[Marrick Fisher] (how coherent is she today?)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Marrick Fisher] The moon was full to bursting.
The air was too still.
Marrick was nervous.
She was on the roof of the brotherhood, if only for the purpose of trying to catch something of a slight breeze, but nothing was blowing. She was tanding there, hair limp, arms crossed, bound to a brand new totem and the wind wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t saying anything, it was still.
For a moment, she wondered if this was the wind’s way of showing its disapproval. For a moment, she wondered if she had angered her home, and for a moment she was so out of sorts, the moon was full to bursting, and she was all but begging for it to do something.
It wasn’t good to have a full moon so wound up.
She came down the stairs to the common room in hopes of getting her mind off of the lack of wind.
[Joss Lehrer] It’s true. What Decker says, that is – the brotherhood serves a mighty good roast beef sandwich, and sometimes, you just gotta have yourself a good sandwich. Especially when it comes to a midnight snack, the late night patrol is done, and you’ve a few hours before the early morning one begins.
Omega’s have the must screwed up sleep schedule of all the pack.
Thus, as Marrick is coming down from the attic, the Godi is coming up from the kitchen, a plate in hand with her sandwich on it, and a beer in the other hand, already opened, the bottle tipped up to her lips as she takes that first swallow as she tops the stairs and moves into the commons.
It’s quiet tonight- aside from Marrick who reaches the room almost at the same time. Joss smiles, a content little happy smile ( from the Fenrir! Weird!) as she smiles and pulls the bottle down again. She moves to the couch, sets her plate on the coffee table, and flops to sit, her skirts swirling about her knees as she does so, settling around her as she looks back at the Ahroun Elder. “Hi, Marrick.”
[Marrick Fisher] Marrick Fisher’s experiences with Fenrir have been… well.. it’s odd, because her first impression of one had to be Joss. It shocked and shook up whatever stereotype she had because Joss was one, female, and two, not an asshole. Marrick’s tiny world regarding the Get of Fenris was rocked, and cracked whens he met her.
“Hey,” she says. Her voice is more strained than she realized. She didn’t sit down. When she smiles though, no matter how tense, the smile reaches her eyes. She was, for lack of better wording a genuine creature. She couldn’t be anything but genuine. “How’re y’holding up?”
She sat herself down on the couch. Attire was comfortable. Men’s dress shirt and cut offs. Marrick wore her work boots, if for no other reason than that they were comfortable.
[Joss Lehrer] She is not the typical Fenrir, and none is more aware of it than jolly Joss, the giggling godi. When she smiles, it lights her face, it dances in the depths of blue eyes, it makes her seem unhinged approachable, crazysweet even. She reaches down to tug off her shoes, little slips of ballet flats for the girl who’d rather be barefoot, and she tuck her feet up under here, grabs the plate and beer and settles back.
She tips her head, slightly, as she looks at Marrick, hearing that strain and trying to identify it, as she sets her plate on her thighs, and lifts the now free hand to push her dreads back over her shoulder out of the way. “I’m well!” she says, as if holding up is just not the right way to explain her good mood. The moon is full, but it is not her moon. She feels the tug, as any, but she’s much more attuned to the tug of her sandwich right now, to fill her empty belly.
“You?” and she takes a bite, before offering the other half to Marrick. “Want some?”
[Marrick Fisher] She isn’t one to refuse hospitality.
So, there is a sandwich offered, and she takes it. Marrick wasn’t aware, but she growled at her food. She did it when she was younger, and continues to do so periodically in her later years. She might not live too long, and while the roastbeef sandwich didn’t have to fear for its life (as that it was dead), were it a sentient being it might be terrified of Marrick. Rage and the full moon and that insatiable, unabashed, unapologetic hunger aside.
“Well’s better then holdin’ up,” she said with a slight shrug between bites.
Another bite.
“You are, like, my favorite girl Fenrir ever, -rhya.”
[Joss Lehrer] That makes her laugh – though it’s clear she’s not laughing at Marrick. Her laughter is as easy as her smile, soft and free and almost like the wind itself. It’s not mistake that when she summons, she attracts spirits of winds and sound and playful energy, because she has so much of it herself. She plays tags with Elementals, for gaia’s sake.
And if the little growl at the roast beef phases her, it’s not evident at all. “Am I? And how many Fenrir girls have you met – so I can size up my competition.” She’s grinning, as she says it, and clearly unafraid to be held up as a favorite. Though she adds.. “And it’s just Joss. No need for the ‘ryha’ – no need for the formality here.”
Most times she makes a point of saying that. There are few here, that she insists call her rhya. Marricks not one of them.
[Marrick Fisher] “Right now? ‘sjust you. Met more fenrir in this city though, within th’ month I’ve been here, than Furies I’ve met in my entire life,” straight and to the point. Just a statement of fact.
Marrick fails to mention that, up until she came to Chicago, she could count the number of Black Furies she had met on one hand. She also fails to mention that she can still count the number of other Furies she’s met on one hand. And even fewer were still alive, and even fewer were still here. Given the reputation Ms. Armanno has, Marrick may well be the only Fury in the sept.
She was used to it.
“But yer up there on th’ favorite fenrir in general list, too, so..”
She shrugs.
[Joss Lehrer] “Higher than Silence?” Her eyes go wide at that, though she perhaps could see why a Fury would likely not appreciate Silence’s more… finer qualities. She laughs easily again, taking a bite of her sandwich, and chewing thoughtfully. “I’m honored, Marrick. I don’t think I’ve been on anyone’s favorite list before. Most people just think I’m weird.”
She wipes a bit of mustard from the corner of her lips with a smile, and licks it off her finger, before drying her hand on her skirt. She’s got her own favorites, of course, of all the tribes, for various reasons. “I was impressed with your challenge, by the way. I hope you did not feel it a slight to you that I chose to stand by Wyrmbreaker should he need a healer. I would have stood for all of you if not forced to make a choice.” a beat. “Well, all but one.”
[Marrick Fisher] “I ain’t ever talked t’him, ‘n you explain shit. He doesn’t seem like the type who explains much,” she said, “s’cool, I mean, that ya do explain things b’cause, well, y’ain’t gonna learn if people don’t explain, right?”
She shrugged. This was… well, this was relaxing. It took her mind off of the wind outside… took her mind off of the fact that it wasn’t blowing, that it was pulling the passive-aggressive card and simply chose not to speak to the Fury. Not that she would have understood, but isn’t that they way it is?
“Honestly? I didn’t expect anyone t’take me. I ain’t from here, people don’t know me, only three folks that’d seen me in a fight and one of ’ems my brother. Hadn’t proven myself yet, just gave Maelstrom my truck… y’all really stick up for each other ’round here, makes me kinda proud.”
A pause, a bite, and then?
“Thank ya, an’ I’m not takin’ it as a slight b’cause, well, it wasn’t far as I’m concerned.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, chuckling. “Your right, he doesn’t explain much. He’s very Fenrir, he’s held up as a hero in stories and songs. The biggest surprise I’ve found though, is that he does not consider himself a hero, and finds it hard to handle. He does his job, well, and expects others to be as fierce in doing theirs too.” There’s no small amount of pride there, that she is packed with a hero, someone she’s come all this way just to walk beside. “He’s funny though – he has a sense of humor that when it shows… well, he’s very funny.” She adores him. She’d never tell HIM that, but somehow? She’s pretty sure she knows.
The only on she adores more – is his Mate.
She nods and laughs softly. “As a Godi – a Theurge – there’s a lot that needs explained sometimes. I’d rather one understand why I’m doing what I’m doing, because dealing with Spirits and the Umbra and such is often confusing for us, and it’s sometimes easy to offend them. So the amount of time taken to explain can often save someone’s life.”
Her eyes widen “Ya gave Maelstrom your TRUCK? That’s AWESOME.” She seems genuinely surprised, and impressed at that, then… “Good. I’m glad you understood. Now that the challenge is over though, please don’t hesitate to call me if you need me for something, anything.”
[Marrick Fisher] “Then, well… I got a question for ya,” she pursed her lips, and there was that intensity again. Food was finished quickly, and Marrick’s hands were idle again. She unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, revealing a necklace with a can tab on it. Something close to her heart.
“… how do y’know if… well… if-” she growled, sitting back hard in her seat and looking distinctly irritated with herself and her own inability to articulate what she wanted to say.
“I think I pissed off th’ wind.”
[Cecil Smith] *Blood. Marrick can probably smell it before she even sees it. Cecil moving downstairs, walking up the stairs with head down, anger radiating off him in silent waves. A shadow of her own rage, but stormy and boiling, none the less. His face is caked with it as he pauses at the top of the stairs just long enough to survey every detail of the room, brown eyes looking over Joss and Marrick through a mask of red gore. he inclines his head, frowning.*
[Joss Lehrer] Joss is many things, many things that are considered weird and odd and strange and so much more as well. What folks don’t realize sometimes, is that she’s infinitely patient too. Marrick says she has a question, and Joss nods her acceptance of that, and finishes her sandwich slowly while Marrick gets it out. Her attention isn’t a heavy thing, just real, and attentive.
When she does get it out, Joss takes the last of her half of the sandwich and finishes it in one bite, before she leans forward to set the plate on the coffee table. She swallows the bread and roastbeef back with a bit of beer, and then settles comfortably into the couch.
“You talk to the wind?” She says it without even a hint that it might be odd – because Joss speaks to things far weirder than that. “And it’s not speaking back tonight?” just to clarify the question.
She pushes back her dreads, again, over her shoulder to fall back in disarray down her back as she contemplates the question. “I don’t see how you would have, but I’d be happen to take you across, and summon a jaggling, a gaffling to ask directly…”
She looks over at Cecil as he gets to the top of the stairs, a brow arching slightly at the state of him.
[Marrick Fisher] “Well, kind of,” she said. “Not like you do, but… yeah, it just ain’t there tonight, it ain’t blowin’, an’ I’m talkin’ and feel like it ain’t listenin’.”
She felt her muscles tense, and her jaw clenched.
“Jus’ want it t’know that I ain’t abandoned it an’ the least it could do is gimme a sign or somethin’ that it-“
It hits her senses, makes her tense, makes something akin to hunger and tension fade across lovely features. It’s tangible; her moon is full and bright in the sky, and rage pours off of her. She wasn’t as calm as Joss. She wasn’t a creature that was so hard to provoke; quite the contrary, sometimes the universe knew exactly what would get her attention. What would take her mind off of the non-blowing wind and what she might have done to anger it.
She was from Oklahoma; it was always blowing.
She looked at Cecil; he doesn’t look too pleased. “The fuck happened?”
Somewhere between shocked and concerned and hungry, in more than a physical sense. He was covered in blood, it meant there was battle somewhere. And it meant she would have an outlet. The moon was full, she couldn’t ignore her own needs right now.
[Cecil Smith] *He puts up a surprisingly blood free finger in grim exasperation. wait. And he digs out a pad of paper, writing in bold letters.* A Job where the mess to be cleaned up, had not been made before I arrived. Italian have no concept of what i do. My apologies. May I Cecil use your bathroom?
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, slightly, understanding what Marrick means, everything she is saying, as well as those things she is not saying. She asks quietly. “Has it ever gone quiet before?” Just as a way to gauge. Judging by the reaction, she’d think that it hasn’t, which may have as much to do with where Marrick comes from, as the wind itself.
You can almost see the thoughts ticking behind those blue eyes as she tackles the problem in her mind, and thinks of just how she will figure it out, just how she will figure a way to help Marrick, to ease her mind – not just tonight, but for the future too.
Marrick asks Cecil what happened, and he replies by written word, and Joss lets Marrick answer his question while she pulls her canvas bag into her lap and starts to search the jangling clanking clicking depths for something. She has an idea.
[Marrick Fisher] “Bathroom’s public, I think there are towels in there. Coltranes are used t’bloodstained towels, what with th’ way people go through ’em here,” she said. Always an edge, but she seemed friendly enough. “I’m Marrick.”
Control was gripped tightly. White knuckled, suffocated in her fear of losing it. She regarded Joss, and then… then the Fury took a moment, and responded.
“Not often, didn’t blow b’fore I got here, went crazy when I came… s’just… well, back-”
she stopped, and, well, she wondered why she was telling Joss this. She wondered why the Hell she was opening up to this Fenrir and telling her the most important parts of her life. She wondered, because she didn’t tell this to Hatchet, and she hadn’t mentioned it… well… to anyone really.
“Mah first pack was with me an’ Boy an’ three other cubs… and we bonded to the ethereal wind, ‘cus it chose us. And… well… some things happened back home, Winds’ Meeting-” she stopped there.
“Anyway, we ain’t a pack anymore, Kyle’s holdin’ that totem back home an’… well… wasn’t anything left fer me an’ Boy, so… we came here, picked up th’ pieces, Black Unicorn took us and that’s great, and I’m damn honored… just… don’t want th’ wind thinkin’ we forgot ’bout it. Joined a new pack an’ all of a sudden it’s gone quiet.”
[Joss Lehrer] Ah. She nods, as Marrick continues to speak, to tell her things she hasn’t told others. Joss is easy to trust, easy to talk too, and when speaking of a spiritual thing, why would they not come and speak to a Theurge? Joss is young, but accomplished, and she knows what she is doing. She has spent her life preparing to be Godi, and has worked tirelessly to be the very best she can be.
She has succeeded far more than the wildest dreams of her father, her grandfather, and all those who came before – and still, she is surprisingly easy to talk too, and does not lord her accomplishments over any, most certainly not over the young Fury who has asked her help.
She digs in her bag again, and pulls out a little string of shells, on a necklace, surrounding a larger shell pendant. They’re real shells, too, protected with a clear coat of poly, so that they won’t chip. Just seeing it makes her smile. “My grandmother gave me this. She was mated to my grandfather, a very strong Godi in his own right, like my own father.” She smiles at Marrick and nods. “I’ve an idea. Something that will make you, and the wind feel each other again.”
She tips her head slightly, asking permission first. “If you’ll let me try, that is.”
[Marrick Fisher] “Hell, honestly I’d like anythin’… jus’ don’t like feelin’ this disconnected, ya know?”
Which was odd, and almost endearing. Here she was, a full moon, right in the middle of her moon, in a state of shock and distress talking about her feelings. Talking about… well, something that wasn’t stereotypically associated with Full Moons. Marrick had come to a theurge, saying that she felt cut off from the spirits. A spirit in particular that meant the world to her.
That had been the world to her, actually.
So, there she was, talking to the right parties about her spiritual concerns. Marrick’s pack didn’t have a theurge. Not anymore. They never had one since they came to Chicago, and the one she had been so close to back home was-
Let’s not talk about that.
“Whatever you think would work.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, with a soft smile, and reaches out to touch Marricks shoulder. Joss is a creature of touch, of contact – one most would imagine that she could hug someone just as easily as she can, in hispo, bite their heads off. She looks around, and then smiles. “Let’s go to the roof, than slip over.
She stands than, leaving her beer on the table next to the plate, leaving Cecil in the bathroom washing up, leaving those sleeping fucking talking snoring working in the brotherhood behind without a second thought, as she takes the Ahroun, this young worried fury, back up to the roof where the wind has ceased to sing to her.
Once there, to shift aside is something easily accomplished between the two of them, and Joss stands, her eyes closed, her arms outstretched under the umbral moon, her second (some would say her first) home. A deeply content breath centers herself, as she gestures to Marrick, to have her settle to sit by her side as the Godi kneels, right there, and spread the necklace of shells on the floor before her knees.
She then slides her skirts upwards, baring her thighs, which are scarred, the perfection marred by four perfectly even, perfectly placed claw marks, the wounds twisted and gnarled. Her fingers slide over them, remembering the ritual that placed them there, feeling the inherrant power that is bound to her very skin. She centers herself, than, and takes a breath, and soon is tapping out a beat along the skin, slapping a song against the scars, the sound something deeper than expected, somehow… more.
(Spirit drum! Dex+Perf diff 5)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Joss Lehrer] (don’t mind me – is for the next post!)
(wits+rituals, diff 4 +2 spirit dru = 8, for gafflings diff 4 +wp! She won’t mess this up for the Marrick!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 8 at target 4) [WP]
[Joss Lehrer] (and – for later that post, or in the one following – spend 2 gnosis to reduce diff by 2 = diff 5, and yes, +wp.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]
[Marrick Fisher] She was almost too hot to touch, but she didn’t seem to mind. It was hard, at times, to picture her as an affectionate creature because she was so damnably terrifying. but she had hugged Boy more times than she could count. She had kissed lovers and held hands and adopted shy and demure postures that seemed almost alien to most full moons.
She laughed when she was happy. She cried when she was sad. And she was ashamed of neither.
So, they crossed over. And there she was, trying her damnedest not to be as distraught as she was. But she was, and this was something that was of the utmost importance to her. This was the wind. The air in her lungs, the namesake of her home. And, for her part, she was not capable of hiding that this bothered her.
Bones to Dust was a creature driven by instincts, and a day so still seemed unnatural to her. Especially given the events leading up to it.
And so, she waited. And she waited patiently at that, and all that rage was gripped so tightly, because right now what she needed was control. She needed calm. She needed peace, but Marrick wasn’t finding that on her own.
[Joss Lehrer] She plays for a while, letting the performance aid her cause, aid her call, a call that she shortly makes, without a pause in the beat she slaps against her thighs, without real warning as to when she’s ready – she simply sends out the call, her spirit singing to the gafflings that she has met and spoken too and communed with and played alongside since arriving in Chicago just a couple months ago…
And they come.
They come.
She summons the wind, she calls for the gafflings of Marricks beloved totem, of her home, and it comes, a trickle of a breeze, and then suddenly a whipping slide makes the trickle seem non-existent as they are surrounded by a twisting slide and circle of wind that smells of Chicago summer, that smells of fresh, clean, and so very real. The gafflings circle and play and surround her and Marrick, dreads flying and tugged and twisted, her skirts caught and billowing, and Joss laughs with delight at the sudden onslaught of that which Marrick has sought, so hard, what had pained her so much to lose touch with.
In the tongue of the spirits, with the voice of the wind pouring through her throat, she entices the gafflings, she tells them what has occurred, she pleads with them for Marrick, and explains what she wants. One separates itself from the horde, to circle Joss, while the rest play with Marrick, each touch of their cool slide against skin consoling her, promising that though they sometimes lull, they are never far from her, each tug of her hair, each whip at her clothing assuring her that they are always there, that they know, and that they love her still as a child of the Wind…
And to the one she speaks to individually, should Marrick look, it suddenly spins so fast around Joss, than circles itself into a mini twister above the necklace of shells, tighter and tigher and tighter, and then it disappears within… leaving a sudden vaccum in it’s place, while the others continue to commune with Marrick.
Joss whispers but a few words over the bound spirit, and than settles back, satisfied, and waits for Marrick to finish her conversation with the wind.
[Marrick Fisher] They came.
They came and they came in drovers. They played around the two, smelling like the summer and clean and real, something more real than anything in the penumbral world. In the world in two dimensions, the world that missed scents and sounds and sensations that were so real here. She brightens, visibly. She had the sort of glee that comes with Christmas, with familiarity.
With being home.
But they explained, and the wind explained the way it always did. Marrick never understood the words, not like a theurge would, not like Uktena would, but she understood through symbols. She knew and understood because this was the wind– the air she breathed and as much a part of her as the Fury blood in her veins. And she listened, and felt relief and gratitude wash over her. And, for a moment, her muscles relaxed, and the smile stayed on her face.
She laughed. And when she was happy, she was happy. She wore it so clearly, just as she had worn her discomfort and trepidation.
The wind spoke, and she watched, and she listened, and she didn’t brush it back or try to tame her hair or do anything but watch with quiet awe. And assurance, they would lull, but they would not leave her. they know she didn’t want to upset them. But it was the assurance that they loved her, and that she was still a child of the Wind that stayed with her.
It would not abandon her.
And she, in turn, would not abandon the wind.
She took a moment, and she cleared her throat. “I just… I just wanted to know you weren’t mad, and if you were.. that… well, that I was sorry. we promised that if anything ever happened, we’d go back. I just…”
She felt strange, she felt like she was speaking to a parent or a loved one. Solemn. Explaining her meaning and her intention, giving assurance that her word was worth something. But she was an Ahroun, and she was honorable. The Wind knew that she was good for her word.
“I just didn’t want you thinking that… since Boy and me left that we’d forgotten, or that what we promised when we did didn’t mean nothin’… I didn’t want you thinkin’ we forgot about you, or didn’t care, because we do. We promised, and I ain’t gonna break that promise to you.”
She said her words about promises like they meant something, like her word was all she could really give sometimes. And if she was not worth her word, she was not worth much of anything at all, really. The Fury exhaled, then nodded.
“I know you know, now. Just… felt like I needed t’say it.”
[Joss Lehrer] She speaks, in human tongue, and understands the Wind knows, and they commune. Joss, for her part, listens and watches, but does not interfere, she allows them as much time as they need to make sure that they understand one another again.
Joss is infinitely patient for a Fenrir, for a Garou in general. She is content to wait, to smile, to know that she was able to help Marrick in some way, that she was able to hear the Fury laugh, that she was able to see her happy.
It is a good night to be Godi.
Only when Marrick has her fill, only when the Fury is content once more, only when the gafflings slide away one by one, so that she can speak without having to raise her voice over the sound of swirling wind, only than does she stand and approach Marrick, one bit of breeze still tangling the Fury’s hair – it’ll be hell to brush later.
Joss stands before the Fury and smiles, the necklace of small shells surrounding the larger pendant sized shell in her hands. She lifts it, and slides it over Marricks head, to hang about her neck.
“You have listened to a shell before, right? Hearing the waves and the wind?” She smiles, softly, and nods. “This is a variation on that idea. One of the Gafflings has agreed to be bound within the center shell. Should you feel a lull again, and worry with the need to speak to the Wind again, simply speak to the larger shell. The wind will answer, lift through your hair, sooth across your brow, and let you know it remains close. This one will reply three times – if you feel the need to, find me then, and we will renew the necklace with another – as many times as you feel the need.”
A happy Ahroun is a productive one, after all.
[Marrick Fisher] (don’t cry!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
[Marrick Fisher] She was silent for what felt like an eternity. Joss explains how the necklace would work, that it was only good for three times, but that she would do what was needed of her or asked of her. As many times as Marrick needed; she knew what an offer this was. She knew that she was practically a stranger. She knew that she was of a lower rank, even if they were of a similar age. She stepped forward, and she was fast.
It was strange to think that athletic prowess was used to hug someone, but that was the only way to really describe it. She held Joss in the way… no, nothing quite compared to this. It was not akin to getting one’s first car, or their first paycheck, or the perfect jacket or they were accepted into the right college. Joss gave her home. She gave it back, something that she could hold onto and carry with her.
A memory that would not be tainted by what happened at Winds’ Meeting.
Something Spirals couldn’t touch. Something that would move and flow and adapt when the wyld surged.
Home.
She let out a ragged breath, and the moon was too full for this. All that rage, bright and oppressive and suffocating hung to her presence, and Marrick struggled to keep her breathing calm, the keep whatever tightly gripped control she had.
“Thank you,” was the only thing she could choke out before falling into silence.
Joss had no idea what she had just done.
Or, maybe she did.
[Joss Lehrer] Marrick was fast, and strong, and came at her quickly – but Joss is a creature of touch, a creature of connection, of contact, and the young Fostern, the Fenrir Godi caught the Fury as she came at her, and wrapped her arms around the young girl and gave her all to the simple act of hugging the girl, and letting her know it’s alright, it’s ok.
Often times, due to the animal that rides so closely under their skin, it’s hard to forget that they are teenagers, they are girls, they are human, too. In those times, THIS time, it helps to remember, and it helps to do something so simple as hug. Joss holds her close, tight, and even rocks slightly as one would with a young child, as one would with someone emotionally spent, rocked to the core – she’s a pillar of strength, offering the same up for the taking.
She doesn’t let go until Marrick is ready, and loosens her hold. Then, she brushes back Marrick’s hair, the tangled mess that it is, and smiles. “You’re welcome.” She pauses, and tips her head. “You’ll be alright? I have to run patrols…this one…” she gestures to the Gaffling still swaying at Marricks back, lifting her hair, breathing across the back of her neck, tickling under her shirt and tangling about her legs. “This one says he’ll stay till you are ready to sleep.”
[Joss Lehrer] When she’s assured that Marrick will be ok, she smiles, and steps back, waving as she picks up her back, and steps sideways once more. There, she makes her way to the commons, takes up her dishes, and makes sure to put them back in the kitchen, leave her $5 under the till.
Then it’s time to head out for early morning patrols.
(aaaaaaaand scene. :) )
[Joss Lehrer] (bag – not back. she picks up her BAG. Sheesh. bedtime for sleepy Lessa’s. Thanks for playing!)