She reached up into the belly of the car engine. The work on the Monero was steady, given the conditions she drove the car through. She told herself she kept an engine clean enough to eat on, but shit she always found some lame ass reason to procrastinate maintenance until it was too late. As it was, a pump needed replaced, but the modified block made the chore a pain in her ass. She stretched, and suddenly gasped. She pulled back her hand, finding a slice on her finger that she would normally ignore except it was going to make her grip slippery. To make things worse, the tubing sliced as well. Fuck.
Grym rolled the back brace out from under the engine and wrapped the wound up in a rag. Music thumped the interior of the warehouse. Daylight streamed from the filthy windows, few as there were. She used the bloody rag to wipe sweat from her neck as she kicked a portable a/c on her way to a locker. After rummaging around, she realized that was the last of the pumps and fired up a cue on her wallet.
“Four days for a fucking pump. I can buy one in an hour.” She spoke to nothing, cringing at the idea of waiting four days for delivery. Something about – eh, who the fuck cared.
Which meant, she was going to have to go out herself. Slapping a band aid on her hand, she shrugged on her jacket, slipped knives into ankle sheathes, and hid a compact 9mm in a back holster. Should suffice for a quick run to the store.
‡‡‡‡‡‡
The train was uneventful. She got off in midtown near a second-hand market she knew stocked some Holden-compatible parts. It was a ten-minute walk or so from the station in what the pretty people called a sketchy neighborhood. If they only knew.
She stopped to grab a bite from a street cart, only to realize that a homeless dog followed her away. She frowned at the grubby blonde face, taking a big, crunchy bite. Maybe she let a little of the meat fall from the wrapper, maybe not, but the beggar lapped it up none the less.
((ooc - Location: General vicinity of the market, but definitely not so touristy an area.))
Home was not where the heart was -- not if you didn't have one anyway. Zephyr had lost most things she knew already and the job was the only thing left except her promises to Christof. There was only 2 years left on that request -- two long years of having to socialize.
It was easier when the Bacaratt Mansion still stood. But it was gone, the gods had returned to the public eye. The Ascendancy the fiercest god of them all and he was calling more and more to him. The Rods of Dominion were not well known but they had come when displays of power had been shown. They were taking on the jobs of the Atharim and Zef had much resentment towards. She was angry that the Ascendancy had outted their kind -- he'd been one of them. A god but still one of them.
More and more followed suit -- a man ran a dojo that taught the arts of mystisssm and intrigue. He was giving away all their secrets -- for profit. There was nothing more traitorous than that.
Zef strolled through the market. Home was not far from it. She held a happy smile on her lips though she seethed inside. Blending in was the game. She wore what every Moscovian did -- the latest fashion on the street. Not from the high and mighty, she was one of the people. She blended in better there.
A scruffy dog followed another woman, begging at her heels for the food she'd purchased from a cart. A piece fell from the wrapper and Zef smirked as the dog lapped it up -- another warm heart in cold wrappings. Zef knelt down next to the dog when it was finished scarfing down the food. "Would you like a hamburger?" She said in a sweet voice as she ran her fingers through the filthy hair. Dogs unlike people didn't judge you. If you were a good person they knew, and this dog was happy to have some love. Zef knew that feeling well.
Grym paused mid-stride. Only upon turning did she realize the question was posed to the dog not to her. She huffed an amused sort of snort as she swallowed a hunk of meat. The juice leaked from the corners of her lips as she did, which followed a lap of the tongue and appropriate yummy sounds.
“Who doesn’t want a hamburger?” She came back and stood over the lady and dog. After a few more bites, she balled up the paper and tossed it in the trash. She’d already donated to a good cause today, so it wasn’t like she was going to buy the mutt an actual burger. So she waited to see if the lady would make good on her offer.
The woman the mutt had been following turned and joined them. Her comment made Zef smile. She ruffled the fur on the dogs head and patted him. "Come on." She stood up with a bright smile for the woman. "Would you like a sandwich?" It sucked eating alone sans pup or not -- it wasn't common to have someone to talk to with a meal. She missed her father, but it was her choice.
Zef led the pup and the woman if she desired anyway to the cart and made another order. Her stomach rumbled. "Seems I'm almost as hungry as he is." She pointed to the mutt who sat eagerly waiting for his treat.
The man at the cart looked at the pesky animal. "He's not bothering you is he?"
Zef laughed. "Not at all, he's being a perfect gentleman." And for all that it mattered he sat still and watched, he knew what was coming.
Grym checked over her shoulder. The shop with her part was almost within sight. She was eager to get this task over with. Kicking the ball down the road wasn’t in her nature. Eh, shit, who was she kidding. Not like she had a curfew.
She shrugged a sure and picked out a second helping. This time, she went for a meatier shawarma, and she didn’t let any more pieces drop. Just to see if the woman really was going to buy the dog its own entrée.
Grym watched the little beggar wait patiently. There was something in its eyes and the waggle of its tail that tickled her suspicion. As the cart worker handed over her order, Grym leaned close to their patron. “I think you’re getting conned,” she smirked and knocked her head toward the dog. It was probably all a giant act.
Zef ordered her own meal plus an extra sandwich for the pup. "No condiments on that one." There was no point wasting it on the dog, when the meat was the most important part.
Zef laughed at the comment. "I don't get conned." She looked over at the pup who was waiting patiently. "Strays can be quite the good guard dogs." She'd taken a few of them into hunts with good luck. Bribery was as good as friendship.
"Thanks." She said taking the meals from the cart handler.
She grabbed the sandwich and unwrapped it tossing it towards the begging pup. Though he chose not to look directly at her. "There ya go."
It was nice paying it forward. Christof would have liked the dog. Her own sandwich was carefully unwrapped and she started walking down the street the way her new friend had started out. "The market this way has more hidden gems than the main market. I shouldn't keep you." The woman had a purpose before -- everyone did. She didn't today, today she was learning the city. "Anything you've found hidden in Moscow?"
The dog started to follow the two suckers that bought it food, but after half a block, turned back to case its corner. When Grym glanced behind her shoulder, the mutt was waiting patiently for another soft-hearted sucker. Grym licked the last of the flavor from her fingers and fell into step alongside the other woman.
Finally, she took a moment to study her. The woman wasn’t slender in a delicate way, but she moved like an athlete fully aware of her body and strength. She had long hair that was almost as opposite in every way from Grym’s style.
“I’m actually heading that way. Need a part for the car, and damn delivery takes longer than my getting my ass outside. Never know what you find along the way. I tend to keep my eyes open. Bad habit I guess,” she laughed at herself. After wiping her hand on her thigh, she offered it to the other lady.
“Grym.”
A car... a luxury Zephyr never reall had. Not that she couldn't own one, but it was easier to rent one when she got where she was going. Whatever car she owned would not fit the terrain she needed -- and sometimes a car was just not the right mode of transportation at all. She'd taken every mode imaginable through the course of her short lived life and she'd probably take any new ones in the future -- as long as she lived.
The woman introduced herself and Zef couldn't help the smile that slid across her lips. "Zephyr, but Zef is easier. Our parents had interesting concepts of naming conventions." Though it was likely Grym's was a taken name, she'd know many a person who had done that. They were always hiding something. Zef wasn't hiding, though her family traditions were different than most her last name was her father's first, his had been his mother's first, and on and on. Tradition was strong in the Atalanta clan.
"On another plus side of getting out of the house you get to run into shady characters like our friend back there. And myself." Zef grinned. Shady wasn't even half of it.
Grym almost smiled. There was a reason she didn’t share her birth name, and it wasn’t because she was being shady. Tanis was a terrible name. Grym was way more badass. Tanis made her sound like a half-elf dork wimp hiding from a bad of orcs in an alley behind the local inn.
“Zephyr is a good name. Zephyr was one of the four extraterrestrial humanoids who ruled a kingdom on earth before the rise of Atlantis,” she said. With a side glance, she added an additional explanation. “If you read comic books, that is. Besides, you don’t look that shady.”
Zef had a pretty round face, but the eye was naturally drawn to the mark between the brows. Grym gestured at the same place on herself, asking about it. “Is that a tattoo? What does it mean?”
Zephyr laughed at the comic book reference. "My father said he wanted a superhero for a daughter." Which really wasn't a lie. "Though I don't think he read that one. His liked his myths and legends to come from the home land of Greece."
Which lead right into the trinket she wore between her eyes. Zephyr reached up and pulled the house symbol from between her eyes and held it on the palm of her hand to show Gyrm. "My dad liked to call it a third eye. But it's nothing so fancy, just a trinket passed down through the generations." The family oroborous surrounded the iconography of the evil eye. It symbolized the containement of evil -- their sworn duty. "I sometimes forget I have it on. If my father knew I'd just peeled it off in front of everyone he'd have a cow. I didn't tattoo it on my forehead like he did." Zephyr left out 'yet'. It was not her time, her heir was not born, tradition not met. The passing of the piece was a big ceremony for mother and daughter or father to daughter as was her case. Rarely was there ever father to son, but it had happened once in the long line that Zephyr could recite. It was a long boring chore she remembered as a kid.