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 Fast Food And Sharp Knives, @Byron / Geller
Victoria Barrett
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 04:25 PM
4 posts
puppeted by BriLady
Vix
Eastern she/her
job
Metalsmith
species
Skinwalker
group
pack-eventually
sexuality
pansexual
status
single
age
132
mature
yup
Stars aglow like scattered sparks Span the sky in clockwork arcs Hint at more than we can see Spiritual machinery
N/A
Clockwork Angel




Vix sat behind the wheel of the van, scowling at the gauges. She was going to have to dip into her emergency fund if she didn’t get some work in the next day or two. The van wasn’t going to gas itself after all. She sighed, leaning back in the seat before sweeping one hand through her hair, the other slid over the bare skin of her scalp, nose wrinkling as her calloused fingertips slid over the scars there.

She leaned forwards, peering through the windshield, looking out at her surroundings. Under the overpass wasn’t exactly the best area to park but it was one of the place that she could work out of the back of the van without people complaining about the noise or the sparks. There was a few others out there, in beat up tents or, yes, even cardboard boxes. There was a shadow of sadness in her eyes as she looked out at them. It was not right to see them all abandoned this way. Although they could be like her, no one to know or care what happened to her. A shadow swopped across the windshield, followed by a sharp squawk before Edgar settled on the hood. Her lips tugged into a smile at the sight of the raven, giving him a nod. OK, she did have someone that cared for her. Even if he couldn’t help her out when it came to gas or food.

Her head tipped, inclining to rear of the van before she twisted out of the seat to head through to the back. The old van only held the driver’s seat, the passenger seat having been modified to hold a cage for Edgar that had no door on it, after all he was a friend, not a pet. The only reason for the cage itself was so she could cover it for the raven to provide him shelter when he wished it. The rear of the van was filled with shelves on one side that held a small drill press and grinding wheel set up. Tools were mounted or filled the drawers and the floor held layers of blankets that made up her bed. It wasn’t much of a home but it was hers. It was just a blessing that she was somewhat petite, who knows what she would have done if she was six feet tall. Making her way over her blankets she pushed open the rear doors, letting the afternoon light spill in, twisting up the steel bar she had mounted to the rear door to make a perch for Edger to rest on. The raven joined her there as she stepped out, arms twisting over her head in a long stretch.

The movement pulled up the layered shirts she wore, the long sleeves sliding down over her forearms, revealing the twisting tattoo on her left arm. Cargo pants hung low over her hips, tucked into a pair of battered combat boots. After her stretch she flashed Edgar a smile, hand lifting up to brush her fingers along his breast, smoothing the ebony feathers. She didn’t especially want to go job hunting but she’d need some money soon to fill the van with gas. Hopefully she’d find something just for a day or two that would be enough to replenish so she could focus on doing some scrounging. The sound of voices drew her attention from her petting, gaze sweeping out around her, seeing some of her ‘neighbors’ all rousing to move to the far end of the area under the overpass, her eyes narrowing at the site of some strangers gathering there.

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user posted image
PMAIM
^
Charles Geller
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 04:52 PM
22 posts
puppeted by Byron
Geller
cst he/him
job
Chef
species
Shifter
group
Rogue
sexuality
Bisexual
status
Single
age
134
mature
Yes
Context and memory play powerful roles in all the truly great meals in one's life.
N/A
The Chef



Ito had come with him for the day and for Geller that was something of a relief. With the restaurant not yet open he was getting Adam and Steven at their absolute worst. It was like trying to keep two psychopathic man children from burning down the city until he could give them work enough to busy their minds. Geller himself was finding it slow to adjust to this new place, this new pack, these new people, and the sensation was a rather foreign one for him. He couldn’t figure it out actually; this feeling of restlessness that seemed to dog his steps. It was an eternal feeling of something missing that he couldn’t put a name to.

Most days he just tried to ignore it.

Geller had lived all over the world and usually he fitted himself into some blank space in the places he went as though everywhere could be home to him. But despite the fact that they’d been in San Francisco for weeks he still didn’t feel quite settled yet. He couldn’t figure it out. Couldn’t name the missing piece. So he did what he always did when the world seemed to be just slightly out of whack. He worked. And when there wasn’t work to do he found work. Geller was no big believer in the old adage that idle hands were the devils plaything, but he was a workaholic nonetheless. Some things just couldn’t be changed.

The van they rode in belonged to the restaurant. It was refurbished for the purpose of catering. Though outfitting some snobby party wasn’t on the agenda today. Ito, his quiet companion and sauciere was accompanying him to one of the cities larger tent cities to hand out food for the day. Nothing fancy. Certainly not the kind of thing guests at his restaurant would be dining on, but it was thick stomach filling fuel that would do these people more good in the long run.

As he found a spot under the overpass and parked the van he could already see people looking over in their direction. He’d come a few times before, enough that the van was recognized, and Geller waved through the window as he saw one of the familiar faces. Pushing open the door of the van he headed around to the back and flung open the double doors there. Ito jumped nimbly inside and began sliding out a long table towards him. Geller lifted his end and together they carried it out of the van.

The familiar faced hobo joined them and he and Geller greeted one another like friends, with a hug and a pat on the back, before the man was joined by another who helped set up the table. With them in gear doing that Geller and Ito could begin unloading food from the van. Bowls and spoon, bread and large pots of stew, bananas, oranges, crackers, odds and ends that could be taken and stowed away by the people who needed them. They unloaded the van with practiced ease and set things up on the table. Random items to be taken on one end, and a soup line at the other for bowls of warm stew and thick chunks of Adam’s home made bread on the other.

Ito stood ladling out stew into bowls while Geller sliced large hunks of the grain rich bread beside him. Ito wasn’t much of a talker but Geller made up for it. He greeted the people who came over and talked to them about whatever random things happened to pop into his head. If someone had an injury he would leave the food to Ito and walk them to the van where he had a first aid kit. Not that he could do much. He was no doctor. But minor wounds he could clean up and bandage. Sometimes it was a matter of just doing what you could, and understanding that you couldn’t fix everything.

He looked up when overhead a raven cawed, and he watched the arc of its flight towards another van. The sight distracted him but only for a moment before he returned to his work. They were almost out of food when the blonde woman came over and Geller smiled at her. ”Hey, how’s it going.” He’d seen the direction that she’d come from and gave a nod towards her van. ”Nice bird you got there. Does he often quoth nevermore?” Geller never assumed that homeless meant stupid. Most people would be surprised how well read some of these people were.
PMAIM
^
Victoria Barrett
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 05:32 PM
4 posts
puppeted by BriLady
Vix
Eastern she/her
job
Metalsmith
species
Skinwalker
group
pack-eventually
sexuality
pansexual
status
single
age
132
mature
yup
Stars aglow like scattered sparks Span the sky in clockwork arcs Hint at more than we can see Spiritual machinery
N/A
Clockwork Angel




She watched as the van disgorged a pair of men who then started to unload a table. Some of the locals moved to help as well. Her eyes narrowed a bit, moving to the van itself, taking in the name on the side before the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. Might be some potential there. She twisted to grab the messenger back from her van, checking that she had her hones and sharpening kits inside before clucking her tongue at Edgar, indicating the other van. The raven cawed in apparent agreement, lifting up from his perch to allow her to swing the doors of her van shut, giving a practiced tug to make sure they were soundly locked. Most of the others around her were honest, more or less, leaving each other patch alone but she wasn’t about to tempt them with open or unlocked doors.

Edgar swept over her and then circled before landing on the top of the van, giving another caw, this one a bit demanding. She rolled her eyes at him, sighing before reaching into her bag for a bit of jerky that she had buried inside to toss up to him. She shook her head with a grin before turning to cross the distance to where the men from Le Halles were setting up. The scent of the stew reached her and it made her stomach growl, one hand going to her abdomen with a faint grimace. OK, maybe it wasn’t just gas that she needed the money for, she was getting a bit low on food too.

She approached the van from the side, away from where many of her neighbors were moving to line up for food, the murmur of voices now overtaking the constant rumble of traffic from the overpass above them. She’d hung back as the others got their food, eyes narrowing slightly at the jostling in the line that was quelled by one sharp look by the man serving the food, apologies offered sullenly. It was pretty impressive actually. She moved closer, watching as the man in charge, because he was obviously the Man In Charge, patched up a couple of men with injuries.

Vix eased closer, this time her eyes were on the table, their tools, narrowing slightly at the blade he was using for bread, at the tools she could see through the open door of their van. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the name of the restaurant, Les Halles, some fancy french place but those places had chefs that appreciated their tools. Cast iron was a bitch to work with, she had the scars on her hands to prove that even without the memories of doing so but it was the blades that drew her attention. A good chef used custom carbon steel more often then not and those blades needed love and care to keep them honed. Her attention was brought back to the Man In Charge when he directed his words to her, gaining a wary nod to return his greeting. A shake of her head in response to his question about Edgar. Her hands twisted for a moment on the strap of her bag, ”Edgar doesn’t speak English.” The words came out slowly, measured, as if she considered each one before uttering it. She moved closer, nose twitching slightly as she sniffed at the air, taking in the scents of the food and, as the wind shifted just right, his scent. Wolf? Her head canted in a purely canine expression of curiosity. No, she wasn’t wolf but she spent more then enough time as a fox to have taken on some of their mannerisms.

She moved closer to the table, to where he’d set down the bread knife, looking down at it before reaching out, hand pausing as she looked up at him again, ”May I?” Her free hand was in her messenger bag, digging within to bring out an oiled cloth. Yes, he’d need to wash the blade again before using it on food but its not like there was much bread left to cut now. She just wanted to check the edge of it. With his permission she’d lift the blade, gaze intent as she studied the steel. Serrated blades were a bitch to sharpen but that was what she had the aluminum ceramic sticks. The man took good care of his tools though, she gave an appreciative nod as she flipped the blade, finding its balance point, nodding to herself before swiping the oiled cloth over the steel and then laying it back on the table. ”Good steel. I can make better though.” A faint smirk, a hint of mischief in the pale blue of her eyes. Hand free of the blade she snatched up one of the remaining pieces of bread to gnaw on, struggling not to scarf it completely down in a single bite.

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user posted image
PMAIM
^
Charles Geller
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 06:10 PM
22 posts
puppeted by Byron
Geller
cst he/him
job
Chef
species
Shifter
group
Rogue
sexuality
Bisexual
status
Single
age
134
mature
Yes
Context and memory play powerful roles in all the truly great meals in one's life.
N/A
The Chef



Geller’s smile bit lines into the contours of his cheeks as he nodded at her. ”Edgar huh?” Well, at least the name matched the theme he’d been going for, but her answer was so sincere that he wasn’t quite sure she’d understood that he was referring to Edgar Allan Poe at all. ”It’s a good name. Not one I’d be particularly interested in mind you, but it suits him.” When you thought about it Geller wasn’t exactly the worlds most normal name, but Edgar, to him, sounded like the name of a near sighted octogenarian.

He watched the very mammalian cocking of her head, but he already knew that she was no shifter. It was a scent that he would have recognized immediately among the people of the tent city. Yet he knew the world was wide and varied, and noted an assumption in his own head that she might be a skinwalker. They sometimes took on the mannerisms of their beasts; especially if they’d spent a good deal of time in one animal form over another. It made him feel some kinship with the girl as his black and silver whorled eyes looked her over more closely. He noted the scar on her head but didn’t let his gaze linger on it. Instead his eyes dropped to follow hers and looked at the knife before him on the table.

Geller touched the balanced handle of the knife and slid it across the table towards her. ”Go ahead.” He offered almost in the same moment that she asked. Geller wasn’t worried that the woman would try anything with it. She just didn’t have the look. It might have been worrisome that he trusted his opinion on the matter so much, but Geller felt confident in his ability to read other people quickly. Like a dog that only barks at strangers when something is off about them he had a seeming knack for knowing whether a person was dangerous or not. You could chalk it up to instinct if you wanted, but that would be a flat out lie. He knew because he’d been around so many people, had spent intimate time getting to know them, and had learned to really see them.

Without rushing her Geller slid another knife from over by Ito and continued slicing the last of their bread. ”Here you go Burt. And take the last of those oranges will ya? I don’t like the look of those sores.” Geller handed a large hunk of bread over to the man that Geller suspected of having scurvy. A lack of vitamin c in the diet could do that to a person. Scurvy. Not just for pirates anymore. He’d offered to take the man to the free clinic downtown, but Burt was having none of it. Apparently he was worried that if he went there they would put something in his brain. Geller wasn’t clear on what exactly, but he didn’t pressure people.

When vix slid the knife back towards them he smiled softly and instead of using it just tucked it back into the leather knife holder he used when traveling with his tools. ”That so?” He asked as he watched her practically choke down on a hunk of bread. Geller motioned towards Ito and the other man handed him one of the wooden bowls of stew. Holding it by the bottom Geller dropped another slice of bread partially into the thick liquid and held it out towards the blonde woman. ”Why don’t you show me?” His chin gave a small nod towards her van assuming that she would have some of her wares there.

Wiping his hands on his pants he left the last bits of bread behind. ”I’ll be right back Ito.” The people here knew them. Ito would serve until the last of what they’d brought had been distributed and then he would likely find a place to relax with some of the others until Geller returned. The wooden bowls would be returned to the table, and it never ceased to amaze him how little theft actually took place on their visits. Geller left Ito to it and moved around the table to follow the woman towards hervan. He moved like something predatory, with purpose, but there was a calm to him that bled into the warm depth of his voice.

”I’m Geller.” Walking beside her he offered a hand off to his side more for a squeeze of hands than an actual shake, but he didn’t demand it of her. If she was uncomfortable touching him then he would tuck the hand away in a pocket and simply continue. ”So is it just knives you’re interested in? Or do you do other work as well?” Geller didn’t really find anything unusual about this. He’d met a lot of travelers over the years. People who were sometimes experts at one craft or another but who, for reasons of their own, were never really able to get it together in life. Never judge a book by its cover. Sometimes an artist could be found in the strangest of places.
PMAIM
^
Victoria Barrett
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 06:50 PM
4 posts
puppeted by BriLady
Vix
Eastern she/her
job
Metalsmith
species
Skinwalker
group
pack-eventually
sexuality
pansexual
status
single
age
132
mature
yup
Stars aglow like scattered sparks Span the sky in clockwork arcs Hint at more than we can see Spiritual machinery
N/A
Clockwork Angel




It was clear that he was familiar with the starving or near starving so he recognized even her semi-restrained inhaling of the bit of bread. She gave a wry smile when he offered her the bowl of stew, complete with another piece of bread and she dipped her head in thanks while accepting it. The bread had taken an edge from her hunger though and she was a bit more civilized in her eating the hearty stew. She considered his words, the indication of her van for a long moment, taking time to eat a few bites of the stew before giving a nod.

Her movements were graceful, and even though her stride was probably half of his, she was able to keep up with him without seeming like she was rushing at all. Edgar took off from his perch on the top of her van to sweep over them, circling once as they crossed the distance from the table of food to where she was parked then sweeping down in front of them as she canted her head expectantly. The raven’s wings flared wide before he came to rest on her shoulder, sharp talon’s adding new holes into the shoulder of her shirt. She glanced at Geller as Edgar settled, picking a small bit of meat from the stew to hold up to the raven, letting him pick it from her fingers to eat. ”In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore,” She murmured the quote before lashes dipped over her eye in a slow wink. His offered hand was accepted, letting him feel the callouses there, returning the faint squeeze.

The van was obviously a beater, originally blue but it had patches of rust, the grey of Bond-O and the passenger door was apparently a transplant because it was a dull brown. She tugged the key from her pants pocket, carefully balancing the bowl in one hand while not jerking too much because of the raven on her shoulder. She tugged the rear door open, glancing at him before pulling open one of the drawers underneath the grinder, pulling out a pair of throwing blades. Hand ground and perfectly balanced, the blades were clip point and carefully blued except for the edge themselves. ”No kitchen knives now.” She winced slightly as she forced the words out. Quoting the Raven had been easy, had given her some confidence, but then when she tried to say something, the words just didn’t come out right. She handed him the blades to look at before swinging open the other door and freeing up Edgar’s perch. She nudged her shoulder upwards, a practiced motion that induced the raven to move from her shoulder to the perch protesting caw.

While Geller studied the blades she turned to sit just inside the now open van, curling one leg up under her and finished off the stew. ”Vix.” She gave a little bit of a shrug to answer his question, ”Little everything. Fix things. Repairs Dish washing.” That last bit was offered with a faint wry smile. Yeah, she wasn’t so proud she wouldn’t wash dishes if she had to. She set the empty bowl down, after doing everything but lick it clean. She grabbed a small notebook from one of the other drawers, pulling out a stub of a pencil to start sketching on a empty page.

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user posted image
PMAIM
^

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