath her mussed bangs. "Knocked him out." So a win? "Had to leave." So lost the access to all the free food and booze. Kind of a loss. She shrugs. "Did we?" she asks, tipping her chin towards the bed.

The snort brings a grin, as he takes the cup- before one hand is sliding into his pocket and out a crumpled package of smokes is pulled out and tossed onto the couch for now. He sits down next to them, before nodding. "Watchmen, I assume." A grimace there, before his free hand is moving down to muss with the pack. As to her question Crow looks back to the bed and leans back. "Yes." he can tell by the smell. One cigarette is pulled out and extended over. "Wish I could remember it, so I could tell you it was good-or something. I'll just assume it was as we both don't remember." rapid fire. "Thank you." another sip of coffee. "For, bringing me back, I mean. Not for-" and he shrugs. Done.

Rook takes the cigarette and her eyes gloss over white as she lights it with a flame in the palm of her hand. Awakened, clearly. And from the ease with which she seems to use her Psychometry, a well-practiced one. That explains the hermetic tattoos here and there on her person as well. "Must have been good," she explains, the words accompanied by an expulsion of smoke from her lungs. "Noon." She stabs the cigarette towards the ugly wall clock. She slept in, which she rarely does. That means she had to have been worn out.

Eyebrows pique at the small use of psychometry, but Crow doesn't comment further. He pulls out another cigarette. "Good." a nod there, before he is slurping down another mouthful of coffee. "Your name-" and he is motioning towards where he had seen the flock in flight, now covered by cloth. "Rook?" please tell him that's your name and not whom he was fighting. Cigarette is placed in his mouth, and he leans forward from where he is seated, head tilted in a quiet question. Apparently he is too lazy to go fishing for his lighter. And there he mumbles around his lipped grip. "Who did I knock out?"

The woman nods in regards to her name. "Yes, Rook," she confirms. She moves to light his cigarette for him, same as she did her own, with a slight shrug. "Big guy. Bald. Scars." She ponders, trying to remember more details of the moments before the fight as she sips her own coffee. "Made fun of eye." She points at the cyber one. "Cyclops," she adds, indicating the incendiary term that started the fisticuffs. She hasn't asked for his name herself, oddly. Maybe she's just socially awkward, which all evidence seems to indicate.

A few puffs taken and then a long plume of smoke exhaled through teeth and nostrils. Eyes close for a moment. "Ah yes, the Khourni fellow." He knew who she was talking about. And there that eye opened again. "I won this in battle. It's a fucking medal." some pride there-which would explain the reason the fight started. "Crow." indicating to himself with a half nod. He gives his name-incase she wants it. "That's funny." Whether or not she is socially awkward-he seems fine being himself. A glance about the room for a moment. "Nice place."

Rook's lips twitch slightly in what might be a smile for her. "Bolt hole," she admits. At least she's wise enough not to bring a complete stranger back to her real place. Granted, she was unwise enough to sleep with him. "Crow," she repeats, as if committing it to memory. "Funny." She gestures between them. Rook and Crow. Both Corvids, considered the most intelligent of all birds. "Compliments not necessary," she adds. She knows it's a dump.

"It works doesn't it? Small warm-coffee." All the comforts. He's rather spartan in terms of his own place. Still he grins, before laughing softly. "Good chance." the two of them. Indeed, the most intelligent of the birds. Seers and prophets if myths hold truth. "Your only one?" Bolt Hole, Crow means, and there he is taking another drag, content to let his coffee mug sit between his knees. "It got you to smile-so I will say it was." and he brings his hand back to scratch the nape of his neck. "What do you do?"

"No." Not her only bolt hole. When you work for the Syndicate, you learn the value of having a variety of places to quickly disappear to. "Systems Security Analyst," she drones, as if the title is a weight on her. "Computer stuff," she clarifies. She begins sorting through the clothes for her panties. A bra seems rather less than necessary with her slight frame.

Crow watches her for a moment, before he is looking back down amongst his things. "Must pay well." As for her having more of these little places, he doesn't seem to question or be taken aback by it. With the crowds he runs in, it's not entirely unheard of. "I'm a soldier." not entirely honest there, before he tacts on. "Knight." With his coffee mainly done he takes time to ash into the mug, as opposed to on the floor. Fingers move and point "There." for said panties being found. A beat before he is reaching and setting the mug down, and grabbing a boot-one of his by the looks and he tugs it on.

The soldier bit seems perfectly ok by Rook. The Knight admission, however, has her freezing suspiciously for a long moment. The discovery of her underthings, however, has her moving again, to claim them and pull them on, followed by her leather breeches and boots. "Don't pay for this. Was abandoned." She just rigged it for electricity when she took it over. "Lots of places like that here." She seems to be in a hurry to get dressed all of a sudden.

Crow looks back to her and watches her movements, and he stops briefly and then reaches for another boot. "Please don't." he says before looking at her. "I don't care." meaning what she does. A stretch and he looks back to her. "Honest, I don't care. If I did, I would have done something by now. I don't care." as if it needs to be reiterated. "Is your pad discoverable?" and he is reaching for his. "I can send over my info. So you know me."

Rook is stalled in her flight progress and she lets out a breath. She shakes her head about her pad being discoverable, but she digs in a pocket and hands him a card. It just has an email address on it. Only three people know where she lives, her handler, her half-brother, and her ex-whatever. She doesn't divulge that easily. "Was one night. No obligations," she assures him. Oh, if she only knew.

"I know." Crow responds before he is reaching for the card, and nodding. He stands up, reaching for the pack and emptying it on the bed. "Pen?" asked as he pockets a couple of the cigarettes leaving three behind. "Still." And he looks back to her. "If you want to-you know again, or something." an offer for future tete-a-tete. He reaches for his shirt. to pull that thing on, before he is looking back. If she has a pen. she'll get just Crow, and his number and email. Nothing fancy-nothing really letting on to who he completely is.

Rook hands him a pen when he turns around, and glances briefly at the number and email. That's all she really needs to remember them, but she tucks the card away for show. "Ok." She finishes dressing and collects a backpack from the corner of the room. "Next time, less drunk, remember more." She flits him a little grin. "Gotta work." Then she's out the door, leaving him to dress and close up behind himself.

"Yes. Something more to remember. I might even buy you dinner." A nod as he leans back on the bed before he is sighing. "Next time." echoed, before he is looking for his coat and anything else of his that needs to be on his person when he leaves.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License