07-05-2013, 05:43 PM
She'd thought about turning back once it was obvious they weren't going to stop at the city building for a cleansing. She thought about turning back when they passed the Mile High Stadium as they continued north.
But then the road got its claws in her, and Ingrid was driving and driving with the top of her convertible down and the wind in her hair, making the short choppy locks more than a little windswept. She thought, briefly, about passing the Gnawer on his motorcycle and disappearing northward. She hasn't been there yet, hasn't explored it or anything. So far she's only been south and a little to the west. But she didn't pass him.
And now they're here and she's examining the fences and the size of the homestead. The dogs these places usually have keep far away from her. They growl at her a little, but they don't get too close, because even though they've never seen the movie, wouldn't understand it even if they did, they sort of get the feeling this woman will kick them on the nose if they get too close just like transformed-Ursula in the wedding scene of The Little Mermaid. Maybe that would happen. Probably it wouldn't. But it feels like it would.
Ingrid doesn't concern herself with the things that are afraid of her. Her head turns from the house to the backyard to the young man shaking out his hair like he expects to be sprayed with water and maybe start frolicking about. This is not a hair commercial, though. It's the backyard area of a ranch, and they've interrupted something.
Her head stays fixed on Hector, the Alpha, and she steps a bit closer. If Jack is modest with her, well, that's just to be expected, isn't it. She inclines her head, though, gracious when he gives the abbreviated telling of the story of their meeting. "I started it. He ended it." It is a statement, matter-of-fact. These are not the people to come to for elaborate, embellished tales. When she speaks, her words carry the hint of accent, the sort of thing that suggests English isn't her first language but it's been her main language for a long, long time.
"Ingrid Kim, Dances With the Hurricane, Cliath Shadow Lord Ragabash." The introduction is given with another respectful, if slight, inclination of her head.
But then the road got its claws in her, and Ingrid was driving and driving with the top of her convertible down and the wind in her hair, making the short choppy locks more than a little windswept. She thought, briefly, about passing the Gnawer on his motorcycle and disappearing northward. She hasn't been there yet, hasn't explored it or anything. So far she's only been south and a little to the west. But she didn't pass him.
And now they're here and she's examining the fences and the size of the homestead. The dogs these places usually have keep far away from her. They growl at her a little, but they don't get too close, because even though they've never seen the movie, wouldn't understand it even if they did, they sort of get the feeling this woman will kick them on the nose if they get too close just like transformed-Ursula in the wedding scene of The Little Mermaid. Maybe that would happen. Probably it wouldn't. But it feels like it would.
Ingrid doesn't concern herself with the things that are afraid of her. Her head turns from the house to the backyard to the young man shaking out his hair like he expects to be sprayed with water and maybe start frolicking about. This is not a hair commercial, though. It's the backyard area of a ranch, and they've interrupted something.
Her head stays fixed on Hector, the Alpha, and she steps a bit closer. If Jack is modest with her, well, that's just to be expected, isn't it. She inclines her head, though, gracious when he gives the abbreviated telling of the story of their meeting. "I started it. He ended it." It is a statement, matter-of-fact. These are not the people to come to for elaborate, embellished tales. When she speaks, her words carry the hint of accent, the sort of thing that suggests English isn't her first language but it's been her main language for a long, long time.
"Ingrid Kim, Dances With the Hurricane, Cliath Shadow Lord Ragabash." The introduction is given with another respectful, if slight, inclination of her head.