Wrangling a stranger


Indira.jpg Max.jpg

Date: 2010.07.22
Location: Beast Caverns
Synopsis: Indira seeks Max out to give him a piece of her mind. Set after Ahnika's visit to her office. My Chemical Romance - Mama
Rating: R - For language
Logger: Indira.

Furious, would be the understatement of the turn. Face set in an expression like thunder; the heels of the Headwoman’s boots ring out in strident staccato as she sweeps into the beast caverns. One look at the tall blonde woman and the young night ‘hand set in place to keep watch over visiting runners, makes himself scarce. “LOMAXIN!” her son’s name cracking out like a gunshot as she nears his make-shift office and sleeping quarters.

Reclining in his usual manner with boots up on his desk, chair rocked back on its legs (one day will see him landing on his ass with that one) the sound of his given name being thrown out into the air like that has the beast manager suddenly drop the chair forward whilst pulling his hat far over his face. This an action of dual purpose, the first being that perhaps his mother will think him sleeping (its worked before) and go away, and the other the vain hope that she won’t notice the cut lower lip and jaw stained with bruising.

“I know you’re in there, Lomaxin,” Indira’s voice cutting closer and closer until the end of the aisle greets her and she’s rounding through the open doorway. Dark eyes land on the ‘sleeping’ beast manager and without bothering to pause in the doorway, she continues her forward momentum, snatching his hat off his face and slapping him upside the head with it, “Who the fuck do you think you are, messing with young girls like that!?”

His shelter gone, Max’s eyes drift slowly up to Indira’s face, mouth and jaw now on open display, “Good evening to you too, mother,” tone set irritatingly calm and indifferent in the face of her obvious anger. Lifting a finger from those laced together across his stomach, laconic response is made, “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” Deliberately alluding to having a stream of young girls in and out of the beast caverns as he lazily rocks the chair backward on its legs once again.

Arms fold across her chest, as her eyes find those tell-tale signs on the miscreant’s face, “Yes very funny, Max. Keep it up and you’ll find yourself head first in a trough.” It’s what he says next that draws a dangerous glitter to her eyes, “Little shit!” Indira snaps out, kicking a foot swiftly to the nearest leg of the chair her son is currently so precariously balanced on.

With a sudden –whump- followed by a loud –crack-, Max finds himself deposited unceremoniously on the floor, the broken pieces of chair scattered about him. Scrambling to his feet, he fixes Indira with a shocked glare, “What the fuck!?”

Dark blonde brows climb high, “Really, Max? You really don’t know?” Indira’s tone dropping down to a low hiss as she stalks closer looking for all intents and purposes like she’s about to even out the damage done to her son’s jaw. “One word for you – Ahnika!” she states, hand moving toward the riding crop hanging conveniently on a peg nearby.

Oh shit! Randi must have…wait. Ahnika? The confusion briefly evident on the young beast manager’s face as he backs away from the fuming Indira. “Uuuuh, hang on a minute,” both hands going up in warding gesture when he sees his mother reaching for the riding switch, “what about her?” If he’s about to get literally laid into, he’d at least like to know why.

Crop now in hand and tapping against a thigh, the headwoman turns out a cold smile as she changes the direction of her steps to try herding her son into a corner, “You kissed her and then you threw her out like yesterday’s garbage.” Simple statement of fact.

Max having played this game more than once with his dam in the past, adroitly skirts around the edge of the desk and starts backtracking toward the doorway. Uttering a snort for his apparent misbehavior, “I kissed her, I didn’t fuck her,” the heel of a boot catches on a broken piece of chair and he stumbles, “besides which, when did you suddenly get so fucking virginal, huh? Who’s the latest flavour of the month this time, the tanner?” trying to switch the tables while still keeping Indira firmly in his sights, “No, he’s a little too old for your liking isn’t he? How about that spice merchant that just arrived a day or so ago, bet he’s right up your…” Words cut off as he inadvertently catches the back of his head on the peg now freed of riding switch.

Having anticipated her son’s next move, Indira steps around the opposite side of the desk, catching up with Max just as he hits his head against the peg. Something said in his snide comments hits home. Snarling out an expletive, the woman raises an arm, the riding switch being brought down and across in a cutting blow aimed at wherever she can make it land. Closing the gap in one swift movement she reaches for his collar and yanks the beast manager forward, “Listen up you little shit, Stay away from her. She’s under my protection now, and far too good for you besides.” With such words, one might imagine a very unhappy childhood has been his sad misfortune to endure. The opposite would be true with the headwoman simply being unacquainted with the stranger her son has become in the passed few turns. The crop bearing hand lifts and taps the end against the dark bruise on his jaw, “I’m not even going to ask about that.”

Jaw still aching, head pounding and now a cut of crop across his upper arm. This has got to be some kind of record for Max. However, he takes it all without raising so much as an objection once he realizes he’s hit a sore spot somewhere with his comments. Smirking deeply as he’s yanked forward, he reaches out and plucks the riding switch out of his mother’s grip while she’s distracted, “I’ll do what I want, with whom I want, whenever I want.” Yeah, real mature comeback. A hand lifts and pointedly removes Indira’s curl of fingers from his collar. Given in a bored tone, “Go find yourself a plaything and leave me alone, mother,” this as he bends, takes up his hat, dusts it against a thigh and then leaves the stall. The sounds of a runner being saddled up following soon after.

With her expression folding into a deeply perplexed expression for the young man, Indira’s dark gaze tracks Max out of the stall. Only once the clatter of hooves sound out across the rock face, does she make to depart. Sadness enveloping the tousle haired blonde as she leaves, a mother’s mourning for the happy go lucky young boy that once was. If only he’d talk to her.

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