TAGS. things have been slow, a truth chicagocrimes knows of fairly well. with own leader sickly and recovering, it left her home, these meadowlands rainfed and haunted, bumbling around and pace nothing more than lowly and deathly crawl. she wants to fix that, of course she does; the desire to keep home strong and secure as val heals is strong in woman hell-bent and ambitious. one way to do that is to enforce the bonds of their allies, which at this moment save for a good few are weak and unsure. she aims to fix that.
wicker baskets lay messily tucked side by side; piles of different herbs and flowers and berries mix together; arts and crafts supplies she's asked for, whisper of curious breath, from members prizing selves on the topic; pieces and bits of clothing; and other gift items like meats tender and cooked by own flames; even a small array of weaponry, daggers and sorts, are settled dear and near her hip. peering out toward the meandering bodies moving about her, throat clearing as announcement dawns tongue tip. "oi, everyone wantin' ta go sightseein' fer a bit, come 'ere"
as members draw in or tilt heads her way, a wolfish grin that shows all teeth takes to her lips. "yer gonna be makin' yet own gift basket an' sendin' it ta our allies. fun, right? try ta make it ah, what's th' word . . . unique ta th' clan yer visitin'. an' when yer there, chat 'em up a bit, check in, maybe plan out an event or two; don't just drop it off an' vanish." chica's words are short and simple, but she doesn't slack off when it comes to the completion of the task; she doesn't want some half hearted and poorly made gift baskets given to those they want to hold strong bonds with, after all; that reflects badly on them. "an' hell, if yer really inta what they got goin' o'er there, maybe check out our AMBASSADOR PROGRAM; it's in need o' a hand or two." shameless marketing falls from lips, a tongue waxing lyrical scorching and genuine. pulling a basket to her own side, she'll start when everyone gathers.
ALLIANCES . . .