Joss | Hattricks and Dinner [Marcus/James/others]

She has news for Marcus, after all. Good news.

She reaches up and adjusts James’ hat more firmly on her head and takes a deep breath, trying to slow her pounding heart. Wait till her mother hears, wait till she hears! One step closer….

His shirt was off, laying in a crumpled heap on the floor beside his boots. Long black hair pooled around his head, while alabaster skin that showed through the tattooing of his body glowed softly in the light.

…Vaults over the couch to land on his lap, with a cheerful “GUESS WHAT!”

As if he doesn’t already know…

“Och, I’m fer knowin’,” he said with a grunt. “Totem-bond, ye know.” Shifting a bit, the Galliard very calmly and casually rolled to flip her onto her back and deposite himself betwixt her thighs, kneeling.

“An’ ye shouldnae sneak up ‘n a man what’s sleepin’!”

And, even better, she all but whispers the next with a soft reverence, “I met Imogen. Really met her. She’s so pretty. Mom’s gonna just DIE when I tell her!” And she reaches to her head, plucking his hat off her dreads and placing it back on the head of its rightful owner with a little pat and impish grin.

Teenage girl. Completely nuts. It’s a safe bet either way right about now.

“Aye,” he said with a shake of his head. It was a wonder to see how these folk reacted to his pack. To him they were just Decker, Imogen and Evan. Nothing to crow about. “Send yer muther my r’gards,” he said with a slight grin as he tickled her ribs momentarily before seating himself on the couch.

“Oh…. oh… OH that was AWESOME…”

“Ne’er fook wit’ a Fiann’s ‘at!” he crowed, moving to her feet.

She squirms and wriggles and fortunately he CANT get to her feet because she’s wearing her boots and she slithers out from under him pushing him away with a giggle “Go get your hat before I get another bright idea….”

“Ye an’ yer bright ideas,” the Galliard murmured. “Ye wait. I’m goin’ tae put superglue ‘n all yer tampons.”

He doesn’t put the hat back on, and that makes her laugh all over again. “You do that, and I’ll do something more than send your hat flying. That was just for fun – I haven’t even BEGUN to be mean yet… and since I am fond of living, I won’t do anything to Silence, you’ll just have to get double the pranking…”

She pulls her sweater sleeve down so that she can wipe her face off from where he licked it, then push her dreads back over her shoulder.

Hands raised to shake out his long hair, and he sighed. “Ye’re goin’ tae be th’ death o’ me,” he said solemnly.

And then, because she will be the death of him someday, most likely, she pulls her skirts up along her thigh and says “I haven’t shown you yet… got these after I made Fostern.” She shows him the scars and grins, and if he looks close enough, he can practically feel the energy beneath the thick ropey scars… “Know what they are?”

There were a lot ofpeople at the brotherhood. A lot of them. People that flowed in and out and through the place and it just… it just… this whole damned city didn’t feel natural. It was making her stir crazy. It was making her other kinds of crazy, too, but one could argue that the Ahroun was already getting there. What with being in a place that she couldn’t run as well. Tht she couldn’t stretch her legs, that she couldn’t move until her lungs felt like they were going to burst.

So, there she was, making her way out of her room, with all her pent up energy and no outlet yet, and she headed out to the common room.

Hysterical giggling will draw anyone out of hiding. The Fury was no exception.

Joss was then hiking her skirts up, and the Galliard eyed her legs a touch too closely. “S’yer attempt at seduction?” he queried teasingly before he winked and shook his head. “Nay, an’ I’m not fer knowin’ if’n I truly want tae know.”

A nod of greeting for Marcus, and then one for Marrick as she makes her appearance.

She’s awed, as one should be when speaking of such things.

…then she see’s Marcus and she kneels up on the couch to lean against the back and watch him gook. “Guess what, Marcus… Guess!” She’d come back to dinner as promised, and she’s near bubbling with her news. She smiles at Marrick too, the laughter from moments before still sparking through her eyes.

Understatement.

But? She was a curious creature, and for her part she seemed content to listen and try to catch what this unfamiliar lady was so excited about.

His nose picks up an inviting scent of food and he begins to move in a quicker pace, practically stalking the halls for the smell of food.

Marrick came to sit with them on the wrap-around couch, and he nodded to her. “Evenin’ tae ye, lass,” he said with a smile. Intense as she may be, he’s been around worse, and the aged Galliard didn’t fear much. Except perhaps the wrath of an 18 year old Get of Fenris Godi that liked to play tricks on him.

She’s not Fianna.
She is Godi.
(…she’s crazy…)

She leans farther over the couch to stage whisper to Marcus, though it carries perfectly well to whoever wants to listen. “I’m the newest perspective Eagle.” She’s positively brimming with happiness that she has a place, and the place she wanted. She’s happy that she now has the chance to do what she came to do, she has the chance to prove herself worth as Godi, worthy to Eagle. “I’m moving into the packhouse tonight. Don’t let me forget to give you my number before I head over there tonight – specially if you turn out to be a fantastic cook…”

She turns then to sit sideways, ducking her feet underneath her so that she can watch Marcus cook, and pay attention to James and Merric as well. She even turns a smile on the towel wrapped man prowling the halls when he passes by.

Strangers didn’t seem to make Marrick feel out-of-place. More curious. She had to investigate them; since it wasn’t her territory, something new and different was met with something that wasn’t claws and irritable words. The air moved, and her attention moved. And moved fast. To the source of food. Marrick perked up slightly, waiting for curiosity to be satisfied.

“Fish fry?” he asks Marcus.

The conversation carried by the others drifts from the couch, catching in muffled snippets to his ears. He glances back beyond the couch to spy James and Joss, and then even Marrick. A hand lifts up, waggling fingers in the air at those looking this way.

Ascending into sight he paused there in the common room to look around. Lots of people here tonight. New faces he hadn’t seen.

Adam wasn’t much to look at. Not overly tall at 5’9 or 5’10”. Not hugely built, but lithe, gracefull. Almost frighteningly so. Dressed casually in jeans and a white teeshirt, a normal looking black leather jacket over this. His bronze native skin was clear and his dark eyes deep. Matching dark hair topped his head.

looking over those gathered he gave a bit of a nod and a gentle lop sided smile*

*Pausing before the gathered he nodded to them all* Adam Swift-Arrow. Known as Nightcrawler. *One hand raised to give them a casual wave, then fall down to his side*

She perked up, the smell hitting her senses and for the time being all she could do was think of was what this kid was working on. Her head cocked to the side slightly and then she relaxed. She was calm, but there was always, always that tension under the surface. Marcus got a name, and she returned hers in kind with an upward nod.

“Marrick. Bones-to-dust.”

Ahh, and yes, she was a woman of so few words.

He sniffs, eyes widening. “HA! Cornmeal. Like home!” his voice rumbles in a gravelly-tone making his chuckles sound grated and low.

Wahya returns his attention back to the couch, “Irish.”

What he doesn’t know yet, is that it’s not done. The next four times he says the trigger word while wearing the hat, the performance will repeat. And oh she has other ideas too… he’s lucky it was just a Air elemental.

Her belly rumbles and she reaches for James hat and sets it on her head as she looks at Merric. “You were here briefly last night. I’m Joss.” Then as another joins, she gives the rest of it. “Joss Lehrer, Gossamer Wing, Fostern Godi.”

She couldn’t be a day over 18 – dreads n piercings and all.

When Wahya says “irish,” it got the Fianna’s attention. Looking over to him, he quirked an eyebrow. “Aye?” he asked, but then everyone else was giving their introductions. A soft sigh and shrug and the Galliard joined in.

“James Wagner, Sandman tae th’ Nation o’ Garou. Fostern Galliard o’ Stag, member o’ Eagle’s Chosen.”

A pleasure, I’m sure. *Difference to those that have earned rank is always good to show. Or so his grandmothers would have him believe.*

Nice to meet you all. Many new faces. ‘s good. Times have been hard lately. *Moving again he brushed Wahya with one shoulder* Showering here, Brother? Sage will be so disappointed.

*looking back to Marcus* I tend to follow the latter side of Brother Raven when I can.

“Okay, ‘yall keep talkin’ about godis an’ I don’t know what that is… So! Could y’all fill in th’ blanks?”

This was Marrick. Marrick Fisher. Black Fury. Okie girl, who in her entire existence, had never interacted with the Fenrir. Except, of course, for right now, when one was offering her fish and the other one was introducing herself and didn’t look to be any older than she was. Marrick knew something about her was different, but she didn’t know what precisely that different was.

Wahya is still hovering around the hot plate, shifting his stance on his feet to move out of Marcus way, waiting for the permission to take some of the prepared meal.

Yes.
A Fenrir that smiles.
(…be afraid…)

She pats James’ hat on her head with a grin “See? It’s just fine, as good as new even.” and she replaces it where it belongs, on him.

To Merrick, she laughs softly. “Sorry. Godi is the Fenrir word for those born under the Cresent moon. I am a Theurge.” As a curious girl herself, she has no problem answering questions when they are posed to her. “In saying “Godi” it tells you both Tribe and Auspice.”

“Well met, all o’ ye.”

She had spent too much time around Boy. She asked too many questions, and she was prying and looking for the answers. She pulled one of her knees up close to her chest, coiled and poised and ready for damned near anything. Marrick’s attention was on Joss; Joss was the one giving her answers.

*He’d only met the garou once or twice but he remembered her pack and the one that James just mentioned*

She then turns her attention to Marrik and her question. “Many tribes have specialized names for the Auspices. I come from a predominantly Fenrir sept, and I forget that others do not use the same, may not understand them. They are Modi, Godi, Foresti, Skald and Rotager. I will have to get used to using the more easily understood terms here.”

“Mm,” James nodded looking to Adam. ” ‘Ndeed. M’self an’ th’ Eagles mourn ‘er loss. She’ll nae b’ fergott’n.”

He stares at James hard. “She of silent words…” he says quietly, not wanting to believe it. Wahya steps back away from Marcus and his cooking setup. Fingers curling into a fist.

Garou… not so much touchie feelie out side the pack. But Wahya is in his pack and Adam lends silent support to his brother. And hopefully a bit of a calming influence as he feels their totems instinctual responce at one of their own being attacked. Even if she wasn’t packed, Wasp doesn’t like it. Not even a little bit*

James nodded, then stood to glance at Joss. “I’m goin’ tae get some air. I’ll r’turn shortly,” he said.

She stayed in her rather comfortable position. There was curiosity, yes, and it could only be described as silent fascination with Joss. With her dreadlocks, her piercings, her culture. She was a girl. And a Fenrir. And a Fostern. Female and fostern, in her adolescent brain, took more precedence than Fenrir.

“So… which is which? Ya said a godi’s a theurge but what’re the others?”

Then she turns her attention back to Merrick, as she lifts her hands to grab her dreads, and pull them around, over her shoulder in front of her, idly playing with the heavy twists as she answers. “Modi is Ahroun, Godi Theruge, Foresti Philodox, Skald Galliard, Rotager Ragabash.” She rattles them off easily, and with that patient smile of one who recognizes a kindred curious spirit.

Maybe at the next moot you can lead a howl for her? *he nodded softly* She was of Fenrir’s brood. he brother says she went down fighting and took her foes with her. For her people there is nothing better.

*His words, like normal are softly spoken. He wasn’t a loud man, but the emotion was there. He didn’t know AM well but he feels his brothers pain and the pain of yet another trooper lost in the war*

“So, what’s that like? How’re y’all different from, like, me. Or Fianna. Or other folks. Like, what’s so different ’bout a fenrir sept?”

Moving away, Wahya pads over to one of the chairs, flopping down into it and stretch his legs out. He reaches up to peel the towel off his head, dropping it across his lap and runs his hands through the matted braids that fall across his face and past the shoulder.

Back to the questions then. “When you are with your sisters, you are more comfortable, comfortable that they get you in ways that no one else does. Any sept that is predominantly one tribe is the same way for them. The tribes are much the same when they deal with those they know, and each has their own traditions. It is only different in so much as there is one tribe, who grew from the same Traditions, and understand them instinctively, while in a Sept such as here, where there is a mixture, often the different Tribal beliefs can cause problems.”

*Looking to the others* It was a pleasure to meet you all.

*One last look to his packmate and he headed for the stairs. They were garou. Not carebears. sobbing tears and kum by ya, they weren’t. Well… maybe the Coggies. Still.

The Uktena glided across the floor and down the steps. Had to go check in on his injured sister and freaked out mate. *

Marcus looms in his line of sight, the taller man casting a shadow over the Uktena, forcing him to twist his head up. The mess kit offered out with food, Wahya reached for it with a mumbled “Thanks” and takes it. He pulls his legs up into the cushioned chair, hunching over to prop his elbows on his knees and holds the mess kit with one hand, picking at the meat with the red stained fingers and pops it into his mouth, chewing.

So declared, she digs in happily, repeating the process as she waits to see if there are more of Marrick’s questions. After tonight, few would be surprised to know Lehrer translates to ‘teacher’. It is different, however, to be the one teaching rather than learning. This big city life becomes her.

She smiles up at Marcus, and after swallowing a second bite. “I’ma have to keep coming back here for dinners I think.”

“Never caught tribe, Two Ravens.”

…which is funny as he just then offers her some water. She lifts the stolen beer (he LICKED her. She deserves his beer.) and grins.

“Interesting,” he muses, “Two Raven’s is Norse Wolf, yet native like Wahya.” His head begins to tilt to the side at an odd angle, “Grinning moon wolf-born of Uktena’s brood, little brother.”

She smiles at Wahya, and munches quietly on her dinner as they talk.

Uktena, he says. Grinning moon, and she sat up with a quiet pleasure at this. For some reason, this brought her a sort of glee.

“My brother Boy shares a tribe with you,” she said. well, not her blood brother. Obviously, of course. Then again, Boy was better family than those she acquired by accident of birth.

Then he says he’s 17, and that makes her laugh once more. “This little sister is not only ryha, but older too. Not by much though. I just turned 18 a couple months ago.” She picks at her fish, munching contentedly as she listens. Marrick mentions Boy, and she tips her head before “oh – he spoke on the Litany with Marcus the other night, yes?” Putting so many names to so many new faces is daunting.

“Wahya is…” a pause, trying to think, “three?”

Marrick is offered a curious glance over. His brown eyes doing a quick sweep up and down the Fury before settling on her face, he nods. “Brother name Boy?”

Boy. What a strange, strange name. but she continued, and she treated his name with the respect that one would treat their brother’s name. their Alpha’s name, even, but… well, we don’t talk about that.

“Mmn-hmmn,” she nodded, “Boy- half moon, human born. We just came here.”

It’s a lot to take in.

“Prefer Marcus cook over Little Sister’s. She kills meat.” He grunts softly, mouth now full of fish.

He licks the grease off his fingers, sucking on them loudly. He regards Marrick once more, the conversation distraction the wolf-born from the earlier news of loss. “There is Furies here. Serafine, Black Angel, she come here, and Tanith, fury kin, who dumped Adam.”

She settles back into the couch with a content sigh and pats her belly. “That? Was amazing. Thank you, Marcus.”

“Really?” There were furies here. Other furies!

Her whole face lit up.

“Oh. Kick ass,” she said. And there she was in her full teenaged element. She looked ato Joss, as if something hit her. She grinned a little. “Oh god, I can’t believe I’m older than you. I’m nineteen in December.”

When Marcus comes back she thinks of something “Oh! Hey, if you want your own room, you can take mine since I’m headed to the packhouse. Not as much room to hang your laundry though.” a beat. “why do you do that, anyway – there’s dryers in the laundry room……” curious. Even about the little things.

She paused, but then looked at him and was quiet and eager. For her part, she was… well, she was like an overeager pup. In truth, that’s really what she was. The ahroun, with all her intensity, was personable.

She nodded when she said that. Marrick looked at Marcus, blue eyes with him for the time being. She adjusted her position- the fury uncoiled herself from the way she had been sitting before and was, instead, criss cross apple sauce on the couch.

“I think he’d like to meet you too, Wahya.”

When she has time. Evan warned the Eagles would keep her busy. Little does he know she thrives on that – she could not be more excited to finally get ready, to finally do something other than trick out her friends Hat.

“Wahya go. Much to do. Good night.” He murmurs behind a yawn, “Will come again.”

“I’m going out, y’all need anything before I head out?”

She’s sat still too long. She hops up and wanders around the room, her skirt sliding in a caress along her ankles as she prowls the room. she smiles at Marrick as she asks and shakes her head. “Thanks, Marrick. Have a good evening.”

She then leans over the back of the couch next to Marcus. “Ugh. i gotta pack up again. And Then unpack. Then fix up my little waterfall.”