On The Move


barbara_icon.gif koshka_icon.gif lynette2_icon.gif sable_icon.gif tasha_icon.gif

Scene Title On The Move
Synopsis Following their play in the snow, Sable, Koshka, and Tasha receive a worrying call from the council and prepare to leave the Garden
Date January 5, 2011

The Garden and Somewhere on Staten Island

It's been about five minutes since the truck wheel had finally buckled, given the conditions of the road, the flat tire, and the subsequent malformation of the wheel as Barbara had pushed it even further. There was a spare tire, ready to be changed, but in that broken down moment, another priority seemed more prominent to her. With Rue still sitting in the cab of the truck sniffling, Barbara is out from inside and freezing - the heater had finally been turned on out of necessity and had proved more powerful than though, but it had been just in time for her to get out and start making sure she had a strong enough signal to make her call

Once those precious bars appear, she cycles through her contacts and starts the call, looking back over her shoulder at Lynette. "Lynette!" she calls, motioning her over. "I think I've got something. I hope Sable's smart enough to answer. Ring ring, and a button is pressed to set it to speakerphone mode. "Do we just tell them to leave?" That's what she planned, but this isn't jsut her decision.

When her name is called, Lynette comes around the front of the truck, coming over to huddle near the phone. "Finally, signs of civilization." She nods, though, at the idea, "For crissake, yes. Even in the best case scenario, there's military blocking the best route there. Worst case, they already know they're there. She need to get out and get somewhere safe. Somewhere normal." A pause. "And tell her to be careful." After all, Lynette likes Sable.

At the Garden:

Even with the snowy conflict having abated, Sable has refused to remove the remnants of her war paint, the dark ash marking her face, forming strange swirls where a splash of snow to the face caused the burned woodash to run, forming a woodland gothique look. Though really, Sable just looks kind of grungy. She is sitting crosslegged in front of the fire with a deck of cards in her hands, small fingers trying to manage a proper bridge shuffle, trying to recall a skill she picked up but is now out of practice with. The look of concentration on her face has a kiddish sort of cuteness to it - she looks more grumpy than thoughtful as she trys to recreate the right set of motions.

The phone's ringing is a distraction, earning the device a short scowl as it tinnily plays some shitty default 'jazz' ringtone. Sable uses the phone to wake herself up, and she hates sounds that do that, so she refuses to switch any sound on the phone to a song. A weird 'just so'ishness that she sometimes displays. Still, she doesn't often get calls, not out here, so a split second later she's on her feet. The phone is in her hand, her thumb pressing 'send' which is also 'accept'. Lifting it to her ear.

"Talk t' me."

Recovered from the adventures of a snowball fight, though lacking the 'warpaint' of the yellow-eyed woman, Koshka lounges on the sofa near the fire. Her feet dangle over the back of, head hanging off where legs should be, and blue eyes watch Sable's hands trying to manipulate the deck of cards. Somewhere nearby rests a trio of mugs of cocoa, emptied to varying degrees of cocoa.

A yawn begins to stretch the teenager's jaws as idleness sets in, but the action is cut short when the phone rings. That's not a usual thing, and definitely strikes some interest. Koshka pulls herself upright to watch Sable retrieve the phone, brows drawn together in question.

The third of this party is curled on the floor sketching Misty in a sketchpad and listening to her iPod. Tasha's dark eyes dart down to her own pocket, wondering if it's her phone ringing, though it's set to off. She turns to look at Sable as the other picks up her own device, and Tasha's dark brows knit with a little concern. They then lift questioningly, waiting for the conversation to continue so she can hear at least one end of it.

When Barbara hears Sable's voice on the other end, she lets out a bit of a relieved exhale. It mixes with teh whipping wind around them and makes Barbara's voice more distant than intended. "Sable, can you hear me? It's Barbara. Barbara Simms, I stopped by the other week." She gives a look up to Lynette, moving the phone between them. "Lynette Rowan's here with me. I have a very important question for you, Sable. Have you or Koshka seen anything unusual in the last few days?"

"Sable, darling, so good to hear you," is Lynette's wry greeting. No reason to set them to panicking over there with a rushed explanation of what just happened. "Yes, we're terribly curious," she says, a hint of her worry showing through. Just a little.

Sable has to take a moment to even remember who Barbara is. She doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about those she refers to, collectively, as the Ferry Brass. There's the birdy girl, dubbed whippoorwill, and then the carrot top and… oh, that's who it is! Barbara! "Howdy there," Sable drawls, pleasantly, though her pleasantness drops into concern as things seem to indicate seriousness, "uh… dunno," she says, a bit uselessly then, remember that (somehow) she's kind of like in charge she cooks up a less stupid, evasive, kid caught by a teacher answer, "nothin' unusual t' report, ma'am, no. Not that I recall. I'll ask Kosh, hold on," she turns the phone's speaker away from her mouth so as not to make unpleasant noises, "Oi! Kosh! Y'all see anythin' weird lately?" her eyes cut over to Tasha, who has perked up. "They wanna know if we've seen somethin' usual. Like how I dunno," oh, she should ask! "Uh, unusual like how?" she inquires, lifting the speaker back to her mouth again.

Koshka starts off by shaking her head. Aside from their lot, staying in a cottage at the edge of civilization. Nope, nothing weird to report here. "Nothing out of the ordinary," she says, casting a glance toward Tasha to see her answer as well. "What's going on? Who's is it?"

"I haven't heard or seen anything weird," Tasha says, pulling her headphones out and setting down the sketchpad to pay more attention to the conversation. She frowns, reaching out to pet the pup she was just sketching, then picking up her mug of cocoa from the coffee table to take a sip.

A moment later, she narrows her eyes. "Are we compromised? Should we head out?" Her instinct is, lately, to jump to the worst scenario and back up from there.

"…Tasha?" Barbara recognises that voice well enough, even if it's barely audible. "I didn't realise more had shown up at the Garden." She wrinkles her nose, looking up from the phone and over at Lynette. "There's a very, very good chance of that," she remarks, leaving it to Lynette to explain.

"Ah, we're not sure if you are in direct danger there, but there was a military checkpoint on that bridge nearby? We just came from there and frankly, it's a little too close for comfort. We didn't check the other routes to you, but at this point, I think safe is better than sorry. You girls have a place you can go that isn't… connected? We'll work on getting word to everyone else, but we suggesting a move. Just until we can assess how compromised it is." She's very frank about it, as if this were an everyday occurrence. But then, considering Gun Hill, maybe she does see it as an everyday occurrence.

The uncertainty, the degress of equivocation, the 'suggestions' make Sable a little leery. Colette out and out scoffed at intimations of this place being comprised, had implied unflattering things about Barbara, though she didn't know it was Barbara she was implying about. While Sable was inclined, through sheer irrational favoritism to believe Colette's story, the thoroughness with which her recruiter has dropped out of the loop shakes what would be her otherwise ironclad confidence in her assertions.

In a word, she's worried.

So she switches over to speakerphone. "Gonna put y' on f'r all t' hear," she calls at the phone, which she now holds out before her. "Let everyone get th' scoop, eh? So, like… we c'n move, but we don't really got any place f'r sure t' go. I guess we c'n pack up 'n' hang in th' woods, but that's awful temporary, y' know? We'll run outta food. And if it ain't safe on th' roads f'r you, it sure as hell ain't safe f'r us, what with us havin' dogs 'n' everythin'."

The mood shifting from comfortable to tense has caught up with Koshka now, too. She edges along the seat of the sofa to get a little closer to Sable and the phone, concern writ across her face. "We gotta leave," she asks quietly, arms resting against the back of the couch. "Wouldn't be a good idea to stay in the woods. We don't have the food, and it's too cold."

Tasha frowns as she catches on to what is being discussed, and she's instantly up, moving closer to the phone and to Sable and Koshka. "Not to another safehouse then? Because that might compromise another? You think we're being followed, or might be?" she says, reaching up to shove her too-long bangs out of her face.

"What about the other places on Staten? Or maybe… there's gotta be somewhere that's just abandoned, maybe… a house or something we can hole up in until it's safe to move off the island to one of the other houses or even to the fallback position?" She's not sure if Koshka's allowed to know about Pollepel, so she uses the vague wording. "Shit, Cole and I were planning on going there anyway, maybe this weekend."

"It's hard to say," Barbara remarks again, sighing a bit into int phone. "THe bridge, jsut before the turn on to the road the The Garden. We were on ourway to bring guys supplies, but they had a bloackade up. Even despite just having food and gas, they were ready to aresst Lynette and I assume take Rue and I in." Barbara takes a moment to glance backa t the huddled up model in the cab of the truck.

"The point is, we're uncertain. We don't know if it was just chance that they were there, or if they've noticed people coming and going and decided to put out a net. I'm not even sure if we weren't followed. We'll only go to the fallback location if we're sure we're all not being watched. Us and you. We could all meet up, even, and find a place to stay for the night. And then figure out where to put you all for the time being." Lynette gives a little sigh, then looks over at Barbara. "There really is a church out here. We could probably hunker down in their for the night, then get the girls off Staten in the morning." She never has like this island.

To be honest, there are worse things that could happen to Sable than getting moved off of Staten, out of the Garden. As much as she has appreciated the time away, the sense of rugged indepedence, of a place that is strangely her own (at least in her addled mind), there is a lot - a lot, a lot - she is missing on the mainland. And much as she likes the abstract idea of standing her ground… they won't likely let her pursue her music career from whatever DoEA hole she'd disappear into.

So, okay. "We'll pack our shit, get a move on," Sable says, deciding better safe than abysally, fatally sorry, "where's th' church's location? We c'n all meet up there, like y' said, figure things face t' face. I got guns, I'll bring 'em all," her eyes cut between Tasha and Koshka. The idea of these two sweet souls packing heat makes her feel a little ugly inside. It was all fun and thumbnosing at Colette when she taught Koshka to shoot. But actually arming her, with a risk of combat? That seems beyond fucked.

"We won't be too quick t' use 'em 'f course. Keep our heads down, stick t' stealth, it bein' night 'n' all."

"How long before we need to leave," Koshka asks as she climbs over the back of the sofa. Is this a leaving tonight thing, or a leaving tomorrow night? Of all things, she seems anxious to go, unwilling to sit still any longer. Yet at the same time, afraid to be out and running again. It hasn't exactly been the Ritz, staying at the Garden, but it's been warm and comfortable. She's not too excited about the idea of heading streetwise again.

Blue eyes slide to the rifles standing next to the door, then back to Sable at their mention. Her brows knit together at the idea of firing one of those and actually meaning it. Totally different than target practice, and not something Koshka was actually thinking she'd face. However, "I'll carry one." She's not too bad a shot, after all. And hopefully she won't have to use it.

"Colette'll keep us under cover," Tasha adds. It's too bad Lance isn't with them or they'd be as silent as they were invisible. "Which church?" she asks. She has prowled around Staten enough over the past nine months to know most of the lay of the land. She stands and begins to grab little items, putting them on the coffee table to be thrown into bags while they wrap up the conversation. Time may be of the essence, and it's something for nervous hands to do while they figure things out.

"Tonight," Barbara states quickly. "We only got away because- one of our guests from the fallback showed up." She pauses, blinking like she doesn't believe what she's about to say. "He had a sword, and he was doing well enough for us to escape, so I'm sure you understand why it's important that we get you as far away //as fast as possible." Barbara isn't exactly sure of what church either, she's taking Barbara's word on this one.

Lynette knows a thing or two about Staten, from her visits here with Messiah, but that part she leaves out. Instead, the girls get directions to an (last she checked anyway) abandoned building. They might have to share with some homeless at this point, though. But all the food in the back of their truck should make them popular roommates, at least. And in the morning, if the military hasn't descended upon them in the night, they'll get everyone back to the mainland.

Conference over, instructions given, they have only to get ready and go. Sable signs off and ends the call, preserving the battery power she has for a later, more vital date, should it come to that. She nods to Tasha. "Go get yer gal," she says, "y'all are right on 'bout her keepin' us hidden." She cricks her neck, "'n' we should leave word here, let them other folks that come by, ol' Samara 'n' that other fella with th' basement full 'f guns, t' split when they show up.

"'N' no y' won't," Sable says, pointing at Koshka, shaking her head abortively, "y'all are gonna carry my guitar, 'n' if there's trouble, things go south, you just fuckin' bolt y' hear? This ain't a discussion, Kosh, it's an order."

The yellow eyed girl crosses over to the door, pulling a rifle up onto her shoulder and snagging the leashes that hang nearby. She hopes to Hendrix that Misty will know better than to bark at anything. Jupiter she trusts not be a damned fool. When both dogs have had leashes linked to their collars, Sable moves over to the fireside and draws her hand through a layer of soot, applying it once again to her face, daubing pale skin black, yellow eyes looking all the more feline, and deadly serious.

Soon they will be on the move.

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