I Am Alone.

[Cigney] Compared to the heat this city has struggled with in the past few weeks, today is just down right chilly. Cigney takes advantage of it. She's wearing a blue compression t-shirt and black compression running shorts with a pair of gray saucony runners. Her long blonde hair is pulled back away from her face and braided down her back.

The city is buzzing as the holiday weekend kicks off. She's tried hard to keep away from the torturous crowds of excited tourists so far, finally breaking down as a need for outside physical activity begged her to reconsider. She's coming to the end of her 5 mile run, recording her data via a chest strap and a small computer on her wrist. As a physical trainer she's nothing if not diligent about fitness and how to improve upon it.

It was a wonderful day to be outside, and is happy she did in fact reconsider. The last hours of daylight have arrived, and she was planning to make the most of it before retreating back to her apartment in Lincoln Park.

[Imogen] Along Cigney's running path is a familiar figure.

The path cuts along the water's edge, intermittently passing beaches - which Cigney avoids for their population, and concrete walls allowing a view of the water. Here it is a little more neglected - a little less friendly - pebbles leading up to the water rather than sand of concrete. Signs warn away swimmers, warn against throwing trash, against drinking. Still, there are shards of amber glass among the stones, where teenagers and young adults - and doubtlessly, older ones - did not listen.

She is a long figure on this section of beach - if it can be called so, a slight, slender form against the backdrop of the water, the sky above, her hair sparking brilliantly red in the slanting suns rays.

[Cigney] [sorry...got busy there for a sec.]
to Imogen

[Imogen] (no problem! you'd been sitting in here for a while. *grin*)
to Cigney

[Cigney] She likes the challenge of the final mile, ending it where she can stop and rest in peace. The waters edge provides this. As she finishes, she slows to a jog and feels her heart rate beating in a comforting rhythm. Pulling in the fresh air off the lake, th calm of the water lapping up on the rocks, even if its not quite as picturesque because of the city.
he
The red hair catches her attention likea flag. Its rare to find anyone here, especially during a day like this when the park provides so much more. Nearing her, Cigney recognizes the doctor.

Slowing further to a walk, Cigney remains quiet until she is Imogen's side. This is the first time the kin has seen this woman during daylight, and it changes her perception of the Dr. somehow. She's quite lovely...

[Imogen] She turns her head as Cigney steps onto the stones beside her - some instinct, or perhaps simply hearing a stone skitter over other stones from the other's step, alerting her.

The kinwoman's eyes are clearly blue - a deep dark colour much like twilight or the deepest depth of the ocean. So dark that in another hour they will seem black, when the light is gone. They flick over Cigney's running gear and the doctor smirks slightly as she absently lets a smooth stone fall from her hand to join the other stones at her feet.

"What else do you do other than running?" she enquires in lieu of a greeting. Much as Cigney seems to see Imogen only at night, it appears the other only sees her in some various state of working out.

The slight kinwoman's dressed in jeans, a tailored cloth jacket adding a measure of style to her attire - beneath it a simple camisole. Her hair is up, though tendrils have fallen free of the clasp to be worried by the wind that comes off the lake. It is cooler here - the air sharp against Cigney's sweat-slick skin.

[Cigney] She smiles and lets out a long exhale as she comes to a stop. The chuckles a litte and puts her nds on her hips, stretching her lower back a little.

"Not quite, but I do enjoy it".

Cigney gives the woman space, not exactly the model of cleanliness or composure as she regains her breath. She begins to stretch, speaking between breaths.

"It's funny you said that. I was beginning to think you only came out after the sun goes down".

The silvery grey eyes look at the woman as her moves her body to keep it from stiffening on her. Imogen reminds her a little of Danicka. These lovely women...wondering if its their breeding that affects her much like the Garou. There is an instant respect that draws itself from their natural beauty. She would be lying to herself if she didn't acknowlege the envy she feels. To be so beautiful on a deeper level...and respected.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

[Imogen] Imogen's breath exhales, a hint of amusement. "I work durin' the day," she offers a semblance of an explanation. "I imagine most o' the Blood only see me at night."

She lifts a hand to her hair, pushing back strands from her face tucking them behind her ears. If she notices Cigney's quiet envy, it is unacknowledged.

The question draws a brief tightening of the kinwoman's brow before it eases - or more accurately, is suppressed.

"No," she says, a little more firmly than is warranted, before her mouth twists, some sense of mirthless amusement. She reaches into her jacket pocket, retrieving her cigarette case and lighter, turning a glance toward the runner, the girl's constant movements to keep her muscles warm.

"Just watchin' the water and noticin' all th'ways it's not an ocean." Smell, sight, sound.

She lights up, turning her head to exhale the first breath of poison away from the other.

[Cigney] Cigney nods little at this. Wasn't that the truth? Being here at the waters edge makes her a little homesick.

"You grew up by the ocean?"

The chill begins to set in, she toughens up against it. She's felt worse. Crossing her arms, she waits for Imogen's response while keeping her distance. The smell of smoke not as bad outside as it was inside.

[Imogen] She nods once - a simple answer. "And lived by it in multiple cities before comin' here."

Her eyes had been on the water. As Cigney draws her arms around herself, the kinwoman glances her way, touching the Fenrir kinfolk's body with her gaze, then looking forward again. Acknowledgement of Cigney's chill but little else.

"I imagine a lake is better 'n nothing."

She takes a deep drag of the cigarette, holding the poison in her lungs.

[Cigney] Her eyes lower from both the lake and Imogen, down to the pebbles instead

"Yeah, I guess so".

She thinks a moment to herself in quiet.

"What brought you here? Do you have family? Are you with someone?"

The questions just sort of spill out. In truth, Cigney is deathly curious about every single one of them. She's desparate to make some sort of connection with each individual. Such connections help to sustain her. Life is so much more than just the everyday. For Cigney its the pack mentality that gives her fulfillment.

[Imogen] Imogen glances sharply toward the girl, the questions spilling out one after another. Her eyes narrow, a band of tension working its way across her jaw.

"I am alone," she answers evenly, each word clipped off and tight, spoken ruthlessly, though this particular brand of cruelness is not directed at Cigney at all.

It seems that this single answer must do for all three questions.

Imogen looks away again, lifting the cigarette back to her lips and sucking sharply on the filter, filling her lungs again.

"Settled in are you?" she asks abruptly, changing the subject. "Found the Brotherhood and all that?"

[Cigney] As she watches Imogen's expression change, Cigney closes her eyes and lowers her face again. It was always the same reaction. No one wanted to talk. They all had demons to deal with, ghosts that could not or would never be named. If sharing made them real, then best to lock them away and never speak of it. The silence hurts her. That severance of truth...of knowing she isn't alone in her fears and disappointments.

The absense of shared experiences.

"Brotherhood? I...I don't think so. Was it something I supposed to do?"

Maybe she'd crossed the term somewhere before, but right now its foreign. She crouches down low, fee set apart as she rests her arms on her thighes. She looks down at the pebbles, a bit ashamed of what her impatience to know things had done. She fancies herself an adult, but still so young in so many ways...

[Imogen] Cigney's distress at finding yet one more shut door, one more closed window seems not to affect the red-haired kinwoman. Her gaze remains fixed on the lake.

"It's a restaurant," she says. "With a second floor which can only be entered by Garou or Kinfolk. It has rooms t'sleep in, a common room fer socialization and the opportunity t'do yer laundry and cook food."

A beat, the pause broken by her taking another drag of her cigarette. Her words come out, smoke choked, "I've not been there recently myself, but I gather it's quite popular. S'called the Brotherhood of Thieves."

[Cigney] "I'll be sure to check it out. Is there some sort of test or password?"

Cigney asks this because of her...well, short coming as a half breed.

"Thank you for everything. And I'm sorry if I offended you in anyway. Sometimes I'm to curious for my own good. I find all of you to be very fascinating..."

[Imogen] "There is a password," Imogen says, before giving it to the other, followed by directions on where to find the Brotherhood of Thieves.

Cigney apologizes and the doctor's gaze remains forward, silently smoking her cigarette in the aftermath. She lowers the fag, turning it between her fingers to study the ember, the sheaf of ash before lowering it to tap it ground-ward. The smoke clings to the air, to the doctor's skin, to her hair. The sun has begun to set in earnest, but there is still enough light to see the grey smoke as it exhales from the cherry, to see it pass through Imogen's lips as she blows them out.

"Your questions are not offensive," she says, finally, quietly, slowly, choosing the words carefully. Her accent is ever-present. She never sounds American, she never loses the burr and clip it gives to her voice, but she has a way of speaking precisely, ever sound, however different it might be from the nasal and flat American, clear and enunciated. "And if you'd asked someone else, they might well ha' answered you."

A pause as she glances at the blonde, her eyes beginning to darken toward black as the sun starts to fade away, "just not me."

[Cigney] Cigney casually looks at her watch, then curses under her breath.

"I'm gonna be late. Can I offer you a ride or anything".

She stands up now, a small wince as her muscles begin moving from a set position. The kin takes a few steps towards Imogen, ignoring the smell of the smoke. Lingering closer to her than she ever had.

"I understand. And I respect that".

Her voice is soft...a half hearted smile. She can't be discouraged, not yet.

[Imogen] Imogen shakes her head slightly, "I have my own car," she says. There is perhaps significance in how Cigney moves closer to her. She glances toward the girl, a flick of her eyes.

Cigney understands. She respects that. Imogen's expression does not change, no relief, no warmth. After a moment, she nods.

"Goodnight," she says.

[Cigney] "Goodnight. Be well".

Despite the guard Imogen puts up, Cigney offers a warm smile before slipping away. Her eyes watch Imogen a moment longer before turning to go, hoping they'd run into each other again soon.