[Chloe Abernathy] Her mouth tasted like blood and exhaust fumes. Chloe had been admitted to the caern by sheer luck; she smelled like garbage. She was garbage. Chloe was nothing more than a mutt, a street rat born of other street rats who didn’t know the value of a condom.
The ones you get at Planned Parenthood are a lower grade latex, anyway. The rich get richer, the poor get pregnant.
Her hand, small and slender, reached up to wipe the blood off her lower lip. She tastes like blood and exhaust fumes, she smells like garbage. What is in your heart is reflected for the world to see- Chloe Abernathy is pretty, but tinged with cheap perfume and cheaper liquor. Isn’t that what Gnawers are made of?
“Fuckin’ asshole,” the redhead hissed.
She stopped, and was fascinated by the blood on the back of her hand. It mixed with mud and dirt from the road. Chloe would heal. She always did. She had made it this far- she could go further still to affirm that this was her home.
It had always been home.
[Joss Lehrer] After last night, Joss had decided to spend extra time at the Caern, in preparation to go on a talen making spree, to put together her part of the protection package for when the Theurge’s decide to summon the Valet, and the Master. Problem is, she is still drained from her own encounter, and has yet to fully recover. Last nights illusions proved it.
She had spent time meditating at the edge of Maelstrom, and feels a good deal more centered than before, her calm equilibrium restored. Now, however, she is realmside, laying on the seat of an old busted boat at the edge of the water, the waves slapping at it gently, and her slender frame rocking with the motion. Her eyes are closed, her leg hanging over the side of the bloat, inches above the water. She’ comfortable, comforted by the sound of the water lapping against the wood.
The hiss, however, gets her attention, and the dreadlocked head of the resident Goofy Godi lifts, searching for the source. She arches a brow, and the muscles of her belly crunch to pull her to a sitting position as she watches Chloe, estimating the new one’s progress through the Caern, curiously.
[Chloe Abernathy] Pale green eyes fell upon the landmarks; the Godi watched her expression. Joss would see the other theurge’s eyes widen in childlike wonder. She stops, she crouches, and she lets her fingertips grace the ground beneath her. Her lips upturn in a smile.
The Bone Gnawer has dimple. Singular. Right cheek. When she smiles.
Blood and dirt mingle with the ground below her. She then stands to her full, diminuitive height. She looks at the Fenrir, and sees the breeding that she so sorely lacks. The nation’s perpetual omega approaches cautiously. No one ever told her that being a Bone Gnawer was only slightly better than being metis.
She approaches Joss like she is a bear trap.
[Joss Lehrer] Joss watches her, curiously, and she smiles as she does so. She remembers the moment she first let the ground of the Caern sift through her fingers, the power she felt even in the soil. She doesn’t disturb that first moment, that thought and feeling that brings a smile that shows a dimple. Singular.
When Chloe stands, Joss swings her legs over the side of the boat, letting her heels thump lightly against the side as she does the unthinkable – she smiles.
“Hey, there.” She’s friendly as a puppy, Joss, and seems more amused than offended by the careful approach. “I’m Joss.”
[Chloe Abernathy] “I’m home!”
She is almost teary-eyed to say this. It comes out in a bark; Chloe can hardly believe that the phrase is passing through her lips. It rolls across her tongue and wipes away the taste of exhaust fumes and replaces it with spice and warmth. She doesn’t register immediately that Joss is the Fenrir’s name She is overcome.
She is home.
She sniffs hard, and bites back the runny nose that comes with weeping joy.
“I’m Chloe.”
[Joss Lehrer] Chloe declares that she is home, and Joss’s smile warms – if that’s possible. (.it is.) She doesn’t stand, either, preferring to remain informal most of the time, and certainly not wanting to dampen Chloe’s excitement and joy.
“Well, then – welcome home, Chloe!”
She tugs at the strap that dissects her torso diagonally, and pulls her Godi bag around front. She digs into the depths of the messenger bag, rooting around, and comes up with a tissue, that she then offers Chloe. “Here ya go… been traveling long?”
[Chloe Abernathy] “Yes,” she sighs. The air is clean in her lungs- this smog is different from other smog. This scab is different from other scabs. Chicago is her home; she had a family here. She has a family here. Chloe hooks her palms through the backpack straps and her eyes wander.
She looks at the tissue, taking it in one hand and holding it gingerly. The Bone Gnawer drops one shoulder, causing her backpack to swing around like a purse. she unzips her bag and puts the tissue in there with the rest of her things.
“Thanks,” she says, “I could use that later. I’ve been gone for as long as I can remember.”
Literally.
[Joss Lehrer] She takes the tissue and… puts it in her back. Joss’s lips twitch, sliding into a smile but holding back a soft laugh, as she nods.
“I’m glad you found your way back. I suppose I should give a proper introduction just so we can get it out of the way, hm?” She can’t be older than 18, 19 herself, and often times seems so much younger. Other times, she has the weight of her rank, and her duty to age her – but it never steals her smile for long.
“I’m Joss Lehrer, known as Gossamer Wing to the nation, Fostern Godi of the Fenrir, Eagle Omega, and Theurge Elder of Maelstrom.”
She pauses. “As long as you remember… were you here before Maelstrom was raised?” Curious…
[Chloe Abernathy] “I’m Chloe. Chloe Rowan Abernathy,” she says her name with pride, like a young child would, “Whispers to Nothing. Cliath, Crescent Moon, and a daughter of Rat.”
No one told her she should be ashamed of being a Bone Gnawer. She put her backpack back on her shoulders and planted her feet firmly shoulder-width apart.
“I was born here, but… I changed somewhere else and haven’t been able to come back until now.”
[Joss Lehrer] “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chloe. Welcome to the Sept of Maelstrom.”
She presses her hands against the side of the boat, and with a push, she pops up to stand, barely missing the edge of the water as her skirts swish about her legs, falling into place as she gives them a little shake. She tugs her bag back into place, and nods.
“Maelstrom is a Caern of Sacrifice, and as such, to become a part of Maelstrom, he requires a sacrifice of something important. I’d be happy to show you where to go, if you like.”
A pause and curiosity wins out “Where did you change?”
[Chloe Abernathy] There is no hesitation. This is home. She would sacrifice anything to have that.
“I’d like that, can we do it tonight?”
She looks ready to go. Worn jacket, beat up backpack, dirty shoes, dirties jeans, and surprisingly clean hair. Bright red. Bright red, rain-and-strawberry scented, clean, clean hair.
“Where did I change?” Repeat the question, it buys you time. “Well, I woke up in a trash can in Des Moines. I’m guessing I changed there, the place was a real mess.”
[Chloe Abernathy] “… I don’t mean that as a pun. I mean, I know trash cans are a mess, but… well… you know what I mean.”
[Joss Lehrer] “Of course. We can shift over here, if you like, and I’ll show you to the Caern’s Heart.”
She’s warmly friendly, and it’s hard sometimes to remember that she is Fostern, to think that she is far more grown than her years – to think that she is Fenrir. And her youth shows in little ways- like chuckling at the pun that wasn’t meant as a pun. “I know what you mean.”
She pauses, and studies Chloe a long moment. “Do you remember anything about your change?”
….or before it?
[Chloe Abernathy] “I remember… that the minute I figured out that I wasn’t tasting my blood, I threw up.”
She continues on the way. It is easy to forget that Joss is Fenrir, except her breeding is always there. Joss is strong, but her strength is different than the strength of others. For a second, the young Gnawer admires her. She does so openly, but soon finds herself reminded of the question at hand.
“… no,” she says, “no, I don’t.”
Clean slate. Blank slate.
“I remember that my mentor told me that I was damned lucky he found me before something else did.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, slightly. “That’s understandable.” She pauses, and takes a breath, and touches Chloe’s arm to bring her focus to her, so that they can slip sideways. Once Umbral, she takes a breath, and then continues to lead Chloe toward the banks of Maelstrom.
“Who was your mentor?”
Curiosity is no stranger to Joss – she wears it well, and answer questions always with the expectation that someday, someone won’t answer. And likely will smack her for daring to ask. Until then? She lets her curiosity run wild, dancing in pale eyes, lurking across lips that curve easily with humor, good intentions.
[Chloe Abernathy] “His name was Jack. He was… He was a good guy, Jack,” she says, with a healthy degree of Stockholm Syndrome, “Burden of Proof. Bone Gnawer Philodox. Changed a lot, though… miss the way he was.”
She looks at Maelstrom, green eyes widen and she crouches to look at its churning waters. She does not touch. Instead, the theurge drops the backpack off her shoulders and proceeds to look for something. She doesn’t seem to find it at first.
Chloe appears openly anxious.
She sighs with relief and retrieved a tape recorder. It is placed beside her gingerly and a plastic bag full of small cassettes follow.
“Something that hurts to give up… right?”
[Joss Lehrer] She listens – and its not like some folks listen, letting it go in one ear and out the other. Joss really listens. Chloe crouches, and Joss opens her mouth to warn her not to touch – but instinctively she does the right thing, and makes sure to avoid the churning waters, despite how enticing they seem. Joss sinks to a crouch and watches the waters, her elbows braced on her thighs. She takes a breath, and lets it free in a slow exhale – content.
Chloe digs around for something, and Joss doesn’t pry by looking over to see what it is – until Chloe asks her question. “Yes, exactly. Maelstrom requires that it means something, and isn’t something frivolously given or toss aside.”
She glances at the tape recorder, the tapes, but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t judge. She simply turns her attention back to the churning whirlpool in front of them. A sacrifice is an impotant thing, and deeply personal. She doesn’t interfere.
[Chloe Abernathy] She looks into Maelstrom and picks up her bag of tapes and the tape recorder.
She clears her throat, and she speaks. There is something raw and visceral about the way she speaks. Chloe Rowan Abernathy speaks like an open wound. It is beautiful in its own right, it is pure, and it bleeds her very being.
“My name is Chloe Rowan Abernathy. My life began August eleventh, two thousand four. I was told that I was fourteen. I didn’t have a name until I was fifteen. My name is Whispers to Nothing.”
Her eyes travel to the tapes again.
“Every memory I have was handed to me.”
Her eyes lose focus; she is a thousand yards away from maelstrom. It is the look soldiers have in the wake of battle. There is elegance in pain.
“I…” her eyes are watering again… “A gibbous moon’s burden is great, and I count my blessings that I am not among their ranks, I would not do Gaia the justice she deserves. I admired them when I was a cub, and held firm that whatever memories and stories I had, I would record and cherish.”
She speaks louder, with a strength of purpose that was born of those who would command the spirits.
“This is every memory I have. Every story. Every thought. Every musing of a teenaged girl, every thought and hope I had. Every breakthrough, every scrap of Chloe Rowan Abernathy that I fought to find, and every deed of Whispers to Nothing that I lived and bled for.”
Her voice cracked. She dropped the tapes, the tape recorder, all of it into there.
A blank slate again.
Tabula rasa.
[Joss Lehrer] As Chloe gives her sacrifice, the Elder stands witness – or rather, she crouches by her side, and remains quiet, giving the young girl the privacy to commune and offer herself to Maelstrom, to come home. She won’t say she didn’t listen – because she did. Something resonates deep within the Godi, sympathy, compassion, and a bit of admiration too, that Chloe made it here without knowing anything, without remembering anything.
She is quiet while the offering slides into the water, twists and tumbles and is whisked away. She is quiet for some time afterwards as well, until she’s certain that Chloe has finished, that she has attuned herself to the Caern they have sworn to protect. Only then does she rise, and stretch, and offer her hand down to help Chloe to her feet.
“There’s a place on the outskirts of the Bawn called the Brotherhood of Thieves. It’s run by the local Fianna Kin, and the second floor upstairs is something of a dorm for those Garou that have no place to stay. There are several rooms upstairs, and I’m sure they’ll have a bed for you. It’s not far – I can walk you there if you like… unless you’ve another place to stay…”
[Chloe Abernathy] “Why stay inside? There’s the bounty of the city, Joss,” she said with a small smile. Not quite sardonic, but spoken with the fervor of a person who was used to this sort of place, “but… these pants are kinda held together with dirt an’ staples, I should probably wash them.”
she’s a pretty girl, and she comes back to reality. Who knows what she might be like when she doesn’t smell like garbage. The bone Gnawer tok the fenrir’s hand and pulled herself to her feet. She’s not as strong as Joss, not physically at least.
[Joss Lehrer] She chuckles softly and nods. She doesn’t wipe her hand after helping Chloe to her feet, she seems unphased by the dirt, the blood, the smell. It simply doesn’t bother her – they are the Warriors of the Nation. They have seen – and smelled – worse.
“Well, it’ll start getting cold, so at least you know it’s always available. And – even if you don’t sleep there, they’ve a laundry room, and other facilities, and always something bubbling on the stove – they make AMAZING sandwiches.” Even though Randi keeps them pretty well fed, sometimes it’s just nice to eat out – and the Brotherhood is as good as any.
[Chloe Abernathy] ooc: thanks for the scene, Lessa! I had a blast!
[Joss Lehrer] [Me too! Welcome to Chicago. :) ]