Wednesday April 22nd, ~11:45 pm. Chedoke – Delta team – Tamara
BP 11/12, HP 7/7, H 4/4, SC 2/2, WP 6/6
Wolf: +1 to physical attributes, -1 to manipulation, increased perception, bite/claw
*Self inflicted? Nice, as if on top of everything, that was what we needed…* Tamara thought, but kept her words to herself. There were more pressing matters to think about… and memories to keep at bay… corporal punishments, guilt, duties…. Some days she wondered just how much closer she was from a Malkavian type than Gangrel’s.
In any case, as per usual with their so called leaders, there were no answers to her questions. Meaning? Yes, exactly: there was no plan.
By the time they reached Whitehern, Tamara had fallen deep into her own thoughts, much as she figured the rest of the people in the car had. She had been fumbling with her phone, but sadly unable to unlock its secrets and too occupied to even worry about it. The scene that met their eyes there though brought focus to the moment.
Fia, carrying a body, two more… Jareth and the redhead coming behind them and the man taking charge of the dead weight and possibly dead kindred, Rory and Cash coming in from another car… a group of people waiting outside too. The gypsy stepped out from the car, her face half hidden by her hoodie and somehow looking small again. Something big was in concoction and if she had to choose just which group to be with, well she wasn’t sure which one offered a reasonable probability of success. She would not be going in an all pissed hot tempered suicide mission; that was for sure.