[Imogen Slaughter] The East packhouse. A knock at the door. It perhaps identifies the visitor before anyone answers. There are few drop-bys at the packhouse, once called a kinhouse, and Imogen is just about the only one who knocks.
She stands in jeans, modestly heeled shoes. A t-shirt beneath a black leather coat. Her pale skin is almost luminescent in the new-moon night, her hair the colour of burnt embers in the shadow. Her eyes are nearly black.
Those eyes rest on Joss when she opens the door. “May I come in?” the question is mostly formality, but formality she offers, nonetheless.
[Joss Lehrer] She head the knock – though truth be told she’s already headed downstairs from the attic, as she’s been warned that someone approaches. One of theirs. And it was confirmed who it was when the poor little police car, inhibited by a spirit who adores Imogen with a love so pure it refuses to be set free from it’s home, starts spinning wildly in attempts to get out the door, get downstairs, and greet the love of his life with lights and sirens flashing. Joss just shakes her head, carries the little car in her pocket, and murmurs “If you’re QUIET, I won’t lock you in a DRAWER, you understand?!” A chirp, and the sirens fall quiet.
Spirits. What’re ya gonna do?
She opens the door and smiles at Imogen – because she always smiles, and she’s also genuinely happy to see her. “Of course, come on in.”
She steps back from the door, holding it open, and lets Imogen pass. She’s dressed the same as always – with the only difference being she’s barefoot.
[Imogen Slaughter] Even in heels (even only modest ones) she is a slight woman. Slender bones, narrow shoulders, rounded, slim hips. Her height can be exceeded by most well-grown sixteen year-olds.
She does not know that the spirits have warned Joss of her appearance, but she’s familiar enough with the car’s reaction to her presence, her eyes briefly scanning the hardwood floor of the living room as she steps inside, half-expecting it to come tearing out, sirens ablaze. Finding nothing, she turns her attention back toward the Godi.
No smile for Joss, no how are yous. It has yet to dampen the teenager’s joy at Imogen’s presence, her rather disconcerting hero worship.
“I’ve a bit o’ a question for you, regardin’ cleansin’,” she says without preamble. “If that’s what yeh call it – tha’ thing yeh did in my apartment after -” a hitch, “I had my dream.
“I’ve noticed tha’ some Garou take care t’cleanse themselves after battle. Evan once recommended somethin’ similar to me.”
A beat.
“Is this somethin’ I should concern myself with?”
[Joss Lehrer] Despite the fact that she smiles, that she is genuinely happy to see Imogen, there is still something a little off about the Goofy Godi today. There’s something in her eyes, something in her stance, something… not quite right. And the itch in her forehead is noticeable, but tolerable – for now.
But she puts a good face on – always has.
(…and the toy car in her pocket makes not a sound, despite vibrating happily, excitedly, to see the object of his affections so close..)
Imogen asks her questions without preamble, and Joss pushes her dreads back from her face, and takes a seat on the couch, gesture for Imogen to have a seat where she’d like. “Yes, that was a cleansing.”
She nods, fingers lifting to rub that itch, hoping to quiet it for just a little while longer, as she listens to the rest of the question. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, depending on how much contact you actually have with the fallen. We do it each time, because typically we have it on our claws, in our mouths, in our wounds should they get a hit in. Cleansing is a precaution against any taint.”
A beat, and then. “I know you typically shoot from a distance – though are often elbow deep in cleanup. A routine cleansing wouldn’t be a bad idea, once a month or so, or more often if you’re actually in contact with the bodily fluids.”
[Imogen Slaughter] There is a brief pause, a moment, the slightest hesitation. The faintest, most infinitessimal marker of tension – the tendon moving along the line of her jaw.
She does not move to sit with Joss, but she does follow her to the couch, coming to stand a few feet away, a little to the right.
“Then consider me here for my monthly check-up,” she says, a little dryly, the emotion hiding her dislike of the whole, messy affair. “A little late.”
[Joss Lehrer] She chuckles softly. She knows that Imogen dislikes the whole ordeal, had seen it last time they went through a cleansing rite, to clear her of the cling of the dreams that were stalking her, the Master that still must be dealt with.
Which makes her rub her forehead again. Damn itch.
“Of course.” She tugs her bag from where it hangs always at her hip, and pulls it into her lap, digging into it for her cleansing things. Stuff rattles and clanks and lord knows what she has in the depths of the messenger bag.
She pulls out the soft cloth wrapped bundle that is her cleansing supplies, and sets them down on the couch next to her. Then she grabs a couple bottles filled with what looks to be water and sets them aside too. Bag closed at her hip again, she unwraps the little bundle of branches, the lighter, the water. And stands.
“Ready?”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen watches Joss as she gathers her tools for cleansing, her eyes lift as the Godi stands.
Joss had heard of the kinfolk before she’d come, been in awe of her, apparently. All the stories that were told, however, were broad strokes. The details were rare, even her name, her tribe, the colour of her hair, hardly ever mentioned. That she was kinfolk is central. That she is mated, mentioned. That Silence claims her, said from time to time. Details, which one assumes Imogen would consider critical are ignored completely. That she is a doctor. That she is independent.
That she is reluctant in this world of Garou.
All facts that Joss has learnt, only in Chicago.
She watches Joss as she stands, her head unmoving, her eyes following her. Briefly, her attention drops to the stick, the fire, the water.
Ready? Joss asks.
“I am.”
[Joss Lehrer] All facts she has learnt – and it’s done nothing to diminish her appreciation, and even her adoration of the fire-haired kin. If anything, finding the real person behind the stories has made her all the more determined to know the woman, and be worthy of a friendship. After years of trying, of course.
Imogen is ready, and Joss nods, and begins. She gestures for Imogen to move toward a more open area, so that she doesn’t have to invade her personal space more than necessary. Something is different this time, as Joss begins the inscribing of the circle. Last time she snapshifted to get it done and overwith quickly for her. This time she flows into a shift as she moves, as she inscribes. It takes longer, it may even be more disconcerting, but she doesn’t have it in her to snap to anything today, so takes her time to do it slow.
And do it right.
The circle inscribed, the touches burned, the water splashed… she gathers herself, and
HOWLS.
(char+rituals diff 7 – do it right, Joss! HAIL!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Imogen Slaughter] The truth is, Imogen may be marginally disconcerted by the shift, but her interest is stark. She watches the way Joss’s bones and joints change, she watches the fur break the girl’s skin, the way the dreads shift and flow. She watches the Godi’s eyes as they go from something less-than-human to something more-than-monster.
Clinical interest. A scientific mind.
In its warform, the animal paces around Imogen, massive compared to the woman’s slight frame. Claws scrape the hardwood floor as it moves, counter clockwise. When it howls, briefly, Imogen shuts her eyes. There is no other defining expression to her face.
By the time it’s over, her eyes are open again, and she watches Joss as she returns to her human form.
“Why do you howl?” she asks after several seconds of silence, shocking in the aftermath. In the wake of the howl, her voice is thin in the air.
[Joss Lehrer] Joss slides back to human – or as human as she can, which is decidedly more human than most would think. She pushes back her dreads, fingers brushing her forehead, part of her pleading with herself, to not give into stress, to not trigger the visions, to simply… relax.
And so she does, taking her seat again on the edge of the couch, where she carefully wraps her cleansing items back in their soft bundling cloth.
Imogen’s question gets a lopsided grin. “It’ll sound silly, but it’s how it works. The Howl adds power.” That part isn’t silly – this part is. “It’s to scare the taint into fleeing from the power of the Garou that howls.”
Honest, always.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen remains where she is wihle Joss moves, watching her instead to see where she’ll end up. When she returns to the couch, Imogen moves, half following. She comes to sit on the couch’s arm, but leaves her coat on, as if she does not intend to stay long.
“And the stick?”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, slightly, and touches the stick under the bundle of soft cloth. “It’s ritual. Willow and Birch both have cleansing properties. Humans use them too, those who have read the old ways. For instance, when trying to purify a house, or even when performing exorcisms. The water is purified, though not like the priests would – it’s not blessed, just purified. It all combines together to rid of any wrong.”
A pause, and she glances up to meet Imogen’s gaze briefly. “All things natural have different properties we can use. There are a great many herbs and such that have healing properties, and so on. Catmint, for example, will actually work as a morning after pill.”
Random bits of knowledge. “Other herbs and such do different things. All can be awakened to be more powerful.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s mouth twists, slight dryness, slight irony.
“I figure tha’ if I’m goin’ t’have this done once a month, I should probably know what it is.” Her mouth twists further, “At least in theory.”
[Joss Lehrer] She smiles, and nods. “To be honest, I prefer when people ask questions. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know what I’m doing to you.”
She gathers the vials of water she’d pulled out too. “You can have these as well if you like. They’re healing talens. Any garou with gnosis can activate them for you – they might help save someone until I can get there to finish the job.”
A beat. “And I understand if you don’t want them, as well.”
[Imogen Slaughter] She studies the vials of water, briefly, then shakes her head.
“I’ll pass,” she says. “S’more likely I’ll break ’em in accident than find the time and a Garou t’activate them when I need them.” A brief twist of her mouth. “S’not really likely, in the middle o’ combat.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, with a smile. “Alright. They’ll be here in the bathroom cabinet, however, should there come a time you need them for whatever reason.”
She gets everything else tucked back into her bag, and settles back into the couch, with a soft sigh. “I can make other things that might help too, if you ever want anything. Just say the word.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s chin lifts slightly as she studies Joss.
“I don’t intend t’need anything,” she says simply. “But I shall keep it in mind.”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs softly. “Somehow I had a feeling you’d say that.”
She tips her head, slightly. “With Decker gone – you mind if I swing by on occasion? Won’t even come up, just sweep the area for anything off. If I don’t, he’s likely gonna kick my ass, but I would rather do it with your permission.”
[Imogen Slaughter] There’s a brief pause.
“Did he ask you to do that?”
[Joss Lehrer] She shakes her head. “No. You’re Eagle, and I’d do it for any other of our Kinfolk as well.”
[Imogen Slaughter] She shakes her head slightly, “Then you do not have my permission.”
Just like that.
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Simple as that. She’d asked, and half expected the reply, and will do as the kinfolk asks.
…mostly.
[Imogen Slaughter] She studies the Godi for several seconds, Joss is exhausted. That’s clear to see. She is out of sorts, which is perhaps clear as well. In either case, Imogen mentions none of these things, and Joss mentions them not at all.
It’s not why she is studying the younger woman anyway.
She gets to her feet. “Thank yeh fer th’cleansing,” she says, by way of farewell.
[Joss Lehrer] She handles the study well, and that slight smile doesn’t waver. She doesn’t ask why the study, and Imogen doesn’t mention it, and stand to go.
“You’re welcome.”
She doesn’t get up to walk her to the door – truth be told, she’s content to just sit here for a little while. Only when Imogen is out the door, and gone, does she reach into her pocket for the little police car. “Good boy. Go play.”
She sets him on the floor, and lets him dash to the door, sirens and horn blazing, to get a peek at Imogen walking away under the crack of the door. And that? Gets a full smile.
But she puts a good face on – always has.
(…and the toy car in her pocket makes not a sound, despite vibrating happily, excitedly, to see the object of his affections so close..)
Imogen asks her questions without preamble, and Joss pushes her dreads back from her face, and takes a seat on the couch, gesture for Imogen to have a seat where she’d like. “Yes, that was a cleansing.”
She nods, fingers lifting to rub that itch, hoping to quiet it for just a little while longer, as she listens to the rest of the question. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, depending on how much contact you actually have with the fallen. We do it each time, because typically we have it on our claws, in our mouths, in our wounds should they get a hit in. Cleansing is a precaution against any taint.”
A beat, and then. “I know you typically shoot from a distance – though are often elbow deep in cleanup. A routine cleansing wouldn’t be a bad idea, once a month or so, or more often if you’re actually in contact with the bodily fluids.”
[Imogen Slaughter] There is a brief pause, a moment, the slightest hesitation. The faintest, most infinitessimal marker of tension – the tendon moving along the line of her jaw.
She does not move to sit with Joss, but she does follow her to the couch, coming to stand a few feet away, a little to the right.
“Then consider me here for my monthly check-up,” she says, a little dryly, the emotion hiding her dislike of the whole, messy affair. “A little late.”
[Joss Lehrer] She chuckles softly. She knows that Imogen dislikes the whole ordeal, had seen it last time they went through a cleansing rite, to clear her of the cling of the dreams that were stalking her, the Master that still must be dealt with.
Which makes her rub her forehead again. Damn itch.
“Of course.” She tugs her bag from where it hangs always at her hip, and pulls it into her lap, digging into it for her cleansing things. Stuff rattles and clanks and lord knows what she has in the depths of the messenger bag.
She pulls out the soft cloth wrapped bundle that is her cleansing supplies, and sets them down on the couch next to her. Then she grabs a couple bottles filled with what looks to be water and sets them aside too. Bag closed at her hip again, she unwraps the little bundle of branches, the lighter, the water. And stands.
“Ready?”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen watches Joss as she gathers her tools for cleansing, her eyes lift as the Godi stands.
Joss had heard of the kinfolk before she’d come, been in awe of her, apparently. All the stories that were told, however, were broad strokes. The details were rare, even her name, her tribe, the colour of her hair, hardly ever mentioned. That she was kinfolk is central. That she is mated, mentioned. That Silence claims her, said from time to time. Details, which one assumes Imogen would consider critical are ignored completely. That she is a doctor. That she is independent.
That she is reluctant in this world of Garou.
All facts that Joss has learnt, only in Chicago.
She watches Joss as she stands, her head unmoving, her eyes following her. Briefly, her attention drops to the stick, the fire, the water.
Ready? Joss asks.
“I am.”
[Joss Lehrer] All facts she has learnt – and it’s done nothing to diminish her appreciation, and even her adoration of the fire-haired kin. If anything, finding the real person behind the stories has made her all the more determined to know the woman, and be worthy of a friendship. After years of trying, of course.
Imogen is ready, and Joss nods, and begins. She gestures for Imogen to move toward a more open area, so that she doesn’t have to invade her personal space more than necessary. Something is different this time, as Joss begins the inscribing of the circle. Last time she snapshifted to get it done and overwith quickly for her. This time she flows into a shift as she moves, as she inscribes. It takes longer, it may even be more disconcerting, but she doesn’t have it in her to snap to anything today, so takes her time to do it slow.
And do it right.
The circle inscribed, the touches burned, the water splashed… she gathers herself, and
HOWLS.
(char+rituals diff 7 – do it right, Joss! HAIL!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Imogen Slaughter] The truth is, Imogen may be marginally disconcerted by the shift, but her interest is stark. She watches the way Joss’s bones and joints change, she watches the fur break the girl’s skin, the way the dreads shift and flow. She watches the Godi’s eyes as they go from something less-than-human to something more-than-monster.
Clinical interest. A scientific mind.
In its warform, the animal paces around Imogen, massive compared to the woman’s slight frame. Claws scrape the hardwood floor as it moves, counter clockwise. When it howls, briefly, Imogen shuts her eyes. There is no other defining expression to her face.
By the time it’s over, her eyes are open again, and she watches Joss as she returns to her human form.
“Why do you howl?” she asks after several seconds of silence, shocking in the aftermath. In the wake of the howl, her voice is thin in the air.
[Joss Lehrer] Joss slides back to human – or as human as she can, which is decidedly more human than most would think. She pushes back her dreads, fingers brushing her forehead, part of her pleading with herself, to not give into stress, to not trigger the visions, to simply… relax.
And so she does, taking her seat again on the edge of the couch, where she carefully wraps her cleansing items back in their soft bundling cloth.
Imogen’s question gets a lopsided grin. “It’ll sound silly, but it’s how it works. The Howl adds power.” That part isn’t silly – this part is. “It’s to scare the taint into fleeing from the power of the Garou that howls.”
Honest, always.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen remains where she is wihle Joss moves, watching her instead to see where she’ll end up. When she returns to the couch, Imogen moves, half following. She comes to sit on the couch’s arm, but leaves her coat on, as if she does not intend to stay long.
“And the stick?”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, slightly, and touches the stick under the bundle of soft cloth. “It’s ritual. Willow and Birch both have cleansing properties. Humans use them too, those who have read the old ways. For instance, when trying to purify a house, or even when performing exorcisms. The water is purified, though not like the priests would – it’s not blessed, just purified. It all combines together to rid of any wrong.”
A pause, and she glances up to meet Imogen’s gaze briefly. “All things natural have different properties we can use. There are a great many herbs and such that have healing properties, and so on. Catmint, for example, will actually work as a morning after pill.”
Random bits of knowledge. “Other herbs and such do different things. All can be awakened to be more powerful.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s mouth twists, slight dryness, slight irony.
“I figure tha’ if I’m goin’ t’have this done once a month, I should probably know what it is.” Her mouth twists further, “At least in theory.”
[Joss Lehrer] She smiles, and nods. “To be honest, I prefer when people ask questions. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know what I’m doing to you.”
She gathers the vials of water she’d pulled out too. “You can have these as well if you like. They’re healing talens. Any garou with gnosis can activate them for you – they might help save someone until I can get there to finish the job.”
A beat. “And I understand if you don’t want them, as well.”
[Imogen Slaughter] She studies the vials of water, briefly, then shakes her head.
“I’ll pass,” she says. “S’more likely I’ll break ’em in accident than find the time and a Garou t’activate them when I need them.” A brief twist of her mouth. “S’not really likely, in the middle o’ combat.”