[Victor Oseragighte] They reach the garden and he takes his birth form once more, the better to move carefully here. He watches his step as he follows the Fenrir in, studying the blossoms, searching for signs of darting forms that well may be here this time of year.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Those that know of Mama Ankle-Biter have seen two sides of her. The oddball midget in colorful mismatched clothing with a lazy drawl to her speech and all-too big grin on her face, or a nurturing, motherly figure with a scolding glare. She can feel the press of pack as Karl brings Victor along to the small garden shrine in the umbra. It here that they will find the small black and gray speckled form of the diminutive Bone Gnawer.
The small tufts of her ears roll back and forth on top of her head, paws lift and fall high up in the air in a quick-paced dance on the ground as she turns from left to right twice, half-circling back around from right to left thrice. Pink tongue hanging out from one side of her muzzle, tail swaying in a curling arc over her spine waving in the air like a banner. She can feel their presence, but doesn’t acknowledge them until the little Gnawer has stamped herself out a nice little circle with the constant movement.
She finally falls back on her rump after tiring herself out, patting and swallowing gulps of air. Her ears rolling back as she lifts her head to peer at the garden shrine, wrinkling her black nose and waits quietly. It takes a few minutes of waiting, maybe five or ten, before they start to hear the swift buzzing of wings that flutters in the air, zinging left and zipping right.
[Karl Holds the Line] The massive midnight crinos grows still, raising its muzzle to the sky, eyes closing. He waits like that until the buzzing draws closer. As the hummingbird spirit appears, the massive crinos drifts up from the ground, hovering in the air above the flowers, turned to face the spirit. Its fur seems to be caught in the breeze of those wings, moving in waves.
He cannot communicate to the spirit with words, but the connection between them is clear as the spirit goes first to Mama, brushing against her, then to the Rotagar, zipping around the massive vorm. Both pack members have given a part of their spirit to the totem to feed it, to honor it, and the ever hungry totem drinks its fill from the two.
But Karl holds, waiting for Mama now. She is the alpha, the theurge. It is she who will continue the ceremony.
[Victor Oseragighte] He is utterly silent, utterly motionless, prepared to meet this spirit in his birth skin before he shows the diminuitive bird his other selves. His ears twitch even in homid, just a little, and he breathes in the heady perfume of the flowers in the garden, dark eyes scanning for the source of that hum. He recognizes that he is the initiate here, that it is not his place yet to step forward, to do anything until he is called upon.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The keen perceptions of a wolf, even a creatures such as fantastical as a Garou, has difficulty making out the sudden streak of pale blue light that zips through the colorful array of flowers that creep up the vines of the small garden shrine. It moves from left to right, up and down, constantly in motion, like a small ball of lightning without the thunder.
Yet, they can hear if they listen close enough, the small drumming of wings. Bzzzzzzz.
The Spirit appears – fluttering down over the Theurge’s head, bright, twinkling bulbs of cerulean gleam around its head, jutting out in tiny beads of light like a string of fiber optics at various points of its body, the color shines in the depths of its eyes, and throbs (like a strobe) through the translucent emerald film of its wings. The color of sunrise and sunsets caress along its throat and down its underbelly, vibrant citrus colors that bleed into crimson. The feathers along its back glisten between several hues of rich Caribbean blues, to jeweled-tone greens, and paler sparks in-between.
The bird hovers, appearing motionless – almost frozen in time, yet still moving as it sways back and forth, sliding up and down, along the air currents as if riding a wave.
[Victor Oseragighte] His eyes fall finally upon that flitting bird, like a living jewel, hanging there in the air before the Theurge. A reflection hangs in his dark eyes, fascinated by the tiny entity that would become his patron. Still he does not move, does not breathe almost, waiting reverently, patiently.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama Ankle-Biter tilts her head up, ears tilting forward to the soft buzzing that tickles them. She shakes her head, chuffing out as a loud woof of air expels from her lungs. Her tail thrums along the ground happily, angling her small head in all directions to keep track of the zipping ball of feathery blue light. She looks back once over at Karl and then Victor. She barks and yips, standing up suddenly and turning in place a few times, before standing in place again, never leaving the little circle that she had stamped out with her paws.
Her voice rolls out in the High Tongue, loud enough for the males behind her to hear, ‘Hummingbird, we, the Moonrunners, favored of ya children. Come to pay homage and seek ya approval to bring a wolf under ya wing to bind him to our hearts and to run with us as a brother. Mama asks…‘
[Victor Oseragighte] He moves forward, just a step, two, when he is mentioned now, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. His hand goes to his pocket, to what rests there, not yet withdrawing it.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The Hummingbird-spirit tilts its head to one side, staring down the sharp point of its thin black beak as it watches the Gnawer. It drifts forward on invisible air currents, dancing around her head and along her body, brushing through the sea of black and gray fur before flying up and away.
They try to keep a watch on it, but it moves to fast, seeming to disappear again into the vines and flowers of the garden shrine. One ear cocks back on the lupus-born’s head on confusion, turning to look at the males behind her.
A second or two later, the spirit reemerges next to Karl, zipping across the ears of the black Fenrir and then makes its way to Victor, where it stops inches above his face and looks at him.
[Victor Oseragighte] He exhales slowly as he lets the tiny spirit examine him, and then begins to shift, sliding through his forms slowly. Muscles become thicker, denser, bones stretch and change. The relatively thin coating of human hair gradually becomes thick fur as he rises through the near-man, into the war-form, then down through the great wolf into his wolf self, his most instinctual self. He does not doubt that the bird can maintain a height level with his face all the while as he reveals to Hummingbird all of his faces.
[Karl Holds the Line] Karl has remained still since the spirit arrived, but when it darts away through Mama’s fur, he tilts his head as if to look for it. When it buzzes over his head, he huffs out a loud breath, eyes closing and tilting its muzzle up to let the spirit dart around the massive head, streaking past and through the midnight fur before coming to rest before victors face.
His gaze is drawn o the small spirit. Despite its size, it fills the Rotagar with its speed and agility, and the Fenrir revels in it. It is a totem of war, and one that is as strong as any Fenrir, any warrior could ask for. He watches the Wendigo and the spirit closely, pale blue eyes fixed on the pair. His choice of War-form held to honor the totem’s aspect.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The Gnawer turns as the Hummingbird continues to hover in front of the Wendigo, it sways back and forth, flowing through the air to follow the shift of Victor’s forms, retaining eye-level with him. Mama Ankle-Biter sits back on her haunches, watching them with a tilt of her head. She flicks her ears back and forth on her head, a small rumble vibrates in the base of her throat like a chuckle.
‘She wants to know why ya wish to become one of her children.‘ The Bone Gnawer speaks up, working as interpreter for the totem-spirit. ‘She says that her appetite is voracious. One must give unto themselves a piece of their spirituality, a drought of the energy that runs through us, fuels our gifts, feeds the Spirit’s hunger. In this, She will accept it this small payment for the entirety of ya existence in the pack or until death.‘
[Victor Oseragighte] His eyes did not leave the tiny bird though he listened to his soon-to-be Alpha, answering her with a barely perceptible nod. “I have an offering of my own to make also.” He withdrew from his pocket what appeared to be a brochure, holding it up. “The Chicago Botanical Garden. I will… liberate clippings from it, a place of Wyld carefully organized by the Weaver. Tend to them personally. Help them to grow. Keep them close. Plant them when they are ready. Spread their bounty for your children.” Clearly he’d been thinking about this event and had not been idle in his thoughts.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The Wendigo’s offerings please the spirit. It flits about, bobbing and bouncing to the left in excitement. Its wings continuously beat, the strobe of blue light shimmering along its translucent wings, the color shifting in patterns like a signal, pulsating faster and faster with its pleasure.
Victor can feel it come close, the brush of wind that fans at his nose, tickles along his ears, and then his cheeks. It drifts closer still, zipping away until the Hummingbird finally stops; fluttering down to rest on Victor’s outstretched hand. It pokes at the brochure, tilting its head from side to side and then looks up at him with bright blue eyes.
The Gnawer shifts, wagging her tail as she watches, ‘She’s thrilled at ya chiminage. Wanted to know if ya was ready?’
[Marni] She’s late- but well, it’s something that’s come to be expected while she adjusts to not only their Totem, but also to the peanut sized bastard that’s taken up residence in her belly. She had to find food, in order to make it through this little ceremony without her stomach trying to eat itself. The Totem has affected each of the MoonRunners differently – for her, it’s as if she has become a living embodiment of it’s voracious appetite.
Anyway – she doesn’t disturb the process, she simply appears quietly and settles next to Karl on the haunches of her lupus form, and watches curiously.
[Victor Oseragighte] He smiled and nodded, grateful that the spirit found favor in his offering. Now he only had to carry it out, which he knew was a bigger task; they would hardly approve of him flitting about taking clippings, after all. No task worthwhile was easy, though. He took a slightly wider stance, bracing himself, knowing that this experience could be overwhelming, and rightly so. “I am ready, Mama-rhya.” This is noticeably the first time he’s been heard to use that honorific since he arrived.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The lupus-born stands again, her head lifting up, legs braced apart – appearing majestic and beautiful as one of her breed should rather than a slouching, filthy gutter mutt. The small tufts of her ears press back along her skull, eyes closing as she lifts her muzzle to the Penumbra sky. Her throat rippling with the first chords of a loud howl that encourages the others to sing along as it fills their ears.
The Hummingbird watches and waits with its shining pale blue eyes, its small body cupped in the palm of Victor’s hand, already he can feel the little thing vibrating with life and energy as if it were real. The quick-beat of the Hummingbird’s heart echoing in his ears, inside of him, calling to him to join Her.
[Karl Holds the Line]
[Karl Holds the Line] Karl looks to victor and the totem. He does not need to see mama raise her muzzle. The massive war-form Rotagar does it as well, sinking down to the ground as his own howl join’s his alphas, tearing the silence asunder with its rich deep tones.
[Victor Oseragighte] Once again he changes, stretching, carefully cradling the bird in his palm as he returns to his warmform and lifts his head to let his voice mingle with those of his new packmates, a wild sound that belongs more in an icy forest.
[Marni] The call begins, the howl begins, and she too tips her head back, her muzzle lifting to the sky, her cry one that is strong and emotional as it rips from her throat to join with that of her packmates…
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The voices of the four wolves mingle, they intertwined and connect into one harmonious song. It rivets through the umbra, felt and heard by the other Garou present throughout the caern, but no one comes just yet to investigate. The small body of the spirit hums with life, it vibrates and shimmers brightly with an array of illuminating blues and greens, oranges and reds. The thin black sword of its beak flashes once in the light of its body, head darting downward as it stabs violently into Victor’s hand, wounding the Wendigo as he can feel his blood well up and seep out in a thin stream along his palm.
The Hummingbird pulls from Victor a drought of gnosis, sucking at it and the blood of the Garou to take within itself. The link shared between Marni, Karl and Ankle-Biter opens up, they feel the voracious hunger of their totem as it swells and grows, popping in the back of their minds as their thoughts spill over into the Wendigo’s, connecting the minds of the four Garou into one fluid strain of thought.
One mind.
One pack.
[Karl Holds the Line] One mind.
One pack.
Victor can sense the massive rotagar. Sense the Will of Iron that drives him forward. A hunger to learn and to do battle. A hunger to protect that is perhaps surprising within the seemingly cold Get of Fenris No moon. But there is also anger, a Rage matched only by the full-Moons that burns within him, threatening to devour him. It is that razors edge the Rotagar calls life. Victor gets a sense of it in that instant that they are joined, before he simply becomes a presence nestled in the back of the Wendigo’s mind. A presence that welcomes their new packmate.
[Marni] One Pack.
One mind.
Hunger. That is his first feeling upon the meeting of minds with the smallish Gnawer. The sense that she is empty, yet somehow full as well, the crafty little raggie smarter than oh so many give her credit for. There is a slow burning rage, a winning smile, a sneaky little grin of someone who knows something she’s not telling… the sense of it all is there in an instant, before the Marni’s presence too settles in the back of his mind.
[Victor Oseragighte] He grinds his teeth, maw clamped shut tight as his palm is lanced, heavy head lowering to study the tiny bird with dark orange eyes. He manages to keep his hand very still, though, breathing in that new unity, breathing out that bit of his essence the spirit demands.
One pack.
One mind.
His presence to them is the calm eye of the storm, a curious duality, the constant motion and breath of his bond with the wind around a rock solid core that grounds it, brings him into balance. Through that all is his own hunger, the hunger of a predator through and through, growing now, infusing his being. His eyes close, and when they open again there is the faintest sheen of something else in them, of sapphire blue, emerald green, ruby red, a tiny, sharp glint in those orange rings.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The bond sealed.
The Hummingbird dissipates into a speckle of pale blue light, leaving behind a residue of tiny twinkling orbs like the bulb strands that jutted out from its feathers. They fall away to gather in the small pool of blood in Victor’s palm, the essence of the totem seeping into the Wendigo as the spirit vanished from their sight.
During all of this, the presence of the small Gnawer has been felt by all of them, the voracious hunger of the totem that she connects herself to spiritually reflects in the concussion of thought that jolts through her head, churning quickly in a fast tempo like the swirling blood-red waters of the Maelstrom – never slowing down, perpetually in motion. It makes you wonder if the Theurge ever held a quiet thought of reflection at all nowadays.
She snorts once, shaking her head as it lowers to focus on them. Her fur ruffling up at the base of her skull, stiffening and prickling, her body growing in size as she assumes her own war form. One theme remains throughout the Gnawer’s forms – she is always short. Even in Crinos, she breaches a height no taller than Karl in homid.
[Karl Holds the Line] As their totem leaves their physical presence, remaining only in their bond for now Karl exhales slowly, turning to look at victor, grinning. His thoughts reaching out to the other across their shared bond, like the thrumming of their totems wings, buzzing to them all.
~Welcome home Brother… Time to fly…~
And with that, the massive Crinos vanishes straight up into the umbral sky, carried by the invisible wings of Hummingbird.
[Marni] She shakes herself, her head, growing accustomed to the newest member of the pack felt along her senses, and then she too shifts to crinos, and with a wolfish grin for Karl, Mama and Victor –
She follows hot on Karl’s heels – can’t let him have ALL the fun, right?
[Mama Ankle-Biter] (post around me.. need to go afk)
[Victor Oseragighte] He looks up at the two that have risen already, then back to Mama Ankle-biter. The smile is there in his stance since it cannot show properly on his face in this form, and he looks skyward to rise up after them. Were he not already closer to the sky than the earth in many ways, he might have to ask, to strain to manage this, but the act feels natural, and the wind rustles through gray fur as he soars after Marni and Karl.
[Karl Holds the Line] There is a strange freedom to their flight. It is only here in the umbra where the touch of their totem is strong, but it is a freedom few others can ever know. Karl is a no moon accused of having no sense of humor. (He does, but the world isn’t willing to understand it just uyet) and here, the son of Loki flies, twists and turns on the penumbral winds, teasing the spirits of the air, playing with them, turning to swoop past his packmates, diving and climbing, zipping around much like their totem does.
This is for fun, for the exhilaration of it. It is also a tool, a weapon of surprise. Few Garou tend to look up. The spirals are no different. Their pack has a task in the sept. to scout and act as the first assault on enemy patrols. This gift of flight gives them an edge no other pack in the city have so far.
[Victor Oseragighte] Karl soars. Victor does something odd; he tucks in. He pulls himself into a ball and leaves himself to the mercy of the wind. The wind does not seem about to abuse that power, sending him tumbling along like a dandelion seed through the sky, and for some reason Victor seems not only happy with this but entirely thrilled.
[Marni] Marni plays along with them, a freedom found here that so few ever know, ever realize. Here she is weightless, and the trials found on the ground simply cannot reach her. Here, she moves effortlessly, soaring and diving, playing about the skies until her hunger pulls her back to the ground once more.
Time to feed the peanut.
[Karl Holds the Line] Well, fun can only last for so long. Karl watches victor as the wind spirits carry him around, a deep growling laugh coming from the Rotagar. Then he drifts down together with Marni, passing close and brushing past her and taking ground.
He moves to crouch down and shifts down to homid, reaching to run a hand over Marni’s arm with a grin.
“Take it easy on the new guy… We don’t have your iron stomachs.”
Grinning to the Gnawer before looking towards the fostern gnawer as well.
“Thank you Mama…”
[Victor Oseragighte] He whirls about, end over end, chaotically, driven by the wind until finally he uncurls and stretches, stopping his progress and hanging there in the air motionless to get his bearings. Once he spies Karl he ‘pushes’ toward him in a mad corkscrew, zipping around him like a satellite swinging into orbit and calling out. “Ever play volleyball?”
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Open? )
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The Fostern Gnawer did not join in the fun, she merely watched from the ground. Head lifting up to tilt to the side, ears twitching atop her head, alert and attentive, like a mother wolf watching cub play outside the den. She snorts softly, air rushing out of flaring nostrils, and the small crinos turns, dropping to all fours and returns to tending to the garden shrine in the umbra.
‘Welcome Karl.‘
[Mama Ankle-Biter] (yes, open!)
[Karl Holds the Line] (It is now! Ceremony complete! come on in! theya re just outside the carns center, near a totem shrine)
[Victor Oseragighte] (( Mama is at the pack shrine, Karl and Victor are in the sky. ))
[Victor Oseragighte] (( Oh. Victor is the only one left in the sky, my mistake. ))
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] It wasn’t long before the Silver Fang returned, having an errand or some such to attend to, while in reality his player had to bring his girlfriend lunch or else face her horrid wrath. Death by pepsi bottle was not something to look forward to for anyone, man or beast, and Caleb was both.
Still, he returned dressed in much the same manner as before to the caern’s heart, this time his sword belt buckled over his waist, the scabbarded blade thumping softly against his thigh as he walked, hands clasped behind his back.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] ‘Think Napoleon just arrived!’ this hooted out in the high tongue as Mama perks up, ears twitching atop her head to the sounds of the scabbard thumping quietly against the Silver Fang’s thigh. A snort rushes out of her nostrils, casting a glance about to the others.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] ‘Think Napoleon just arrived!’
[Marni] Marni settled to the ground near mama, and watches her work, pulling a pepperoni stick out of her backpack o’plenty and munching on it to quell her ever gnawing hunger. At Mama’s call, she looks up and over, taking in the walking form of Caleb, complete with sword. She snorts, and simply takes another bite.
Too tall.
[Karl Holds the Line] Karl looks over to Caleb, recognizing the Silver Fang. He watches him, pale blue gaze drawn to the sword at the man’s side, then back up at his face. A glance cast to Marni and Mama, a small smile playing over his face before he moves to meet the man. It was an unfamiliar face to the Rotagar, and one of rank at that.
[Karl Holds the Line] Karls thoughts drift across the totembond, amusement playing along them.
~Be nice to the poor fellow. Cant you see he is strutting!~
to Mama Ankle-Biter, Marni, Victor Oseragighte
[Victor Oseragighte] He swings back around again before alighting and bowing respectfully to his new Alpha, straightening to offer a nod to his guide of earlier. His eyes glaze over just a moment before he looks to Karl and grins.
[Victor Oseragighte] “He did offer to show me around the bawn.”
His own thoughts feel pretty charitable, and with that bond established they can see that his outward calm extends inward.
“Later want to try a little trick, Karl.”
to Karl Holds the Line, Mama Ankle-Biter, Marni
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] A quick glance towards the Gnawers, then away as Karl approached. Perhaps the sword was a bit much to be wearing openly even here in the umbra, but then one never knew when stores of Gnosis would be needed. Inclining his head to the Rotagar as he approached Caleb’s hands left being clasped behind his back to swing loosely at his sides.
“Good afternoon,” he drawled in his cajun’s accent to the approaching fenrir.
[Karl Holds the Line] At first look it is easy to mistake Karl for an Ahroun. The swell of rage within the norse man easily matches those born under the full moon rather than the no moon that filled the sky with dark void during the Fenrir’s birth.
“Greetings. I am Karl, Holds the Line, Fenrir Ragabash, Cliath. I wanted to introduce myself.”
A glance down to the blade, then back up at Caleb, lips curved in a shadow of a smile.
“Nice blade.”
He is Fenrir after all. He would find it nice.
[Karl Holds the Line] ~Can it wait? I have a date with my mate shortly.~
The amusement is still there as he speaks to the Silver Fang.
to Mama Ankle-Biter, Marni, Victor Oseragighte
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] “I am Caleb Delacourt-Alden, the Count de Morres. Known as Darkensky to the Nation of Garou, scion of House Gleaming Eye. I run with the Unbroken. Fostern.”
Caleb’s left hand raised to rest on the crossguard of his sword, giving it an affectionate pat. “Thank you. She has served me well. One cannot make due without a weapon that won’t falter these days.”
[Marni] He runs with the Unbroken.
Marni snorts and finds something else to watch instead, staring at the little garden shrine that Mama works in.
[Victor Oseragighte] Victor’s response indicated that he could try it another time; even bound mentally, he manages to be quiet, so to speak. They also feel his curiosity over Marni’s amusement upon learning Caleb’s pack.
to Karl Holds the Line, Mama Ankle-Biter, Marni
[Victor Oseragighte] He lets them talk to Caleb while he rises into the air again, drifting lazily in circles about the four while studying them each. This made it much easier really to learn about Caleb without having to say much himself, always nice.
[Karl Holds the Line] ”It is a pleasure Darkensky-rhya. I am familiar with others of your pack. I thought I had met all of the Unbroken.”
A slight widening of that smile.
“I have to go I am afraid. I wanted to introduce myself. I wish you a good eve.”
He offers the Silver Fang a nod, then glances to his pack members, offering them a wide, warm smile before looking back to Caden.
“I leave you in the company of my pack. Until we meet again.”
And with that, the Rotagar takes off into the air, flying as if he had wings.
[Victor Oseragighte] (( And I need to run out for a few, so I’ll be back shortly. Victor will float. ))
[Karl Holds the Line] (thanks for the scene guys!)
[Marni] (thanks for the scene! will explain her irritation with the Unbroken next time. :) )
to Victor Oseragighte