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Miles Cross
A Livejournal "Changeling: The Lost" Game
Moonshadows Coffee, November 
1st-Dec-2007 10:44 pm
not quite right
Many, many mugs of coffee later Gail is somewhat at the end of her narrative.

"And that's pretty much what it's like to be a rock musician these days of so-called new media. It's a good scene, because there's more variety and it's cheaper to start out D.Y.I.-style, but it lacks the editorial input from music producers. But it's great being able to put out music without a label; and pretty cheap to do over the internet, as long as you can get a fan base to keep you going... You okay, John? You've been rather quiet the last hour." She reaches out to touch his hand.
Comments 
6th-Dec-2007 08:33 pm (UTC)
His fingers close around hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. John shakes his head, sadly. "Sorry, Beautiful. You lost me some time ago. After the whole thing about cassette tapes."

He shrugs, trying to keep the frustration and resignation off of his face. "It's like history class in school. 'Cept I'm coming in halfway through the class, and I'm no good at history to start with. Sometimes, I still wonder if I'm still over there and if this isn't just some twisted game. I didn't want to stop you 'cause you seemed so crazy about it and... uh... well, I just kinda liked hearing you talk, even if I didn't get a word you were saying." John's cheeks have darkened towards something more like graphite than lead.
6th-Dec-2007 09:08 pm (UTC)
She gives him an animated smile. "Well, music history and track were the only thing I was ever good at in school. History by itself, that's a bit dry. But add in that universal cultural language and I'm all ears... There's something you can teach me sometime, and I'm not going to take no for an answer if you get all old-fashioned on me."
6th-Dec-2007 09:40 pm (UTC)
John blinks. "Universal... cultural language?" **Must be another thing they teach kids these days.**

"Not sure what I can teach anybody anything other than boxing and butchering. But if you think there's something I can help you with, I'm all yours."
7th-Dec-2007 03:05 am (UTC)
"You were a butcher? Wow... No. Um you probably don't know about the Courts yet. They are groups of people like us, four of them named after the four seasons, they each band together to combat the Keepers in a different way. When I came back I was found by members, and later joined the Summer Court. They're the fighters of the four, the most physical. I figured I'd make a good messenger, but I need to know how to defend myself as well."
7th-Dec-2007 04:13 pm (UTC)
John purses his lips. "Boxing or gutter fighting, I can do either for you. But... ah... gutter fighting is kinda gory, Gail. I'll teach it to you, if you want, but..." He lets the matter drop.

"But, yeah, I was a butcher. Was gonna open my own shop after the war. I did prize fights to bring in some extra dough for me and Betty." He voice hitches for a second on the name, but he barrels on through. "My time before that? I was the toughest kid on the wrong side of the tracks. Got into some trouble, but nothing bad. Just a dumb kid doing dumb shit, you know?"
7th-Dec-2007 04:39 pm (UTC)
Poor guy, I'd better steer clear of talk about his Betty; he's not ready and I don't want to loose him.

"Oh, yeah I know. I got into my fare share of trouble too. Mom was working all the time and it gave me far to much free time to stick my precocious nose into places." She shrugs, and gives him an appraising look. "Gutter fighting sounds a bit above my level. I just want to learn something that will get me out of a scrape, when up against the wall. I'm a lover, not a fighter; by all rights I should be with the Spring Court, but... I just can't let go of my anger yet. Where were you from, originally. Which tracks were you on the wrong side of?"
7th-Dec-2007 08:52 pm (UTC)
He gives her a smile. "I'm from Hell."

There's a pause while he sips at his coffee. "Sorry, that joke never got old in my family. Hell, Michigan near the Grand Trunk Western Line. Truth be told, we were actually closer to Pinckney. My mother was born there. Dad was a hobo looking for work along the lines when he stopped there and decided to stay; he got a job delivering coal and met her."

John's tone becomes more serious. "Look, Gail, about fighting... If you want to learn, I'll teach you what I know. First thing is: fighting is like good sex." He holds up his hands in case he offends her. "Harsh, yeah, but there is it. You gotta get in there, give it all you got and most importantly, you gotta mean it."
7th-Dec-2007 09:16 pm (UTC)
She grins, her eyes flashing. "No way! We lived in Lansing for a few months when I was younger and went to Hell a few times."

She doesn't blush at John's metaphor. "I see your point. Also, you don't want to pick a fight unless you really mean it... We can talk specifics later, I just," she tries to search for the words. The look in her eyes take on a hardness as she contemplates the formica table. "want to be ready, just in case."
11th-Dec-2007 09:16 am (UTC)
John squeezes her hand. "You'll be as ready as I can make you. I don't know what they did to you, Gail, but if it's anything like what happened to the dolls that I remember..." His leaden skin pales to dull steel, his face looking uneasy at some half-remembered horror. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure they don't get us again. Either one of us."

He pauses for a second. "There's no part of you that's... ah... like china or anything, right?"
12th-Dec-2007 03:40 am (UTC)
She subconsciously moves her free hand to her abdomen. "Oh, Gog, no. At least nothing external. I don't know about my bones, sometimes my joints move in weird ways... My skin though, it gets snags sometimes and I stitch it back up. My tattoos rarely loose their stitching and need mending."

She reaches to the cotton hem of her shirt and pulls it down a bit. She has classic black and red star tattoos under each collar bone; one of the five points on the left-hand star is a little loose.
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