Joss | Godi Malfunction and Witness [Evan/Imogen/Many]

[Elsa]
to Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Joss Lehrer
((open scene?))
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
The Brotherhood was quiet this afternoon, likely the more nocturnal denizens of the inn still asleep, or more likely – they were out seeing to the day-to-day duties of sept, caern, and city.

Caleb had just come from the caern, the Silver Fang having found himself a place to sit in the commonroom with a newspaper in hand and a glassy of wine in the other. From the looks of things, he was reading the sports column. Odd to see a man drinking wine and reading the sports page, but all things considered there have been stranger yet to happen here.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
to Elsa, Joss Lehrer
( Yes’m. )
[Elsa]
*Elsa is on a mission. Things have not gone smoothly since they arrived in Chicago and even now she is still waiting on her packmates full recovery but at least the decision has been made and Elsa is doing what she can to prepare. So, today when she enters the Brotherhood it’s not the tentative, awkward steps of a girl who doesn’t really feel she belongs . . determination gives her the confidence to go where she needs to and do what needs to be done.*
[Joss Lehrer]
Godi’s at play need food. Lots of food. Or something. That’s the excuse anyway, as one oddly perky and always smiling Fenrir (…one of those ‘strange things’…) is bounding up the stairs to the common room with a plate in hand – a giant sandwich – looks like ham and cheese, with a side of fries, and a can of soda on the side. Her skirts swish around her ankles as she moves, the light fabric airy and covered in flowers, and her dreads swing heavily down her back, catching a little on the ribs of the white tank top, that shows off the paleness of her skin – and the little dual bat tattoo just below her collarbone.

She pauses at the top of the stairs only to check out who’s there, before she makes her way to the couch, plopping down with an exuberance only the teenager can portray, and setting her drink on the coffee table and kicking off her shoes to tuck her bare feet underneath her, smoothing her skirts over her thighs and setting her plate on her lap. “hi.” for Caleb as she shoves a fry in her mouth.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
Joss was a refreshing sort of woman for Caleb to encounter, still possessing a touch of child-like naivity and energy. The way she practically bounced with every step always caused him to cock an eyebrow or give an amused smile was something to look forward too. These days there was all together too much gloom and doom.

“Good afternoon,” the cajun drawlled over to the Fenrir girl. “How does the day suit?” Sipping the wine, Caleb folded up the newspaper and set it aside to speak with a fellow crescent-moon.

When Elsa came up the back stairs to the common room that Joss and Caleb were in, he gave the woman a pleasant enough smile and nod.

[Joss Lehrer]
She is refreshing, though it also seems to be cause for concern for her prospective pack. To tell the truth, they aren’t too sure what to think of her. She’ll win them over though… eventually. She pulls the strap of her bag – a canvas messenger bag with pockets in the front and filled with bits and bobs and bulges that clank and rattle – off her shoulder and sets the bag on the couch next to her, as she smiles at Caleb.

“Suits.” she nods, with a grin. “It’s HOT out there. Though not near as hot in the attic. I’m glad there’s a missing wall, to tell the truth – get bit of a breeze while I work.” A Godi’s work is never done, after all. “You?”

[Elsa]
*She’s still not a familiar face here and her packmate even less so, despite their somewhat ignominious introduction, and so she’s become used to the non-committal nods and gestures that still manage to indicate the fact that, whilst nobody is challenging her right to be here they’re still not going to leave her unwatched. She nods back, hanging just far enough inside to not be backing out again* hi
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“Oui, cher, well enough I suppose.” Caleb said with a raised glass to Joss. “It’s why I prefer living out in my woods as opposed to here in the city. That, and there is too much noise and stench and filth. It also helps living near a lake when it gets unbearable, but then you northerners call anything above eighty unbearable.”

If anyone couldn’t tell by his accent, he was from Louisiana born and raised. Some found it a bit charming, especially Northern women, but that was neither here nor there. Pale green eyes flicked to Elsa. “Come in, petite. No reason to hang back – we won’t bite. Joss might, but I certainly won’t.”

[Joss Lehrer]
She laughs easily, and when she smiles, it always makes it to her eyes – sparkling in deep blue with a sheer joy of living that few warriors, and very few Fenrir, exhibit so freely. She look sup at Elsa, and waves her in. “Only biting I’m planning on doing involves this sandwich. I don’t think we’ve met – I’m Joss.”

And bite she does – into her lunch, as she squirms to get comfortable on the couch, settling in with an ease of someone fully confident in her own skin. “I don’t mind the noise, or any of that really.” Which is a good thing, considered her hands aren’t exactly clean – dirt under her nails, and smudges here or there. The Godi’s clearly been into something… “There’s so much to explore, to learn.”

She’s so eager, so easy to please – and very curious, as so many of their moon are known to be. “I keep getting on the wrong bus – I bet I’ve seen more of Chicago the past week then many who lived here for years.”

[Elsa]
*Elsa does as she’s told, crossing the floor with careful paces as though judging how far she can go. As appearances go she’s not remarkable, jeans, a close-fitting t-shirt, a string of brown wooden beads and her dark tangle of hair scraped back into a twist of leather thongs. After a moments pause, taking unseen bearings maybe, she turns grey eyes from one to the other* Elsa . . I’m Elsa Gordon. Myself and my packmate are fairly new here still.
[Elsa]
to Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Joss Lehrer
((If either of then go peeking in the Umbra, tell me))
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“Caleb Delacourt-Alden of House Gleaming Eye; Darkensky to the Western Concordiat; Theurge of Falcon; Keeper of the Land; member of the Unbroken Circle. I am son to Gregor Alden de Morres, Athro Ahroun of Gleaming Eye.” That was the short version of Caleb’s formal introduction. It may sound a bit pompous, but then he was a Silver Fang. Most of their ilk had longer “brief” introductions, but Caleb liked to keep it succinct.

A wry look was cast to the Fenrir. “To learn? Perhaps. But then after my tenure here I cannot handle so much grit and filth in one evening. Unless necessary, I keep to the caern and to the woodlands. It’s much more peaceful, you see.”

Shifting on his armchair, the cajun sipped his wine some more. There was only one glass, and unless they fetched another it was likely he wasn’t about to offer it.

[Sam Modine]
As they’ve assembled on the second floor they have probably heard the faintest sounds of the day’s first martial workout on the roof. It’s been going on over two hours, since Sam returned from first patrol and sat down for a meal quickly upstairs in his bedroom. At first it had been the constant thunderous thump of trying to learn to throw a five pound hand-sledge with any sort of accuracy. After headway had been made there though there are the familiar spinning and rapid footfalls that come with his calisthenic weapons training.

His sword flies about him like a dervish, faster even than the hair that whips about his face with each rapid turn toward invisible opponents.

But now he is done, caked in sweat and shirtless in his single striped blue workout pants. Warm-ups, they used to call them in varsity basketball back home though he’s since been corrected by the women of his pack in saying that they are in fact called ‘tack pants’. One staircase crossed and then another for the Modi, shapened stteel held flat against one shoulder and still showing off the deep marks of teeth on one side of his abdomen. The flesh has grown over completely now save for strange looking gouges that would be incredible scars in their own right on a mortal being and it leave large red tracts amidst a stain of black and blue.

The only imperfection on that entire lean body.

“Hey.” With a giant, trademarked farmboy smile, the others are greeted as he enters from above and not below. One of them is his own tribe in fact, purely bred, enough tht it’s noticable and eyes go to her for just a second. “Hi. Do we….have we met?”

[Joss Lehrer]
He starts giving his introduction and she glances at him and then rolls her eyes expressively for Elsa’s benefit, mirth dancing in her gaze, across her features. Sam joins, and asks if they’ve met – so she fills in the rest of her own introduction. ” Don’t think so. I’m Joss Lehrer, Gossamer Wing, Fostern Godi.”

She lifts her plate toward Elsa, and offers the half of her sandwich still there to her. “Hungry?” Before laughs at Caleb and shrugs. “Peaceful? Boring. How do you expect to barter with the spirits within the city if you don’t see where and how they live? Exploration and learning aids communication, I’ve found.” But then again, she’s still young and idealistic.

[Elsa]
you’re the Keeper here? *she moves closer to the pair of them, perches on the arm on another chair close by, bracing herself with one foot. She’s in earnest now, serious about something that’s clear, and then she realises her own discourtesy* . . sorry, I’m Fianna, Cliath Galliard . . new here and really, well, we’d like to stay
[Sam Modine]
“Sam Modine,” He replies easily, smoothly. His accent is the flat almost non-accent of the middle states, in all likelihood he’s from this corner of the breadbasket; the industrial midwest somewhere or another. “Mjollnir’s Heart before Fenris, Modi before Luna and Cliath to the nation.” The Fianna does her own in kind and gets a nod, quietly. Throughout time their tribes have alternately been at one another’s throats or at each other’s sides defeating some of Gaia’s greatest enemies as allies of legend. Time will tell about this Fian in particular. The two crecent moons continue and and Sam has a spark of memory kick in.

“Oh!” He excalims and sprints toward his room. When the Modi emerges again he’s not carrying his sword but a rolled up piece of paper. Wordlessly the coffee table is cleared and the thing is rolled out. It’s a close in area map of the city in this neighborhood. It’s marked in a million strange annotations and lines of all kinds drwn between and around small plain stickers that color-code Gaia knows what. Finally though he looks back up at the two theurges.

“I had an idea I think you two can help me with.”

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“Yes,” he said to Elsa. There wasn’t much bravado with Caleb, just statement of fact and truth rather than zomg look at ME! “I am quite sure you will be a welcome addition to the Sept of Maelstrom, Miss Gordon. Have you made chiminiage to the caern totem?”

Eyes drifting back to Joss, he grunted. “Barter with spirits? My dear, do you think that spirits exist only within city limits? You will find that some of the most powerful spirits, especially those of the Wyld, cannot be found here.

“That said, I have seen much of the city and experienced quite a many things here. I cannot say that one is better than the other, just that I prefer living within my woods to the din of the city.”

Sam comes down from practice, and Caleb smiles over to his packmate. “Have you decided to abandon that two-by-four of a sword for something more graceful, my friend? I can’t imagine anyone wielding that with any ease.” Liken as not Sam’s blade was traditional to the nordic spatha, where as Caleb’s looked a mixture of cultures. The blade resembled a katana’s, however not as curved and a bit wider from spine to blade with a European hilt and crossguard.

The Fenrir comes back with a map, and he quirks a brow. “What idea is this?” he asked.

[Joss Lehrer]
She laughs easily. “Point taken. But the Caern is here, within the City. How do you protect it without knowing the area where it exists as well as your beloved woods?” Her questions are tossed without disrespect, but in them is the glimpse of just why she is a fostern at such a young age. She earned it, and not by being stupid – by asking questions, listening to the answers, and searching and learning always.

Sam races off and comes back and clears the coffee table – she rescues her soda just in time, and sets it between her thighs where she sits crosslegged on the couch, and munches on her lunch while she glances at the map.

She says nothing about the caern – as she is prospective Eagle, and as such, the standing is clear – and in flux. She simply listens.

[Elsa]
*Glancing to Sam, this conversation is getting convoluted and she has no wish to cut across the Fenrir* no, we haven’t . . I was rather hoping you would be able to help me on that front, like, what we need to do . . it’s not the same everywhere
[Sam Modine]
One red circular sticker is pointed to at the end of a very long finger. If any of them have experience reading maps they’ll recognize it as a ‘you are here’-type starting point. “Well,” Sam replies, “with Luke gone I’ve been taking over his patrol shift with my other two, stacking them in the morning. I don’t mind the work, but I’ve figured out it’s too much for one Garou, even Warders have a pack to assist them. It’s just too big an area. Fingers trace a green hex and then a blue polygon of space.

“When you factor in it’s two worlds,” Sam goes on. “It leaves us very open to attack here and really we’re the last thing besides the three packs at the Caern protecting the Maelstrom.” He looks to everyone in the room, slowing excited speech so as not to leave them behind, his eyes making sure they can keep up.

“What I was hoping,” he continues. “Is that you could find me some wolf-spirits, maybe air elementals…I’m not familiar enough to really know what would be best. But…something that could come and rouse everyone to battle, if the need arises. Sort of….a proximity alarm. Is this doable you think?” To Sam’s packmate he looks first briefly and then to the Godi, but her eyes do not get met, her lips, nose, cheekbones though do, places where attention can be paid with no challenge.

[Sam Modine]
(((*igh* just too big an area.” ….etc.))
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“You must sacrifice something,” he said to Elsa. “Something of value be it sentimental or otherwise. Most people give their blood to Maelstrom’s churning waters, so I would opt against that. Blood is easy enough to give, and very likely while here you’ll bleed enough for this sept.” The Silver Fang was pleasant enough to converse with, easily holding multiple conversations at once.

To Joss: “How indeed, my dear,” came the rhetoric. “To protect any caern one must know the lay of the land as well as the denizens that inhabit said land. I don’t argue the point, -Rhya, but merely offer another perspective.”

Sam begins to speak of defenses of the caern, and Caleb perks up noticable. “Indeed, Sam. I had been thinking something along those same lines. It certainly is do-able to have spirit-watchers as well as an alarm system of sorts.” As Keeper of the Land, Caleb had more clout here than say Joss, even though she ranked higher. “Air-elementals to gust, or perhaps some entities that can make noises that you wouldn’t ordinarily hear in both sides of the Gauntlet.”

[Elsa]
thanks *she says to Caleb first* I’ll think on that and talk to my packmate. *now she too leans over to look at the map* An air spirit could ring a bell perfectly well either side of the Gauntlet, surely
[Joss Lehrer]
She leans forward to take in the map, only to see if they have marked Eagle territory – if their patrols have overstepped any lines. As the Eagles still patrol and protect two sides of the Caern, it is natural for her to be curious – and expect that they are remembered in any plans within such close proximity of their own borders.

In matters of the Caern Defenses – and thus that of the Brotherhood which is just outside the bawn, Caleb has seniority of time spent as well as official capacity, so she does not interrupt, merely eats her sandwich to see what they all come up with. It also gives her a first hand view of the Cliath Theurge, and how he works, what he believes, and how creative he can be. This is, after all, the Scab – not his beloved woods.

[Sam Modine]
No territories in fact have been marked. This is not a political map, however the two circular paths he’s outlined before only mark a patrol area extending a half mile from the brotherhood in any direction. These are patrols to defend the Garou within, not active hunting. That’s likely as not got it’s own map.

“I’d like to get this run by Balance-Without-Fault then as soon as possible. I’d be honored to have you head up the project Caleb,” Sam looks from his squatting position next to the table, still nearly eye to eye with the rest of them due to his height up to a man he’s slowly learning to call his brother, learning to trust. Battle has gone a long way toward that, it would seem. “Get a few theurges,” a wry smile. “A Godi, maybe, if she’s in,” a puase there where one Fenrir offers the other a shy smile that turns back for the map rather quickly. “and however many more bodies you think it might take and we could have this done inside the week, don’t you think?”

Elated, perhaps. Excited, even. That his idea may in fact work.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
A nod in return to Elsa, and Caleb is still musing. With the presence of the Fianna, a thought came to mind. A glance between the trio, and he said: “Perhaps a Bean Sidhe? Though how would we ever come across one of those so far from the British Islands… And how we’d ever get them to shut up once they began their keening…” Caleb was thinking aloud at this point, warming up to the topic as he sat at the edge of his chair, eyes glued to the map.

“A bell might work, but the winds here are enough that it might ring anyway and give a false warning. The boy that cried wolf, and all of that prattle.” A slight pause, and then Caleb came to a conclusion. “A lune spirit would work well. Not the envoys of Luna, but those of the bird. Their calls carry over distance, and aren’t recognizable in cityscapes. Across the gauntlet in the Umbra it would work well, but for this side? Any number of spirits would work. As Sam mentioned, Wolf-spirits teach a gift called Call of the Wyld, though I don’t know if we’ll find those willing to come within city limits.”

Caleb nodded a touch to Sam. “Of course I will head the project,” he said to Sam. “I will speak to the Mistress of Rites, the Grand Elder, and the Warder and his pack. That would make four theurges already since I know that they have their own Crescent-Moons among them. Any others that wish to lend a hand are more than welcome.”

[Elsa]
*quietly, not wanting to contradict anyone here, especially anyone she doesn’t actually know particularly well yet, Elsa shrugs* I was thinking of having the bell indoors . . somewhere it isn’t going to ring accidentally from the wind or anything else
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
( Err. I’m an idiot. Loon, not Lune. )
[Joss Lehrer]
She watches as he muses, speaking out loud, and finishes off her lunch while they consider the possibilities. She sets aside her plate, placing it on the couch beside her while she finally opens her soda to wash down the sandwich and fries. Marcus thinks she eats too much fatty food. Ha. There can never be too much – and as she has only the slightest of curves, with no spare fat on her, it seems she works off as much as she eats. A good thing, surely, for the entirely average girl – who’s completely beyond average in ways most folks will never see.

She smiles at Elsa, as her solution is simple and pure – and a bell warning those garou within the Brotherhood is an idea that would work as part of their program. Sometimes the most simple solutions are the wisest – they are so often overlooked. “You need to define what your objective is precisely – before deciding on which spirits you are to bargain with. Do you want your warning to protect and alert the brotherhood itself, or go wide to all Garou who live within it’s walls – a call to arms, or simple ‘look out below!’ so to speak. Only when you know a specific objective can you move on to wider scale ideas. Narrow your focus, deal with the pinpoint first, then move in widening circles.”

She looks around the room, and then points to a corner, where a fire alarm resides per city regulations. “That, for example. If you place a second nearby, it is something that blends in, and no one will think twice of it. A simple electric elemental can be bound to it – and tripped by the call of whomever you have making the wider sweep – once alerted, he sets off that alarm in a way that cannot be mistaken for normal alarm, simple as changing out the buzzer so that its different, and alerts both here and across the gauntlet that something is coming. Advance warning. Once you have the specific where you want to warn, the how it’s in place, you then build a chain of sorts that is tripped – like Dominoes.”

[Sam Modine]
Sam is not most Fenrir.

For further proof one only needs look at the way his right hand cranes up and stretches the skin flesh along his lean and muscular torso. The Modi’s palm faces out and he wears the broadest grin one has ever seen.

It’s…. a high five.

“Nice!” Then back to Caleb. “Maybe a series of them, like Christmas lights or a barking chain. Starting in the barracks up here and running all the way to the Caern’s heart.”

[Elsa]
*Nodding, Elsa smiles back, but she withdraws slightly from the circle gathered around the map. A flicker of heat runs through her, something coming alive . . drawn by the Moon and the conversation She breathes, and blinks, and grins at the others all still focussed on the paper* I think you need to decide whether this is an immediate call to arms, or an early warning system too . . you’ll have to set a boundary, some kind of criteria that must be breached . . otherwise its going to go off everytime a garbage truck goes by
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“And radiating outward,” Caleb said in confirmation. Sam offers a high-five, which Caleb returns after a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t something he was used to doing, but he did smile a touch towards the Modi. The two of them didn’t know each other as well as they should despite being packmates.

Joss’ advice was taken, she being the higher-ranked of the theurges present. “I will think more about this and then present it to the caern officials and see what they have to say about it. I’m sure they won’t refuse – it is, after all, for caern defenses.”

Looking to Elsa, he nodded. “Indeed. I think an early-warning system might serve as a call to arms by itself, though if you try to make a warding do more than one thing it might render itself useless. And feasible though it might be, it would take longer than a week to prepare. So, we’ll start with the warning system first and go from there. Best not to rush ahead of ourselves.”

[Joss Lehrer]
She arches a brow slightly, as she listens, but she doesn’t say anything else, listening as they all chime in. She smooths her hand down her thigh, fingers sliding along the scars under the light skirt with a familiar ease. She has done much along these lines for the Eagle territory over the past two weeks, it’s something she is becoming very familiar with. Glass spirits can be a bit… prickly…

She nods a the suggestion to pull in the focus and not get ahead of themselves, as she tips the soda back and drains a good portion of it eagerly.

[Sam Modine]
And one last thing.

“There’s some privately claimed territory that runs the other side of the bawn. We’re going to have to ask permission if we want spirits running through there even if it is for everyone’s own good.” This brins a certain sort of realization to Sam’s face and Joss is again addressed. “I’m not sure how long you’ve been in the city, Miss but you should speak with Decker Rohl if you haven’t.” That grin returns, spreading lke wildfire across tanned cheeks. “Yeah,” Sam continues. “That Decker Rohl.”

This aside he reads at his map for a bit longer, before looking to each of the three in turn. “I think we’re settled then. I’ll leave it to Caleb and the big brains to take care of the fine details.” The Modi, perhaps close to the sharpest in the pack humbles himself not for the benefit of simple humility, no that comes fairly natural to Sam. It’s dropped subtly to compliment his new packmate. “Thanks guys.”

It’s unclear whether he means for the help,for hearing him out, or for validating his idea…

doesn’t matter. It’s genuine any way you look at it. If all if all is said he’ll roll his map back up and take it into his room quietly. Returning only a minute later at most.

[Elsa]
*rather reluctantly now, Elsa gets to her feet. Time to go. Much as she would like to stay and chat, there are times when it is expedient to be elsewhere. Her arms fold across her body, holding the fire back, trying to keep the heat from showing on the outside, and she wonders who Decker Rohl might be* I have to go . . I promised I’d only be out a couple of hours and . . well, my packmate will worry
[Joss Lehrer]
That? Makes her laugh. Softly and easily, the mirth sparkling in her eyes as she watches them, and asks with deceptive blandness.. “You mean my prospective Alpha? That Decker Rohl… guess I forgot to mention I’m Prospective Eagle earlier, hm?”

She reaches behind her to gather her dreads in one hand, lifing them from her neck, where they stick, due to the heat outside. She gatheres them in a loose ponytail, and wraps a leather thong unwraped from her wrist to bind them together, and get a little coolness along her skin.

“Have a good one, Elsa. See you soon.”

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
The mention of the Eagle territory had Caleb give a slight nod. He knows about the Eagles – has known about them for years now. Though from what he has overheard among the gossip-mongers is that they mean to rejoin the sept. Then again, Caleb was never one to listen to he-said-she-said talk.

Elsa made to leave, and Caleb looked up. “Of course. If you have need of me, I can be found here or in the caern.”

Sam said his thank-yous, and Caleb nodded. “I will be in touch if you have questions. Also, I may need a sparring partner later tonight if you’re available,” he said to the Modi.

Joss remained silent, and so Caleb left her alone, until she finally then did speak and Caleb chuckled.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
( Brb -phone. Post around me. )
[Elsa]
see you too *she says faintly, and heads for the door. It closes behind her, followed by the sound of feet running on the stairs*
[Elsa]
to Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Joss Lehrer, Sam Modine
((I have to go now, thanks for the RP folks))
[Joss Lehrer]
to Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Elsa, Sam Modine
(Later! thanks for playing!)
[Sam Modine]
“No problem.” Sam had called back on the way into his room, sticking his head backward through the archway. “As long as you don’t mind getting your hair messy.” He’s been teaching Katherine martialry for years now so why not her relations?

Once he returns Elsa’s already half down the stairs. He doesn’t bother yelling down during business hours but makes a few mental notes in regard to her. The set next to Joss on the sectional is open though and Sam moves to stand in front of it. “May I sit, please?” It’s the deference of a wolf to another of higher station that, not simply the inborn politeness grown like soy and grain in the heartland.

He’s found a shirt, now. Simple and straightforward like the Modi himself, a white crew-neck bleached clean or new, one of the two. It’s nothing flashy but at least that massive collection of welts, digs, bites and bruises are gone from view for awhile.

[Joss Lehrer]
She finishes tying up her hair, twisting the dreadlocks into place and off her neck and back with a sigh of relief. She hadn’t expected it to be so warm so quickly, and her clothing sticks to her skin, the thin material of her skirts clinging to her her thighs as she sinks back into the cusions of the couch again.

Sam asks if he can sit, and she laughs and gestures. “You live here – why wouldn’t you be able to sit?” She grabs her bag from the cushion beside her and tosses it to land on the coffee table, where it falls with a rattleclunkjungle that speaks of many oddities within. Her plate follows it, which clears off the side of the couch she’d settled too, and gives him a choice of places to sit without her things in the way.

[Evan McCollach]
His time spent in the Brotherhood had depleted a bit for the past few weeks. He had been busy it seemed, a lot busier than he had expected. Beta-ship was a lot harder than he expected, especially with a new prospective member around and… Then there was the arrival of the kin woman of his tribe. More of his time was taken up to make sure that she didn’t die while she was settling into the city.

But today he found himself some time, a simple moment to relax and find something to eat before heading back out. He moved through the back door to the kin, looking at the kin working hard to ensure the patrons outside in the dinning area were fed on a Friday rainy evening. He asked for one of the guys for something simple before moving to the stairs upstairs.

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy has hobbled her way to the Brotherhood, hoping to buy a meal, and perhaps see Maija. She limps through the front door and makes her way towards the counter, hair a mess from wind and rain.*
[Sam Modine]
“I live here, yeah.” Sam replies. “But really we’re all just boarders. A Lord woman owns the place and a few of her kinfolk associates own it. It’s not my territory to claim any more than the other pack alphas who reside here. So…” He smiles, plopping down where her bag had been. “I had to fall back on submitting to those higher in station.”

“That’s you, young miss.” For all his Glory he’s still just a Cliath so far as the Nation is concerned and perhaps less as the story of his own Wyrm Thrall had caught up to him near Indianapolis the previous week.

Sam is indeed the older of the two, getting to his mid twenties now and at times still seeming like a teenager, usually for the better. Usually. He’s bright eyed, idealistic and willing to take on the world if it means doing what’s right. He’s as unbroken by the world as the circle of his pack’s namesake. “You had some good ideas there, it’s too bad the Eagles are snatching you up. We could always use someone like you. Regardless though…it’s nice to see more of the tribe around.”

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
( Multitasking now. Will be slow. Don’t wait on me! )
[Evan McCollach]
to Joss Lehrer
(I just realized, I am not sure if the Eagles are back in the Sept now as we didn’t finish the burial. So I am not sure if I Evan should tell Joss or not)
[Sam Modine]
((argg. kinfolk associates RUN it))
[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy drags her hands through hair, fighting to push it into some semblance of a style, before sighing and just letting it be. She orders a sandwich, and looks for a place to sit down where she’ll be out of the way, standing awkward and stork-like on one bony uninjured leg.*
[Joss Lehrer]
“Just Joss.” she says, chuckling to herself at some inner joke – as her prospective Alpha had said something similar to her just a few days ago. “An’ it’s just a couch, not a section of the interstate.”

Her grin is easy, and always reaches her eyes – sparkling in deep blue that shows an honesty, and integrity that many find difficult to understand – at least when matched with her propensity to laugh, to delight in the smallest things. “Just because the Eagles have not been a part of the Sept of Maelstrom does not mean they do not protect the land that surrounds, and thus the Caern itself. It’s not an us or them scenario when it comes to dealing with the spirits.”

She lifts a shoulder into a shrug, as fingers slide the strap of her tanktop back into place. “I’ve been working the defenses of our land as it is – fixing what had gone lax in terms of Spirit Wards. One thing though – as you all work around here, be careful with what is set up – as the line must be staggered, so as not to point the enemies straight from here into the heart of Maelstrom by giving them a map to follow easily.”

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“Would any of you like something? I’m going downstairs to see if I can find a bite to eat,” and suiting his words the theurge rose from his chair, polishing off the wine in his glass. He would pause and wait for their requests — if any, before moving down the staircase and giving a nod to Evan in passing.

Unmentioned afore, the Silver Fang wore jeans that were faded as the style went these days, purchased that way rather than age. Unstained, pure white Nike’s adorned his feet while an Aeropastle shirt covered his upperbody. Quite different from the stately manner of dress he is usually encountered in, but it didn’t reduce his regal bearing over-much.

Heading down to the bar, Caleb ordered himself a club sandwich and whatever anyone else wanted as well as more wine. Leaning back against the bar, he noticed Wendy and gave the girl a friendly smile and wave.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((You guys care if I jump in?))
[Joss Lehrer]
(s’cool by me. :) )
[Wendy Berber]
(come on down!)
[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy ducks her head submissively and offers the ghost of an apologetic smile to Caleb, as well as a dutiful little wave. She’s careful not to stumble as she approaches the bar. Perhaps He wanted to talk.*
[Evan McCollach]
As he moved up the stairs he nodded to Caleb as he passed him in the stairway. He was a little bit wet from the rain that had fallen in the streets outside. His jeans were a darker color of blue than they should be, his light jacket still had some of the rain water on them.

And when he made it to the top of the stairs, hearing the discussion going on in the common room, he couldn’t help but chime in.

“The Eagle’s are very protective of our territory, aggressive of it. But we will not neglect the caern, we may have had a fall out with the Sept but we would have come to the aid of the caern should it be needed.”

He moved into the view of the rest of them now, standing at the edge of the common room as it was.

“Good evening everyone.”

[Evan McCollach]
He looked over at Joss, almost as a sidenote. He had felt a little drained over the passed few days as it was, especially after what he had done the other night.

“Oh by the way, go pay your chiminage to Maelstrom. We have made our contrition.”

As if it was just an add on.

[Sam Modine]
“No, thank you.” Sam offers to Caleb. “And make sure they know Luke’s gone.” He intones. “Last time they had two full racks of lamb go to waste when he disappeared and the stuff is expensive.”

Sam for his part is beginning to really like this girl. There’s something of himself there, those values that come from a tight family and a small town reflected in the Godi. “That’s what made me think of spirits,” he offers. “Most are intelligent I think, and most wouldn’t cross Maelstrom even if you tried to force them. So it works better that way, lets them do their thing instead of sending a mechancal map right to us.”

Evan joins them and Sam laughs a little. “Not ….really what we were talking about, sir.” And after, a little more gravely. “It’s very nice to see you again.”

[Sam Modine]
((crap now I need to add to MY post))
[Evan McCollach]
(sorry I have to head off. I will be back later)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
As timid as he knew Wendy to be, Caleb knew enough to tone it down with her. Still with the friendly smile upon his lips, he dipped his head a bit to her. “Good afternoon,” he said gently while waiting for his order and that of whomever else wanted anything. “How are you, Wendy?”

When she came near he couldn’t help but notice the obvious limp in her step, and his expression softened somewhat. “If you like, I can heal whatever’s ailing you,” he said with a gesture toward her leg. He was a theurge after all, and healing was in part his business.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus heads in through the backdoor of the kitchen cutting around to head up the stairwell taking the steps two at a time.

His faded blue jean pants are dirty, covered with it in fact and a little damp. His tan work boots have a faint coating of clay dirt on them, but don’t leave any mud as he walks through the building. He actually remembered to wash them off outside, and picked out the tough stuff from the soles with a screwdriver.

His olive drab shirt is a mix of dirt and old sweat. His arms though tanning now are a little more brown with the dust, dirt and grime of the days work on them. Even in the hair that is visible there are flecks of dirt in the tips, and his bandanna, an olive drab affair that was once a t-shirt, is stained with old sweat.

He looks like he worked hard today. But his face isn’t tired, in fact just the opposite. He’s alert, and in good spirits. His body moves with the energy of a young Garou, a good tired that will recover and get even stronger in the days to come.

His heavy booted footsteps herald his arrival. He walks into the common room and heads to the message board. Seeing Joss he flashes her a nice, friendly smile.* “Well hello Little Big Sister -Rhya. How does this day find you?”

[Sam Modine]
“No, thank you.” Sam offers to Caleb. “And make sure they know Luke’s gone.” He intones. “Last time they had two full racks of lamb go to waste when he disappeared and the stuff is expensive.”

Sam for his part is beginning to really like this girl. There’s something of himself there, those values that come from a tight family and a small town reflected in the Godi. “That’s what made me think of spirits,” he offers. “Most are intelligent I think, and most wouldn’t cross Maelstrom even if you tried to force them. So it works better that way, lets them do their thing instead of sending a mechancal map right to us.”

Evan joins them and Sam laughs a little. “Not ….really what we were talking about, sir.” And after, when he says…something wonderful Sam lights up like he’s just received a red rider bb gun with the compass in the stock and the thing that tells time. “You have!?” Sam very nearly jumps up and would if not for a lingering snarl of pain that jolt up his side. A million questions don’t come out of his mouth, held back but each growing his expression exponentially.

“That’s incredible! Did he say why!?”

[Joss Lehrer]
“Another soda, please!” She asks of Caleb, lifting the can she holds in her lap with an easy smile. It’s too early to be swiping beer – and it’s more fun to swipe said beers from James at the pack house. Usually from his hand. Because she’s still an 18 year old prankster despite her rank and experience.

She smiles brightly as Evan joins – she’s made some more improvements she’s eager to tell him of – but she doesn’t get the chance as he is called away via Totemphone she is not privy to yet… and leaves her the words that excite her…. her one regret in coming to petition as Eagle is that she may not get to see and commune with Maelstrom. Now… now…

“Oooooh.” Is all she says outloud, but she’s near quivering in excitement, with the chance to commune with a Spirit as great as Maelstrom, who must have seen such ache, and yet remains steadfast and strong. “Oh. Oh!” She is not always eloquent, the little Godi.

She blinks, but then turns back to what Sam had said of Spirits. “All are intelligent. You just have to learn how to understand them and their ways.”

Then Marcus joins and she lifts her hand and waves with a grin. “Hi Marcus! Guess who gets to see Maelstrom after all!”

[Wendy Berber]
Evening Sir. *She nods at Caleb, flattening her hands against the surface of the bar as she waits for her sandwich.* I’m um, g-good. I’m sorry I left so s-suddenly. In the park…. *Her eyes go owlish when he offers to heal her, looking from the Cajun to her leg in unabashed shock. She’s certain she’s heard him incorrectly.* um. wh-what? Sir?
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
( Brb )
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus comes up the board looking over the notes. He smiles a bit wider, and chuckles once at Joss’s excitement.* “I don’t know -rhya. Hmmm. I’ll go with a flock of sparrow spirits that didn’t make the cut for a certain Godi’s talens.” *He pulls a note off the board, and replaces the push-pin back in it’s hole. He looks at the note in his hand studying it for a bit, before he looks over at Joss for her answer.*
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
“Call me Caleb,” he said off-handedly as he quirked an eyebrow. “It’s quite all right, Wendy. Think nothing of it – we all lead busy lives.”

A hand reached up to run through his hair while he again nodded at her leg. “If you like, I can heal your injury,” he said again. “I am theurge, after all.”

[Sam Modine]
Three Fenrir, all of some breeding in the same room now. Sam hasn’t experienced this since the Eagles had come up and convinced him to smoke a cigarette that was not, in fact, a cigarette in the strictest sense. It had made him cloudy and a little silly but clam enough to be completely diplomatic with Caleb later that night.

It had been the first time the two men bonded.

Sam sits directly next to the Godi. He’s a pillar of Rage, tightly wound against indomitable will and breeding that speaks of the greatest heroes of their tribe. Were it not for that nearly shoulder length blonde hair and the sunny disposition that comes not simply from being born at the waxing end of the same moon phase he might remindthem of a younger version of the Eagles’ Alpha wolf. Sam waits, supressing the urge to itch at closed but not disappeared wounds beneath the t-shirt and waits for the higher ranked Garou to resond to the boy.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet.” He offers plainly. “You’re staying in the room next to my brother’s, aren’t you?” He points, out one of the entryways and across the hall to the doorway of the single-bed room.

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy swallows audibly. She didn’t want to owe anything to a Silverfang. But she didn’t want to offend one either, and the Garou here were entirely strange. Who knows what will offend? She’s quiet for a long time, staring at her newly arrived sandwich.* Um.. I, no.. I think. Its getting better. Um, but thank you. Very Very much.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
( I’m gonna have to run, folks. )
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden]
( Thanks for the play. BBL! )
[Wendy Berber]
(Coincidentally! me too. baby emergency! *laughs* they leave!)
[Joss Lehrer]
She sticks her tongue out at Marcus, before she laughs. “Exactly. Seen your girl yet to give her the little trinket? What she think?”

It’s clear she and Marcus have bonded in some way, their banter easy and friendly as is befitting their ages, despite the difference in rank. Their comraderie is natural, uncomplicated, and almost cute to watch. Of course, Joss, for all her average height, average looks, average being? Is often classified as ‘cute’ anyway. She’s a natural ‘little sister’, she’s earthy, she’s… she’s Joss. Unique, just like everyone else.

She tosses in a quick intro between the two boys, however, with a grin. “Sam, Marcus, Marcus Sam.” Helpful and all that.

[Wahya]
The Uktena has come back to the Brotherhood again, not a resident of the place, just a freeloader that enjoys partaking of the communal showers. At least here no one screamed at him about tracking water all over the place or using up all the hot water.

He bounds up the back stairs to the second floor, a homemade backpack slung over his left shoulder. The fingers of his left hand curled around the strap. He makes a lot of noise stomping up the stairs, moving as quickly as he could. He comes to a pause at the top of the stairs, glancing around the hall.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus shakes his head to Joss, and in a polite voice.* “No haven’t seen her yet. And she’s not my girl. She’s a Gnawer Kin. She’s their girl. I’m just just trying to help her out.”

*He looks over at Sam. Where Sam is the idealized Fenrir, at least in the looks and breeding department, Marcus is the opposite in that respect. He’s tall, and his skin is usually fair, but he has black dark hair, and the bone structure common to people of Native American ancestry, high cheek bones, wide set eyes, and a flat nose.

He stands about 6 and a half feet tall, weighing easily over two hundred pounds of almost all muscle. His frame is a lean muscle mass of a very young man in his late teens. He has slightly broad shoulders and his accent is flat, common to make of the mid-west states.

He says to Sam.* “Maybe. I room next to a Garou named Lukas… I think his Deed Name is Wyrmbreaker. I could be wrong on that.”

*She nods at Joss’s introduction* “Right. Marcus Schwarzkopf, Two Ravens. Cliath Forseti of the Fenrir from the Wind House Sept in Pine Ridge, South Dakota.”

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Wind Horse Sept it should read))
[Sam Modine]
“Yeah, that’s him.” Sam’s smile fades some at the talk of his absent pack leader but manages to pick up again at the mention that the man is Forseti. Of uncle Karl’s two children had bred true, the youngest, Kara is the same moon, about the kid’s age too. THe reminder of his cousin is pleasing and so too is the knowledge he’d gleaned not a week ago that she’d been through her passage, now a woman, now Fenrir.

“I’m Sam, like she said. Sam Modine. Mjollnir’s Heart, Cliath too, and Modi. Bonded with the Unbroken Cirlce and I’m from a lot of places at this point but I had my Rite of Passage at the Forest of Oak and Ivy Sept in Connecticut.” That said he nods to the other, younger of the too. Now suddenly not as much a boy in his eyes, as Cliath are young men, no matter their age. “We’re well met,” is all he offers after that, along with a slight nod that send some of the blonde hair wisping in front of his face from behind his ear.

“Staying long?”

[Joss Lehrer]
She laughs and waves away his explanation. “Technicalities. Be sure to let me know how it goes.” Her smile for Marcus is fond, her affection clear. She’s as friendly as a puppy, truth be told. A puppy that could explode into fur and fang and eat your face – but a puppy none the less.

The jury is still out on whether or not that makes her bat shit crazy or not – consulting the magic 8 ball usually gets an ‘all signs point to yes’.

Wahya tops the stairs and she waves at him with a little grin, as she unfolds her legs from under her, smoothing her skirts back down over her thighs, before bare feet hit the edge of the coffee table, and she slouches, comfortably. They say where they’re from, and she idly tosses in. “Oh – And I’m from Storm Hammer, born n bred.”

No wonder she came specifically to answer an Eagle’s call.

[Wahya]
He tilts his head in the direction of the voices, no not the ones in his head, the ones coming from the three gathered in conversation. He blinks, wondering if this was all they do here, sit around and introduce themselves. The Uktena turns their way, making his way down the hall towards the other werewolves.

He tucks his red stained right hand into a back pocket. Long matted tendrils of dark hair slither off his shoulders to touch against a scarred temple and cheek. Most of it held back from his face by a makeshift bandanna. The hawkish features, hooded eyes and the slight curve of his nose and flat nostrils, and bronzed skin spoke of a mixed ethnicity. He carried some strong native features, that part was evident, but what else he was mixed with is hard to tell from a distance. He is shorter than most present, standing six inches over five feet on the lean wiry side, by the way his street clothes hang off him.

He pulls his left hand free, waving to Joss and offering her a flash of white teeth, the incisors a bit sharper than natural. “Hellos.”

[Sam Modine]
((Sorry, I got dropped :( ))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus nods to Wahya in greeting and then turns to Sam to answer his question.* “Until such time as the Great Spirit wants me to go somewhere else.” *He frowns a bit as he looks at the note in his hand again.* “Does anyone know a Gabriella? The one that lives in room four? I don’t think I’ve met her.”
[Sam Modine]
“That’s my…” Sam isn’t smiling anymore.

“What exactly do you need with her?” No longer is this idle conversation, Marcus will get the feeling suddenly that this being of infinite rage stands at the foot of a locked gate and with arms crossed and sword at his hip makes a career of vetting entry through it.

The Rage doesn’t spike, but it’s never been anything to take lightly even when he was jovial those few seconds ago rather than as stern, serious and seeming every bit the seven years older than the other that separates them.

[Joss Lehrer]
The reaction gets a brow raised, as she looks over Sam and back to Marcus, something undefined dancing in her gaze – mirth maybe, or something entirely different. Either way, she continues to watch them, even as she smiles up at Wahya. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You are well?”

She hasn’t seen him since the night they shared a meal, and he discovered AnneMarie had passed, his grief clearly etched in his eyes, his demeanor that night. Her question now doesn’t bring it up, though there is an underlying comfort, understanding laced through her words.

[Sampson]
Sampson wedgies his way through the worlds and lands in the hallway with a thud; one can in fact make it through the veil at higher speeds, but it HURTS! When you run into walls! There’s a dent in the drywall now.

Picking himself up off the floor, unfolding like reverse origami, the leggy lupus shakes his head and sheds on the floor, shakes his full body. A jackal-like wolf, he is all ears and eyes and legs, rather like he grew the rest of him on stilts cleverly disguised as legs.

Skinny Legs trots into the common room, mostly in a straight line.

[Wahya]
He has come to a stop. The tension crackling in the air all around him, feeling the pressure of Sam’s rage building, it made the small hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rise. He blinks, and then his brown eyes begin to narrow just a little. The smooth skin on his forehead creasing into frown lines, he grunts softly under his breath.

“Wahya’s well,” he answers Joss, his attention diverted for the moment to meet her eyes as he addressed her, and then it was back to the Get of Fenris once more.

The loud thump makes him flinch, his head swung away in the direction of Sampson, eying the wavering jackal for a moment and then brings his attention back to the others.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus for his part doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even skip a beat. He’s Fenrir, and Modi’s getting upset almost over… well anything is usually the norm, par for the course. It’s his job as a half-moon to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand, and that requires neither challenging it, or backing away from it.

*He looks at Sam with a calm face.* “Hmmm? Oh is she your mate cousin? I meant no immoral intentions toward her if that is your concern. ” *He looks at the board again posting his note back up.* “No someone left a response to the message I posted asking if anyone here had any talent with paints and someone mentioned Gabriella.” *He says in an calm, even voice.*

[Sampson]
His ears cock as he enters the room, tail twitching once and raising slightly in Sam’s presence; the Strider asserts his presence around his packmate, and chooses a place nearer to Sam than the others in the room, brushes against the homid’s leg in affection, or rubs an itch there. One of the two.

The bruises under his fur are already receeding, bless this form and its lolling tongue and quick healing. Skinny Legs flops on the floor in the center of the room and pants, letting the flow of air across his tongue begin the cooling process.
He smells not of werewolf, not of human. Nothing, in fact. Here, he lets the wolf smile range across his face, with all it does and does not imply.

[Sam Modine]
He most notably does not answer the question. He was never upset through this entire exchange, despite the fuss and the staring, something one gets used to when they’ve been touched by the full face of the moon at birth and then had that fire stoked and hardened into something controlled. “End of the hall between the Feral’s room and my own. Keep out of there after dark and behave yourself.”

Simple enough.

“I’m going to go see about that soda.” He turns and smiles to the Godi next to him on the couch, one hand opening to tap on her knee. “I’ll be back in a couple. Save me a seat if you would.” The upturn of lips faces the natives, both and the tribemate beside him before he extends his form the first time in front of most of them. Most strikingly, he’s tall, all of six foot four and perhaps a little on top of that, his shoes only add even more. He’s graceful, preternaturally so, even without the extra supernatural bounce in that department that he’d found in a game of one on one with Lukas allowed him to dunk a basketball from nearly the three point line. He’s thin, lithe, really, wired strong muscle climbing every inch of him and duly visible beneath his clothing. He’s a walking portrait of their Modi idel.

If he can only manage to continue living up to it.

That Rage washes through the room and then down the stairs.

[Sam Modine]
((Post around me just a little bit! BRB))
[Joss Lehrer]
She bounces her legs a little, as she presses her feet lightly against the edge of the the coffee table, sending the hanging skirts a flutter in absent movement. Sam tells Marcus what to do in regards to this woman, and she presses her lips together so as not to allow her amusement that escape.

She doesn’t react to his tap on her knee, just chuckles with a slight nod. Something has amused her – but there’s really no telling what it is. At least, she’s not telling. For all they know it could be a spirit whispering in her ear. She’s just THAT weird.

She finally meets Marcus’ gaze, and a brow quirks upwards a touch, her amusement clearest for him, as he knows her best of all those in the room.

[Wahya]
“That one struts like peacock in heat.” Wahya muses with a wry grin; his head shakes a little after Sam has left all of them to bask in his presence and retreats downstairs. He clears his throat, the gravelly-bass of his voice echoes with his amusement.

He drops his gaze down to the jackal-wolf lying on the floor cooling itself off and tilts his head. Wahya removes the backpack from his shoulder, easing the pressure of its weight slowly down his left arm and letting it dangle to the floor by the strap in his hand. He reads the look of amusement in Joss, completely at a loss to whatever was going on.

[Joss Lehrer]
Wayha’s words? That breaks the damn, and she’s giggling – shoulders shaking as she presses her hand to her mouth to hold it in, to make it quiet, her eyes brimming with mirth and sparkling with her amusement.

Apparently, it was quite close to something she was thinking, too.

[Joss Lehrer]
(breaks the DAM.)
[Sampson]
Sampson watches his packmate leave– and makes no sound or protest, but does watch him leave. When the Fenrir ahroun is out of the room, the strider shifts seamlessly into his birth form, an equally leggy Kenyan tribesman, dressed in runnign pants and a Nike tee and trainers, all fo it in black, only shades darker than his own skin.
He makes no move to climb up onto a chair or sofa, merely stares up at the ceiling as if looking at the stars beyond the paint and plaster.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus smiles and lets out a small chuckle at Wahya’s comment. He waits looking at the board for Sam to come back. He sets down his Alice pack which has a good sized package in it.

When Sam does return he says in a calm and even voice.* “So cousin I take it then you are staking a claim to this kin girl Gabriella? That you are in the process of proclaiming her to be your mate then?” *He says as he turns to look at Sam.* “If you’re not I’m just curious as to why you would feel the need to tell me as to what I can and what I cannot do with her considering we are of the same rank… -yuf. Unless of course she is your mate, or mate-to-be, or your blood kin then that is different… Is she any of those things to you?”

[Sam Modine]
Sam’s come back upstairs. It didn’t take long as there’d been no sign of the Fang who had earlier run off to fetch food and never come back. Theurges…

The Godi though gets a matching can to replace her empty one which Sam promptly takes for her and walks across the room for the recycling. Marcus is speaking and perhaps it’s the way Sam’s whole form stiffens up, the hairs on the ear of his neck behind his ears and jaw rise the way hackles would if he were in any other skin but this.

“She’s under my protection, and has been since you were in grade school. Further than that, is really outside the bounds of things-that-are-your-business.” Now? Now he’s angry, striding up so he’s looking directly down into the eyes of the other. It’s an open show of dominance. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Yay Staredown!))
[Sam Modine]
(Gah I cut off a sentence. last paragraph, should have addended,

…but this that give the indication this time he is reacting visibly to the other Fenrir. ))

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((So did Sam initiate a staredown challenge or not?))
[Evan McCollach]
He had left in quick order after telling Joss about the return of the Eagle’s back to the Sept of Maelstrom. He had departed quickly as it may have seemed that someone had told him something from the ether. But after whatever he had done was finished, he had returned to Brotherhood, gathering up the small plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes as well as a glass of water as he headed back upstairs.

The earlier rain had abated and now he was a little more dry, heading back into the common room. And the tension seemed to have come up a little more as he appeared, plate with fork and knife in one hand, glass of water in the other. Eyes just scanning about.

[Joss Lehrer]
She takes a deep breath, and manages to stop giggling, wiping under her eyes with her fingertips, and that’s about the time that Sam returns. “Thanks,” she says as he replaces her empty soda with a fresh one, which she takes and pops the top, drinking deeply. She looks over at Wahya and gestures to the other side of her – not where Sam’s seat was that she was ‘saving’ for him – where there’s room on the couch to sit. “Have a seat if you like.”

There’s a glance at Samson, as he shifts and then stares into space, but it returns to watch Sam and Marcus face off with a shake of her head. Boys. Always pissing and moaning over territory. Usually girls. Mildly… “Could have said that the first time he asked. Then perhaps it wouldn’t have been questioned.”

Ah, logic.

She waves to Evan with a grin as he returns.

[Wahya]
He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Hmm,” both eyebrows are now lifting high, almost disappearing beneath the edge of the bandanna across his forehead. He doesn’t blink; just watches the pair of Get begin a stare down.

Joss manages to catch his attention, gesturing for him to sit down on the other side of her. He obliges, pulling his bag with him and flops down into the couch cushions with a soft grunt. He sets the bag on the floor between his feet, hands lying across his stomach as he leans back, fingers interlock.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*It’s rather difficult for Sam to look down at Marcus considering the Lakota is about the same height as Sam, standing at 6’4″. But no the height between the two Garou matter it’s the dominance posturing that’s important.

Marcus for his part keeps his cool. He knew this was coming, Modi can be very predictable that way. He simply crosses his arms across his chest, and looks the Modi right back in his eyes, not backing down.*

“So she’s under your protection then. So then you’re saying I’m someone who is not to be trusted? That when I said I had no immoral intentions toward this kin girl that I spoke falsely? That even though I am a Fenrir I cannot trusted to be in her room with her, even if she agrees to it?

Is that why you a Cliath like me felt to give me an order as to what I can, and cannot do with this kin girl? Is that what you are saying… -yuf?” *He says in a calm and even voice.*

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
(height doesn’t matter it should read. My bad.)
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[VoF//activation]
[Sam Modine]
“Was it that I gave you permission o take care of whtever business you needed to with her or the part where I was gracious to point you directly at her door that gave you that hint?”

From pissed. To pity in those large blue eyes. “Idiot.” Then Sam is taking two steps backward and shaking out one hand. “You’re taking the order or you’re hitting the sidewalk.” The implication is he’s not going to be taking the stairs. “And you’ll need to find another artist.”

It takes the closing of eyes and the re-opening before it’s whole different story. He’s wearing the face of their benefactor, all glory and righteous strength. It’s beautiful and it’s terrifying all at once.

It’s Fenris.
Made man.

[Wahya]
“Tribe of kinfolk in question is Gabrellah?” Wahya asks, his natural curiosity coming into play as he listens. His head slides back and forth, eying the taller men. One claims no intention and the other claims protection. The Uktena being what he is questions the two men.
[sampson]
Sampson rises to his feet; he is not the tallest person in the room, but his legs are probably the longest.
“Gabriella Bellamonte is under the protection of a member of! The Unbroken Circle pack. We all have a vested interest in her welfare! As she is dear to us all. You will understand! That we are naturally protective of her reputation. ” His words fall with a foreign cadence, and without threat-implication. He is no galliard, to spin a tale well, but as a ragabash, perhaps a defusing of tensions is not out of his range of skills.

Sampson, left in charge by Lukas, waits to see if Sam will take the hint or no.

[Evan McCollach]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)
Evan moves over to the table sitting down in the middle of the common room, his eyes focused on the pair of them now. He just shook his head as he seemed to put down the dish on the table. A glance back to Joss as it seemed that he might have missed something.

However with the moon being so full above it was not likely wise he would stand aside as these two started their pissing contest. He reaches out for his simple skills, hoping to defuse the situation if Sampson cannot.

(Pursausion. Come on dice, love me baby)

[Joss Lehrer]
Here’s the thing. She’s still amused – though less then she was while giggling a few moments ago. She isn’t necessarily jumping in the middle – as they are Fenrir, but still.

And it could have been avoided by not avoiding a simple question. Funny how that works.

She taps her fingers lightly on the can of coke in her hand, watching as her bare feet bounce against the coffee table, causing her knees to bounce, her skirt to flutter – just a natural and unconscious expansion of energy, of which she always has too much.

She nods to Wahya with a chuckle. “Yeah, seems so. Marcus asked for an artist, was given her name. Don’t know her myself.”

She nods to Evan as he sets aside his foot, and lets her feet slide to the floor, sitting up on the edge of the couch as she sets aside her coke can too. He is her (hopeful!) Beta. If he wishes to diffuse the situation, she will come to his aid, instantly.

[Wahya]
Sampson provides enough information to satisfy the Uktena’s question. He didn’t really care what tribe the Gabriella girl came from, seeing as how a pack held claim over her welfare. He leans his head back against the cushions, now a bystander and a witness to the foolery that could break out, if it was allowed.

Wahya is silent and lethargic to his higher ranked comrade sitting next to him. He can feel the bundle of energy that is Joss, sitting on the edge of the cushions, ready to act if her pack mate needed it.

In his mind’s eye, wolves were more civilized than humans when it came to social gatherings. At least this was a nice lesson in the social structure of the two-leg wolves thriving here in Chicago.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t expect to walk into a cousin using the gift of his people against him, but no matter. He summons up the will to continue.*

“So I am an idiot now, and a dishonorable untrustworthy Garou? One who you have to use the gifts bestowed upon by our Tribe, give to us by noble Fenris. And now you claim the whole of the Brotherhood as your territory. That I must follow your orders or I am forbidden from remaining here. Is that your position cousin?

Truly you must think of me as worthless. And if that is so then I am taking it you are issuing a challenge to me? Is that what you are doing? Because unless all those things are true the only way under the law of our people is you have to issue a challenge in order for me to follow your command since you are not my Alpha and not of higher rank.”

*He stands there arms still crossed not moving.*

[Sam Modine]
{Init.) (Marcus and anyone who decides to engage Sam is at -1, except the fosterns or higher)
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8
9
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((-1 for social dice just to clarify))
[Sam Modine]
(no, -1 to initiative. please don’t confuse the issue)
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)
((Init: 6 (Dex + Wits) plus roll))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((lol take out the target number :P, so Init 11… And where is the -1 coming from Cody?))
[Sam Modine]
(visage of Fenris)
[sampson]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
Init 6
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((It’s only -1 to social dice, not anything else.))
[Wahya]
(Please in future reference to gifts, Cody, don’t use abbrievations so we know what the gift is.)
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((He used it before init was rolled. Used while in combat it’s -1 to initative.))
[Sam Modine]
dude, go read. WW p147. -1 social dice to allies -1 initiative to opponents
[Sam Modine]
it’s on for a full scene, it works as both.
[Evan McCollach]
(It is -1 to init as well for anyone of equal/ lesser rank. Must score sux twice different between ranks. Gift lasts for 1 scene)
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((If that’s how you wanna play it that’s cool. I’ve always played it as if it’s before combat it doesn’t count in init order. It doesn’t matter to me. We can play however.))
[Evan McCollach]
(Evan will speak before, unless Marcus statement made Sam jump to attack him)
[Evan McCollach]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
(6+)
[Sam Modine]
((can we cut the OOC chatter and keep moving?))
[Joss Lehrer]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9
(Joss is there for backup for Evan – but withholding any actions until indicated she should.)

(Dex+wits 7)

[snail]
(Folks, I was busy or I would’ve spoken up sooner, but:

Visage of Fenris is -1 diff to social rolls BY the user, and -1 init to attacks AGAINST the user. Once it’s on it’s active for the scene. I think you guys have already figured that out.

Second thing: in the future, instead of bickering OOCly, if you can’t agree on a rule, find a moderator.)

[Joss Lehrer]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
(pays attention this time. *L*)
[sampson]
(Ok then Sampson’s init total is a whopping 10 then)
[Wahya]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
(dex + wits 6 (Wahya is holding actions at the moment)
[Joss Lehrer]
Joss – 13, holding actions for now.
[Sam Modine]
Sam – 17
[Evan McCollach]
Evan-12.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Bah I can’t remember Marcus’s total… Bah I’ll say he goes last then to keep it fair. I know Sam beat him at least.))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Declare first, go last in the round is what I mean))
[Sam Modine]
((it was 11-1=10))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Marcus is holding actions. He’s not starting any physical violence, waiting on Sam’s response.))
[Sam Modine]
SplitX2 1WP Resist Pain 1 Rage – Extra action

1a. Punch -2
1b. Punch -3
1r. Kick

Will pull damage if it goes to enough lethal to kill him as per dex specialty (precise movement)

[Evan McCollach]
Evan would demand this pissing contest stop(3 sux on Pursausion roll). Will change action if physical violence ensues before hand)
[Sam Modine]
(crap, dec’d to early but I don’t think it’ll change anything))
[Evan McCollach]
(From Lessa. Joss will stand back for now)
[sampson]
Sampson takes the totem benefits to himself. and Orders Sam to cease and desist.
[sampson]
(his declared action that is)
[Sam Modine]
should said something before init (Sam already took them)
[Wahya]
(Wahya is standing back for moment)
[Sam Modine]
(that everyone?)
[Evan McCollach]
(Yup)
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
Split 1 [Punch//Brawl-2, diff 6, specialty]
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
Split 2[Same pool, -3]
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Dmg//Str+1]
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 9 (Failure at target 6)
((Soak: Stamina 4))
[Sam Modine]
((anyone changing actions at +1 before I take my Rage action?))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Yes Marcus… Grappling: Hold on Sam.))
[Evan McCollach]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5) [WP]
Evan stood moved up to the pair of them. A growl starting in his throat and moving upward to them now. He was beyond annoyed at this. Foolish duels with no challenge, no honor.

Stupid arguments that Meant nothing.

“STOP. NOW”

(COME ON EXPRESSIONS)

[Sam Modine]
(what should I resist with? WP?)
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
[WP -1 (spent) diff +2 (rank)//You are Fenrir and you are teaching a lesson. ]
[Evan McCollach]
(My opinion, use temp WP, Sam)
[sampson]
Sampson speaks over the totemphone–totemphone? Yes. The connection is back. He speaks and its not gentle, rather like a yell. It’s not at all silent.
Sam. STOP. NOW. ONLY CHANCE.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 8)
((Marcus temp WP +2 difference in rank))
[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
This, as Sam strikes out. Is tribal business, and none of your concern.

Rage already burning his knee flies toward the Half-Moon.

[Sam Modine]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Damage//Str+1+3(b)]
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Hehe well if you’re gonna botch that’s the roll to do it on… I’ll say Marcus is distracted by Evan’s words he puts his guard down, and will not attempt to Grapple: Hold Sam))
[Sam Modine]
((you dec’d taking no actions. you can’t redeclare late in the round when it’s to rage actions anyway))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
((I already re-declared Cody. You jumped in front of Marcus.))
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((That roll was soak BTW))
[Sam Modine]
((Alright, rp away!))
[snail]
to Evan McCollach, Joss Lehrer, Marcus Schwarzkopf, Sam Modine, sampson, Wahya
(Folks, I apologize for being a hardass, but:

Stop PMing/IMing me questions about mechanics for this scene. It is not office hours. I am not even home. I am at work. I’m watching this scene while multitasking and getting ready to go home, and I am NOT here to make rulings. The Ground Rules state very clearly:

“2. Player vs Player Combat
In the case of PvP combat, if the players involved are unable to agree on a particular rule or roll, please seek out a neutral third party that ALL players in combat agree to. Once you accept this third party as your Moderator, the Moderator becomes the effective ST for that combat. As such, any and all rulings made by the Moderator are final within scope of the combat.

As with STed scenes, if you disagree with the rulings made, bring them up to me in OH or email, and I will reconsider the rule for future use. However, as with STed scenes, my rulings will NOT be retroactive — so choose your moderator wisely!”

Find a mod if you can’t agree/figure out the rules for yourself. The next system-related question I get is earning a warning. Thanks for your cooperation.)

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Since Marcus botched on his WP roll Evan’s words have a huge effect. A higher rank is ordering him to stop so he does. He will go full defensive actions only for the reminder of combat.))
[Evan McCollach]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)
(Rage roll)
[Sam Modine]
“I’m done, Judgement-of-Sterling-Silver-rhya.” The end is stretched so far as to hurt the tongue thats peaks it. The remainder of his speech has the Fenrir’s head canted entirely to one side and the highest ranked predator in the room will see fully the musculature in his neck. Exposed.

“You however.” He hadn’t hurt the boy badly, hardly even a bruise, this had been a display, an exhibition. The slightest hitch in his step from before is gone. “When one of your tribe has a legitimate and standing claim over kinfolk you do not question it, you do not pry into it. You accept their conditions for the interaction with that kinfolk and leave it be.”

He spits. Directly into the other’s face.

“It’s territory, to be respected. You’re a disgrace to your moon, boy.” He snarls. “And learn to defend yourself….call yourself Fenrir….” This as he turns away. “Sampson, I have a patrol, you’re welcome to join.” One way or the other, he’s walking down the stairs.

[sampson]
No.
Things do not quite proceed as Sam sees fit. Lukas had, after all, left Sampson in charge.
The consequences of rudeness, disobedience to the beta in the Alpha’s absence are severe.

No words are audible, as , while Sam speaks, Chastises , Sampson gathers his will, and projects across the totemphone.
You stepped outside the Circle tonight, Sam. Your path is chosen. Walk it alone.

And close to instantly, the connection to the Talons of Horus– closes. With Sam on the Outside.

[Evan McCollach]
Evan moved up to the pair of them now. The rage within him was pushing to the surface and he was barely able to keep it in. There were few who whose inferno did not burn as softly as his own. Maybe it was his coggie side. Maybe it was his nature desire to hold control over himself. However he was a thin step away from losing that control tonight.

“WHAT THE FU…”

He took a breath to try and calm himself now, his rage was demanding to be let free, a simple slip shy of going insane. His voice finding calm now, softening.

“There are humans downstairs.. why you risk the potential to frenzy here? Outside of a just challenge?”

Then over to the new Half-moon, his eyes staring at him, looking him down. His muscles clenched to his lanky frame. Eagle’s might flowing through his veins.

“And is this true? Do you question the claim of another, without proper challenge or claim of your own? What is…”

He took several more deep breaths, looking back to Sampson.

“Who is Truthcatcher? Who is Master of Challenges? I think I will need to speak with them sooner than I hoped.”

Already, a few nights back with the Sept and already the old politics resume.

[Joss Lehrer]
She watches, a brow quirked as Sam goes to blows – landing but doing little damage, as Even tells them to stop, as Marcus does so. She leans forward, slightly, her hands on the cushion of the couch by her hips, as she sees the anger rise in Evan once more, as she feels his rage build. This is what brings her to her feet – not the Fenrir Dick Swingng contest, not the blows brought, but a packmate in fury.

And she does not stand to stop him.
She stands by his side to back him up.

For all that they are Fenrir, the Cliaths and herself, Evan is the beta of the pack she petitions, the pack that has held her, heart and soul, since she saw them first years ago.

“Sam.” The voice is calm, the command within is undeniable. This is a ranking Fenrir Fostern, who bids him pause – then Evan speak, and she shakes her head. She was witness. “That is not what happened. I will go with you, as witness.”

[sampson]
“Truthcatcher is… Buried Hatchet.” His expression is not inscrutable, for a myriad of tensions flow across his face. Pain is one of the causes.
[Wahya]
Wahya clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a habit that he does often in certain circumstances. He has not moved from the couch, sunken into its cushions as the others have stood up. He simply waits, biding his time until everything has calmed down. His dark eyes moving from each face to study them.
[Evan McCollach]
He looks back at the prospective Eagle, his eyes bleeding pine green away. His fury starting to subside as Sam has left but still not completely gone. He was so enraged in was amazing someone didn’t get clawed.

And this for a child of Gaia.

“What happened tonight?”

Praying it was not like before, like old Sept politics that forced the Eagles to leave in the first place.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus had moved his hand up into a defensive posture as Sam attacked him. He’d been a little slow in moving to his back foot and caught a glancing blow in the mouth. He was about to make his move to attempt a hold, bring the Modi to the ground and choke him out… attempt it at least.

It was the voice of Evan that spoke with such authority, such… power behind it that made him stop completely in his tracks, only defending himself now. He’d been given an order by a higher rank that much he knew, and his Garou training told him he must cease instantly!

He looked at Sam with a stoic face to the Modi’s words. His only reaction was when the spit hit him between the nose, a blink of his eyes and the jerking back of the head.

He wiped the spit off of his face and said to Evan.* “No ~Rhya I have no intentions toward this kin Gabriella. I don’t even know who she is, what tribe she is, or even the look of her face. I inquired as to who she was as she had replied to my message on the board about seeking an artist. When I asked about her I was given an order by… the Modi that I could only see her at certain times, and not enter her room.

I asked if she was his mate, mate-to-be or kin. He did not answer, and questioned my honor and intelligence, so according to the customs of the Fenrir when another Fenrir is accused of being dishonorable it is an issue of a challenge. I asked if this was so, and he attacked me.”

[sampson]
ahh my packmates. the path of honor is… long, and arduous at times.
He is standing now, isn’t sure at what point he had stood, but is poised to walk. To move, a sudden need to RUN full out and feel the wind in his fur and smell the Umbral air, but…
not time yet.
For the Fostern has questions, and Sampson speaks for the pack tonight.
[Joss Lehrer]
She nods to Evan, a gesture toward Marcus. “It is as he says. Marcus asked if any knew of this Kin, and Sam demanded to know what he wanted with her after saying ‘She is…’ and then refusing to continue. When Marcus asked if she was his mate, Sam gave the order as specified, still without answering the question of who she was to him, to their pack.”

She turns to Samson, and tips her head, slightly. Her voice softens. “It all could have been avoided by his saying simply that Gabi was under the protection of the Unbroken Circle. Your packmate is Modi, but even a Fenrir can answer a simple question without blows – most times.”

She then turns to Evan once more, nodding. “What I have scene of Marcus shows him to be an honorable Cliath, and a worthy Foresti. He speaks the truth.”

[sampson]
“I am Sampson Musembi, Skinny Legs, born in the dark of the moon! To the Tribe of Owl, and the Nandi Tribe in Kenya. I am Cliath of Rank! And Beta! of the Unbroken Circle.
Which is composed of! Lukas Wyrmbreaker, our Alpha, myself, and Caleb Darkensky. Sam Modien is no longer our packmate” Now.
The man’s jaw clenches once, then releases, as he speaks– this is the Not-So-Silent-Strider, after all.
“Gabriella has been under our pack’s guardianship for years now, as two of our former Alphas were her siblings. They are away from Chicago currently!
I would suggest that the issue of her guardianship will be resolved by the full moon moot, and after that, inquiries about her employment as an artist! would be up for discussion.
[Joss Lehrer]
(scene? Seen.)
[Wahya]
“Wahya suggest to Two Ravens he find new painter.” The Uktena says finally, glancing up at the faces of those around him. “Joss and Two Ravens speak truth as Wahya sees to.”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus turns to Sampson.* “Sampson Musembi, Skinny Legs ~yuf. I am Marcus Schwarzkopf, Two Ravens, Cliath Philodox of the Get of Fenris. I am not currently with a pack. I did not know this kin girl was under your pack’s protection. I seek an artist for the purposes of a murial for the second floor of the Brotherhood. If she has been placed in the care of your pack by her family then I will abide by your limitations on when I may speak with her. I thank you for clarifying the status of this kin to me.”

*He nods his head respectfully.*

[sampson]
“I do agree though, that… I saw no basis in honor to the fight. There is honor in proper challenges, in defending Caerns! In our duty in fighting the Wyrm. In so many other ways.” He shakes his head and nods to the others who are speaking what they saw.
Truth is often not pleasant.
“Not this.”
[sampson]
“I think a mural is a fine idea! Caleb is her tribesmate, and may claim her again. Sam may assert claim, but … I do not know that such will be acceptable to Gabriella now. I do not claim to know her heart! Women’s hearts are complicated places!
I have four wives! This I know well!
Personally, I would love to see art from kinfolk gracing all of Chicago. As long as the buyer did not enter the private bedroom of my kinfolk. Call me old fashioned! I am terribly! Traditional.”
The Ragabash manages a grin, though it is not the most enthusiastic expression ever. His heart is heavy.
[Evan McCollach]
He couldn’t help himself but to rub his brow now, finishing off at pinching his nose. It seemed to start once again. Maybe he was wrong after all, maybe it was the fact that they were not knee deep in the shit since…

Dick-waving and foolishness…I had such hope.

He looked at Joss as she recounted the story, then to Sampson as he fills in the details. He was not fully aware of the situation and in that he failed himself. He did not know the details and made a reactive judgment, something he should have known better than to do.

“Understood. Thank you all.”

His eyes fall to the ground, wishing that some things would change, but knew some never did.

“Marcus, this action may come before the Moot and I am sorry, but we as philodox, our honor must be beyond repute. You will be called to defend yourself. As for the Challenge. That will be discussed with the Master of Challenges as well. If it is just, you must see it through. Understood?”

If not put to another question are council he will move back to his meatloaf, looking at it. Whispering to himself.

My food is cold, shoot.

[Joss Lehrer]
She smiles at Marcus, and winks, reaching to touch his arm before she moves back to retake her seat, flopping on the couch next to Wayha with a grin. She catches up her can of soda and takes a long drink, before leaning back with an “aaaaahhh…”

Oh – and… she looks over at Evan with a curious tilt of her head. “Remind me, I’d like to talk about what you said earlier.. when your ready. After you’ve eaten, maybe, or on patrols.”

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus bows his head respectfully.* “I am Fenrir. I will respect the judgment of my elders in this matter. I only sought to clarify the words of the Modi.” *He says to Evan*

*He turns to Sampson.* “I do apologize to his pack, the Unbroken Circle for any disharmony our actions have caused tonight. It was not my intention to bring this about, but that does not excuse it.”

*He swallows and wipes the spit on his hand on his pant leg.* “I apologize for disturbing your evening.” *He says to all present.*

[Wahya]
The Uktena has seen enough. He leans forward, scooting to the edge of the couch. He drops his hands between his legs to reach down and grab his backpack by the strap. In one motion he begins to stand up, pulling the bag up to chest level. He slips it over his left shoulder.

Joss is all grins once again, flopping back down onto the couch where Wahya’s warm spot once was. He looks down at her briefly, and then flicks his gaze up to the others. His head shakes slowly, “Much disappointment this is,” he murmurs.

Wahya steps around Joss, moving away from the couch. There is a solemn expression worn on his weathered features. He isn’t happy with what he just witnessed.

[sampson]
“Sam is not in the Unbroken Circle pack. We remain unbroken.” He is calm, as he specifies. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, and your apology unnecessary. If you will all excuse me though… One of my wives is pregnant and has demanded peanut butter and liver muffins. Again. I must see! if the cooks will make them! I will be back in moments.”
And with that, he heads to the stairs, there to go to abuse his gifts endlessly and Persuade the kitchen bakers to pander to his lovely wife’s cravings. Again.
[Evan McCollach]
A nod to Marcus as he sat down on the couch in front of the table that now held his food, a plate full of cold meat and potatoes. Just a shame really.

He started to pick at the food after he moved to sit down, even if it was still cold he would eat and enjoy. But it would just not be the same.

“What? What did I say before I am sorry, I seem to have forgotten.”

[Joss Lehrer]
She just stares after him… “…did he say… peanut butter… and LIVER? That is disGUSting.”

She looks up at Wahya, as he steps around, curious. but she doesn’t stop him, just waves a goodbye, and pats the couch next to her in Marcus’ general direction. “Don’t worry about it. Sit.”

Then she laughs at Evan, a soft easy sound. “You said to visit Maelstrom. I was hoping for more idea of the hows and why that this has come to pass – so that I might know what to expect when I arrive.”

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
*Marcus nods.* “Until this matter is resolved I shall make arrangements for lodging elsewhere.” *He looks at Joss.* “I will still keep my pledge to the sparrows though.” *To everyone else.* “Excuse me. Until the next time.” *He moves to head to his room.*
[Marrick Fisher]
She had come up the stairs to find a damned socket wrench. She had been working, it seemed; the Black Fury smelled like engine grease and the wind.

It didn’t matter, really, what she smelled like, because in the end Marrick just smelled like she needed a shower. Her hair was pulled back in a high, but messy, ponytail. She wiped her hands off on her shirt, dirt streaked across the front. Marrick tromped up the stairs, sounding as though she was six feet four inches tall, two-hundred twelve pounds.

When she got to the common room, it was almost dissapointing that Marrick was about eighty pounds lighter and nine inches shorter than she sounded.

She stopped.

She looked around.

And she blinked.

[Wendy Berber]
*She’d managed to flee from Caleb’s strange offer of healing, only to discover one of her library books was missing. Likely left at the Brotherhood somewhere. It was the only place she’d not looked. And so the awkward kin grudgingly limps back through the door, already nibbling her lip. She hopes no one took it.*
[Wahya]
Wahya returns the wave of farewell to Joss. He makes his exit with no other words, heading down the back stairwell that led up to the second level of the Brotherhood.

Once he is outside, the Uktena tries to breathe a little easier, to push aside what he has just seen, but it bothers him. This Scab was beginning to bother him. He makes his way down the sidewalk, not looking behind him as he decides to take a long walk outside of the city limits. He had other duties that needed his attention.

[Evan McCollach]
His eyes seem to cross as he takes a few bites of his cold meatloaf, seeming to be thinking of other places or hearing other things.

“Umm, yes. The Eagles have decided to return to the Sept. Maelstrom is a totem of sacrifice, when you go to make your offering, make sure that it is truly something that you will miss. It will never return however. As for the why’s…”

He picked at his food again, looking at the departing of some. Sampson and Wahya, the entrance of others. A face he has yet to see here now.

“Good evening miss.”

Directed at the Fury, blinking.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf]
((Thanks for scene guys. Have a good one.))
[Imogen Slaughter]
Imogen parks her car some distance from the Brotherhood, and walks the remaining blocks, one hand in her coat pocket, her expression even. There aren’t many people on the street at the time, and her stride is long, her steps swift.

She steps into the main restaurant, walking around tables in the dimly lit main room. Truthfully, the human patrons of this establishment must wonder from time to time what goes on upstairs. Perhaps some with more extra imaginations believe it to be a brothel; a drug den. In either case, she murmurs a word to the bar-tender, and then steps through to the stairs, adroitly ignoring the burly man’s curious glance in response to the faint, unnatural whirring sound that he catches on the edge of his hearing.

She steps up to the common room, casting a glance toward Marrick as she steps around her – Imogen, a slight redhaired woman with pale skin, incredibly dark eyes. Even those in the room who do not know her would recognize her for what she is – feel the breath of purebreeding the seeps from her very being, hear the blood of the Fianna as it pulses in her veins. The whirring sound continues unabated, and Imogen’s hand remains in her pocket. The kinwoman scans the room until she finds Joss – moves with purpose bordering on irritation.

She closes the distances and pulls her hand from her pocket, holding a small toy police car by its roof, its little wheels spinning spastically, the little car whirring as if it were electric.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she says without particularly caring if she interrupts at all, “but,” now she speaks directly to the Godi, “your toy is following me.”

[Evan McCollach]
(Have a good one Laz)
[Wendy Berber]
*She begins looking under tables, in nooks and crannies, with a fierce determination. She would NOT lose a library book. Sheepish apologies tumble from her as she peeks around people, finding a whole lot of nothing.*
[Marrick Fisher]
She stopped, she turned, and she looked at Evan. The Fury looked at him for a moment; she was young. Probably fresh out of high school, but she was… well, if there was ever an intense young woman it was Marrick. She seemed to regard him, put her thoughts together, and then?

And then she smiled something content, but didn’t offer her hand. She was, after all, covered in engine grease. She didn’t touch much of anything, actually, for fear of getting the world dirty.

“‘sup?”

For all that she was, Marrick Fisher was not an articulate creature. A tad more outgoing than one would think, yes, but not articulate by any means.

[Joss Lehrer]
She nods, slightly, her mind already ticking at what she can sacrifice, and then he trails off before giving her the whys, but she understands this may not be the place for that conversation. She smiles at him, follows his gaze and then…

Imogen makes an appearance, and looks.. a little irritated. She blinks, and sits up, setting her coke aside as Imogen holds out the little car and…

…oh dear.

She reaches to take the police car, pressing her lips together for a long moment, before she can manage to hold back the the laughter, and clears her throat. “My apologies, Imogen. I’ll take care of it.”

She looks at the car, sternly, and mutters under her breath directly at the car Are you trying to get me beat? This was not the deal!

Check one for the ‘batshit crazy’ list….

[Boy]
He’d been out for a while, wandering around and doing who knows what he did in the evenings. Coming back to the Brotherhood should have been like coming home, but somehow…

Home was never like this, sneaking in through the back door, speaking in hushes. Boy came in through the front this time. He was hungry and tired, and unsure which of these took preference now. And as he sat, one face in the crowd of strangers seemed extra strange, because it wasn’t. Did that make sense? Did anything?

He stood for a while, watching Wendy perplexed and secretly wondering if this was really happening.

[Wendy Berber]
*She stands up, hands on her bony hips, with a huff. It wasn’t anywhere! She swallows and looks up at the stairs, oblivious to Boy’s scrutiny. Did she really have the gumption to go up there?*
[Evan McCollach]
He watched as Imogen moved into view, walking up the stairs and into the common room of the Brotherhood. And he thought it a little strange that she would be here. But after that police car came out, the best he could do was look down at his meatloaf and let that grin cross his lips.

Wow.

After that snicker started to pass over him, he looked back at the grease covered woman, probably not much younger than himself and nods.

“I am sorry, I believe we have not yet met. I am Evan.”

A polite nod to the woman.

[Boy]
She wasn’t going up there, was she?

Just as a smiling waitress was bringing him a menu Boy stood up. He circled around the room, avoiding Wendy’s line of vision.

She was thinking of going up there, wasn’t she?

[Imogen Slaughter]
Imogen’s gaze narrows upon Evan as he snickers, but there’s a spasm at the edge of her mouth that suggests that the slender redhead recognizes some of the humour in the situation, despite her irritation and the potential inconvenience that had been caused.

A flick of her glance toward Joss as she whispers at the whizzing, whirring and impotent toy car.

“I think beating might be a rather mild exaggeration,” she observes, a smirk crossing her mouth.

[Joss Lehrer]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]
[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy nibbles her lip, limping towards the bar to ask Danny if he’s seen her book. When the answer is no, she looks up to the stairs again, scowling.*
[Joss Lehrer]
She looks up at Imogen, and has the grace to look a little sheepish, though it’s through a grin. “Electrical elements can be a little… spazzy…. sometimes… It won’t happen again…”

But still, it’s really kind of funny, and Evan almost laughing isn’t helping any!

She looks at the little car and glares at it before talking again, sternly. “Stop. Right now!”

And the car does. The wheels stop moving so spastically, spinning out in an attempt to get to Imogen. “That’s better. We’ll talk about this later!” The car makes a little tiny pathetic beeping sound, and then falls still, as Joss grabs her bag off the coffee table and slides the car inside.

Then she looks up at Imogen… “Um… buy ya a beer?”

[Boy]
She was. She really was thinking about it. Time to clear up some mystery here.

He didn’t have a determined walk. Walking was just walking really. And he didn’t quite have an opening line. Those things, and the necessity for them, didn’t exist in his brain. But one approach is as good as another, and Boy did just that. He approached Wendy, making no effort to be either silent or loud. But he did speak.

“You’re refusing to stay off that foot, aren’t you?”

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy jumps and squeaks, absorbed in imagining all the scenarios of doom that could result if she braves those stares. Boy gets a smile, kin relieved to have an excuse not to go up there right now.* Oh! um.. uh. hello. My foot? *She looks down, and gives an apologetic blush.* um.. no. sorry.
[Boy]
“You thinking of going up those stairs on that foot?” Its not said in a charming manner, and may in fact be a little bit gruff. He wasn’t much of a charmer. Not when he was trying at least.
[Evan McCollach]
He looks to the woman for a second before looking back to Joss and back to her question.

“You wish to know why now yes? Well for myself I always felt the Sept needed us. The reasons the Eagles left however was….”

He thought about the incident that just occurred, shaking his head.

“Similar to what happened. Garou fighting over who can see whose kin, Pointless infighting as the wrym grows. However we are no simple pack, we are ranked individuals here. Maybe still young at Storm Hammer, but here in Chicago we are senior members of the Nation. Decker knows this and cannot just go running around anymore, he must settle down with a Sept. And Chicago is his home, better here than anywhere else.”

Nodding.

Back to his mashed potatoes now, mushy and cold.

Damn.

[Wendy Berber]
oh. uh.. n-well. kinda. *she droops her head.* I .. don’t really.. want to. I’m missing a book. *Wendy cringes and looks at Boy, twisting a hand in her sweater.* Thats all.
[Joss Lehrer]
(gotta reboot – brb!)
[Imogen Slaughter]
When Joss speaks to the car and the car actually obeys, the kinwoman can’t help but arch an eyebrow. “If I’d known that would work, perhaps I could ha’ saved myself th’price o’ parking,” she observes.

Joss offers her a drink, and the kinwoman pauses, her gaze flicking around the room briefly. It is clear consideration, and her acceptance is not thoughtless. A brief incline of her chin, “Whatever they ha’ on draught,” she says.

Evan speaks – and Imogen’s gaze moves to him – resting there as he speaks of the Eagles rejoining the Sept. While her attention is clear, little else is.

[Boy]
“Oh. And you think it might be up there? What book is it? I’ll go look for you.”

Yes. He’d go look. Up there.

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy tilts her head, eyes narrowing a little, then widening.* Um.. N-its ok.. I mean.. unless… *She blinks owlishly, swallowing hard and murmuring.*I mean, um.. Do you know people here?
[Marrick Fisher]
“I’m Marrick,” she said to Evan.

Now, there was the damnest thing about being from Oklahoma; there was a drawl to her speach. Something slight, yes, not nearly as prominent as others, but there. Persistent. Insistent. And it had a lovely way of making I’s sound like Ah’s and made Marrick into a one-syllable name.

For the rest of her part, she was listening to the story. She wasn’t sure who the Eagles were, not at first, but she stood with quiet curiosity and just listened.

[Boy]
“That’s…that’s the weird thing. I sort of… Well, I live here. Do you know people here?”

And he regards her with the same akward curiosity, as if seeing her for the first time, this time around.

[Joss Lehrer]
She listens to Evan as he explains, and tells her the reasons why. For once, her face is serious, the grin is not lingering (but it’s never far away) and she nods when he has finished. “I see. I’m glad I’ve come now, then.” And she is – it’s a heartfelt reply.

Even as moments later she’s laughing softly as she stands. “It kinda probably would only work for me – though I don’t know, if anyone could have gotten him to listen, maybe it’s you.”

She grins and waves. “be right back!” before she’s bounding down the stairs to get Imogen a beer, and another soda for herself – with all the energy a young teenager can muster. And that? Is a lot.

[Wendy Berber]
I ..have.. cousins here… sort of… uh..sir? *Wendy nods, cringing and watching her feet intently, shaggy hair flopping forward to hide her face.*
[Boy]
“Cousins? You mean?”

He looks to the kin behind the bar, and the kin that were waiting tables, all of whom seemed to be taking turns looking at the two of them.

“You mean you’re…No, we can’t talk about this here. Lets go upstairs. Do you need any help?”

[Wendy Berber]
Oh dear. um… okay. *She squeaks. She’d.. liked the Boy. She nods, hobbling towards the stairs like a convict trudging to the gallows.*
[Boy]
He doesn’t touch her. He knows what that was like; being touched when you didn’t want to or didn’t expect to. He did, however, offer a hand to help her as they ascended.

And when they got up and into the common room…Well, he too sort of stopped.

And blinked.

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy’s hand would tighten worriedly. So many, people. Oh dear. She’d seen some of those women before. When the big bald man had ran her over… SHe blushes deeply, book entirely forgotten.*
[Marrick Fisher]
She turned her head, posture straight, shoulders set, and then? Then there was Boy, and a smile started to cross her face. Something that was brighter than she knew. It would have been a nice smile, except that her teeth seemed to sharp. Something about her was a little too intense to be considered lovely. There was something about her a little too untamed to be cute. In short, Marrick Fisher bordered upon feral.

But she wore her expressions openly; and Boy was home, and so she was pleased.

“Hey! You helped fix stuff, ya know where I c’n find a wrench?”

A beat. A look at Wendy.

“‘sup?” with an upward nod and a smile. She was a little too country to have pulled off such a distinctly urban gesture, but Marrick had, once upon a time, been subjected to enough MTV that it could fit.

[Evan McCollach]
He looked to Marrick as she introduced herself and nodded slightly, his mouth now full of the whiteness that was homemade mashed potatoes, at least one could hope they were homemade and not the instant kind.

And as the Godi bounces from the chairs and down the stairs his eyes move over to Imogen and a nod.

“Please relax, I am sure she will fix that car up soon. No need to worry… well I might not use a power strip for some time.”

[Imogen Slaughter]
The slender kin takes a seat on the couch as Joss leaves, glancing once at her bag on the floor, her gaze narrowing in the imagined direction of the car.

The Boy and Wendy both appear at the top of the stairs – the movement catches Imogen’s gaze. Her eyebrow arches faintly as she sees Wendy, the spindly girl sharply familiar. The eyebrow soon settles, her mouth drawing tight. Her gaze moves away, flicking down toward the food on Evan’s plate, the mashed potatoes congealing. “That looks -” a pause before she chooses her word, “unappetizing.”

The room is full – conversations overlapping, the kinwoman’s gaze moves to some of the occupants, but keeping up, or even paying attention to all the details is impossible. She does not bother – but people’s faces, those she can take in.

Her attention returns to Evan, an eyebrow arching, “I wasn’t aware that I was tense.”

[Boy]
There was quite the crowd here. Mostly faces he’d only ever seen in passing, but just then his confusion over the whole situation seems to lighten with the one point of unquestionable familiarity in the room.

“Oh! Marrick. Hey Marrick. See, there’s my sister I was telling you about. Marrick this is Wendy.”

The hand that was holding the Mousy kin was dropped. It left to gesture other things, like the sister that wasn’t imaginary, and the general direction of Marcus’s room.

“Marcus has tools. A whole bunch of ’em. He’ll let you borrow if you ask nice. Oh, and I found this park, its the weirdest thing. And a Library. Oh yeah, Wendy helped me at the Library. Only…I couldn’t get a card.”

He certainly wasn’t shy up here.

[Joss Lehrer]
She returns – it hadn’t taken that long, after all, though she does not only get a beer for Imogen, but has another soda tucked in the pocket of her skirts for herself, and a plate with hot meatloaf and mashed potatoes for Evan. She doesn’t miss much, the little Godi.

With hands full, her accent up the stairs is slower then her quick decent had been. No less energetic, but mindful that spilling Imogen’s beer on top of the car fiasco? Might not be the best of maneuvers with which to cap her night. So she’s careful.

She makes her way into the room, smiling at Marrick and Boy with a quiet. “Hey” as she moves past them, and a grin for Wendy too. She moves to Evan first – they share a rank, but as he is Beta it is only proper that she does so. She sets the plate down next to him, where everything is still steaming hot and freshly plated. “Try that.”

Then it’s to the couch, and Imogen, to whom she offers the beer.

[Wendy Berber]
Um. Hello miss. *Wendy swallows around a hard lump in her throat, wringing her hands together now that they’re free. She scuffs her good foot along the ground, as though it could flee back downstairs by itself. She stutters.* I’m s-sorry about the card. Um. You just need a cell ph-phone.. or um, just a phone number.. *Wendy tries to get small and out of the way as Joss passes by.*
[Marrick Fisher]
“Oh!, hey, cool-” she said, then offered her hand to Wendy. Marrick looked down at her hand, realizing that it was still covered in engine grease. She pulled it back, then wiped it off on her shirt to make sure that it was clean. “uhh.. Yeah, I’m Marrick. Ya don’ gotta call me miss or anythin’.”

She looked at Boy with a curious look. She cocked her head to the side, and he was talking about new places. She stood still, moreso than the normally was. Movement was purposeful instead of fidgetty.

“Ohh sweet action, where is it? What’s the weirdest thing?…”

a pause. A grin.

“Can you show me?”

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy tentatively takes Marrick’s hand, shaking it with brittle twiggy fingers.* Oh, um. Kay. *she falls silent, letting Boy and Marrick talk. Perhaps..she could become invisible…*
[Evan McCollach]
There were a lot of new faces it seemed and he was not used to them all. Marrick introduced herself, but the other two that had come upstairs were completely foreign to him. But with everything going through the kitchen, it was only likely they were of the Nation.

Then back to the pair that he knew.

“Thank you Joss.”

Then back to Imogen.

“I didn’t mean you were tense, just a saying.”

[Boy]
“There’s all these statues. A metal man, and a scarecrow, and a funny looking garou. Actually I think it was a lion.”

He gave a nod to Joss as she went by, but noted Wendy’s Cringing at the same time.

She was scared. Of course. She was kin, and she was surrounded by so much Rage. Boy took that sort of energy for granted, not always able to discern between the tension he felt in others and that which came from himself.

“Yeah…yeah, I will. Wendy and I, we just came up to look for a book though. We should probably do that…Are you okay?”

The last was to Wendy, with a look of earnest concern.

[Imogen Slaughter]
A glance at Evan, “I see,” she answers, mildly.

Imogen is just reaching for the beer as her mobile phone sounds sharply in her purse, resting by her hip on the couch. The corner of her mouth turns down, and she takes a swallow of the beer before reaching down to her phone, which she flips open.

“I need to go,” she says, simply, glancing at Joss as she stands, “Thank-you for the beer. Excuse me.” She slides her purse back up her arm, and carries her beer with her, presumably to hand it to the ‘tender as she passes him downstairs.

(bed time, folks!)

[Wendy Berber]
(night!) I’m ok. I am. *She says a little too quickly, nodding so hard her spectacles flop further down on her nose. She pushes them back up, completing the geek maneuver perfectly.* um.. I don’t know why it would be up here.. maybe.. I. maybe I lost it somewhere else.. *She balances on the good ankle, offering the hint of an apologetic half smile to Boy and Marrick in turn.*
[Joss Lehrer]
She smiles at Evan, and then Imogen has to go – but she took the beer with her. So that’s something. “You’re welcome. And I’ll double check everything to make sure.. you know.. nothing chases you again unless there’s good reason.”

She grabs her bag, and moves over to sit at the table with Evan, kicking off her shoes under the table and pulling her feet up under her in crisscross applesause before she lets her head hit the table with a little dismayed thunk. “…oh my god. The car. It was CHASING her…”

((night!!))

[Evan McCollach]
He looked at the poor young theurge that now had seemed to have to rework her deal with whatever spirits that she had brokered with before. He wanted to laugh, wanted to smile. But he was picking at the hot food now, comparing its goodness to the colder brother of before. Swallowing.

“I wonder what she is going to Decker of all this?”

Yes he was playing with her now, and god was he a horrible liar in it all. It was likely Decker wouldn’t think much of it, or Imogen would say anything about it. But he wanted to see how she would react, if he could pull it off.

[Evan McCollach]
(*going to say to Decker)
[Marrick Fisher]
“Oh, dude, freakin’ sweet. It’s like the Wizard of Oz, only…”

She seemed excited, but then? Then she looked at Wendy for a moment, listened to the kinfolk talk about her lost book. The one that she must have put somewhere else and, then? She had to ask. She looked at the girl with the glasses, looping her thumbs through her belt loops.

“Hey, umm… you want some help lookin’ for it?”

[Joss Lehrer]
She groans. Deeply. Wounded, even! “Oh no… she… oh dear…” She thunks her head again, twice for good measure, on the table, before she looks up at him and…..

..her gaze narrows. “You’re messing with me….” She lifts a hand and points at him and tries to look stern “You think I can’t trick out your hat too?” but then she’s laughing, and leaning back in her chair, shaking her head, her dreads falling from the loose bun she’d twisted them into, cascading down her back. “It really was kinda funny, wasn’t it?”

[Boy]
Boy smiled. Sort of. His eyes were soft and the corners of his mouth were not turned down. Marrick was being Marrick, and Marrick was good. Welcoming. She’d probably try and feed her next, and in copious quantities. Though, with the way he’s seen Wendy eat, he had to wonder who would give in first.

“Yeah. We’ll help you look for it. Maybe somebody found it and brought it up here or something.”

[Evan McCollach]
He looks up from his plate to the woman across the table from him. Well not really so much a woman as a girl. She had to be younger than he was and he was barely a man himself, in the classic thought anyway.

“Yeah… well I doubt you could.”

He looked at her, almost as if challenging her to do it until…

“Because I don’t wear one, so good luck trying that.”

He looked down at the hot food once again.

“Yes it was, I think Imogen might have even laughed if it didn’t happen to her.”

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy’s attention drifts towards Joss and Evan a moment, before she looks back to Marrick and Boy. She winces and concedes.* Um. Kay. th-thank you. Very much.. um..its safe to uh.. talk here. Up here. Yes?
[Marrick Fisher]
“Oh yeah, don’t have anythin’ t’worry ’bout. Well, nothin’ too outta th’ ordinary, ya know? Like, if you wanna keep yer secrets you still gotta be quiet, but subject matter isn’t a big deal,” she said.

And she was welcoming. She was a friendly enough girl, despite the fact that she felt like a damned title wave of adolescent female Rage. Wendy conceded, and Marrick was elated. She wore the expression openly, like a badge of pride.

[Joss Lehrer]
She just shakes her head and finally laughs about it – the sound infectious, free. Very much the laugh of an 18 year old teenage girl. “Well, I’ll find something else to do to ya… did Sandman tell you what I did to his hat? Maybe next time he’ll think twice before licking me.”

…probably not. This is James they’re talking about.

“I didn’t tell her – but it… in the car? Was chasing her because he liked her hair. Said it shone under the lights – so kept chasing her under them.” She sighs, deeply. Elementals. As bad as boys really.

[Boy]
“Yeah. Oh! Yeah. We should talk. I guess I should introduce myself properly. My names Boy. Oh, you know that already. No, my name’s Brother of the lost. And…”

She still didn’t seem comfortable here, and he wasn’t comfortable anywhere else.

“Lets…find that book.”

And he begins to do so, spying the couple in the Common room and opting to look elsewhere for now.

[Wendy Berber]
*Wendy nods, and begins hobbling around, searching quickly. Carefully. Quietly. Her face pulled into sad frown. Eyes blinking rapidly behind those coke bottle glasses.*
[Evan McCollach]
He watched her as she spoke about James and his hat? What exactly did she do to his hat? And why… wait licking her? Maybe he didn’t want to know. But he probably should.

“What did you do to James’ hat and why?”

And then back to the car and the sirens, talking about how the hair shone in the light. He wondered if this might happen again.

“As long as it doesn’t wake me up…”

[Joss Lehrer]
She grins – mischievously, as he asks about the hat. “He licked my face. In PUBLIC. So I… you know James and I have partied together at Storm Hammer, right? Everytime you guys came down. Anyway – he licked my face, and I had his hat on at the time, so I kept it. And then I bound a little Air Elemental in it, so the next five times he said “Aye” while wearing the hat? It flew right up off his head! It was hysterical!”

She giggles, just thinking about it – her eyes dancing with mirth and fun. This is the Teenage Girl side of the Fostern Godi… and it’s really? Quite cute. It’s very hard to dislike her, all told.

Back to the car, and she chuckles. “I’ve other things in place now – I’ll move it up to my room.”

[Marrick Fisher]
“What did it look like?” As though this was not the first question on her mind. She started to look around the room, to peer quietly and found nothing. The Ahroun paused, frowned for a moment, and then looked back to the distraught Wendy.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” she said. She tried to be comforting. It may or may not have worked.

[Wendy Berber]
*She bites her lip and nods* Kay. Um. its brown, and um. entitled “Artificial intelligence in modern application” by Ross F P-P-Parsons. *She looks around and shakes her head.* Its um.. not that important. It m-must be somewhere, um. else. *She nibbles her lip, Marricks reassurance making her realize just how badly she was behaving. She blushes.* I maybe, um. Should go.
[Boy]
Artificial Intelligence? What was wrong with genuine intelligence? Boy stopped his searching for a moment to take a look at Wendy once again. He hadn’t ever seen her this out of sorts.

“You’re really not comfortable here, are you? I’m sorry, I…I didn’t think. I’ll tell you what, how about we keep an eye out for it, and get it to you if we find it. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other somewhere.”

He moved toward her, offering that supportive arm again.

“For now, let me walk you down.”

[Evan McCollach]
James licked her in public? What the…? Maybe it was better that he didn’t drink after all. If James was doing these type of things when he was sober… god what would be done if they were drunk.

“I wish I could have seen it. To watch his reaction would have been wonderful.”

And the way she giggled, hell he wondered if she was even a Get after all. He had almost never heard any Fernir giggle. It was a little worrisome.

“I say leave it in James’ room, it might entertain him for some time.”

[Marrick Fisher]
“I’l look up here.. It was great to meet you, Wendy,” she said. She nodded some.

So, there she was, a ball of rage and intensity and hospitality. She offered a little wave, and then? Well, she looked at Boy for a moment, and it was almost an apologetic tone that she took with her expression. She wasn’t sure what she was apologising for, but someting about Wendy’s nerves reminded her of…

She didn’t explore the thought much longer than that.

[Joss Lehrer]
“It was awesome. I wish I had a camera the first time it happened!”

It’s certainly worrisome to here a fenrir that giggles. It might lead one to wonder what happens when her smile fades, when her laughter goes, when that dancing mirth in her eyes disappears to something far harder, far more violent then the girl that sits so comfortably across from him. That’s when it becomes dangerous. That’s when it’s time to worry.

“There’s an idea! I think you may have a touch of prankster in you after all….”

[Wendy Berber]
*He moves towards her and her first instinct is to brace herself and cringe backwards, hands fluttering like pale spiders in defense.* n-No, I’m s-sorry. I don’t mean to be uncomfortable.. I – *Her yes widen, and she presses her lips into a thin line. He was helping. Just helping. ALL the garou around here were freakish. She blinks, looking to Marrick, then timidly taking Boy’s arm.* I’m s-sorry. Not your fault. My fault. Um..nice meeting you.. M-Marrick. Um.. *She nods. flushing, partially in relief.*
[Boy]
He recognizes that reaction. There’s something very familiar in it. And in the next moment he’s stepping away, giving her some space.

“Alright. It’s alright. No need to apologize. I’ll see you later, alright?”

Yes, he knew that reaction very well.

[Evan McCollach]
“Prankster? No. I am no ragabash after all. We share many like minded qualities, but pranks are not so much my area of expertise.”

He watched her as the gears were turning in her head. He wondered what maybe would one day happen if he did get on her bad side. What spirits would he find in his room?

“What other items have you worked with now?”

[Wendy Berber]
Kay. Um. thank you. really. *And with that the spindly kin hobbles down the stairs, out of sight as quickly as she can be.*
[Marrick Fisher]
She looked at Boy for a moment, and the Fury stood there in silence and watched the kin with the popbottle glases make her way down the stairs quickly. She winced slightly, and the expression that she wore was still apologetic.

“She seems really nice,” she finally said.

[Boy]
“Yeah. I think I scared her though.”

The thought seemed to sadden him as he watched her go. When she’s out of sight he turns to his once-packmate, indicating the grease stains.

“You working on the truck?”

[Joss Lehrer]
She rolls her eyes. “Rotegars don’t have the sole possession of pranking. Anyone can turn a good prank with a little forethought and preparation. Even you, Evan. Even you.”

THen he asks a question about the further defenses and she smiles happily. “I’ll work on some more tonight – but there are more wards in place around the kin house. There’s protocals, so that when someone comes form either side, we’ll be warned. There are little hummingbirds that will swoop to the nearest Eagle, and if you are suddenly stung by a bee, I’d check in to see who’s tripped the alarm. Not to say you wouldn’t get stung by a normal be – but mine are insistent. And not as likely to become enamored with a certain redheaded kin.” She groans again, and looks at her bag, before chuckling.

“These will work on either side too – and will let us know if anyone comes to the kinhouse. Oh! And there’s hot water at the dockhouse, as requested.”

[Marrick Fisher]
“Yeah, the engine’s taken a beating and a half. Figured I should do some tuning up, I want her in the best condition that I possibly can.”

Why, of course, wasn’t something to question. Boy thinks he scared Wendy, and for the time being she was quiet. She slipped her thumbs through her belt loops; Marrick might not have been the world’s best driver, but the Ahroun was a diligent mechanic. Not the best, but certainly thorough.

“She reminds me of Sarah,” she said, offhandedly. It seemed to slip, but she continued before that thought could be lingered on. “Maybe this is just kind of new and scary to her. Who knows. Maybe she doesn’t do crowds or something.”

[Evan McCollach]
“So your gonna have us stun by a bee before we have to go into battle?”

He almost snickered at that thought. The idea of a bee buzzing around and stinging Decker several times before he went to see what the hell was going on. And even as strong a warning as that was, he worried how many pranks this girl could possibly do. And that giggling would haunt him slightly.

“Thats good, you seem to have been as busy as… well a bee.”

[Boy]
She did indeed have that for her. And what did Sarah have? Nightmares and horror and the only people she could turn to were the ones she was most afraid of. But Sarah also had a brave front. A tough face. When she needed it, at least.

“Yeah. Maybe. Anyway, if you need some help, I’m available. You were looking for tools, right?”

[Joss Lehrer]
“It’d send you in good and irritated, wouldn’t it?” She tosses right back at him, with a grin. “Like I was telling that Fenrir earlier, and Caleb, as they were talking of setting up a warning system and protection here – sometimes the most simple solutions are the most effective. If you go to broad, to wide, you’ll do more harm than good. You pinpoint a place to start, then set up an expanding circle of trip wires, staggered so that they can’t lead in a straight line right back to what your trying to protect.”

She shrugs, and grins at him. “You told me to see to it. That’s what I’m doin. The Spirits have been eager to answer my summons, but not so easy to bind. I think there has been some abuse there – but the ones that have been willing to serve, are eager to see what the new Godi has to offer. I will not fail them – or you.”

[Marrick Fisher]
“Yeah, I needed a crescent wrench. Turns out I left mine at home,” she said. Something about that made her smile.

Marrick Fisher, once upon a time, had a crescent wrench. And a lot of other tools. Some part of that made her quite, quite pleased. the bare bones set, however, seemed to be doing the job quite nicely.

“I think… I think that I should be able to get her running pretty well in a couple days.”

[Boy]
“Alright. I think I have one of Marcus’s wrenches in the room. I’ll go get it and meet you outside, okay?”
[Evan McCollach]
He nodded at the logic. What would be worse than a werewolf going into battle more pissed than he truly needed to be.

“Yes, I know. It has been some time since we have had a Theurge who worked with the spirits and we knew what she was doing.”

He looked down at his plates now and looks back to her.

“I think I should put these away and tend to my duties. I am sure James would like to be released from his own patrol.”

[Marrick Fisher]
“Sounds great, see you out there,” she said with a grin. And with that? The grease-covered Fury was back down the stairs.
[Joss Lehrer]
She smiles, and nods. “Want company?” for patrols, that is. She slips her shoes on, and grabs her bag. Either way – she’ll walk with him back to their territory. She’s things to prepare before making the journey to meet Maelstrom.
[Evan McCollach]
(Thanks for the scenage. Now its time to head off to bed for me)
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