[Rory] She woke up in the strange hotel, all alone but for the brave kitten who had kept her company. She made sure to get him fed, and happily curled back up with his alleycat pack, before she’d made her way to the Caern. Someone here might know where Chloe is. Someone might know what happened to Elliot. Someone might know… something.
And they do.
Near the freshest of the fresh graves, the slender fianna sits, pale skin almost aglow in the moonlight, her curls clean and tangled about her face as she sits there, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her [wasted] breeding is hard to miss, though she is curiously without scent. She’s not actively hiding, however. She’s simply sitting, her tears dried at last.
For now.
[Leaves-No-Trace] A short distance away, a wolfen form of purest night sits beside an older grave… Still well tended, but clearly having settled a long time before. A bleached white skull sits atop it, with glyphs carved into the grisly trophy. The size and shape seems too small for an adult head… Apparently, the skull had come from a child.
A white tipped tale rests quietly, tucked around the black furred wolf. The creature was visibly scarred in some few places… The line of a crescent shaped scar ran from its right hip to its ribcage on the right side, and the left shoulder was a mass of puckered tissue. A new wound rested on its neck, deep and thick… Only just beginning to show signs of healing.
Golden eyes move to where Rory sits… and then back to the grave. There the wolf remains, stock still, for several moments. Then, white tipped tail wagging slowly, the wolf stands and stretches for a short time, before turning to pad silently to where Rory sits. It stops several feet from her, sitting once again, silent… Though the white tipped tail continues its slow wagging motion.
[Rory] She doesn’t look up when the wolf moves, nor when he stretches. She remains where she is, huddled miserably in the snow, near the fresh-turned grave. She has a backpack on her back, but other than that, she wears everything she owns in an attempt to keep warm. She’s not bred for living on the streets – but she does. Or did, until Elliot…
…she sighs deeply, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, before wrapping her arms around her knees again. When the wolf settles again, closer now, but still not too close, she glances at him, and in that brief moment, stark misery is obvious in her green eyes, redrimmed from crying, and trying to be brave.
Her rage is a heavy, heavy thing – spiked and held under the most rigorous control, as if even she fears that she will fall apart at any moment.
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf watches her silently for a time, averting its eyes as she seems ready to cry again… But it speaks in a simple series of chuffs and hushed barks.
~Ht~“Others will tell you it gets easier with time. I won’t agree. It’s like a lost limb; you never forget you lost it, but you learn to live without it. With any luck, you’ll see all the ones you’ve lost on the other side.”~Ht~
The wolf sits still, staring up at the night sky… Until its golden eyed gaze moves to the grave again.
~Ht~“Who was it?”~Ht~
[Rory] He speaks, and she watches him – it may be that she isn’t really listening, or that she is doing exactly that, intently, but it’s hard to tell. She’s a firestorm of emotion threatening to break free, desperately seeking release. She stretches her fingers – they are thin, pale, and fragile looking, but they both know it’s a lie of her current form, by virtue of what she is – then curls them into a fist, and relaxes again.
“Elliot.” a beat, and then softly, as she reaches to touch the dirt, running her fingers through the fresh turned and cold earth. “Rises Above. My Alpha.”
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf seems to nod at this, golden eyes returning to the grieving garou beside him. Then, after a time, the golden eyes again turn skyward, as the wolf’s speech is heard once more to her.
~Ht~“You have my sympathies… I did not know her, but it is a shame to lose any garou, especially an alpha.”~Ht~
Time passes, the wolf stares at the night sky. Then, it speaks again… Quietly.
~Ht~“Are you thinking of revenge?”~Ht~
The wolf’s muzzle seems to draw back in a dark and terrible grin as it continues, the golden eyes finding Rory’s again.
~Ht~“My pack is well-suited to such endeavors. Infiltration… Assassination…
I would not be opposed to helping you do so.”~Ht~
[Rory] Revenge. She lifts her hand, dirt still smudged along it, and clenches her fist tightly. And then she shakes her head, and sighs. “Warder said the pull skig that got her was killed already by those hith wer.”
She doesn’t notice the way her words twist, how they come out jumbled – as if she hears what she meant to say, rather than what managed to come from her lips. She lifts that fist though, and taps her temple. “Can’t find Chloe. Can’t hear her mo nore.” Her voice trembles, threatens to break.
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf seems to nod at this, staring back at the night sky… as though her trembling voice and grief were things it felt best kept to oneself. Or as if, intruding on such a moment was somehow unseemly.
After a time, the wolf answers her.
~Ht~“That happens all too often with our kind. Once I was in a pack that largely bled away, one at a time, until no one was left. I sometimes wonder what they are up to now.”~Ht~
[Rory] He gives her time to gather her senses again, her resolve. Elliot would not want her to show a weakness, not in front of another. She nods, slightly, when he speaks again.
“My Pirst Fack.” There’s a pride there, for having one even for such a short amount of time, though it’s mingled with the loss she’s feeling. Elliot is dead, and she can’t find Chloe – she’s all alone like she hasn’t been for months – since she left Arizona, where she wasn’t so much pack, as something to be suffered, to be punished, destroyed.
She shakes her head. “Don’t know what I’m donna go if Chloe is tone goo.”
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf’s eyes turn to her levelly as he chuffs…
~Ht~“You do what all who lose their pack do… Start a new one, or join an existing one. We are not made to be lone wolves for long.”~Ht~
The wolf’s gaze turns skyward, and it almost seems to shrug. A hind foot scratches pleasantly at a spot just behind the scarred left shoulder, before settling back to the ground. After a time, a time of utter silence from the pitch black figure with the white tipped tail, its low toned growls, chuffs and barks only just carrying to her ears. At this point, the white tipped tail begins to wag a little faster.
~Ht~“My pack is currently recruiting…”~Ht~
[Rory] At the first, she nods. She understands that, and must have some resolve to have survived as long as she has. A multitude of new things to be endured, to learn from, and she still puts one foot in front of the other. Somedays – it’s harder than others.
To the rest, though…
…she blinks, and tips her head, slightly, studying him. “…but you don’t even mow kne…”
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf turns its golden eyes again to her, a grin upon its lips that seemed to belong wholly to another creature. And in that moment, the wolf beside her looked more like a sly grinning fox than anything related to garou.
~Ht~“You are right. I do not know you. Maybe She does…
I have my reasons either way.”~Ht~
The moment passes; the wolf again becomes a wolf. Golden eyes turn skyward.
~Ht~“I think you will like Her.”~Ht~
[Rory] She blinks, as he looks like a Fox, but then a wolf again, and lifts a hand to rub at the side of her nose, absently, before pushing her curls behind her ear – where they simply spring free once more.
“….her?”
Single words are easier.
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf’s ear twitches, and the simple wolfish grin remains. Golden eyes continue to watch the sky.
~Ht~“She. Her. Telling does not work. She must be met in person.”~Ht~
There is a certain reverence, even in the skin of a wolf, that rings through as the high tongue flows. It was like the reverence a small child holds for its mother, like the reverence of a devoted and faithful servant to its master… Unflinching, unbending, uncompromising, unconditional…
[Rory] She watches him, head tipping slightly, curiously, as she slowly lifts her eyes from him to follow his line of sight, as if she could see what he sees. There’s a reverence there, a complete devotion that tugs at her curiosity.
…timidly, she asks… “…totem?”
She’s unsure – sometimes her understanding doesn’t come easy…
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf nods, grinning at the Fianna with that wolfish smile. Its tail wags back and forth more quickly yet, the white tip dancing like a will ‘o ‘wisp in the darkness. The golden eyes focus on hers as he answers.
~Ht~“Fox.”~Ht~
[Rory] “Oh.” She’d guessed right. This makes her smile, shyly, as she ducks her head, hiding behind the slide of curls as she once again hugs her knees tight to her chest.
“Fe wollow AlleyCat.”
…for now. She sighs, softly, again, her eyes drawn to the grave before her again, before she turns to look at Edwin again. “You are Alpha?”
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf nods yet again… Its tail slowing dramatically.
~Ht~“Leaves-No-Trace. Cliath Shadow Lord. No Moon.
Alpha of the Bogeymen. You?”~Ht~
The wolf tilts its head curiously at her, one ear twitching idly at the night sounds behind him.
[Rory] She blinks, and leans back a little “bogeymen..” a little apprehensive, like one who has been subject to such stories, tales, frightening occasions to believe that such things lived under her bed, in the closet, in the dark where she was locked away…
She shakes it off again though, and settles once more. “Rory. Tongue-Twister. Cliath mull foon.”
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf considers for a time, contemplating the night sky before answering.
~Ht~“Nice to meet you…”~Ht~
Then, the wolf stops for a moment, sniffing the air, before grinning at her once again.
~Ht~“Very nice to meet you. She was right. A Full Moon with no scent…
You would fit well packed to Fox.”~Ht~
[Rory] He has several things going for him, at this moment. He doesn’t tease her about the mistakes she most assuredly has made in the duration of the conversation, and he hasn’t berated her for existing either. That he adores his Totem is clear, and it brings that little grin back to her lips…
…even as surprise registers, that his totem would speak of her. She looks up again, then back to him. “…te shold you of me?” a beat, and then… “mell te of your pack?”
[Leaves-No-Trace] Edwin grins that wolf grin, the white tipped tale begins wagging more quickly again.
~Ht~“The Bogeymen are packed under Fox. She teaches us to get into places barred to other packs. We scout the enemy forces, we infiltrate their hideouts, we assassinate targets of opportunity. We exist to teach the Wyrm fear. Fear of the dark. Fear of the unknown.
We exist to make the Wyrm afraid in spaces it thinks safe. We rob it of comfort, solace, shelter.”~Ht~
The wolf pauses at this, its gaze turning heavenward again.
~Ht~“Each member has met Her. She approves of each member… Some she even picks herself, before they are asked to join.”~Ht~
[Rory] Green eyes focus on his face as he speaks of his pack, watching openly as he mentions what they do, who they are, how they serve Gaia to bring fear and discomfort to the Wyrm. They hide in secret, they work quietly, the don’t attract notice, but is approved by Fox individually.
The shy little smile appears again, as she watches him, though she never quite meets his gaze – respect and place so deeply ingrained within her. “Nounds sice.”
She looks back to the grave, and sighs. “Alleycats are tealthy stoo. And fight ferociously when cornered. Some think to collow fat is not to be a wolf. We thove prem wrong.” A beat. A sigh. “Proved.”
[Leaves-No-Trace] The wolf grins and seems to shrug, stretching out to lay down on its belly, the white tipped tail still wagging.
~Ht~“Some think not taking chances against long odds is cowardice. They lose, eventually. Such lessons tend to be costly.
She… could use help, proving them wrong, as well. If you were ready to meet her. If you think you could do her bidding.”~Ht~
[Rory] She studies him, her eyes drawn to his wound, and she pulls her backpack off, sliding it from her shoulders and reaches into the depths of it. It clanks and clatters and there’s no telling what might be in there – it might be better not to ask, truth be told. She finally pulls out a little glass vial of water, and after a moment, she scoots closer to him, and lays it on the ground near him. She doesn’t invade his personal space – respectful to a fault.
“Baia’s Greath. Help you heal.”
And then she glances between him, and Elliot’s grave, and then nods, slightly. “Have to Chlind Foe first. Then…” She nods, slightly. “She nounds sice.”
[Leaves-No-Trace] ~Ht~“You have no idea. Thanks for the Gaia’s Breath.”~Ht~
The wolf leans down to pick up the vial in its mouth, golden eyes watching Rory warily as it does so. Then, backing away, it sets down the vial and speaks again.
~Ht~“If you want to join, let me know. Leave a note in Grant Park at biggest fountain. I will find you.
Goodnight.”~Ht~
And with one last skyward glance, the wolf begins to pad away again, a vial of Gaia’s Breath clenched gently between the wolf’s teeth. All too quickly, the creature is lost to the night… Become one of the very shadows in which it hides.