Big-Ass Meeting From Hell

[Balance Without Fault] [folks, clarification — sorry if this shuts anyone out, but of the Garou, only Tribal and Auspice alphas are invited. of the kin, everyone can come.]

[Balance Without Fault] Unsurprisingly, the Brotherhood of Thieves is the venue for tonight’s meeting. The restaurant has been closed, the front door locked and hung with a PRIVATE PARTY sign. The tables and chairs have been rearranged into a large circle.

Balance Without Fault enters alone, unaccompanied by his packmate or the Warder. In true Glass Walker fashion, he’s in suit and tie; he looks crisp and sharp, and it’s just a little jarring to see him like this. So normal, like a trader from the Chicago Stock Exchange coming for an after-work drink.

He takes one of the two wingback chairs. The other is immediately cleared away. That says something about how much this is or isn’t a casual discussion where rank does not factor in. Hint: it isn’t. He confers quietly with Jenny for a moment, then, who leaves the room and soon returns with … a magic eight-ball, of all things.

Those nearby can hear her ask, “Will this do?” They can see Balance Without Fault’s mouth quirk into an amused smile as he accepts it.

“Perfect,” he says.

And then he claps his hands together, three time, calling for attention.

“Welcome, everyone. Thanks for coming. Here are the rules tonight: one speaker at a time. He or she who holds the magic eight ball,” and he holds this aloft, “speaks. No one else.

“Keep a respectful tone, particularly to those of greater rank. For those of equal rank, the Auspice Council holds precedence over the Tribal Alphas. For kin, those with renown hold precedence over those without.

“In case of dispute, we will not go to challenges because of the mixed crowd. A Philodox will be called upon to mediate. If mediation fails, I am the final arbiter.

“Anyone violating these rules once will be given one warning, and one only. After that, you’re out of the meeting, and your viewpoint will be disregarded. The staff has kindly set up refreshments in the kitchen. If you feel yourself getting hot under the collar, go get a drink and come back when you’re calmer.

“Now — settle in, everyone. The meeting will formally begin in,” a glance at his wristwatch, “five minutes.”

[okay folks, go ahead and post in if you want to! otherwise we’ll just assume you’re here. BwF will open the floor shortly!]

[Balance Without Fault] [erp, change that to read: “After that, you’re out of the meeting, your viewpoint will be disregarded, and appropriate judgment will be rendered.”]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Not posting in]]

[August Grant] August had arrived early. She wanted a good seat. By some reason – she thought that this might end up turning into a good show – and she wanted to be in the front row.

The Coggie kinfolk had dressed up for this evening. She wore a soft pink colored sweater with a V-neck, a pair of skinny jeans and dark brown heeled boots. She no longer attempted to hide her belly which was beginning to swell. There was no point any longer. And, against one shoulder, her little one, Ella, slept peacefully. {Who was gonna watch the kid afterall, all the kinfolk were here!}

She really had no intention of saying anything – she was just here to listen. And maybe eye a certain young man who she kinda had a crush on.

[Leon Davenport] Leon arrived at the meeting, not entirely sure if he should be there but being there nonetheless. He had annonced that he was gonig to take the Glass Walkers kin under his protection and no one challenged him. So, guess it means he was the tribe’s Elder in some way. If not, well Balance Without Fault will kick him out. Better to presume tonight than miss honoring your duties.

He was dressed nicely, in a dark, striped suit with a blue shirt and tie. He walked in, looking around, bowing slightly to BWF and Lukas, nodding to to Gina and Jackson, mostly ignoring the rest. Either he didn’t know them or..didn’t care to acknowledge them.

[Rain McKellar] August had company in the early arrivals. Another Unicorn, this one with dark hair and no babe in arms. The songbird is bereft of her usual company, no dark case at her side, no voice to share with the others. She’s wearing her best, dark jeans and a neatly pressed white button down. Though her warmth could be infectious, could spread to fill a room even this wide and this full of faces, Rain kept that charisma and that smile and that presence quiet tonight. She takes her seat with her Tribe, folds her hands in her lap, and watches the others filter in and settle themselves.

[Joey] [I won’t be posting Quinn in unless she has something to say, but she’s there!]

[Balance Without Fault] As soon as Balance lays eyes on August’s baby, he beckons Jenny over. The Fianna kinswoman bends as the Grand Elder lifts his chin, speaking directly to her ear. After a moment she nods, walks across the floor, and offers August an apologetic smile.

“Miss, the Grand Elder wanted me to take your baby upstairs for a few hours. There’s a lotta Rage in here and we don’t want your little one havin’ nightmares. I’ll leave her with Reuben; she’ll be in good hands.”

[Izzy Montoya] Unsurprisingly, it’s the goddamn Brotherhood Of motherfucking Thieves where they decide to have this little powwow. Izzy can count the number of times she’s willingly set foot in this establishment since her imprisonment here on one hand. Hell, on two fingers if she counts this time, though it’s not exactly willingness that has her here. It might be considered curiosity, but more likely it’s a simple thing:

Kora asked. Izzy came.

It says something, that. She’s a respect for The Jarl, (Not her[i] jarl, [i]the jarl. A minute difference that means something to Izzy alone), for the Last Watch. She’s dressed as she always is – business casual, with her weapon a bulge at the small of her back under her blazer, her hair down, her expression… well. Expressionless, other than a slight jump of the muscle at the hinge of her jaw, where she clenches her teeth together briefly, sets her jaw, lifts her chin and enters.

And gets a drink. No way is she sitting through this stone cold sober. No fucking way.

[Hunter] Hunter Matthews stalks through the door with his pack-mate and a certain bone-gnawer kin while everyone is still milling around. Seats are taken, Hunter remains silent.

[Balance Without Fault] [folks, it was pointed out to me that kieran was the only uktena in town, and ergo the default uktena alpha. if anyone has him in AIM, call him back in!]

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’d come home late, but that hadn’t stopped the pikey from being in the kitchen and underfoot since early morning. The more time she spent at Jenny’s elbow, the more likely it was the saintly blonde would let slip the secrets to her cranberry oat-muffins. As folks file in the Strider pickpocket finally emerges from the kitchen, long hair bound in a messy loop off her neck, floury hand marks on the dull black of her skirt, tank top askew, a smudge of icing sugar across a caramel shoulder. She hops up on a stool near the back, as far removed from those of her tribe as she can get. God knew her voice would carry if she had anything to say in earnest. Those she knows get nods of recognition, and a worn smile.*

[Carter Roth] Carter is present, but he remains close to the exit his hands deep within his pockets and his eyes wary and mistrustful, he didnt know what this was all about and he didnt like it one bit.

But he was here, as a test of himself and a test of the garou, to see what they were up to. He couldn’t very well pass up that now could he.

[Carter is here, but I may not be going to be on and off]

[Rosie] The certain Bone Gnawer kinfolk finds a seat near or by or somewhere in the vicinity of Hunter. She sits: quiet and unobtrusive.

[Amunet Knezevic] Amunet made her way in quietly, several minutes before the meeting was to start. She’s in her own jacket, and the iPad has been left at the condo. She remembers very few times in her life when she has been this nervous. When so much has been riding on a single night.

Moving to the far side of the room, she finds a spot where she can watch the comings and goings, back against the wall to protect herself from surprises. Her eyes flicker around the room as it populates, but the only one they rest on more than a second or two is her sister.

[Holden] A grizzly bearded Fenrir takes a seat out of the way, he doesn’t suppose he will have much to say so the distance does him well.

[August Grant] Oh good! Someone to watch the baby! August likes Jenny – afterall, they spent a lot of time hanging out in the kitchen when August lived here..

The young woman gives Jenny a smile. “Of course.. I didn’t have anyone else to watch her.. Thank you. Tell Reuben she might be hungry..” Ella gets a kiss on the side of her head and the baby is lifted from her arms and offered out to the kin.. a moment later, the diaper bag is also offered out.

[Starla Navarro] There is a painted Unicorn that has joined the others, Starla following on Rain’s heels easily, ducking her head down as she finds a seat next to her tribe mate. Dark head lifting to look around, skirting her eyes across the room at the faces that were familiar and not; the freckles dance across the bridge of her nose and her left cheek. She tucks her hands in her lap, leaning to the side to nudge Rain’s shoulder with her own.

[Kyle] (Not going to post for Kyle unless he has something to say or someone asks him questions other wise he’s just doing his usual watch and listen routine ūüôā )

[Bridget Geroux] The Canadian Fianna kinfolk finds herself at this gathering in her usual state of confusion. She doesn’t look quite like she knows what’s going on. However, she doesn’t appear to be under the influence of anything. She wears a simple black maxi dress, gathered at the waist by a beat-up leather belt, a hunter green jacket covering her bare shoulders, and of course her combat boots.

Bridget finds a place to sit where she can stretch her legs: she knows she’ll probably want to fidget if the Rage gets a bit much. She also wisely follows Izzy’s lead by getting herself a small glass of whiskey. She returns and smiles at the few here she recognizes and is on good terms with: Hunter, Gina, Kyle, Sarita. The Fianna kinswoman does her best to control the feral urges to move around while surrounded by so much Rage.

[Kora] A cool spring evening; spring already, light lingering in the west far longer than she had remembered. The heavily pregnant Fenrir – eight months, perhaps more? – pushes past the private party signs, into the familiar restaurant interior. Her hair is twisted into a loose braid, strands pulled free by the wind. Kora is slower than she was; careful of her body. She walks with her shoulders pulled further back to balance the weight of her stomach. Which is all the more evident when she strips off her winter coat and sets it aside on a coat tree, wrapping a hand-knitted scarf around it in a winding pattern.

She finds her way among her kin, but does not take a seat. Instead, she remains standing at their back, her feet shoulder-width apart, her arms crossed – below her breasts, above the swell of her stomach. There is an expectant tension in her spine and shoulders, and a firm set to her jaw.

[Derek Anderson] Derek came in, dressed in pants and sweater, his kind blue eyes looking around. He bowed respectfully to Balance Without Fault, did the same for Lukas and walked around, greeting those he knew a little with a nod: Hunter, Amunet, Gina, Matthieu and Jackson when the last two arrive.

He nodded and smiled slightly at Sarita when he see her. Izzy received a grin when he pass her by “Hello Detective”

His attention then was on August and Rain, offering htem a warm smile and walking to them “Good evening ladies, I hope you’re doing well”

[Danicka Musil] [I’m totally making Damon post Danicka in with Lukas. I’m in the middle of eating. :p ]

[Wyrmbreaker] Punctual, Lukas arrives moments before Balance lays down the protocol for the meeting. And not in his own car but in Danicka’s, riding shotgun while scarfing down the last of whatever dinner they went out to. Looks like lamb-stuffed cabbage.

Getting out, anyone looking out the windows can see him stepping out of her car, buttoning his overcoat against the wind. He moves ahead to get the door; she laughs, running a few steps after him, which makes him turn around, which gives her the opportunity to lean up and wipe a dab of tomato-based sauce from his cheek. And kiss him.

Public displays of affection out of his system, Wyrmbreaker is somber and dignified, walking in the door. He sees that his wingback chair is taken, the other cleared away. He goes to sit by the bar instead, where Danny hovers with a nervous grin.

“No drinks here tonight, Mr. Wyrmbreaker. Grand Elder says all the food and alcoholic drink is to be served in the kitchen. Nothing but ice water here.”

Lukas huffs a laugh under his breath. “Not a problem, Danny.” He takes a seat on a barstool, shifting one a little closer for Danicka.

[Matthieu] Matthieu arrives on time, even a little early. Ever the peacock the lovely Silver Fang arrives just in time to display the finely crafted suit that he has doubtless poured six months of your average man’s salary into getting each and every thread just right. His entrance was as much a display of his tribes divine right as it was a display of his own natural beauty. Not only was he the representative of his Auspice on the council now but he also stood as Alpha of Harrier’s grace. He was a living representative not only of his tribe but his house as well. Ever regal and dignified. His skin was smooth and pale and his hair looked as if it had been kissed by the golden rays of the sun itself. Falcon’s child carried with him the legacy of a house, and the history and hopes of an entire nation.

He listened to Balances without Fault and nods in agreement with the rules. He was here to listen, and to speak when it was needed. Tradition would be the focus of his reasons for being here. Support of tradition and remembrance of ancient ways. His blood ran hot with the memories of a past tens of thousands of years old. A creature of the modern world and yet still firmly grounded in the wisdom of eras ling since passed.

He keeps his eyes forward most of the time. However, when he is finally seated his eyes do drift somewhere to the back. His eyes drawing in to focus on the Strider kin hiding in the back. Pausing to give his own acknowledgement of her presence. His eyes take the time to wander, perhaps linger, and the act brings a slight smile to his lips a smile which might or might not be shared by the both of them. None the less… His eyes were hard pressed to pull themselves away, and in fact he didn’t see any reason to draw them away until the meeting officially started.

[Joey] Joey enters with Hunter and his kinswoman, but once they’re through the door departs their company to sit closer to the rest of the auspice council. A smile is offered to those she recognizes, dim compared to what it used to be, an upward nod to Balance Without Fault, and Lukas.

Once she’s settled, she seeks out Hunter, meets his gaze, and grins.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He looks a little bit intimidated, all things considered, as he walks into the meeting. He finds a place to sit. His shirt is a lovely shade of light purple; his jeans are black. His flip-flops, a lovely shade of maroon. Lukas’ words make his head swivel, and his eyes widen. Food? No… ice water. He slumps slightly, disappointed, as he waits for everything to begin.*

[Balance Without Fault] [Sorry for the confusion – “no drinks here tonight” was spoken by Danny, bartender kid NPC kin! I’ll try to keep all my NPCing in this name.]

[Delilah Marciano] Back of the room, quiet as a dormouse; the Glass Walker makes an appearance. Dark hair gathered up from her shoulders, she sits alone at one of the tables in the back of the room, whichever was closest to the front. The phone in her hand muted as she set it on the table, dressed in dark charcoal pantsuit with red pinstripe. Silvery gaze focused on those around her.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((Ahh hell. *smacks forehead* My bad.))

[Balance Without Fault] When everyone has settled, Balance Without Fault picks up the magic eightball and speaks again.

“Okay, let’s come to order. Some of you might be wondering why this meeting was called. The reason is simple: over the last month, there have been more rumors and murmurs of kin discontent than in the past five years. Furthermore, there’s been a troubling trend toward Kin thinking of themselves as separate and distinct from the Garou when we are all part of the same Nation. I wanted to dispel the rumors, clear the air, set a basic infrastructure down, and move on from tonight as a re-unified force.

“With that in mind, let’s hear from the kin first. What exactly are your concerns or complaints at the moment?”

He tosses the eightball toward the first kin to call for it.

[Adamidas] Adam slips in and, for the time being, keeps her mouth shut. She doesn’t draw attention to herself, or the fact that she left the bathroom with a pop and keeps herself quietly nestled in.

[Balance Without Fault] [For latecomers who missed it, this was BwF’s protocol post —

“Welcome, everyone. Thanks for coming. Here are the rules tonight: one speaker at a time. He or she who holds the magic eight ball,” and he holds this aloft, “speaks. No one else.

“Keep a respectful tone, particularly to those of greater rank. For those of equal rank, the Auspice Council holds precedence over the Tribal Alphas. For kin, those with renown hold precedence over those without.

“In case of dispute, we will not go to challenges because of the mixed crowd. A Philodox will be called upon to mediate. If mediation fails, I am the final arbiter.

“Anyone violating these rules once will be given one warning, and one only. After that, you’re out of the meeting, and your viewpoint will be disregarded. The staff has kindly set up refreshments in the kitchen. If you feel yourself getting hot under the collar, go get a drink and come back when you’re calmer.”]

[Amunet Knezevic] [Dibs, unless anyone is going to claim it?]

[Balance Without Fault] [whoever types fastest, man.]

[Balance Without Fault] [and on that note, since we’re a scene of twenty-seven right now — let’s try to keep posts short and snappy. i know i’m one of the chief offenders here, but i’m really going to try to keep responses to

[Joey] [yeah that’s pretty short!]

[Amunet Knezevic] “Balance Without Fault Rhya.” Deep breath, Ames. “My name is Amunet Knezevic. I am that one that placed the notice on the board, and the one who has been organizing the willing kinfolk. I believe that this in part may be the cause of the perception of discontent. I would like to clear up any confusion, as our intentions may not be as clear as they should be.”

[Balance Without Fault] [okay, i changed my mind — go ahead and call dibs if you have a longer post to type so you don’t lose your chance. but i’m gonna say you have 10 min from the time you call dibs to get it out, just to keep things moving!]

Balance nods. “Let’s hear it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[She says she’s almost done, it’s a biggie!]]

[Danicka Musil] The Happy Couple — and frankly, they are, however smirkingly saccharine the nomenclature — comes in together, but they leave their more obvious public displays of affection at the door. Danicka is wearing a knee-length gray skirt and knee-high black heels, beneath which are a pair of stockings that extend a little higher than the boots themselves. Her peacoat is doffed when she comes in, hung over the back of a chair no one is using that’s been shoved over by the bar. Underneath is a casual, gauze-thin sweater of seafoam green, laid atop the hint of a camisole. There’s a white applique in some abstract pattern to one side of chest of the sweater, but all of this is just [window] dressing.

Danicka Musil is not the most renowned Kinswoman in Chicago. Not by far. But she is the most renowned Kinfolk here. The Garou, if they ever mention her to each other, if the spirits ever talk about her, don’t talk much about how many fomori she’s killed or that one time she shot a zombie or so forth. She’s known to be brave, to be a Good Kinswoman. Mostly, she’s known to be wise. Granted, when she comes up, it’s hardly even by name. Garou call her Wyrmbreaker-rhya’s mate. And they say that Wyrmbreaker-rhya’s mate is clever, isn’t she? Oh yes, I’ve heard she’s a bit of a bright one.

It’s childish. It’s condescending. But that she is known to be anything at all beyond the mate of an Adren who has not yet given him a child, and that her reputation is solid as a Good Kin is impressive at all. She can’t cast rites, she can’t learn gifts. She can just be… a clever little thing. Good job, Wyrmbreaker. Now stop dicking around and knock her up.

When the magic 8-ball is first offered to the kin, it’s Amunet — rightly so — who reaches for it. Danicka, perhaps there just as a show of support for her comrades, perhaps just because she’s supposed to be there and she’s obedient, turns her eyes towards the Strider she met with last night, her murky green eyes interested. Thoughtful.

[Amunet Knezevic] “My intention is to gather the interested kinfolk in a network that will help the Trueborn, not work against them. Among the first concerns that are being addressed are training and information.”

Her eyes flicker to Sarita, then back to Balance. “It is necessary for us to be able to contact one another easily, not only in emergencies but in everyday circumstances where one of us may need another’s expertise. One of the first projects will be a listing of the kin and their contact information. This will be heavily guarded, not because I don’t want the information to be accessible but because I understand the danger of this type of thing getting into the wrong hands. Cordelia and Jackson have volunteered to begin this process, and to make sure that the information is secure.”

Our second focus is going to be self defense training. We are human, at the end of the day. We can’t count on the Trueborn to be our protectors when they have a war to fight. Carter has extensive self defense training, and he has offered to run a boot camp of sorts for those who are interested. As with everything that we are working toward, it will be voluntary. I don’t want to force any kin to join us, or accept any sort of training except for the third focus.”

She stops for breath. “I would like to see every kin trained in basic first aid. This accomplishes two purposes. Should any of us be injured, there will likely be someone close by to help. Again, we are human. We don’t heal ourselves, and we are out in the world. The dangers that we face come not only from our enemies, but from the people that we are surrounded with every day.

I’ve seen an amazing number of Trueborn that are more than willing to step up and heal a kin that is injured. This is honorable, but wasteful. Again, we are at war. We could be attacked at any time, and should that happen, which of the kin would be responsible for sapping a Trueborn’s gnosis by being healed out of panic or unnecessarily. Prepared kin are kin that are not a drain on the Nation’s resources.”

Her fingers run in her hair nervously, and she licks her bottom lip before continuing. “I’ve been in a Sept that was attacked. I have a clearer understanding of what happens than some of the kin do. I watched kin die, because no one was able to triage them. I watched kin die, because they had all become complacent and lazy and spoiled by well meaning Trueborn. I have friends here. I don’t want to see the same thing happen again. That is why I’ve made this move. That is why these three goals are my first”

[Balance Without Fault] “That’s all well and good,” Balance replies as the eightball comes back to him, “and I’m glad to hear you’re trying to organize the kin. See to it that the Warder has a list of these kin and contacts as well. Areas of specialization, too, if possible. We had something like that for a while, but the parties responsible for its maintenance drifted off.

“Regarding self defense and basic first aid — that sounds like a wise investment. We’ve got a few kin who are accomplished physicians. You might want to get their input. As for self defense, Imogen Slaughter’s known to be a crack shot. Izzy Montoya and Derek Anderson are both with the police; surely they know how to handle a gun as well. You might want to seek their services as well.

“But all that aside — Amunet, you’ve told me everything that’s working. Or that you want to be working, at least. I’m asking why I keep hearing murmurs of discontent.”

[Amunet Knezevic] “Some of the kin that have shown interest are not content, Rhya. Trueborn have become accustomed to dictating to us, and the kin have become accustomed to allowing it. Not only here, but other places where several of the new kin have come from, bringing their biases with them. This has bred discontent. I am in no way suggesting that we should be treated as equals. The fact is that we are not. I would suggest though that we are kept informed, so that when decisions are made and passed down, they do not seem arbitrary and dictatorial. Your kin are willing to work together with the Trueborn, Rhya. We just need a path to follow.”

[Balance Without Fault] Balance Without Fault considers Amunet a moment. Then he sweeps a glance around the room.

“I don’t want to put you under a microscope this early in the night, Amunet.” Maybe that’s a joke. The half-smile says it is. He raises his voice, “Let’s hear from someone other than Amunet. Kinfolk of Maelstrom, this might be one of the few or only times in your life that the Elder Council and the Tribal Alphas of an entire Sept are gathered, silent, with open ears — waiting to hear from you.

“If you’ve got issues, bring them forward.”

[Jackson Montgomery] [[DIBS!]]

[Izzy Montoya] She hadn’t intended to talk. In fact, she hadn’t intended to make a sound at all, but at that, she snorts. Audibly. But that is all, as she starts the ritual search through her pockets for her cigarettes and lighter. she finds both – but doesn’t put them to use other than to keep her hands busy.

After all – smoking inside is against the law.

[Jackson Montgomery] He stands, perhaps unexpectedly, and goes to claim the magic 8-Ball. “I think, if I can speak to this, that a lot of the reported discontent is simple due to the fact that some of the initial ideas being brainstormed are coming out and they aren’t even formalized yet. And some Garou have been volunteering their involvement…which is great. There’s been an impression that this is quickly becoming Garou vs. kinfolk, and that’s not the case.

“The thing is, when a lot of Garou get heavily involved in this, even in the planning stage, it belies the fact that it goes right back to the idea that the kinfolk are relying on the Garou instead of standing on their own. I’ve been talking a lot with Amunet about this, and we’ve come up with some good ideas. And at no point are we trying to push this into two separate factions. But the old saying goes, too many cooks spoil the soup, and there are a lot of kinfolk even as it is with very different viewpoints. We absolutely plan to make this a thing where we’re all involved in the same mission, but we need an actual plan in place for what we’re doing before we start implementing that and integrating it with the Garou side.”

[Balance Without Fault] Balance Without Fault’s eyes swing immediately to Izzy. When he gets the eightball back, he tosses it toward her.

“You sounded like you wanted to be heard, Izzy. Let’s hear it.”

[August Grant] August shifted in her chair. It was slightly uncomfortable for her to sit in the same position for too long these days. A slender hand rubbed at the side of her belly – perhaps where a persistent foot was intent on kicking her. She didn’t say anything.

No matter the extent of her past issues with this Sept.. in her mind, all were resolved as well as they could be at the moment. And, given that her cheating, lying, deadbeat, no good, s-o-b of a former mate had fled, she was a happy camper. Her gaze did shift to her tribesmate as he stood, however.

[Nash] Oh crap when did he get here.

Nash, who most here don’t recognize but for the breeding that pegs him as one of Fenris’s Kin, slips in quietly as Amy is discussing her desire to see Kinfolk trained in first aid. He works his way around the room to stand near Kora and tries to get his happy ass caught up while his player does paperwork.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He watches, back and forth. From Amy, to Jackson, and then to Izzy. Waiting, really, curious about all of this.*

[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, ups both her cigarettes and lighter into one hand and still catches the 8ball with a negligent ease. There are some things that become inherrant when one works in a male dominated workplace – like catching random objects being thrown at her.

She waits a moment, then two. She doesn’t look to Kora for permission as some might. She looks to no one – which is not unexpected from anyone that knows her in anyway at all. She is, and always will be, her own person. He wants to hear it. So he does.

“It’s bullshit. You sit there and say you want to hear, you want to fuckin’ listen, and it’s all fuckin’ bullshit. Not a one of you give two shits about what we do or don’t do, unless it directly involves you. Not a one gives two shits about what we might have to do for you in our jobs, what we might have to compromise in order to save your fuckin’ asses in a world you think you’re above – even while declaring you want to fuckin’ save it. Not a one of you.. not even Kora, whom I’ve grown to respect, did shit all when I was beat by one of you, imprisoned here of all fuckin’ places, and sent to work with injuries so severe that half my department wanted to come after whoever had fucked me up with guns blazing. Not a one of you gives two fuckin’ shits – and this is all a fuckin’ sham.”

He hears it. Both barrels.

She points at Amy. “That bitch has been lookin to get her goose cooked since she got here. And the latest scheme? Good god. she’s gonna get us all fuckin’ killed. And likely not by the enemy. Discontent.” she snorts again. “I won’t fuckin talk for anyone else – and don’t you dare speak for me either, I can get my ass beat all by myself – it doesn’t matter what you say here. In the end – you all will do what you want, and I’ll do my fuckin job just as I always have, and do a goddamn good job of it. I’ll cover my ass, your ass, everyone’s ass who I can manage to cover – but don’t expect me to believe that – for one fuckin second – you give a good goddamn what happens in the world we have to travel through every goddamn day. You don’t. You haven’t yet – and one night won’t make it so.”

To her credit though – not once does she raise her voice. If anything.. she sounds… tired.

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs!]

[Balance Without Fault] “Keep your tone respectful,” Balance says evenly. “That’s your only warning.”

That’s all he says for now. He lobs the eightball toward Danicka.

[Gina McClaren] *Restless as Striders were wont to be, Gina hops down from her stool, sashays into the kitchen, and fetches herself a couple of deep-fried wontons filed with hazelnut chocolate and cream cheese.
She pads back into the room midway through the detective’s speech, and settles on her stool once more.

Izzy finishes up, and Gina’s expression darkens a moment.

Then the detective has to use those finely honed reflexes again in short order. As a pikey whistles sharply then overhand tosses a wonton to the weary Fenris kin. Whether in agreement or simply in a bid to get her to cram it – only the guttersnipe herself knows.*

[Nash] Nash claps a few times after Izzy finishes. Not a purposefully sarcastic Slow Clap, but it is a bit on the slow side anyway. He seems to be favoring his right wrist. It lasts a few seconds, and then he stops at the Grand Elder’s warning to keep a respectful tone.

[Hunter] Holden wanders through the room to stand next to Nash and the other Fenrir. He gives a nod to the equally tall man from the north [south] along with a grin of approval.

[Hunter] [OOPS]

[Izzy Montoya] She catches the wonton. Easily.

And manages not to point out that she WAS respectful. For her.

[Danicka Musil] Everyone in the room is free to judge according to their own perspectives what it says about Danicka that when Balance Without Fault lobs the 8-ball at her, she doesn’t even try to catch it. She actually flinches somewhat out of the way, and it’s Lukas who snatches the thing out of the air, handing it to her. Some will call her oblivious that she doesn’t seem chagrined or embarrassed as she takes it from him. She’s a slender sort, not remotely athletic from the look of her.

Sometimes Garou hear of what she’s done to minions of the Wyrm, see her, say, Her?

Holding the ball in cupped palms, she speaks up for the first time, her tone clear and level. She addresses Balance Without Fault. “A lot of what Detective Montoya just said is true. Amunet, as well. We aren’t… like you,” she says, though in a tone that suggests even she realizes how weak that statement is, how far it falls from encompassing the truth. “No matter how much we care about our families, about the world we live in, or about the war — and I think all of us do care, though to wildly different degrees and in different ways — we don’t form ourselves naturally into packs. We are not asked to give everything, a hundred percent, to fighting this war. For Garou, the war is everything. Anything else is marginalized, because it has to be.

“For Kinfolk,” she goes on, “it’s the opposite. We live our lives. I go to school, Detective Montoya goes to the precinct, August feeds and diapers her children, Gina dances, we all… have a life. The war, however important it is to us individually, often comes as an intrusion to the rest of who we are and what we do.”

Danicka quiets for a small pause, clears her throat, but doesn’t give up the 8-ball. “Sometimes when we get hurt, Garou come running. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes when there’s a fight on our doorstep, we have to fight it because there’s no way to run fast enough. Other times we have to give it up as though that’s the natural, only course of action.” Another beat, this one for effect more than to breathe. “The truth of what Detective Montoya says is this: most, if not all Garou, spend the majority of their time focused on things that have nothing to do with us. We are expected to carry on by ourselves without them, unless they show up. And if they do show up, usually without warning and sometimes even without need, we are expected to drop everything to obey them.

“-Rhya, all of us have our own prejudices and biases and differing levels of committment — as well as angst. All of us care. But the discontent comes when we are kept to the sides all of the time, then told to shut up and submit the moment a garou ten or twenty years our junior shows up and acts like they’re our protector. I think what Amunet and her alliance are trying to do is to increase our involvement so that at least the marginalization is lessened. But the discontent is already there. The frustration. The affront, frankly.”

She stops there. She could go on. But she’s talked a great deal, and she silences for now.

[Bridget Geroux] [Dibs]

[Danicka Musil] [Other times we have to give it up and let the Garou fight for us as though that’s the natural, only course of action. GAH!]

[Kora] Nash comes in; the Skald gives him a side glance. It lingers a long moment longer than it otherwise might; then her attention is back on the center of the room. The thin cotton of her extra-long tunic pulls over her shoulders, muscles bunching with a subtle tension, mostly withheld. Her long braid swings down the dip of her spine. A faint lift of her chin, watching Holden weave through the room to join the tribe; a brief glance in Gina’s direction follows after, before her attention returns to the center of the room, following the movement of the eight-ball to Danicka. Once, she shifts positions. Widens her stance, leans further back, relieving some of the unending pressure on her spine. Uncrosses and recrosses her arms.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget sighs when it comes around her direction, careful to look at the eight ball when she holds it up. “Balance Without Fault Rhya, thank you for putting it in the light that we are all a part of the Nation. My name is Bridget Geroux. I know that every Sept is different, and I don’t have any expectations, but the Sept I am from is much smaller. We know each other well, and there is structure. Here, I don’t see the unity. I see reluctance, pain, anguish, and I see anger and pride disconnecting us from one another. Kin from kin, kin from tribesmen… and I wouldn’t presume to understand what goes on among Garou, but if that same disconnect exists on that level… it worries me.”

“And despite the recent bonding efforts to organize the kinfolk, I see a disconnect there as well. It’s a great idea, a great application, a wise and honorable action, but even with the application, I notice those same destructive traits. Just last week, I noticed a separation when a well-meaning Garou was not trying to interfere, but possibly trying to bridge gaps between Garou and kinfolk within Amunet’s… organization, fellowship. Whatever it will be called. And the way she jealously guards it and some others have just jumped on without gauging the situation seems too much like a Jonestown situation to me.”

Bridget takes a breath, exercising great efforts not to swear or fidget. “Maybe this is my own experience, but since I’ve moved here I have never felt more disconnected to my tribe despite my attempts to bridge gaps. At what point should I just go about my business, despite everything my father taught me? I’m… going to open myself up here and speak as truly as I possibly can, but it hurts me to have such a tentative relationship with the other Fianna.”

“This is all perhaps touching on the path Amunet spoke of, but I wouldn’t presume to speak for anyone but myself. I’m not good with a gun or first aid, but I know how to survive in the wilderness with nothing… I know how to work crowds, to work a public social setting. I know I’m not useless, but I feel that way when it comes to the Nation when my offers and talents are dismissed so quickly and without regard to its usefulness. I know how to stand well enough on my own, and I’ve done as much as I can to contribute… but I feel as if there is no point when I’m told to stay inside, discouraged from doing what I’m good at, and still held at such a distance. It’s all too condescending.”

Bridget looks to Izzy now, then sighs. “In a lot of ways, I feel exactly like no one gives a damn whether or not we all rot, what we have to go through or put up with and barely even a hint of recognition, if any of that even matters. I feel like many of us are just a bunch of wild things kept in guilded cages. If you keep any living thing from doing what it’s supposed to do, that’s not a life worth living. I don’t know what else to do but be discontent when I’m expected to stay out of the woods, don’t go make music or connections, don’t spend so much time out in the world doing what I do. I can follow orders, do what needs to be done, but I’m not a machine.”

[Balance Without Fault] [dibs!]

[Balance Without Fault] “I want to take a moment to clarify the purpose of this meeting.

“Jackson, I heard you about needing to get the kin coalition in order before plugging it into the grander framework of the Nation. I agree. Bridget, Izzy, I’ve heard from you both that the way things are going in the coalition are not optimal at the moment. But we’re not here to discuss the kinfolk coalition alone. We should address it more thoroughly, and we will — in a moment.

“We’re not here to discuss how Garou interface with the world, either, Izzy. We’re not here to change the way Garou and kin interact, because that — as Danicka points out — has been set for thousands of years. As you yourself have pointed out, it won’t change in a night.

“As much as you may feel downtrodden and unappreciated, realize that every last Garou in this room, on this planet, will die before age thirty. And they give this sacrifice so that you have a human world to interface in, just as you sacrifice your job and career and human life to support these Garou. The sacrifice goes both ways. And while you might not like it, we are in the end Gaia’s army. There is a ranking order, and it is dictated, ultimately, by our renown.

“But I digress. What we can do, what I want to do here tonight — specifically, without speaking in broad terms and vagueries — is to address points of discontent amongst the kin. I have specific incidents in my mind that I want to discuss, but I want to hear from the kin first.

“If nothing else, no matter how she brought it up — Izzy has noted some sources of discontent for herself. For that, I thank you, Detective Montoya.

“She Who Offers Sorrow, your kinfolk has raised an complaint about the way she’s been treated in the past. She says she’s been beaten and unfairly imprisoned. See to her concerns. If you decide her past punishment was just, then so be it. If it was unjust, make amends as you best see fit.

“Before we move on to other topics, are there any other specific grievances the kin wish to bring forth?”

[Rain McKellar] [Dibs, please!]

[Danicka Musil] Her eyes flick to the Grand Elder when he brings her up, gives at least one interpretation of what she said. She doesn’t ask for the 8-ball again though.

[Balance Without Fault] [erp. “will MOST LIKELY die before age thirty.” seeing as how BWF is like… 45.]

[Carter Roth] [Dibs after Rain]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[“You’re all gonna die before 30…except me. For I am Elite.”]]

[August Grant] {Very short dibs after Rain + Carter}

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita could be accused, often, of not taking things seriously enough. When your deed name is “Echoes of Laughter,” it’s a natural course of people’s thoughts on how you will react. She’s stayed quiet here, sitting near her Alpha and watching…listening. She doesn’t give anyone a particularly strong reaction when they speak. Amy gets a slight smile; Izzy a little frown. The others, she remains even-tempered, thoughtful.

The Strider is doing her best to listen and learn. She’s not even tapping her toe to some sort of tacky dance pop crap.

[Rain McKellar] The girl who rises to claim the magic eight ball next has nothing in her blood that calls out to her Tribe. She has no renown among them. Cloistered as she is with the rest of Unicorn’s kin, this gives some suggestion as to her allegiances.

Catching the eight-ball is only part of the struggle, here. And before she addresses the Grand Elder, her glance slides sideways to the Fenrir Jarl. Her shoulders square, and she calms herself a bit.

“Mr. Grand Elder, sir,” she begins, and her voice rises easily above the gathering. Unexpectedly warm. Captivating, it calls attention to her in ways that might surprise them.

“My name is Rain McKellar, and before I was kin to Unicorn’s chosen, I was Lost.” She says this plainly. “The places I have been treated their kinfolk much differently than here, and I appreciate that you have called us together and allowed us to air our concerns.

“I have no complaints about how I have been treated by my Tribe, nor by the pack that I live with. My Family has been good to me, perhaps better than they should have been by some of what others have said tonight. If I can help in any way, so that kindness and shelter can be extended to others, please let me know.”

Here she swallows and looks down at the eight ball for a moment.

“If I have any complaint it is that, in the intention of being helpful or showing their concern, some True offer up conflicting information. I am concerned about the thing that is hunting Kinfolk. I would like to know, plainly put, what best I should do to protect myself and to help your war efforts. If this has already been communicated to the Tribal and pack Alphas, then I will seek answers with Mr. Roman or Miss Kora.”

She walks across the circle to hand back the eight-ball.

“Thank you for your time, sirs and madams.”

And then Rain retakes her seat.

[Wyrmbreaker] [Quick dibs. And sorry, Lukas is pulling rank to get it for a sec!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker, who has thus far sat quietly except to catch the ball for Danicka, raises his hand after Rain speaks. The eightball comes his way.

“I can answer that for you, Rain. The specifics of what kin should be doing is up to each Tribal Alpha. Obey whatever order they give you. As a general rule, I’d strongly suggest getting to a place where you’re protected by the Garou of your tribe. If there’s no such place available to you, come to the Brotherhood.

“As far as I’m concerned, you can chance it on your own if you really don’t want to move. But I don’t suggest it.”

Carter’s hand is up. Lukas tosses the eightball his way.

[Bridget Geroux] Seeing as her concern over being told specifically not to do what it is she does, what she’s good at, was basically glossed over, Bridget goes and gets herself something to eat. She needs to gather her thoughts for a second, fidget as she needs to with all the Rage in the room, before the Fianna kin can take her seat again. There’s a lot to think over.

[Carter Roth] Carter had had quite enough at this point. If no one would take up that magic 8 ball and speak the voice of the malcontent then he would. He strode forward taking the eight ball for himself and turned to face the garou who were gathered all powerful, all alpha’s or elder’s in their right and he held the eight ball in one heavy hand as he spoke.

“I refuse to be ruled by those who will not see me as their equal.” He lets those few treasonous words sink in as he looks across the garou, his eyes falling upon kin in equal measure. “In many places, by many of your kind we are treated like Chattel, little more then servants waiting to be used. I will not argue that here I have seen generous activity that would enrage the masters of these places for that you should be praised. But it is not enough.” He shakes his head slowly.

“Unlike the detective, who will stand and do her duty even as she knows your disregard for the kin who work tirelessly beneath your gaze. I will not, not without equality.” He pauses. “Without it, we are susceptible to every monster of your kind, every garou who believes we ARE nothing but here to serve your whim. Tell me why we should accept our lot as it stands, tell me how it makes sense that such actions continue unabated against those you call your allies, your lovers, your friends. Is an ally told to be silent because you do not like his tone? Do you force a friend to become the mate of another simply because of what lies within their veins?” He lets that settle there, lets it hang, many knew of such instances, quite often they were regular occurances.

He takes another moment to look about. “We are all capable, we are all skilled in our own ways. But we are marginalized, we are shunted aside till we are expected to serve and we will hold our tongues and be greatful for it. I will not.” He looks at Balance Without Fault. “You have said yourself that these things will not change, that they have existed for thousands of years, change it, if you hold to any future that means something for all of us…change it. You wished to hear of discontent, there it lies.”

Carter lets the 8 ball go then and he takes his place against the wall once more. His gaze even and suspicious as it was when he first stepped forward.

[Matthieu] [If I can I’d like to call Dibs after umm August!]

[Kieran Mondblume] *He is waiting, listening to all of the opinions, and he is starting to look a little concerned.*

[Nash] [Dibs are for the weak! (I’m sorry!)]

Nash doesn’t bother with the eightball. When he speaks, after Lukas and Carter have gone, he has a heavy Southern drawl. His voice isn’t terribly loud, and like Izzy, he sounds tired.

“Kinda telling, ain’t it?” he asks. “You got two Kin waiting to talk but a Trueborn can just butt on in?”

[Balance Without Fault] [BWF takes the eightball!]

[Izzy Montoya] She says nothing more – but she does step to the side and light up that cigarette after all. Someone can call the cops if they’ve got a problem with it.

[Amunet Knezevic] “Because we are NOT equal!” She snaps it, then falls instantly silent again.

[August Grant] August swallows. Did she really.. really want to go after that? Geezus christ – she was rather surprised when there wasn’t fur flying.

Once the magic-8 ball was gently -passed- in her direction, the young woman stood. She cleared her throat just a little, trying to work up the courage to speak in a room full of this many important people. She never quite looked the Elder in the eyes, but.. was looking somewhat towards him, maybe at his feet. {oooh.. where’d you get those shoes?}

“Rhya.. s.. since you wanted to know about the discontent from us.. I figured I should mention mine. My mate, up and left me for another, knowing full well I was already carrying a second child for this nation. His child. He left with me with no one to protect me and my cub. The mere fact that no one at the time thought this a grevious act was insulting. It bred resentment.. and.. until I found allies within my tribe.. ” she motioned to those seated near by, “I wasn’t at all content. Things have resolved at this point and I am fine with my lot in life. But things like that – ignoring these big giant world tearing apart events – is going to drive a wedge between us.”

A brief pause. “That is all.. thank you for your time..” A hand smoothed her sweater over her belly and she again took her seat, passing on the ball.

[Starla Navarro] Starla’s head snaps up, she turns and twists in her seat to stare right at Amunet, her eyes narrowing on the kin that snaps out her words. The corners of her mouth flatten into a thin line as she glares at her.

[Balance Without Fault] [this comes before August — sorry, but BWF would immediately react!]

Balance Without Fault snaps his fingers for the eightball. He confers briefly with Kora, gets a name, speaks.

“Stick to protocol, Nash. You too, Amunet. Next time you two step out of line, you’re out.

“In case you missed it the first time around: don’t speak without the eightball. Rank and renown takes precedence. In the event that rank is equal, the Auspice Council takes precedence over Tribal Alphas, who take precedence over the Garou, who take precedence over the kin.

“And I’m sorry, Carter, but there is no equality in the Nation. We are not a democracy.”

It passes on to August.

[August Grant] {Damn, my bad – my screen didn’t refresh. Augusts posts AFTER BWFs}

[Gina McClaren] *Gina makes a noise in her throat thats something along the lines of a pissed off gurgle. Fingers scraping through her hair and across her temples as her head falls backwards in utter frustration. Talon hands coming away from her scalp and settling on the bar with some force. *

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs, when… okay I’m not sure what the list is for dibs, but! Put me on it!]

[Delilah Marciano] Delilah eases out of the chair she sat in, her hand drops to the phone sitting on the table, picking it up and stares down at the screen for a brief second, and then tucks it away inside the inner breast pocket of her suit jacket. She is tall, only because of the advantage point her heels provide her, she stands with shoulders squared back and chin tilted up.

The woman doesn’t exactly command authority, but there is a coolness in her demeanor. A calm, collected disposition that expresses patience, clearly her gesture to stand, instead of sit idly and listen meant she had something to say. She is an unknown face, a stranger to the kin that have served this sept in the past and now in the present.

[Calling DIBS!]

[Rain McKellar] Rain’s arms are crossed low over her middle. Her expression is somewhat anxious, but when she looks up to August as the other Gaian speaks it is with as much support as she can muster in this tense environment.

[Carter Roth] Carter frowns deeply at Balance Without Faults words and he shakes his head, an angry look flitting behind his eyes.

[Balance Without Fault] — and the eightball comes back to Balance.

“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been so ill-used by your former mate, August. Tell us the name of this Garou so that we all know his dishonor.”

The eightball goes back to August.

[Dibs list is currently: August, Matthieu, Danicka, Delilah.]

[August Grant] “Paul Kellogg. He seems to have .. left..” She’d rather use the word fled.. “the city.” And once again, the eight ball is passed on.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget stands at the doorway, listening to the conversation while munching on part of a sandwich. The tightness to her muscles and the smirk on her face expresses her discontent with the line of conversation. She takes a glass of ice water over to Carter and leans against his side. She offers the frigid beverage to the other kin, the corners of her mouth turning in a slight smile, an expression that simply says: here.

[Kora] Kora listens as Rain says her piece; her arms tighten when Balance Without Fault directs her to see to Izzy’s complaint. The look she gives the Grand Elder is direct, her expression ironic, but not wry. When Carter speaks, the heavily pregnant Fenrir audibly rolls her eyes (seriously, Nash can [i]hear/i] it). She flashes him a look when he speaks up. Except for the obvious tension, the expression is quiet, animal, unreadable.

[Starla Navarro] Starla clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head. She looks over her should at Kora, catching the eye-rolling expression of the Jarl. She turns back in her seat, shifting closer to Rain and draws a comforting arm around the kin’s shoulders, hugging her.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Add Jackson in after Delilah]]

[Derek Anderson] Derek listened, standing near Rain, August and Jackson. He owuld have loved to stand with people from his tribe but Sasha and Katherine weren’t there, Gabriel wasn’t invited and he didn’t rally knewMatthieu except glimpsing at him at the loft the other night.

He looked relax, hands in his pockets. He had nothing to say about all this really. He has been well treated by his Tribe, other Garou and kinfolks he has met. Well Remy was a jerk but even then, it went pretty ok when he met him. He knew some people had problems with Garou, that some had bad experiences in the past. He wasn’t one of them. Maybe it’ll come, maybe he’ll be like Izzy or maybe not. But for now, his life was good.Maybe he didn’t need much, or maybe it was his upbringing, butr he was..ok with the way things were.

[Joey] When the meeting first came to order, Joey sat looking slightly away from the circle, her head moving nearly imperceptibly to the beat of some rhythm in her head. As soon as the eight ball started going around, though, her attention was on the people in the room, her dark eyes moving from speaker to speaker. For the most part, she just watches, listening attentively. She’s silent, even when Izzy speaks up about her punishment, though there’s a tension to her brow, a slight downward turn to the corners of her mouth. The frown doesn’t leave her face, in fact worsens, especially when August speaks up, the kinswoman so obviously pregnant. Joey knew her mate, knew him for the filthy son of a bitch he could be, and not for the wisdom he supposedly held in the Nation. The fact that he would abandon his mate was hardly surprising to her, but infuriating. Wasn’t August the girl he’d once mistaken Joey for? What a prick.

[Carter Roth] Carter takes that glass with a nod to Bridget as great a thanks as he could give at the moment, and sips it, still looking displeased but for now…silent.

[Matthieu] When the 8ball comes his way he stands in his usual regal posture before kin as well as his peers. He takes the time to acknowledge all who choose to look at him with a smile before speaking up and addressing the others present.

“I hear kin speaking about unity, and about working together and about organization. So allow me to speak up and please do hear what I have to say.”

“Harrier’s Grace was founded under the idea that the Mortal world is an important one which we garou have little direct grasp upon. In the heart of a city as large as Chicago we stand in an awkward position where mundane threats could see us utterly destroyed without the means to address them.”

He takes the time to look over faces one by one.

“You wish to take part in the nation. You wish to take an active role in the pursuits of your own people then now is your chance. Harrier’s Grace was founded specifically with the Kin in mind and with time and your assistance we should like to see that all are both cared for, as well as allowed to take an active role in this nation’s happenings. We need eyes and ears, additionally we need faces and talented minds.”

“The Mundane World is your world and if “We” the Garou are to control it we need our kin to stand with it. So any who stand ready to take an active role in a pack who will share in it’s endeavours with all Garou and Kin who take part please step forth after this meeting.”He smiles a little to everyone present.

“I do not wish this to be a recruiting event for a pack but what I am hearing is that Kin would like a chance to take a more active role in their society. This is what Harrier’s Grace was formed with the intention of seeing through. So it remains relevant to the situation.”

He then looks around at the others involved.

“We are one nation, we cannot exist without the whole of that nation working in unison. Our kin are our support network, our homes, and our families. Whatever one feels of their unique and individual position within this nation know now that we are not oblivious to the plight of our kin. We live and die with the hope that our people will remember us and more than anything our people are our kin.”

“Perhaps we do not always show the proper deference or respect but we have a very difficult job.”He then turns his attention to Izzy.”When our kin stand and denounce us as if we have somehow broken some sacred vow it comes as a potent and dangerous blow. There are warriors in their graves at this very moment who have died defending the kin of this sept. I also promise you right now that if you were in danger there are at least one or two garou in this room alone who would stupidly rush off to their own deaths in order to rescue you. Remember this when you find yourself doubing the importance our kin hold to us.”

“In the end we ask of our kin nothing more or less than we ask of ourselves.”He says with a hint of a smile back at the kin.”In the end we must all stand ready to give everything for this nation if that is what we must. That cannot be negociated it simply must be.”

[Balance Without Fault] [Current dibs list: Danicka, Delilah, Jackson]

[Kora] (dibs!)

[Balance Without Fault] [and for the record – applying a -2 honor hit to Paul’s sheet for getting publicly denounced before auspice and tribal councils, plus half the city’s kin, reduced him to subcliath status. normally i wouldn’t announce minor renown tweaks, but in this case it’s a fairly substantial change in how other chars would perceive him.]

[Balance Without Fault] […if, y’know, the char ever gets reactivated *LOL*]

[Balance Without Fault] [last OOC note! if your character holds precedence and wants to use it, make a note in your dibs-calling so i don’t have to ask individually!]

[Danicka Musil] [I’m almost there! Sorry for the wait!]

[Danicka Musil] It’s as though she had mental notes. Danicka gets the 8-ball after the Galliard Elder and speaks up. Directly, in fact, to Carter Roth.

“I know what you can do,” she says plainly, and simply. Maybe even gently, though her voice is levelled directly at him in public. “I also know, and I am the only person currently in this room who knows as well as you do, what it means to be raised as a Kin of Thunder.

“The Garou will never see you as their equal. You may be able to heal with a touch, but you will never be able to fight as well as they can. You will never know what it is like to enter a new body and hunt on all fours. You cannot cross between worlds at will. You will never share a full measure of their power, and so you will never be seen as their equal.” She pauses a moment. “You say you will not work for the Nation without equality. You will never get it. And in this way — knowing what the stakes are, knowing what we all stand to lose — you are more selfish and dishonorable than any Kinfolk in this room.

“Even in human government, if you ally insults you and will not yield, will not compromise, those alliances end, often bloodily. So too will your connection to the Garou you want to treat you as an equal. Work with them or work alone, but do not get in their way or you will be cut down. We aren’t fools, Mr. Roth, not raised in our tribe. Amunet is trying to find a way to decrease our marginalization. And if you want to be involved, at some point you will have to submit to another’s leadership — and it might be Kin, but ultimately it will be to the Garou. Suck it up or get out of the way.”

A pause. She looks at Amunet. “You do guard the alliance jealously, Amunet. Bridget is right about that. You seemed secretive even to me, when I tried to show you nothing but support and interest. You need to work on that attitude, or all your efforts are going to be in vain. When you come to this meeting and then break the rules, you don’t show yourself as a very good leader for Kinfolk, much less someone the Garou might listen to. I want this to work. By god, believe me, I want this to work. But the Kinfolk have to grow up. We all have suffered, but not a thing is going to get done til we all get over it for the sake of the greater good. And those of you who can’t do that, whose angst and baggage is too much to let go of, I don’t even know why you bothered to show up.”

She takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. “The last attempt at a coalition of kinfolk failed because the Kin involved wanted it to be some kind of perfectly equal democracy, and that will. Not. Work. Even Garou have to follow orders they don’t agree with sometimes. We do too, if we want to be of any real use at all.”

[Balance Without Fault] [delilah, jackson, kora, and then BWF is retaking the ball!]

[Kora] (drop Kora from the list, pls!)

[Carter Roth] Carter meets Danika’s gaze and he shakes his head at the woman. Before flipping her the bird, he might not have the 8 ball, so he won’t speak, but the message is clear enough.

[Delilah Marciano] When the 8 ball finds its way into the Glass Walker’s hands, she holds it up, gives it a good hard shake. She stares at the rubber triangle for a second; the curve of her generous mouth etches into a thinly veiled frown.

“Will this end well?” Delilah asks the ball, “Maybe.”

She turns her eyes up to meet the Grand Elder’s gaze for second, tilting her head to watch the rest of the room. “This, esteemed rhya, is the breeding ground for the discontent. You ask us for our opinions, you tell us to lay our grievances out into the open, so that we may be heard, so we may have a voice…”

A beat, her body shifts, rolls the plastic ball between her hands, “What is this all for? To what purpose will listening to our bitching serve you, in your judgment of us? They are unhappy, they expressed this, and yet, it will not change. We all know this – you said it yourself, it’s not a democracy.”

She shakes her head slowly, “Amunet is trying to organize an alliance, it has been said by Ms. Musil, it will not work. There is no organization, this is like trying to herd cats, they won’t cooperate without first laying a foundation. Training kinfolk in self-defense and first-aid will do very little against a monster breathing down their necks. If the Wyrm wants to kill us, it will do so.”

“The best efforts of the kin, if they wish to come together and organize, is to take a step away from the front lines, and work behind the scenes as we are meant to do. With our mortal influences, our skills, and our connections. We are the first line of defense in covering up the messes that the Garou like to make in the mundane world.”

With that, she shrugs her shoulders and hands the ball off to the next person that so desires it.

[Kora] (change my mind still keeping dibs!)

[Danicka Musil] Carter flips Danicka off. She shrugs at him and gestures to Danny that she’d like an ice water.

[Balance Without Fault] [bwf takes the ball!]

[Izzy Montoya] She looks around and finally grabs a glass of ice water, and taps her ashes into it. It’ll do for now. It also serves to keep her expression hidden for a moment.

It’s likely a good thing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Did he cut or did I lose my turn? ūüôā ]]

[Holden] [cutteR!]

[Balance Without Fault] [he totally cut.]

“First and last strike for you, Mr. Roth.”

Then, to Delilah:

“I was actually about to address that. I’ve got a few things on my agenda tonight, and we’re still on number one. I’d like to hear specific concerns from kin first and settle them as I can — so frankly, Garou and kin of Maelstrom, we’re starting to get a little off topic with all the philosophy.

“After that, I’ve got two incidents I want to go over. After that, I want to discuss and settle certain issues with the coalition itself.

“Let’s get back to the kin. Specific concerns, bring them forth.”

— and on to Jackson.

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s heard enough, and she who had a voice designed – accent and all – for other’s pleasure in her speaking – had nothing nice to say. So like her sweet pikey mother had told her with a rap of knuckles across teeth –

“Effen ye’ve naethen nice tae say, fer christs sakes jes shut yer fookin crumbhole.”

She moves towards the kitchens, bumping past the folk in the door with a low sung “Oot the road please” – before moving to fuss with the food there, warming what had grown cold, cooling what had grown warm . Taking a hefty slug from a dented flask drawn deep from the V of dark cleavage. Liquor finally offered to Bridget and Carter in turn.*

[Carter Roth] Carter grimaces at Balance without Fault and shakes his head at the man, he does not however flip the man the bird. He simply looks to Bridget who was standing by his side looked back to Balance, and dropped his water letting it clatter to the floor loudly, maybe even shatter. He looked around at his fellow kinsman, all who had come here with the understanding that they would be free to speak…obviously that was not the case.

Before he turned and walked out a brief nod given to Gina and her alcohol.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] He takes the 8-Ball with a respectful nod. Yes, he is a good kin. Mostly.

“I had one more concern to bring up, Rhyas. It seems like…and I don’t think this is an endemic issue, but I’ve seen it a couple times now…some Garou try to instruct kin who…well, really shouldn’t be. And I know people may wonder what right I have to say that. But I grew up in a family that was blessed. Both of my siblings were Garou. My father was an Ahroun. I like to think I know a fair amount, though not everything, about certain matters. I won’t give a ton of examples…but one I specifically recall is that a kin, new to our city and rather wet behind the ears, was witness to a Thrall frenzy that took place here. I was present and got the kin to safety…after I left, said kin was told by a Garou that in case of a frenzy, playing dead was a good idea. As if a Garou who was in frenzy, especially Thrall frenzy, would just leave them alone if they were lying prone and pretending to be dead.”

He pauses, trying to figure out how to word this without seeming disrespectful. “To be honest, I was dumbstruck when the kin told me this. It’s…really bad advice, to say the least. I’ve passed it on to Roman, who has passed it further on…but it seems like some Garou could use some kind of instruction themselves before they’re taking kinfolk under their responsibility.”

He hands it back to Balances-Without-Fault.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Oh fuck. You know who that was supposed to be. ūüėõ ]]

[Danicka Musil] [*points and laughs at samael*]

[Nash] [I for one am proud of Sarita and wish him all the best.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I’m working and shit and it was bound to happen eventually AND LEMME ALONE! *mock cries and runs away* Okay nah, it’s funny, ngl]]

[Balance Without Fault] Over behind the bar, Danny suddenly blurts out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. He claps his hand over his mouth and holds up the other. “I know, Mr. Balance. First and last warning. Sorry.” And he mimes the zipping of his mouth.

Balance, for his part, takes the ball and answers Jackson directly. “Do you or does anyone know the name of this Garou?”

The ball goes back to Jackson.

[Quinn] So far, Quinn hasn’t had anything to bring up, no concerns or grievances to air. For the most part, she keeps out of the way, helping where she can but generally staying under the radar. But when someone says the advice given in times of Thrall was to “play dead,” her blue eyes widen, then her fine dark brows constrict.

When she rises, it’s not to intercept that passage of the eight ball. It’s to raise a brow at Carter Roth, the look simply How rude, trail briefly in his wake, and bend to retrieve the fallen glass of water. She gestures to Danny to bring a towel or something to clean up the water.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget writes something on a napkin and tucks it into Carter’s hand before he decides to shatter his glass all over the floor and make his way out. She stifles a tiny laugh– it’s not at all audible and she turns her face in Danny’s direction so she doesn’t disturb the conversation– but it’s there.

Gina thankfully offers up some booze, which the Stag kin thankfully takes so she can stifle her grin and shut the fuck up.

[Jackson Montgomery] He takes the ball and seems hesitant to name names at the moment. The information was passed along, but he was given a request. “Kristen. She’s a Fianna Theurge who stays here at the Brotherhood…I don’t know her last name or her deed name.” Handed back.

[Kieran Mondblume] *His eyes widen at that, and he looks back and forth. He frowns, clearly pondering.*

[Balance Without Fault] “Jenny,” Balance speaks directly to the woman watching quietly from over by the kitchen door, “can you get a message to Kristen? Let her know a Thralled Homid would sooner munch a dead body than ignore it, and that maybe she shouldn’t run around teaching the kin for a while.

“Unfortunately,” this is to all, “Garou rarely have time these days to be fully trained before stepping out into the world as Cliaths. The war’s too desperate, and we need soldiers. The downside is occasionally we get a good soldier whose education has been a little lacking in certain non-essential regards.

“There’s really no way prevent these things from happening. I can’t publish a manual of Everything You Should and Shouldn’t Say To Kin. All we can do is troubleshoot one incident at a time, so I appreciate your bringing this up.”

And the ball goes to Kora.

[Danicka Musil] There’s a glance from Shadow Lord Kinswoman to Shadow Lord Elder when Carter leaves. It’s hard to read, for those that don’t know her — for those that are, at the moment, invested in other conversations. He might understand. He might not, even as well as he knows her.

Danicka sips her ice water, and waits for the next blowup.

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s expression at the breaking of glass is one of frank annoyance. She stands in the kitchen in her barefeet, and hisses irritation. Singing lowly to bridget – yes.. without the 8-ball.*

Trade ye tha sip o’ firewater fer yer gi’en tha broom, Bridget darlin. Dinnae fancy me bloody feet on account o’ foolishness, aye?

[Balance Without Fault] [wait, is Kristen there? i see her logged in. i know patrick’s the fianna alpha, but jacqui ain’t here tonight. well, if Kristen’s here, BWF would speak directly to her.]

[Balance Without Fault] Danny, meanwhile, is hurrying over with dustpan and broom. He shakes his head mutely at Gina and Bridget, forefinger to lips, waving them off. The message is clear: I got it!

[Kristen Burke] ((I was told that Kristen was not allowed to be here As such she has not tried to speak or rebut what was said about her.))

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget moves to action, sets her glass down on the bar, and helps pick up Carter’s mess despite her amusement. It’s alright, the movement gives her something to do. She shakes her head at Danny and helps him anyway.

[Balance Without Fault] [OK, I just saw Jacqui sign on, so I guess Kristen wouldn’t be there after all. Assume Jenny sends her a polite note repeating what BWF said, only a lot nicer and reflexively-apologetic!]

[Gina McClaren] *Gina remains in place. You know. So as not to step in glass with the bare feet. But Danny gives her the shush and she raises an eyebrow in a clear expression of “Oh Enough.” An incredulous shake of her head mirroring the Fianna’s.*

[Quinn] Quinn’s gotten most of the bigger chunks gathered carefully into one hand. When Danny arrives with dustpan and broom, she smiles warmly and rises to carry her burden to the nearest trash bin, which happens to be in the kitchen. When she comes back out again, she weaves around the outside of the circle to return to her seat.

[Kora] There’s something – implicitly feral about the heavily pregnant Garou tonight. She’s standing, not sitting. She should sit. Some of the people tonight are long winded – not telling stories, not remembering deeds, not discussing the dead – just talking.

Those closest to her can feel her restlessness like ozone in the air around her. It does not take much to bring it forward these nights, careful as she has to be now, pregnant as she is. Alone here tonight, her brother – her Godi – gone, her beta in another Sept, seeking his own tribe for challenge.

By the time the eight-ball comes her way, Carter is gone. Her dark eyes follow his path through the room; she catches the scribbing Bridget does on a napkin, watches until the kinsman has left the restaurant.

The creature’s generous mouth flattens then. Whatever she meant to say is distilled down to this: “I have kept my territory open to all tribes, Garou certainly, kin more so. It’s unreasonable to expect you to live in a city and somehow keep track of our changing, Balkanized territory. But, Wyrmbreaker-rhya, that man is barred from mine. I trust you will pass it on to him.”

[Kieran Mondblume] [Dibs?]

[Balance Without Fault] [back to BWF, then Kieran!]

[Honor’s Compass] Katherine and Patrick both here, somewhere, and their player is very apologetic for being tardy! She suggests Katherine is looking very pretty in white standing somewhere near pack-mates and as well as Balance Without Fault and Patrick is over yonder possibly looking confused — also in a very pretty way, albiet more masculine — or simply bored.

Carry on!

[Adamidas] She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her attention seems to be intent on what is going on, and before she can really say anything, the Fury turns her head in the direction of… something. Slightly to the left. She gives the Grand Elder a look and taps her chest with two index fingers, then gestures behind her with her thumb.

Whatever that look says, it must be important. If given the okay, she slips out as quickly as she enters. Just as understated, and punctuated with a pop.

[Balance Without Fault] Though Carter’s departure didn’t provoke an immediate response from the Garou named for his balance, it’s remarked on when the ball comes back into his possession.

“Wyrmbreaker, your kinsman disrespected this gathering again with his dramatic departure. See to it. And let him know that his antics only resulted in the very kin he professes to champion scrambling to clean up his mess.”

He nods to Adamidas, then, before continuing.

“At this point I’m going to make a last call for kin to bring forward their concerns. If there’s nothing else, we’re moving on.”

[on to Kieran! and if there are any more kin concerns, call dibs now cuz BWF is about to move things along]

[Quinn] [dibs because I gotta get something out in case I have to bail before the end!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker nods mutely to Kora and and Balance, the second nod deeper than the first. Then he gets up, leaning over to murmur briefly to Danicka before excusing himself from the gathering.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He pushes up, and then he takes the eight ball, shaking it idly.* Clearly, if he’s getting pissed off enough to drop a glass onto the ground and leave, something screwed up happened to him in the past. I think that’s part of the problem. We can’t fix these problems without years and years of therapy that we don’t have time for.

*He tosses the eight ball to his other hand.* But I will say, I’ve noticed every kin has their skills and talents. I don’t think I’m alone in saying, I’d like to hear about those instead.

[Quinn] The tall Fiann has retaken her seat now. It should be noted that she’s wearing clothes, and they’re probably pretty nice, and probably includes a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoo on her right arm. Nothing fancy, just some cool looking birds.

Anyway!

She sits up a little straighter when there seems to be a lull, lifts her chin, and indicates she’d like the magic eight ball next. When it comes to her, Quinn doesn’t shake it to read her fortune, though she does smile a little down at it before standing to address the assembled.

“Hello,” she says, her voice warm, and still carries a touch of a Baltimore accent. “I’m Quinn, I own The Winchester tavern up in Lake View. Some of you might’ve heard of it. Like The Brotherhood, we’ve only got kin on staff, so it’s a safe place. If any of you are in the area and find yourself in need of a place to rest or otherwise recuperate for a while, the doors are open. To Kin and Garou alike.” After that, she rolls the ball from one hand to the other, says, “That’s it,” and passes it down the line rather than tossing it to the grand elder.

[Nash] The Jarl is understandably restless. On this side of the bar, the Fenrir are all standing; Nash looks like he probably ought to sit down, but for the moment, he’s still on his feet, his right arm held up against his midsection while bruised eyes watch the proceedings–silently, now that that first [and last] outburst is over with.

There is a lot going on, between Strider and Lord Kinfolk slamming out and slamming glasses. Nash, unlike many others, doesn’t have to stifle laughter. He glances around, then finds a place to rest his eyes when Kora starts to speak. He looks back at her when the Uktena speaks, as if looking for something, but he doesn’t lean over to whisper or anything else that might be considered disruptive.

[Delilah Marciano] Delilah sighs; she steps away from the table glancing around at the assembly one final time. She has heard enough, and the Grand Elder has yet to get beyond the first line of questioning. She turns away, slipping off in silence towards the back entrance of the Brotherhood’ hand retrieves her phone, texting her driver to come around to the back side to pick her up as she left the meeting.

[Kora] There’s something about the way Kora handled the eight-ball. Held it as if it were a cracked bone, as if there were marrow in it – rather than likely toxic water locked behind a window with catchy sayings on a plastic weighted die by children chained to extruding machines in some unlikely backwater of Guangdong province, China.

That sense of animal lingers around her. Her hair is pale, fine-stranded, her skin equally pale, winter-thing, dark eyes set above sharp cheeks made softer by the extra weight of advanced pregnancy. No matter: the wolf is still visible underneath. As now. Nash glances at her, and she lifts her chin, canting her head, dark eyes finding his with an unerring sort of grace. She holds the look for a quiet moment, then glances away.

[Balance Without Fault] The eightball comes back to Balance eventually, passed hand to hand until someone loses patience and tosses it. Catching it neatly, the Grand Elder takes a drink of water before going on.

“Let’s discuss that in a minute, Kieran, when we talk about the coalition some more. I have two incidents I want to go over. Unfortunately, Amunet, they both involve you.

“First up: the Brotherhood defense plans were posted up a couple of weeks ago, and you seemed to have something to say about it. Jenny mentioned you removed the original posting as something of an act of protest.” Over by the kitchen, Jenny looks mildly mortified. “What was that about, and has that been settled?”

[Amunet Knezevic] “It was less an act of protest than an act of frustration, Rhya. Again, the perception of being dictated to, rather than being acknowledged as being willing to work together. I apologize for my rash decision, and hope that my actions will not reflect poorly on those who can be held responsible for me.”

Her fingers run in her hair, eyes flickering away before meeting BWF’s once more. “It has been offered that there be a meeting with myself and those charged with the safety of the Brotherhood. I believe it is just a matter of finding a convenient time for everyone, and then the matter should be settled.”

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs!]

[Gina McClaren] *Her flask of corn liquor is reclaimed and settled back in her assets as she steps aside for the exiting Glasswalker kin. Strider kin maneuvering her way out of the kitchen with an eye to the floor, wary for any invisible shards lying in wait for small burnished feet. The kin moves to stand between Leon and Matt, dwarfed by a good foot or more by each. Curvy kin’s body language filling in the gaps where verbal communication was not allowed. She leans on Mirror’s whisper, floury skirt no doubt soiling his perfectly pressed suit. A painted toe prods Hostile Takeover’s knee, accompanied by a wry smile and a roll of eyes. Familiarity and Affection for both, mingled with no small exasperation at the proceedings. Her attention shifts to those speaking.*

[Honor’s Compass] [Kate has something to add! How do I — *hits the buzzer*]

[Danicka Musil] [Danicka yields to the ranked Garou present *gavel*]

[Wyrmbreaker] [dibs order is Kate, Danicka, then probably BWF.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita doesn’t fail to notice Gina’s brief interaction, such as it is, with Leon. Her eyes narrow a little bit, watching them, and anyone paying attention to her would notice a bit of bristling. She doesn’t speak out, merely watches for a long moment before looking back.

Yeah. She’ll be dealing with that later.

[Matthieu] Matthieu made certain to follow the kin across the floor. Whether Gina knew it or not those eyes followed her quietly. She drew closer and closer and even took the chance to squeeze herself between he and his beta. A slight smile grew and he peeked up at the woman with a hint of a smile. She had likely been drinking and was feeling pleasant. Which was surprisingly okay with the Garou who looked up at her with familiar eyes.

He didn’t speak however, simply welcomed her to join if she pleased.

[Leon Davenport] Finally something interesting happening to this meeting And no it’s not an angry kin storming out or incidents involving one with the Broho’splan or anything else. No, it’s the presence of a beautiful caramel skinned Strider kin, moving between him and his Alpha.

Shelean into Matt and that makes him smile, a genuine rare one from the Ahroun these days. Then she prds hm and the smile grew wider. He kept hi hands in his pants pockets, his smile turning into a grin. Then his piercing blue eyes were back on the meeting

There has been no GW kin here that he knew of. After all he knew Delilah only by her GWnet handle. He didn’t want any of his tribe’s kin getting into troubel tonight. He seem ot have had his wish granted.

[Kieran Mondblume] *His eyes, however, remain on Amy, and the Grand Elder. He looks, very briefly, worried, though it passes rather quickly. Nothing else in the meeting seems to catch his dark eyes.*

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget finally retakes her seat, glass in hand. Her brown eyes shift around the room as if for a second, she forgot where she was. The kinswoman shakes it off and sips the remaining whiskey, her eyes floating somewhere between Patrick and Kieran for whatever reason.

[Honor’s Compass] Honor’s Compass, who has, up until this moment been relatively silent, merely a formidable presence in so far as a regal Silver Fang of her ranking should be, standing to one side with her arms neatly folded over her chest; her coat open to reveal silk blouse beneath, the designer jeans and knee-high boots.

Immaculate as ever, she somehow managed to avoid it becoming ridiculous; her carefully arranged hair; her glossed lips. It was the animal grace in her that controlled it; the thrill of danger posed by those pale eyes of hers as they sweep the assembly, as manicured nails close over the eight ball.

Her eyes find Sarita’s sister.

“If I may, Rhya,” she says in her voice, rippling with its hint of french gentility, “I have some knowledge of these goings on. I was approached here at the Brotherhood by Adara, Song of Life, a Black Fury Galliard I believe my Alpha put in charge of the Brotherhood plans, along with Adamidas. She told me of the issues with the Kinswoman.”

A beat. “She asked my council, and two sides to this issue were brought before me, one from Garou and the other spoken on the behalf of the Kinfolk by one of Cockroaches Kin.” The Fang’s lip curves a little, inexplicably. “My sense was that they were working at cross-purposes, here. The Kinfolk, rightly enough, want their say in their own safety, but the Garou have their own notions on how Kinfolk need to be so protected.

My advice was to meet together, and discuss it. I believe this is the meeting Amunet is referring to.”

[Nash] With his left hand, Nash reaches up to scrub at his scruffy face when the tiny Indian woman moves across the room and proceeds to cause the blood pressure of at least four Trueborn to spike. He doesn’t sigh or stare, but when his hand comes away from his face and returns to his jacket pocket the kinsman glances over at Kora again.

That glance lasts only so long as the silence between active speakers; a few seconds after the regal blonde begins to speak, his eyes slowly drift away to acknowledge her.

[Rain McKellar] ((Rain will stay with the other Gaian kin until the meeting lets out, but her player must go to sleep soon. Thanks, all, for the scene.))

[Balance Without Fault] [night!]

[Danicka Musil] This time, the ball comes to Danicka more easily, since her mate has excused himself from the proceedings for the moment and it seems that Danicka doesn’t trust herself to catch the bizarre little toy if lobbed her way. She hears about the defense plan — something she’s only heard rumors of, not the story she just got. She looks at Amunet briefly when she takes the 8-ball, but in the end, doesn’t address the Strider kin as she did earlier.

“-Rhya,” she says, to Balance Without Fault, “the Kinfolk have tried before to establish leadership amongst themselves before, but in that case and in this one, there’s a serious problem with Garou being kept out of the loop.” She thinks a moment. “If the Kinfolk want to be heard by the Garou — to have a voice, for example, in deciding the defense plan for the Brotherhood of Thieves, to have at least some kind of vote in matters that affect them personally, then is there any reason why the Garou in charge of defense for this place should not have a Kinfolk — preferably a resident — whose counsel is sought in decisions about it?”

A beat. She blinks those round, green eyes of hers, turning to look at Amunet. “And maybe, if only to limit the amount of suspicion and paranoia and rumors of discontent, maybe an alliance of Kinfolk would have a better chance of success if there is a Garou involved in the proceedings and decisions being made — not to dictate, not to rule, but to communicate the needs the Garou have to the Kin, and vice versa?”

[Balance Without Fault] Balance listens to Katherine with clear attentiveness; then Danicka.

“It’s become increasingly clear to me tonight that some level of constant communication needs to be set up between the Garou of this Sept and the Kin. That’s part of what I wanted to discuss when we talk about the coalition a little more. I realize I’ve delayed the discussion of the coalition again and again, but I’m going to have to ask for your patience a little longer.”

He turns back to Amunet.

“There will always be some level of dictation, Amunet. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The Nation is not a democracy. There is one Grand Elder. One Warder. One warleader. One Garou in charge of the defense of the Brotherhood, and one Garou assisting her.

“It’s not your place to rebel against that order. If you feel unheard, then speak. You may bring your suggestions up, just as anyone else can — and it seems that with Honor’s Compass’s counsel, you intend to do exactly that.

“You may not, however, display blatant insubordination to those who rank over you. And you must understand that the final say still belongs to those charged with the keeping of the Brotherhood. This isn’t a kin/Garou issue. It’s a simple issue of hierarchy. I would say the same to your sister Sarita, or even to the Philodox Elder.”

Balance turns the magic eightball over in his hands, then continues.

“The second point I wanted to address specifically is this. I’ve heard reports that you were seeking a Garou to … beat you? And that you would tape this as some sort of instructional video?

“What’s the story there, Amunet? I hardly know where to begin.”

[Amunet Knezevic] She looks very tired, very suddenly, tongue bitten to keep herself quiet as she waits her turn.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He flinches visibly.*

[August Grant] A brow rose.

That sounded like the single most stupid idea she’s heard in awhile.

Was that girl daft?

[Izzy Montoya] She’s wanting…. what?! Izzy’s head whips about so quickly her hair flies in a semi circle, smacking her in the face while she stares at Amunet with dropped jaw…. only to have it snap shut on the comment not quite bitten back..

“Motherfu…” snap.

She turns, and stalks to the kitchen. She needs a serious drink. Now.

[Quinn] Quinn actually does a double-take, and frowns at Amunet.Her thoughts are similar August’s. What would that even teach?

[Kieran Mondblume] *He raises one hand, however, before forgetting himself, and he holds his hand out for the ball.*

[Jackson Montgomery] He blinks as the idea for the original plan comes out in a horribly mangled, telephone version of what was actually discussed. He looks at Balances With Fault, then at Amunet and back, before he takes a [[DIBS]] after Amunet.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget tenses in her little corner of the world, and the nearly empty glass falls into her lap before she catches it. A slight amount of whiskey and ice bleed into the fabric.

“Shit,” she says under her breath. Looking directly to BWF with an expression of apology, she zips it quickly, gathers her skirts, and moves towards the kitchen following Izzy.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((Though I am willing to wait for dibs till after Amy and Jackson have had their say))

[Leon Davenport] Leon blinked a few times, eyes on Amy. Ok…now that was..well..totally crazy even for her. He actually had to look at Sarita with a brow raised as if asking her..what the hell? But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t smile or anything. He was mostly, perplexed by all of this.

He had an idea why she’d ask that, but to him it dodn’t seem like the right way to do things.

[Danicka Musil] Danicka, in the face of people restraining the urge to curse, of staring, of double-takes… blinks at Amunet. There’s no anger, no sudden omgwtfbbq. But surprise. And definite, strong interest in hearing something other than the rumor that Balance Without Fault wants to be explained and clarified.

[Gina McClaren] *Wait – woah.. What? Gina arcs her back away from Matt, squinting at the better bred strider kin across the room. Expression caugt between disgust and disbeleif. She looks up to Matt meaningfully, as if to say “Didn’t I tell you? Crazy. Every fucking one of them.” That flask gets retrieved and sampled from once more.*

[Amunet Knezevic] “Okay. So” She takes a deep breath. Remember what Stefan said, Ames…

“First of all, it was an idea that was being batted around. Just that. I’m unsure why everyone seems content to run around asking everyone else why I’m doing what I’m doing, but that seems to be the trend. It was considered, it was discussed, and nothing has been done. There’s no reason for anyone to assume that it’s moving forward.

As for being secretive and not wanting Garou involvement in the alliance, that is simply not true. The Shadow Lord Nathalie has offered her assistance, and I have taken her up on that. I’m not hiding anything. I’m not trying to exclude anyone that would benefit the alliance.”

She gestures toward the departing Bridget. “She wants to talk, but she wasn’t there for the conversation. She’s referring to Adara, the Fury. She asked to be included in the alliance, and when reminded it was a kinfolk alliance, she compared it to the KKK. Jackson was there for the conversation. I’m sure he can back me up. My issue with allowing her to be part of this isn’t that she’s Garou, it’s that she’s a shitty excuse for a Garou.”

[Quinn] [dibs!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [Dibs is Jackson, Kieran, Quinn right now — though BWF might cut in line at some point!]

[Quinn] [WHOOPS! That was supposed to be Joey!]

[Amunet Knezevic] [I’m assuming she’ll be asked to explain that….]

[Wyrmbreaker] [joey –> jackson –> kieran]

[Kieran Mondblume] ((And Ki gives up his dibs.)) *He lowers his hand again, and then he goes back to listening.*

[Honor’s Compass] [Damn it, now Kate has to speak up. SORRY.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [kate –> joey –> jackson –> kieran]

[Matthieu] His eyes meet Gina’s own and he looks back at the kin though he doesn’t nod. His eyes say enough and he reassures her with a slight pat to the small of her back. Though the Galliard doesn’t wish to appear as if he isn’t listening and taking in every word. Indeed he was listening to everything that was said. Formulating an opinion on each and every personality that shows itself here tonight.

[Izzy Montoya] She’s not long. Long enough to have a shot and pour a second that she brings with her, in time to hear that it was just an idea being bat around, without nay explanation whatsoever. Her jaw tenses, and she finds a space of wall to lean against, setting the glass on the table and lighting another cigarette.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Officially voicing a request to try to keep a bit closer to the 10 minute posting limit that was established for Dibbers.]]

[Honor’s Compass] Katherine’s eyes cut toward Amy.

“That is the second occasion I have heard, and the first directly from your lips of insult to Song of Life, Amunet. I do not care who you believe you are, who your mate is or how valid your cause — you will pay the respect due to a Garou or you will be sending your mate to every door in the Sept to make amends for your mouth.

I said it before, I say it again.

Respectful disagreement.”

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget returns soon after, patting at her skirt with a towel. She passes Izzy and takes her seat again, then offers her hand up to speak for the second time.

[Bridget Geroux] [Dibs when it gets her direction]

[Kora] Kora does not glance at Amunet. Her dark eyes track Izzy, though, as she weaves through the room. Then, the creature glances back at Nash. Fine blond brows arch eloquently over her shadowed eyes. Restlessness runs patterned beneath her skin. Even standing still she looks ready to prowl.

[Wyrmbreaker] [joey –> jackson –> kieran –> bridget]

[August Grant] Even though she really, really wanted to be here for this lovely conversation – the pregnant girl’s bladder could only hold out so long. So, carefully enough, she made her way to the ladies room .. and then to the kitchen, where she’d find a snack and linger in the door for a moment eating before returning to her chair.

[Joey] The magic eight ball starts to head toward another kin, but the Fostern Rotagar indicates the need for an interception. It goes to Kate first, and when it gets to Joey, she palms it, and inclines her head toward Amy.

“Just t’clarify, this idea,” she reaches up her free hand to pantomime air quotes, “was brought to the elders ’cause you’d already gone at least to Burnout lookin’ for a volunteer. And when I talked to you about it, everything you said told me you were set on goin’ through with it, despite warnings and consequences.

“So you’re not bein’ called out on it just ’cause someone’s followin’ some sort’ve trend.”

The eight ball is passed on.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((Ki actually gave up his dibs.))

[Amunet Knezevic] [dibs after bridget, please]

[Wyrmbreaker] [jackson –> bridget –> amunet!]

[Jackson Montgomery] He takes the 8=Ball and steps forward. “Just to provide my own perspective on this idea. Which, at least when we discussed it, was just an idea. It was brainstorming possibilities, nothing more. Amunet asked me, since I was a film student, if there was a way for us to be able to film…not a Garou beating the tar out of a kinfolk, Amy or otherwise. But potential sparring sessions. The reason for this would be that, if we were in a situation where combat was inevitable, we’d be more capable. This wasn’t ‘Beat the shit out of me and film it and you’ll know what it’s like to be in a fight. Hell, a Garou could spar with someone in homid and we could film that. These specifics weren’t even gone over because it was one three minute portion of one much longer discussion.

“The key was, and what we were discussing, was that if it was done, it would have to be done securely. No internet access to the video. Not multiple copies floating around. Again, this was a big if, and I felt it was conceivably possible, if not a sure thing. No one was setting up sets or anything like that, I wasn’t figuring out lighting and camera angles or what lens to use. As near as I knew, Amunet was checking with Garou to see if there would even be volunteers, because if not the rest didn’t even matter.

He frowns. “If there was some kind of telephone situation where it wasn’t properly communicated, then there you have it. But the idea was far saner and far more brainstorming than that I just heard. Obviously the Veil was our first concern and what we were discussing before any considerations came into play.”

[Hunter] [hunter taking dibs after bridget, before amunet]

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s taking a fourth shot. Amazing how much alcohol can disappear into the little Indian woman in so short a period of time. The flask’s cap clinks metallic and resolute as its popped on tightly. Flask itself handed to Leon, a flat palm held up, then making an abrupt cutting motion. The fuzziness in her stomach and the hazy tingle behind brown eyes told her anymore would loosen her tongue, and no one wanted that tonight. So the woman who was rapidly becoming a lush entrusts her fire water to the Glasswalker , before settling back against the Silverfang’s comforting hand. Her eyes slip firmly shut.*

[Balance Without Fault] [bridget –> hunter –> amunet]

[Bridget Geroux] “That reminds me when Carter took your injuries last time. We all asked you about the bruises and you wouldn’t answer. I let it go because you seemed uncomfortable, but if I thought for a second you might want someone to beat you up… What the hell, Amy? How do you expect to display leadership among us with… whatever is going on?”

She stops and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Amy. That got a bit too personal. But when I saw you talking to Song of Life, I just couldn’t hear it anymore. By the way, she has shown nothing but the utmost respect for my crazy ass ways and was one of the very few Garou who has encouraged me to keep doing my work rather than some Garou who have discouraged me from it. Maybe they’ve done it because they cared, but she is one of the few Garou I’d be more than willing to invite to my own house just to shoot the shit. I respect and admire the hell out of the Garou who treat kinfolk– even those not of their tribe– like the family we are. Family might be my whole grievance in the first place.”

“My other issue with the alliance is, like Danicka repeated earlier, that it is too jealously guarded, even from other kinfolk. My father, Meuric ‘Bear’ Geroux for those of you who care about the formality, used to tell me all the time how Septs grow weaker when not even the kinfolk can rely on one another as family.”

[Leon Davenport] He looked at Gina with a grin and took the flask out of her hand, making it disapear in his suit’s jacket. He nodded to her, letting her know it will be returned to her eventually. Not that it wasn’t a big deal if she had something of hers. She had something of him.

So it was with familiarity that he gently nudge her before looking back at those talking.

[Bridget Geroux] [First part got cut off:]
Bridget looks towards Amy with raised eyebrows as she takes the 8 ball, an expression of genuine concern.

[Balance Without Fault] [hunter’s up, then amunet, then BWF is taking the ball]

[Hunter] [oh shit browser didn’t refresh gimme a minute]

[Danicka Musil] At the bar, Danicka glances at the door, wondering about her mate, and frankly about Carter. She sips her water and returns her attention to the discussion. There’s no lightly thoughtful look on her face now. She’s quite serious. Bordering, in fact, on visibly tense.

[Hunter] The eight ball gets grasped in one meaty palm and he doesn’t stand to speak.

“Amy came to me first I believe, out of any Garou, sayin’ she wanted me to do it. I explained this to her at the time but I’ll repeat it because it seems ya’ don’t quite get it Jackson.”

A beat.

“For starters, Amy squarin’ off vs me in any form is just gonna be a beatin’ plain n’ simple. That’s just all there is to it. Secondly from what I was told the purposes for doin’ this was so that kinfolk could get some expertise on how to fight against a fuckin’ spiral — scuse ma language — n’that she’d want me to fight her not just in human form.

Now I don’t know what ya’ know bout’ spirals but fightin’ ya’ is about the last thing they’re gonna do. It won’t be in human form, so sparrin’ vs me in homid ain’t gonna teach ya’ shit. It won’t be to kill ya’ n’I don’t think I need to — nor should I try to, or am adequately able to — express just what they’d be tryin’ to do.

The flaws of this video been pointed out by my Beta quite clearly to Amy, but from where I stand there’s some seriously misguided ideas based on the fact that ya’ thought that me puttin’ a kin near death would actually help anyone learn anythin’ of value against that group’a devils.”

There’s a beat and then:

“The fact that ya’ thought me doin’ that could help is, quite frankly, god damn insultin’.”

[Kora] (going to bed folks. Kora’s still around looking restless and pregnant. Jamie has my permission to NPC her and directions for certain circumstances, cheers!)

[Balance Without Fault] [amunet–>BWF!]

[Amunet Knezevic] “I didn’t want to shame the Trueborn that gave me the bruises, Bridget. No one knew that he was going to heal them, and I certainly didn’t seek him out to do it.

And again, Bridget, you don’t know the whole story. Good for you that you get along with her. I don’t, and I have solid reasons why that is the case.

HOW am I being secretive? What kinfolk have I turned away? I don’t understand how not ramming an alliance down the kin’s throat turns into me being secretive. Explain.”

She flinches when Hunter speaks, eyes searching out anywhere to rest on but him. Her fingers run in her hair again, then move to scratch between her shoulder blades. “Fucking funny how you tell her fucking everything except the shit you’re ashamed of”

[Bridget Geroux] [Dibs if offered]

[Izzy Montoya] She felt Kora’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t meet her gaze. Not yet. Not right away. In fact, it’s not until Hunter’s clarifying that her gaze snaps up again, and there’s something.. something there. Something in dark eyes that’s clearly…

…well. Of all here, only Kora knows and only with passing details. Izzy tightens her hand around the drink, and pushes from the wall. She takes a step forward, and then shakes her head. Then, when she finally looks up and meets Kora’s gaze, her teeth audibly grind, and she turns, sets the drink down and heads to the door.

and if there’s a muttered curse or ten, well. No one who knows her is surprised.

[Balance Without Fault] [bwf is taking the ball!]

[Hunter] There’s a moment where Hunter simply stares at Amy with his jaw firmly set and then? He looks away, relaxes in his seat as much as the — sometimes high strung — Ahroun could ever relax under such conditions.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Prayers to Broken Stone has been lounging against a wall in his hoodie; arms folded over his chest; sniffing every now and then as if he had a cold. There’s been a beer bottle in one of his hands fairly steadily and at some point; he’d excused himself to raid the kitchen; he returns now, to discussion of beatings and video tapes and something about Hunter being ashamed.

He bites a hunk out of his sandwich, and shuffle-excuses his way back to his little spot like that annoying late-comer at the movies who blocks out the screen as the heroine and her man get it on finally.

[Balance Without Fault] “Enough.” Balance takes the ball back. “I don’t want to dwell on this longer than we have to. This is not a public lynching. I’ll say this, and then we move on.

“Amunet, videotaping a Garou is a very bad idea. Videotaping a Garou in non-Homid form is a worse idea. Asking a non-homid Garou to attack you so you can videotape is insanity. I realize this was a brainstorm. But that sort of idea should never even come to your mind. Not simply because of the threat to the Veil, but because it tells me that you genuinely believe with enough training a kin would have options against a Dancer in warform beyond running.

“Izzy Montoya mentioned earlier that you were going to get people killed. I’m starting to see her point.

“Let me be very clear on this: you can train if you want to. You can learn first aid, you can learn self defense. If the Warleader judges you capable, we are even willing to entertain the idea of an elite kin squad assaulting light targets to support their Garou brethren. But you are not equipped to fight a Garou in warform. If you’re so unlucky as to be caught by one, you should run. And you should teach your friends to run — not lull them into some misguided idea that they might be able to fight and win.”

Balance’s fingers tap restlessly on the eightball for a moment. Then he goes on:

“I want to move on to discussion the coalition, its leadership, and the idea of establishing a Garou-kin liaison to maintain an open line of communication between the kin and Garou of this Sept. Before we get there, I just have two more questions:

“Bridget, you mentioned something about a Garou forbidding you from something you want to do. Be more specific. What do you speak of?

“And Amunet, you accuse Hunter of not speaking of something he’s ashamed of. What are you speaking of?”

[Bridget –> then Amunet, unless she rejects it!]

[Kieran Mondblume] *He looks back to Hunter at that, and he sighs deeply. Looking back to Amy. And then back to BWF. Again watching. He wants to speak, but the words are not coming easily, it seems, so he keeps his mouth shut.*

[Matthieu] Matthieu watches in preparation for Amunet’s response. The Galliard was standing ready and keeping his attention on every word that would come out of the Kin’s mouth.

[Gina McClaren] *Curiouser and Curiouser. Gina’s eyes slowly open, and her gaze rests on Hunter, expression inquiring, her head tilted to the side. Not unlike a german shepard trying to puzzle out an algebra equation.

That is to say – hopelessly lost.

She looks from Leon and Matt back to Hunter, as though she might figure out whats shaking through some sort of elaborate half drunk social triangulation.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The Strider is watching with the most intense look of concentration anyone’s ever seen on her face. It is focused on her sister and the Grand Elder. It could be because she’s curious–tense?–to see what might be said, or it could be because she’s not wanting to look at certain individuals who might raise her ire. Her expression is pained. It’s clear to anyone who might look at her that although her protectorate obligations are over with, it certainly doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care. She knows how her sister must feel right now, what this is like for her, because she knows Amy so well.

She would rather it be her in that place instead of Amy, being questioned and having doubt heaped on by others.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget fidgets with the ball when it comes her way, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Amy, if that got a bit too personal. Catch me later if you want.”

She continues quickly. “I have on a few occasions been told by several Garou. Forgive me, but one didn’t tell me his name. The other was Simon, who I think expressed concern over my well being. I should explain. The Sept I am from is in the Rockies, in the middle of nowhere. I’m not boasting, but I know I’m a skilled survivalist. It feels unnatural going for so long in the city without getting some fresh air. But on several occasions, without explanation, I’ve been discouraged from going outside of the city to… do my thing.”

The Fianna kin continues, “I don’t understand what the difference is if I’m alone in the city or in the woods. I can handle myself just fine out there, and I’ve gone out there on several occasions on my own before Simon and some others told me I shouldn’t.”

[Balance Without Fault] “And that’s all you’re doing? Just going into the woods to … hike?”

He tosses the ball back.

[Leon Davenport] His shift position slightly, watching Amunet, glancing at Sarita and then Hunter. What will Amy say? He hoped that Amy will decide not to tlk. For herself, for Hunter and maybe for him. He wasn’t sure what Amy meant, what Hunter did or didn’t do., but somethings were sad that didn’t make him entirely comfortable

Thongs has been dealt with and he had no intention to have them brought back to the forefront.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget catches it, “No. I hunt. I check the trails, get familiar with the landscape. Sometimes, I stay out there for quite a while with little or no supplies. It’s… no different from what I did back home.”

[Derek Anderson] (*things has been dealt..)

[August Grant] {Alright, gotta get to bed – August will stay through the meeting with the other Coggies. Night all.)

[Danicka Musil] [Night! Thanks for playing!]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Patrick will take a break from eating to pipe in at some point RE: Bridget.]

[Bridget Geroux] [Add: check the landscape, figure out the flora and fauna.]

[Balance Without Fault] “I see no harm in that. Patrick, you represent the Fianna. What do you think?”

Lob.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget seems quite pleased with BWF’s comment, but waits on Patrick’s response.

[Hunter] [if anyone wants a description post of hunter’s appearance etc right now let me know otherwise I’m just chillin’ LOL]

[Nash] [I don’t think I’ll survive without one.]

[Rosie] Rosalie has been very quiet. Nothing more than another small body among a wealth of very well bred kin and Garou. While the conversation continues between the primary parties, the kin slips her fingers inside the front pocket of her jeans and removes her cell phone. She is quiet and unobtrusive while her fingers move quickly over the Qwerty keyboard.

[Balance Without Fault] [angelina, since your post is pretty separate from this business with Bridget, you might wanna start pre-writing!]

[Hunter] [AHAHAHA, gina just got a trillion empathy suxx ;((( ]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Prayers to Broken Stone sets his beer down and catches the eightball the way a baseball player might; both hands. He’s finishing chewing his sandwich as he goes and holds up a finger briefly to swallow, then thump himself over his chest to help work it down.

Brushing crumbs from his mouth, the intensely-blue eyed Galliard of Last Watch speaks simply, without intention for pretty wording.

“Thanks, man — Rhya, man. Uh, look I know Bridget fairly well. I think I can say with an attempt at authority she’s not insane, girl can hold her own when fist comes at face. I have no problem with her hiking in the woods. I think of some of the Kinfolk here, no respect really, but I think of them, she’d do pretty well.

So, yeah.”

He nods at the Fiann, and lobs off the eightball.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((And I am passing out. The coughing has not ceased, so whatever he might say in response I can wait on for now, I think.))

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [no.. DISrespect. Hooboy.]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Jackson: *Pitches a fit and storms out weeping*]]

[Nash] When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he does not whip it out to see who it is while still in the midst of the meeting. He hears it, and quietly steps out from between Holden and Kora to find some sort of an exit. Being as he’s never been in here before, it takes a moment before he realizes the kitchen is through the swinging doors and manages to make it that way, moving at an unhurried pace, keeping his right arm held to his ribs.

Whatever he sees when he ends up in the kitchen makes him laugh, and then the door swings shut behind him.

[Amunet Knezevic] She catches the ball, eyes on BWF and nowhere else. “I understand that it’s a bad idea, Rhya. I put more stock into Laughs in the Face of Death Rhya’s words than was evident at the time. I assure you, the idea had been abandoned long before this meeting.”

Her teeth catch the corner of her bottom lip for a moment, before her head shakes. “I apologize for the comment. To both you and Burnout Rhya as well. It wasn’t about anything pertinent to the discussion or the Nation, just something that my brother and I should discuss at a later time”

[Rosie] Blue eyes sweep over Amunet’s face but what – if anything – she’s thinking at that moment are not completely obvious. Her fingers ghost over her phone before she slides it closed and stands from her chair where she’d been sitting. There’s a quiet apology given to those seated nearest her before she edges away and manoeuvres a path through the proper area and into the kitchen.

[Balance Without Fault] [crap — this goes in before Amunet — ]

“I’d add only two admonishments to that. First: I’d keep that sort of solitude to a minimum until the kinhunter business has passed. You’ll be easy pickings on your own, miles from anyone else. Second: I hope to Gaia you’re hunting rabbits and deer, not Wyrm creatures.”

[Amunet Knezevic] [*scootches back to make room*]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Patrick watches as one by one, Kinfolk slip into the kitchen. He cranes his neck.

“What is there some secret door I don’t know of back there?” He calls at random, then grimaces in a ‘my bad’ way if looked at sharply for speaking out of turn. He does gesture at the kitchen to others though, in a what gives manner.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget shakes her head at that. “Oh, god no. I’m not that much of a moonbrain.”

[Derek Anderson] He lean against the wall, listening, not talking. He has been one of the few Kin who didn’t speak up and was still there. And he wasn’t going to leave until the meeting was over. He was Silver Fang and he would do things properly. Beside, it was somewhat interesting. He learned a few things, watching everyone, listening.

He offered Rain and August a smile as both kin were obiosuly tired, August understandably so, being prengant and all. He will offer her andEla a ride home after the meeting and Rain too, unless she leaves with one of Kora’s people

[Gina McClaren] *Dark eyes slide from Hunter to his Fenrir Packmate. Flick to Gina’s kinfolk tribesmate. Tipsy kin contemplative as she rests against Mirror’s Whisper, considering the garou of Defiance a moment longer. Leon’s tenseness is sensed in a peripheral, instinctive manner, and dealt with just as naturally. Gina tugs his shirt-sleeve in a gesture of comradery, before settling back in to listen. She’d leave to go to “work” once the meeting was over.*

[ok! I have got to sleep or I’m just going to start typing “Ale-Alejandro Ale Alejandrooo” over and over again. Or something equally inane. Good Night folks! Have fun!]

[Joey] [Do I want to know what’s going on in the kitchen? curiositah!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Balance Without Fault] [night!]

[Joey] It’s the laughter that has Joey looking back toward the kitchen, as the Fenrir kinsman disappears behind the swinging door. And it’s Patrick calling attention to it that has her curiosity piqued.

But this meeting is srs bznz. Joey manages to contain that desire to know. At least for now.

[Balance Without Fault] [typing, folks! sorry it’s taking a while!]

[Balance Without Fault] Balance considers Amunet a moment, then nods. “Fair enough. Let’s move on.”

A moment’s pause, reflective. Then Balance takes another drink of water, sets the eightball down beside him, and speaks.

“I think we got somewhere tonight. I think we addressed a lot of concerns, some minor and some major, that needed to be talked about. That said, I think there’s still a lot up in the air, and it’s pretty evident that we need a more permanent mode of communication between the kin and the Garou of this Sept.

“I’m taking a page from my tribesmen in southern California. I’m hereby creating two new offices in this Sept: a Sept liaison amongst the kin, and a Kin liaison amongst the Garou. Their task is simple. They represent the kin and the Garou, respectively, and they interface with each other to make sure there’s an open line of communication at all times.

“If a kin has an issue that requires the attention of the Garou, bring it to the Sept Liaison. He or she is the voice of the kin in this Sept. Whatever the issue, the Sept Liaison is in charge of speaking to the appropriate Tribal Alpha to find a resolution, or — if it’s a matter that affects all the Garou — the Kin Liaison. The Sept Liaison is also tasked with passing critical information from the kin to the Garou. I will consider allowing the Sept Liaison to stand witness at the Crackings of the Bone, though I want to hear the Philodox Elder’s opinion on protocol and precedent first.

“In complement, the Kin Liaison will attend coalition meetings — primarily as a listener, but also as a voice for the Garou when necessary. The Kin Liaison will have a direct line to me and the other Sept and Tribal Elders as necessary. It’s also my hope that the Kin Liaison will have the basic leadership skills necessary to independently handle minor issues.

“Now, as to who will fulfill these roles — Mirror’s Whisper, you spoke earlier of your pack’s role. It seems to me that you’re ideally suited to our Kin Liaison. If you’re willing, the job is yours.”

[Wyrmbreaker] It’s in the middle of Balance’s speech that the door opens and Wyrmbreaker slips back in. He takes his seat by Danicka again. He looks a little worn out, but — rather glad, surprisingly.

There’s no blood on him anywhere. He takes his mate’s hand as he sits, squeezes it once, and then turns to pay attention to the Grand Elder.

[Amunet Knezevic] Her breath catches and holds. There is absolutely no doubt how much she desires to be named to the newly formed position.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget pays a glance to Amy, her face grows concerned. Her eyes flick back to Balance Without Fault as she backs away towards the bar, making herself less obtrusive. Bridget won’t touch that with a ten foot pole unless someone beat her with it and tied it to her arms.

[Wyrmbreaker] [sorry to wreck your transcript, unbrokenites, but!

Lukas caught up to Carter outside and offered him the choice between getting exiled and going voluntarily into house arrest for a month. Carter agreed to house arrest, so he’ll be shacking up at the Loft. Sorry, Kate!

Lukas also stipulated that he’ll have a stormcrow following him around, and that he’s only allowed to be at the Loft and immediately surrounding areas or at work. If he wants a guest over, he has to get Kate’s permission.

Carter wanted to continue training kin, so Lukas said he’d ask Kate if it was okay for Carter to use the rumpus room. If not, Lukas will find him a dojo or something.

/end transmission!]
to¬†Danicka Musil, Honor’s Compass, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Honor’s Compass] [I’m typing!]

[Danicka Musil] [Sinclair sez: HAHAHA HOPE YOU GUYS ARE HAVING FUN OUT THERE WITH THE KINFOLK DRAMUHZ. I’M GOING TO TIJUANA TOMORROW TO GET FIREWORKS FOR MY BIRTHDAY. WERD.]
to¬†Honor’s Compass, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Wyrmbreaker

[Matthieu] He nods his head back at Balance without Fault and his smile shows.”Thank you, I should like that my pack serve as a representative not only of the Garou but as a display of what the Garou and Kin can accomplish together. I would proudly accept the role as I would never wish our kin in this sept to go without a voice. They are the heart of our society and I should like that we can repair any rifts between us soon enough.”He smiles and looks to the other Kin present.

[Honor’s Compass] Honor’s Compass has been frowning in consideration for some time as discussion and debate wore on; when Balance Without Fault calls for her opinion on the matter of a Kinfolk standing in attendance at the Moots, she stirs and tosses a wave of silky gold hair over a shoulder; taking hold once more of the ball.

“I see no true issue with the appointed Kinfolk Liaison attending Moots within reason. I do not believe that unless they have matters to bring forward, they need be present and when they are, it would be my advice, Rhya, that they speak only when other matters have been addressed — unless there is reason why they should speak before the collected Garou.

I would further suggest that bearing in mind whoever gains this position, that their tribal Alpha be held responsible for their safety and conduct during appearances at our Moots.”

[Honor’s Compass] [Kate has no issue with the naughty Kinfolk being chained to her house. She has a free room available for him, chains optional.

She’ll provide him with a spare key and inform him he is welcome to make use of the rumpus space as long as he’s respectful to Kate’s other guests and knows if he steps out of line she’ll put him down.]
to Danicka Musil, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Wyrmbreaker

[Balance Without Fault] [dibs list: kate –> BWF!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [Sarita says: “Long as I don’t have to dodge gunfire for using all the hot water in the shower, sounds like a plan.” Though she’s super-distracted at the moment, too.]]
to¬†Danicka Musil, Honor’s Compass, Wyrmbreaker

[Danicka Musil] [Sinclair sez: WEEE-OOO. TEQUILAAA.]
to¬†Honor’s Compass, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Wyrmbreaker

[Balance Without Fault] [i’m an idiot, it wasn’t refreshing.]

[Balance Without Fault] Balance Without Fault listens to Katherine; it’s readily apparent that her word is carefully attended to and weighed. Nodding, he takes the eightball back.

“Fair enough. The Sept Liaison may attend the Cracking of the Bone as a witness. He or she may speak if and only if they have a valid concern to bring forth on behalf of all the kin. The tribal Alpha of this kin is held responsible for the Sept Liaison’s safety and conduct.

“With that said, I’ll consider nominations for the Sept Liaison now.”

[Hunter] [dibs]

[Hunter] Hunter takes the eight ball for the second time tonight and by the way he keeps glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen it’s probably going to be the last time.

“Let me just say Amy’s eager if nuthin’ else. She wants to help n’despite all that’s been said tonight, I think her hearts in the right place which is more than can be said for some kinfolk.

In saying that, I spoke with Imogen Slaughter, she’s agreed to step in and help out the cause that Amy’s started n’I think we’d all be fools not to consider her for nomination. She couldn’t be here tonight cause she’s cleanin’ up the mess one’a our kind left behind, but I think she’d do this if it were offered to her.”

The way he looks at Amy is apologetic if anything, but having said his piece, he hands the eight ball on.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget makes her way quietly over to Patrick, then leans over and whispers something quietly to her Tribal Elder. It is the briefest of moments before she touches his shoulder and retreats into the kitchen.

[Nash] [Oh shit I’m supposed to be proxying for Liz/Kora!

Yes. Dibbage –> seconding of Hunter’s nomination of Imogen for Kora.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[DIBS]]

[Amunet Knezevic] Just remember, some people there will be skeptical. Some may even try to show that you is not ready by trying to entice your anger. Do not let them bait you.

She brushes her hair back, putting on her very best poker face. It got them out of San Antonio unscathed, it can sure as fuck get her out of this meeting with at least a shred of dignity.

[Balance Without Fault] [go ahead, sarita – jamie was just OOCing it!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita takes the 8-Ball. And believe it or not, she actually considers the thing for a moment before she speaks.

“I really like this idea of Kin and a Sept Liasons. It’s thinking outside the box, which is something our people don’t do often enough. And it’s my job…the job of all of my Auspice…to encourage thinking outside of the box, finding new ways to make the war work. This is exactly one of those things, so I’m a fan.”

“As to who…I’ve heard great things about Imogen. I have absolutely no doubt that they’re true. But I don’t know her. I’ve never met her, or seen her around the Brotherhood during my admittedly short time here. That’s not saying she’s negligent, and certainly I’m not here all the time. But we have a lot of kin that come in and out of here. Even the amount of time I’ve been here, I’ve seen a lot come and go. We need someone who’s regularly in contact with the kin and has their ear to the ground, and has ideas. Maybe not always the best of ideas, but that’s part of why they’ll be working with others, Garou AND Kin. Getting the right ideas pushed forward, and the well-meaning but not well thought-out ones squashed. Which, to be honest, seems to be what’s been happening.”

She twirls the magic 8-Ball like a basketball for a moment, staring at it, then looks up. “Amunet’s done the legwork. She’s got her ear to the ground, and she’s got the drive. She’s got the right ideas, even if some of the wrong are there too sometimes, and she’s willing to listen and hear other people’s opinions, take them into account, and learn from what hasn’t worked to make the right things work better. I think she’s the right person for the job.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[spins on her finger. Y’know, Harlem Globetrotter style. Since “twirls” don’t make no sense. :P]]

[Joey] [Dibs!]

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs, as well.]

[Balance Without Fault] [joey –> danicka]

[Joey] Joey holds out her hands for the magic eight ball, catches it easily if it gets tossed her way. Before she speaks, she grins at her auspicemate, would tip her hat if she were wearing one.

“My associate raises some good points. As for stickin’ around, Imogen’s a rock. She’s been here since long before I got here, an’ I’m pretty sure she’ll still be standing’ when the world’s finally fallin’ to pieces. That said,” she tosses the eight ball from one hand to the other, “Sarita’s right. She’d be a good candidate an’ all, but she’s not here. She’s out there, helpin’ clean up after our messes, but still.

“So how ’bout someone who is?” Holding the magic eight ball with one hand, once again she uses it to point, this time to the Shadow Lord kinswoman by Lukas’ side. “I suggest Danicka. She’s been around a long while, an’ though I don’t know ‘er much beyond her reputation, she’s always been nice an’ respectful.” When it seems the woman in question would like the ball next, Joey doesn’t toss it directly to her. Remembering the earlier incident, she instead lobs it underhand to Lukas.

[Joey] [oh god random apostrophe should make that “standin'” please don’t mistake her for Hunter!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas catches the eightball and, since he has it anyway, speaks up.

“I second that,” he says, “and not because she’s my mate. Because she’s spoken sense every time she opened her mouth. Because she’s respected by the spirits, and pays them respects in return. And because a year ago she did the legwork and set up a coalition before handing it over to the leadership of another kin — who promptly disappeared.

“She’s proved herself. If she wants the job,” and he looks at Danicka for a moment here, considering, “I’d listen to her.”

He passes it over to her.

[Matthieu] [I need to AFK a little bit hopefully Matt isn’t needed for the next half hour!]

[Balance Without Fault] [see you in a bit dude!]

[Joey] [it’s so weird seeing “dude” next to BWF’s name]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[‘Homey’ would have been even better.]]

[Honor’s Compass] [CAN KATE SPEAK. …oops, capsrage.]

[Balance Without Fault] [danicka’s got it, unless kate wants to snatch it out of her hands!]

[Honor’s Compass] [*steeples fingers* …okay, not really. But Kate does want to add something.]

[Nash] [Rage, rage against the locking of the caps.]

[Balance Without Fault] [Fencing Fox just IMed me to check on the proceedings. She wants to say Daoi would have been present, but she has to go to work, and wanted to second either Imogen or Danicka. Also, she is vehemently against Amunet, Neda, Carter and Mickey. So. Consider her NPCed!]

[Joey] [Do not go gentle into that good caps?]

[Danicka Musil] When she initially held up her hand to signal that she’d like the 8-ball to be passed to her when it was her turn, Joey had not spoken yet. And Danicka had opinions on both Amunet and Imogen. The truth is, what she has to say about one was touched on — but not expounded on — by Hunter. What she had to say about Imogen has been said twice now.

And then Lukas joins in, because Joey the athlete decided not to hurl a hard plastic ball at Danicka’s head, and Danicka turns her head to look at the Ahroun Elder. Those who can see past the curtain of her hair over her cheek can see quite plainly that it is, in fact, a Look.

By the time the Magic 8-Ball that is representing the right to speak uninterrupted in this gathering comes into her hands, Danicka’s had to completely reform what she wants to say. Nice and respectful, the Rotagar calls her. The Rotagar who wasn’t here when she lied, smiling, to the face of the woman who is now the Philodox Elder and an Adren. The Rotagar wasn’t here when Danicka whipped around and reamed out a Modi in public

then promptly left town, lest he come after her. Eeek.

Danicka takes a breath. “I think Dr. Slaughter, if she’s willing to do a job she doesn’t yet know exists, would be a more than adequate choice. She’s abrasive at best, but she’s also proven herself more than any other Kin in the city. She would be capable, if not sentimental. One of the first times I met her, she turned and fired on Spirals so that the rest of us could run. As cold as she can be, it would be wrong to suggest that she hasn’t proven herself willing to fight and die for all of us. As dismissive as she can be, and absence tonight notwithstanding, she holds more respect in the eyes of Garou than anyone else.”

A pause. She does not address Amunet as a candidate — either what she wants to say has already been said, or does not need to be said. “As for my own nomination, I’m flattered.” A beat. She knew easily what she had to say about Imogen. It is not, however, easy for Danicka to talk about herself. Not with this many people, and so many of them Garou, listening. Not with her own reputation — and, frankly, Lukas’s — affected by what comes out of her mouth. She takes another deep breath. “I suppose I accept. I would be honored to do my best, if chosen.”

Chosen, she says. Not elected. Her eyes are on Balance Without Fault, but only meeting his for a moment before — ever so respectfully — dropping to his cheekbone instead. She offers the ball out to someone who can hand it to Katherine, who has lifted her hand. Danicka does not lob anything, thank you.

[Honor’s Compass] Perhaps in times gone past, Lukas might tense to see his pack-mate; her pale eyes firmly fixed on his mate request permission from the Grand Elder to address their peers and other Kinfolk alike. Perhaps he’d clench his teeth in desperate hopes she was not about to open her mouth and opine about — well, who ever knew — but while the Silver Fang Elder studies the Shadow Lord Kinfolk nominated alongside a Fianna Kinswoman absent tonight — she does not do so with apparent glorying malice.

Rather, there’s a certain amount of quiet reflection to be had, in all honesty.

“While I respect Doctor Slaughter’s capacities a great deal, I find that I do not believe, knowing her only, I admit, as passingly as I do, that she would willingly take up this position. Imogen Slaughter does not particularly revel in long periods of association around our kind.

My feeling is she endures such, as often as she may foster relationships with some.” Here Katherine’s eyes tick to Kora.

“So it would be my vote to elect Danicka Musil, and add that while she has suffered — setbacks, tonight — and needs to be more controlled in expressing her opinion, Amunet should not be ignored for this, either. She has put in considerable time and effort, and the last thing this Sept needs or wants are Kinfolk who, feeling excluded or resentful, get themselves into trouble.

Work together, please. I have seen too many Kinfolk of my tribe and without who wind up lost, gone or simply dead.

I do not wish to witness it again.”

[Balance Without Fault] [any more dibbers? i’m gonna start typing.]

[Balance Without Fault] The magic eightball makes it way around the room, sometimes passed, sometimes tossed. Eventually it comes back to Balance Without Fault, who catches it with a sort of ease that suggests once upon a time he might’ve played ball for his highschool.

Once he has it, he turns it over in his hands for a moment. Then he looks at the kin who have, by and large, stood so silent thus far.

“This is your representative I’m choosing. Any thoughts?”

[Balance Without Fault] [i’ma give people a couple min to call dibs, and then we’re rollin’ on.]

[Derek Anderson] Derek watched and listened, silent. He didn’t say anything or reacted to any of the nominated canditates. Whoever they chose was fine by him. After all, he doesn’t need much and if something come up, well he could always reach Katherine. He was sad for those whom the old ways weren’t working but it was for him.

So why change something that isn’t broken? No reason. He was just there as a witness, because all kin were asked to come. And he stayed in the main area for it was disrecpectful to go awya in the kitchen while business that touched everyone was discussed.

He hasn’said anything but he had been there and won’t be able to complain later if things turn out badly.

[Jackson Montgomery] Jackson looks up. “Since this is my chance to speak up…I would choose Amy. I only vaguely know Danicka, no offenser. I’ve been working with Amy, and so have others who weren’t able to make it here. And I believe that someone who is involved with the current make-up should be doing it.”

Not very wordy, but it gets his point across.

[Nash] [Thanks for the scene, all! I’m told I have to go partake in a threeway or something, idk.]

[Quinn] [I’m sorry, guys, I can’t stay up any longer, I have to be up for work in a ridiculously small amount of time. Both of my PCs would stick it out until the end, and then disappear into the night. Good night!]

[Balance Without Fault] Balance lets that silence hang, his eyes moving from kin to kin, all around the room. It stretches on. It gets a little uncomfortable. It gets a lot uncomfortable. Then the Grand Elder puts the eightball down on the arm of his chair again. Stands.

“I have,” he says, “the utmost respect for Imogen Slaughter. She very nearly has the renown of a Cliath Ahroun — and it’s no secret that the spirits do not pay attention to our kin as they do our Garou. To gather such a reputation under such odds is no small accomplishment, wolves and kin of the Maelstrom, and she is to be respected.

“However,” he turns directly to Hunter and Kora, “it must also be said that Dr. Imogen Slaughter, while faultlessly dedicated and loyal to our cause, has never been one to involve herself too deeply in the Sept’s politics. Or, as far as I could tell, one who wanted to do so. She’s not here tonight because she’s out there doing what she does best — working for the cause in her own way, on her own time, without our interference. And that’s fine. The work she does justifies that. Her renown stands alone.

“Bear in mind that I’m not dictating the leader of the coalition tonight. That’s up to the kin, and that’s yet to be decided. If you want my opinion, Imogen Slaughter would be a very fine choice. However, this role we discuss tonight, the role she’s been nominated for, is one of mediation, of elbow-rubbing, of talking, of listening, of liaising. And I agree with Sarita, and with the Philodox and Ragabash Elders. She may not be suited to this. She may not even want it. She’s not here to decide for herself, and I won’t pin this title on her in her absence.

“On the other hand, Danicka Musil’s name carries weight in this Sept. She is known for her wisdom, and for glory. She’s tried before to organize the kin, and she’s proven her ability tonight to speak calmly, and with sense, even in the face of controversy and dissent. I agree with the Auspice Elders who have spoken. She deserves this role, and I trust her with it.

“If you accept this duty, Danicka, it’s yours.”

A pause. Then he turns to the final contender.

“And that leaves Amunet Knezevic. Amunet, I agree with your sister, Sarita, and your friend, Jackson, when they say your heart is in the right place. You want this position, I can see it. You want to do well.

“I can’t ignore that you’ve caused no small amount of controversy tonight; that some of your ideas were flawed, and others were borderline insane. I can’t trust you to speak alone for the kin. Not when one kin has spoken vehemently against you; not when, at times tonight, you had trouble explaining your own actions. I’m sorry.

“But the Philodox Elder speaks with wisdom: we should reward those who try hardest. We are not,” a wry nod to the Shadow Lord contingent, “a Shadow Lord Sept, that counts everything by results alone. We do not disregard heartfelt attempts, no matter how futile. After all, it might be argued our entire war is one heroic, futile attempt.

“So here’s what I’ll do. While Danicka Musil is the Sept Liaison — if she’s willing, and if you’re willing — you may serve as her assistant. You may appear where she does, attend what meetings she attends. You can listen, and learn. In time, if your elders feel it appropriate, you may be given duties and responsibilities of your own interfacing between Garou and Kin.

“Will you accept this duty?”

[Amunet Knezevic] She waits. There isn’t anything to be said, after all, until Danicka has her say.

[Danicka Musil] A deep breath is taken before Danicka answers, and she is not surprised Amunet does not want to speak til she has. There’s no need to wait for the Magic 8-Ball this time; it’s done being passed around. She’s sitting up straight on the barstool she chose at the start of all this, and nods. “I would be honored,” she says, which is only what she said before. But this does confirm it: she’s willing.

“I would be glad to work with either Dr. Slaughter or Amunet, whoever leads the coalition Amunet’s reforming, as a colleague who will help me know what issues the Kinfolk need communicated to the Sept. I would also be more than happy to have Amunet as an… assistant, if she is amenable to it.” There’s a pause, and then she turns her head slightly, looking at Amunet. “But before you answer, I do want you to understand one thing very clearly. If you decided you wanted to assist me, I would need you to not only help me, but trust me.” A beat. She stops mincing words. “And frankly, obey me. Not as an automaton, not without a voice, not without respectful discussion, but ultimately, as a subordinate. If you don’t believe you are willing to place yourself in that position, then …be my colleague only as a member of, or leader of, the coalition.”

[Amunet Knezevic] He would be so disappointed in you right now…

She nods once then smiles, directing her reply to BWF and sounding a little too much like her Shadow Lord mate in her perfectly enunciated reply. “I will of course serve the Nation in any fashion that you see fit, Rhya. Thank you for the opportunity.”

[Starla] Starla’s still there…. despite someone going to bed, this is still happening. It ain’t a dream. She blinks, looks at the proceedings that have somehow woken her up in the chair and sits and stares at all of them. The corners of her mouth twisting and flattening suddenly.

[Balance Without Fault] Balance shakes his head quietly. “It’s not an order, Amunet. It’s a duty that you can take up or lay down as you wish. If you want it — if you can live with what Danicka just said, and with the boundaries I’ve delineated — then it’s yours.

“Otherwise, you may reject it without dishonor.”

[Amunet Knezevic] Her eyes flicker to Danicka, then back. “I feel as if I should at the very least make sure that Miss Musil is up to speed on what’s being worked currently. Perhaps we should revisit the question of my continuing role once the preliminary details have been addressed.”

[Danicka Musil] Her brows draw together, her forehead wrinkled in a vague look of confusion, but Danicka doesn’t interrupt.

[Balance Without Fault] “As you wish. If you want the role, let Danicka know. Otherwise, I hope you do continue the work you’ve begun — albeit in a more moderated manner.

“Now then. Let’s wrap up.

“Matthieu Mirror’s Whisper, you are our Kin Liaison. I suggest you make use of your Galliard talent to announce this far and wide. Danicka Musil, you are our Sept Liaison. I’d suggest getting in touch with your fellow kin to spread the word.

“Together, the two of you are responsible for maintaining an open line of communication between Garou and kin, for keeping one another up to speed on the developments on both sides, and for being the first point of mediation in conflicts between Garou and kin. You should interact with individual Tribal Alphas, with the Philodox Alpha, with individual kin, and with each other. In dire circumstances, you may come before me, but it’s my hope that you’ll be able to settle most issues independently, or with the assistance of your Septmates.

“Furthermore, Matthieu, you’re responsible for attending kin coalition meetings as a listener and as a voice for the Garou. Danicka, you will be present at the Cracking of the Bone as a witness and, if necessary, as a voice for the kin. Your mate will stake his honor on your conduct and safety.

“I suggest the two of you meet with each other soon after this meeting and better delineate your working relationship. Here’s hoping it’ll be a long one.”

Addressing the gathered, then:

“If there’s nothing else, wolves and kin of the Maelstrom, thank you for coming. I think we’ve taken significant steps forward tonight, and I’m looking forward to seeing how this kin coalition pans out. There’s still food in the kitchen, if you want to take some home — otherwise, I’ll bid you a good night.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita stands and looks at the Galliard Elder. “Before you go, Matthieu…we need to talk.” The look she fixes on him is a direct one. It’s not angry, but there is something a bit…intense in it. “Just give me a moment.”

She makes her way over to Amy, reaching out to touch the other’s shoulder. “Hey…”

[Amunet Knezevic] “Hey” She smiles brightly, leaning to give Sarita a quick hug. “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

[Balance Without Fault] [hey guys, i’m bowing BWF out. thanks to everyone who stayed for the whole, 9-hour shebang! @_@ that was a lot of fun and pretty intense at times, but overall reminded me why i don’t do the moots live *LOL*]

[Jackson Montgomery] Jackson waits until it looks like they’re getting ready to go, and he looks up. He nods to the Trueborn around and moves to head out with his fellow Gaian kin.

[[Thanks Damon!]]

[Kyle] He’s been quiet the entire time. Not that he’d have been heard clearly but he really didn’t have much to say. Casually he stands and while he walks stretches out a kink from his back. Stops near Amunet and gives that casual smile but the concern in his eyes is obvious.
“You doing ok?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, shut the fuck up.” She grins a bit, leaning into the hug. “It wasn’t nice, it was the truth.” She leans in, murmuring in Spanish.

[Matthieu] Matthieu listens quietly and nods his head.”I should like to speak to both Danicka and Amunet as soon as that much can be arranged. I look forward to seeing the direction this will head.”

[Leon Davenport] Leon looked at Sarita when he spoke top his Alha and he grinned. He had a good idea what the Strider want to talk to him about. Well, he didn’t care. There was nothing there and if hse pressed the issue, he hope Matthieu would tell her to be reasonable.

He doubted she would. “Have a good night Matthieu” he say to the Galliard and start to move away, unless his Alpha wnat him around for his talk with the Strider

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] ~sp~ “You made me very proud tonight. Don’t you dare let yourself think anything differently. I love you.”
to Amunet Knezevic

[Hunter] [Hunter bailed for the kitchen awhile ago! I’m bailing now too, cya later all thanks for the scene.. or saga.. I don’t think scene does it justice.]

[Amunet Knezevic] “I’m fine, Kyle. Thank you. It’s good to see you again.” The smile doesn’t so much as flicker, turned from Kyle back to Sarita as she nods in response to whatever was said to her.

[Derek Anderson] The meeting was over, he needed to get home. He texted Kristen, asking her if she felt like joining him at his place. He bid farewell to Lukas and Katherine, as well as Danicka since she was beside the Shadow Lord Adren “Congatulation”he tell her

Sarita and Amy gets both a nod and he heads out

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs a bit, looking concerned. She gives Amy a hug once more. “I need to talk to Matthieu. Let’s do something in the next day or two, okay?”

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Thanks all! If nobody needs my PCs, I’ma say they both wander out. :)]

[Amunet Knezevic] “Of course. Come by the condo.” She hugs her sister, then lets her go and moves toward Stefan as he emerges from upstairs.

[Danicka Musil] Danicka nods, rather simply, to Balance Without Fault, a gesture of respect and perhaps gratitude, though not for the position so much as the trust it implies. When he closes the meeting, she slides off of her barstool and walks over to Matthieu before people can stir up and depart too quickly.

She takes a small pad of paper out of her bag and writes down her number, handing it over to him. “You can call me whenever you need to. Weekends and evenings are best, due to classes, but I’ll make myself available to your schedule.”

To Amunet, when she makes her way over there, she gives a small smile. “If you change your mind, let me know. But you have my contact information. It’s now literally my job to make sure you and the rest of the coalition are involved, informed, and heard. So don’t hesitate.”

Making sure the Tribal Alphas and other Kin know how to get in touch with her and even know who she is will wait another day, though, it seems. Danicka moves back towards Lukas and, catching Katherine’s eye briefly as she does so, gives the other woman a small smile, perhaps coming with a little more difficulty than the one she gave to Amunet. A small nod. The meaning there is even harder to read than the Look she gave Lukas earlier.

Katherine will understand, though. They haven’t always had the best and brightest relationship, these two.

She leans over to Lukas then and exhales as she gathers up her coat, saying something quietly to him.

[Matthieu] He stands slowly and nods his head back to Sarita. His attention on her before he looks to the others.”Let’s go speak away from prying ears then shall we?”He asks her as he begins to lead her in the direction of the Kitchen.

[Kyle] “You’re busy. I’ll catch you around the tracks I guess.”
Looks to both Sarita and Amunet as he casually makes his way for the kitchen to grab a snack and head up stairs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods to Matthieu once Amy is gone, looking to him. “Sounds good.” He moves to follow along behind him.

[Matthieu] He walks with her into the other room and offers u a little smile.”What seems to be the problem here?”
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Wyrmbreaker] The gathering is breaking up; Lukas catches Sarita’s eye as she moves off with Matthieu. The look is — complex. Some touch of compassion; some hint of apology; mostly, though, just a sort of recognition and acknowledgment. Of their relationships, perhaps. To each other. To their kin.

Then he’s turning, bending to hear what Danicka is saying while he reaches for his own coat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “The problem is simple.” She’s angry now. She’s letting herself show it. Not raging…she does not not even have the capacity to frenzy, except in odd situations. Not even furious. But she’s angry. “Why is one of my tribe’s kin playing footsie with Leon’s knee?”
to Matthieu

[Wyrmbreaker] Whatever it is she says, Lukas laughs quietly; murmurs something back, then takes her coat from her and holds it while she slides into it.

Then he’s lifting his own, sliding it over his shoulders. The gathering has dissipated; he nods to the few that remain as he departs with his mate.

[Danicka Musil] [Thank you guys — those of you still in the room! For the RP. :] I honestly had a blast.]

[Matthieu] “Miss McCalister and I are old friends… She and I are close. I cannot say why she and Leon might have been playing footsies though I do know they have had a short dialogue once or twice. He confessed this to me himself… In fact he’s been quite responsible even going so far is to get my permission simply to associate with other kin.”He smiles a little.”I don’t see the harm, I would not let my beta harm a single hair on your Kin’s head. He’s been careful not to cross any distinct boundaries. She and Leon, as I understand, are little more than passing friends.”He looks up at her.”If anything I suspect it was me Gina was visiting Leon happening to be by my side was simply a matter of fate. He is my Beta, as a result I would not let him do anything to break our agreement.”He says back to her.

“However I understood that it was only your Sister whom Leon was allowed not contact at all and required to keep a distance from. Leon has been doing quite well to tell me who he has talked to and his reasons for doing so and I assure you he is not up to no good with your kin.”He says with a reassuring little smile.
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Wyrmbreaker] [i’m out too! thanks again, folks! i had fun too :] ]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I know you’re close, Matthieu. Gina’s alluded to a Silver Fang who wanted to take her on as a mate. I can do the math, it’s either you, Kate or Ivan and she’s not Kate’s type. So I’m guessing I’m on the right side of the 50/50 odds here. And I don’t have a problem with that. Gina, Amy, Kyle…they can hang out with whoever they want, they can–and I’m not implying here–date and sleep with whoever they want. I’m okay with that. But sometimes, I have to step in. Because I wouldn’t be doing my job as tribal elder if not.”

She frowns. “I want to be clear here. I bet he’s doing a wonderful job of not assaulting kinfolk. Faboo. But until someone challenges me to claim her, she’s my responsibility, and let me be perfectly clear…she is not to be anywhere near Leon. Period point-blank. And if you won’t stop it, I will tell her so myself, which will force me to tell her why.”
to Matthieu

[Matthieu] He smiles just a Hint though he says nothing in regard to whether or not she might be correct in his guess.”Gina is my friend… We’ve been friends since before I met either of you, and I would imagine we always will. It seems like a near impossibility for me to keep Leon and Gina from, themselves, coming into contact. I can ask Leon to obey this but Gina is a social creature and likely to seek him out. It seems like I would be attempting to do the impossible here by only informing one side that the other is not allowed to see them. Still if you are going to be insistent on the matter I can attempt to speak to him and hopefully the matter can be resolved until such point as you change your mind.”He then continues.

“I should also mention a matter of some concern for me. It would appear that the Alpha of Defiance has caught wind of this little matter and he has set out upon a smear campaign against my Beta in relation to other kin.”He says before peeking up at her.”I would like that if this matter is to be buried it be buried… Having the Alphas of other packs walking around carrying judges does not put this matter behind us. It goes, both, against the spirit of our agreement and shows a lack of Honor on the part of another Garou. This matter ended with our arrangement and other Garou have no place involving themselves to any degree.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I agree with that. And I will try to talk to Hunter. As I told you in our initial talk, he knew before that point. I can’t make people un-know something. He hates Leon. Frankly, I kind of do, too, but not the point. I will talk to him and see what I can do. You talk to Leon and see what you can do. Hopefully we’ll both be successful.”

She frowns. “She doesn’t think so, but I like Gina. I care about her, and I worry about her. If she would let me in, she’d see that. But I get it. Just…” She shakes her head, frowning and looking away. “Take care of her, please. I know you will, but I have to say it.”

[Matthieu] “I am going to give you my honest opinion here and I know you are not going to like it but I must give it anyway. I feel that you are not willing to leave this matter behind… I hear in your voice a bitter deep seeded hatred for my pack mate for which you will never forgive him.”He shrugs his shoulders.

“I was not there to pass judgement on what he did to your sister but when we challenge or another suffers punishment in response to his or her crimes we leave the matter alone. When the challenge is settled the challengers leave the ring and their grudges behind them.”

“Neither you nor Burnout appears willing to do this. I have asked my Packmate on my honor to accept a deal which I felt was in the best interest of all involved. He has trusted me and done well to show by example that he is following through with his punishment. He is taking the high road and walking away with his punishment with his head held high. Where as you continue to brood and hold him in neglect for a matter which should no longer be a concern.”

He stops walking and turns to face her.”What you are doing here is not in Gina’s best interest. What you are doing here is attempting to use what power you have to hurt my Packmate to do just that. I do not like it, and I do not care for it one bit… But you are the eldest of your tribe and so long as you continue to be I will respect your wishes. This matter cannot be resolved until everyone involved lets go and stops holding a grudge. This is not honor it is vengeance and it’s only going to hurt everyone who is involved if it continues along this path.”

“If you want my advice, and you might not, what you need to do is let this matter go. This kind of thing happens in our society on a regular basis. Continuing to holda lapse in judgment against my Beta harms everyone it affects. It will breed his mistrust and dislike for you and it will continue to breed your own dislike and mistrust for him. In the meantime Gina is caught in the middle and Burnout simply has no place in the matter in the first place. Still it is not my place to decide. I will tell my Beta that he is to have no contact with Gina whatsoever and I will work to keep them from maintaining any degree of contact.”

“If that is all? I will be on my way.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, I’m not Matthieu. I’m doing it because even if you trust him, I don’t. Did you know that a kinfolk of his sat for like, two days before she got cleansed after being attacked by a Wyrm thing?”

She frowns and shakes her head. “Think I’m doing it for whatever reason you like. You can dislike me for it, Leon and Gina can hate me. It’s no skin off my fine ass. Leon made it clear that after our agreement? Yours and mine? His hatred of me was sealed in stone. He refuses to get over it. I don’t care about him as long as he’s not in direct danger of my kinfolk. If I wanted to harm him, I have ways, and you know I do.”

A pause. “Also, just to make sure…you said you would be asking Kate about giving him training under a Philodox. How’s that going?”

[Matthieu] “That is a failing of the society in which we live and not necessarily a matter that speaks ill of his character.”He then nodded his head.”My Beta feels betrayed… He feels the matter had been resolved and that it was not until much later that the matter was brought back up. Indeed if you and Leon had an arrangement, and I believe you might have, then it was a somewhat dishonorable manner to approach his Alpha later on in an attempt to see him punished again twice for the same crime. Now… he is being punished a third time by asking that he have no contact with a friend of his.”He says back to her.”That would make three times you have punished him for the same crime. I am not a Half Moon but I do not need to be a half moon to see the unbalance in this matter.”

“I belong to a house who has long prided itself on fairness and honor. I do not feel that my Beta is being given a fair shake in this matter. We are, however, and honorable pack and Leon will do as you command. You are Gina’s tribal elder and you have every right to ban them from contacting one another.”He then nods his head and smiles.”I will address that matter just as soon as I can catch her while she is free. In the meantime we are sizing up a few qualified candidates.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We had no agreement. He threw two grand in my metaphorical face and said he’d leave her alone. I never told him we were all good after that. I’ll make that clear. And I don’t consider Gina being kept from him to be a punishment for him. I consider it looking out for my kinfolk’s welfare. When I’m satisfied that he’s been through his anger management training, then it’s all good. Until then, I’m sorry but I still don’t trust him because he hasn’t had the opportunity to improve himself.”

A little nod. “Let me know when you have. I’ll pass along the message that you’d like to talk to her if you like. I won’t say why; I’ll let you handle that. Other than that…yes, we’re done.”

[Matthieu] He nods his head.”Alright then if you could convey the message it would be helpful. She’s a very busy woman these days.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Will do. Have a good one, Matthieu.” A nod, and she makes her way out.

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A Quuick Quinn Interlude Turns Into a Long Talk

[Carter Roth] “Nothing, she’s done nothing but be kind and try to bring me into the fold.” He admits at least that she has been good to him. “But she saw, and that means word will spread, and eventually, someone who see’s people like us as more property then people, will come for me.” He pauses. “And then it will get ugly.”

He looks at Quinn then and shakes his head. “No, I was just leaving.” He said with an absent scritch behind the big dogs ear. “I will talk to you later Amy, maybe when I don’t feel like shit.” And he starts to walk away once more.

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks over to the girl, blinking away her crowded thoughts long enough to focus with a slight shake of her head. “Huh? Oh. No, he’s totally fine. I like big dogs”

Isn’t that an understatement of sorts. She focuses her attention on the pup for a moment, squishing it’s face in her hands, rubbing just ahead of it’s ears with her thumbs and just behind them with her fingers. “‘Cos he’s the good puppy isn’t he? Yes he’s the good puppy.” Laughing, she continues to love the dog while glancing up at the girl with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I got dropped on my head or something. I forgot your name?” The girl had hers. They’ve obviously met at some point.

“Carter.” It’s quiet, just loud enough to reach him. “So tell her to keep her fucking mouth shut. Just phrase it better. Either things will be as fucked as you expect them to be, or she’ll surprise you.”

[Quinn] Quinn with Amy, and well, with nearly anyone staying at The Brotherhood, has been like two ships passing in the night, almost literally. The Fianna woman owns a tavern in Lake View, and as such her schedule is off-set from the norm, making her more nocturnal. It’s only on rare Mondays that she really gets to go out and feel like she has a life of sorts.

So it doesn’t surprise Quinn that the Strider doesn’t remember her name. Her own memory is like a steel trap, more blessing than curse. She remembers things, details, most would let slip by the wayside. For instance, though she and Carter haven’t been properly introduced, she’ll remember his name if she sees him again. Given that they’re kin, it’s very likely she’ll see him again, maybe sooner rather than later.

Amy continues to love on the pup, who is completely beside himself with it. He’s only two months, and already he’s the size of a lap dog, and still has so much more to go. Quinn watches Carter leave, making note of his name, noting despite herself other things, and looks back over to Amy.

“Quinn,” she answers, brows lifted in surprise at Amy’s words directed the other way. “Another kin?” she asks, tipping her chin toward Carter’s back.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Quinn. Sorry.” She gives an apologetic smile, nodding. “Yeah, Carter.”

Quinn… Quinn… Why does that want to connect with something in her head? Her eyes widen a second later. Oh. That girl.

And then as if by perfect comedic timing, her brain decides to come back fully and her eyes widen even more. OH…. THAT girl.

She looks guilty, as if she’s in on a secret that she shouldn’t even know exists, let alone be privy to.

[Quinn] [empathee]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Amunet Trujillo] (And the streak remains sullied by only Joey!)

[Quinn] “Don’t worry about it,” she says, understanding, shaking her head. She’s dressed for the cooler weather in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket, a blue and white knit hat over her long dark hair.

She sees the look that crosses Amy’s face, and frowns. Is that guilt? “What’s wrong?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nothing.” She smiles, very brightly, petting the dog while moving somewhere that she is absolutely sure she will not be upwind of Quinn. “Cute dog.”

[Quinn] [intuition: what are my guts telling me today]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Amunet Trujillo] [Girl makes her living lying]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Quinn] Nothing, Amy says. Bullshit, Quinn’s brain says. Quite adamantly. But she doesn’t know Amy’s connection to Hunter, or Hunter’s pack. Usually when she sees the Ahroun he wants to talk about other things, or at least try to negotiate for more than she’s willing to give.

There is most definitely something there, something Amy is wanting to hide from Quinn, but without more information, and considering she so obviously doesn’t want to bring it up, Quinn doesn’t know where to start questioning. Besides, though she’s curious, and it shows because unlike Amy, Quinn can’t lie to save her life, it would be rude to continue pressing.

“Thanks,” she says, and when she looks down to see what the pup is attempting to do to Amy’s shins, she yanks back on the lead. “Hudson, no. He’s such a handful sometimes,” she says with a laugh.

[Amunet Trujillo] She laughs too, the sound only slightly nervous now. “No, he’s fine. Totally fine.”

The newspaper in her hand taps against her thigh. “So….. You know Hunter, hey?”

Smooth, Ames. Really. You should write fucking books about how to not look like a complete fucking moron.

[Quinn] “Yeah,” she says, “but if I don’t train that out of him now, there’s no way I’ll be able to stop him when he’s big enough to ride.” A newspaper taps against a thigh, and Quinn crouches, forces Hudson’s hindquarters to the cold pavement as she yanks upward on the lead. Hudson gives her soulful eyes. It gives her something focus on before she answers that supposedly simple question.

Looking up at Amy, she says, “I guess so, yeah.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Sleeping squished between two lupus Garou on a hard wooden floor in a freezing cold house? Surprisingly even less restful than one might think.

This is what she blames for the staring slack jawed at Quinn, her first statement somehow connecting in Amy’s brain with her second question. The blink is so hard that it’s nearly audible.

“Um. What?”

[Quinn] Biting her lip, Quinn rises, patting Hudson absently (good boy) on the way. She’s tall, slender, leggy. Hudson will be the same when he’s grown, a tall dog for a tall woman.

“Are you feeling alright?” Sleeping on a hard floor in any event would leave a person tired and worn, and it shows a little on Amy’s face.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Me? Oh, yeah. Totally. Long night. Gotta find an apartment…” She’s babbling, nodding like a bobblehead and waving the newspaper a little.

“So. He’s pretty great, huh? I mean. He’s pretty great….”

[Quinn] “Yeah,” she says, smiling warmly. “He’s pretty nice. A bit thick-headed sometimes, but I guess that’s a full moon for you.” Obviously, she’s assuming the conversation is switching back to the topic of Hunter Matthews. “How do you know him, if you don’t mind me asking.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She doesn’t even try to hide the look of panic at that. “We. You know. Hang out.”

[Eli Booker] The sun is shinning today, and while the temperature hasn’t climbed into temperatures that scream spring just yet …it’s a lot more tolerable than below freezing. It’s nearing lunch time for the majority of Chicago’s working class and Eli, counted among them when the mood strikes him, is strolling down one of the many paths cutting through Grant Park.

His attire suits the climate – dark hooded sweatshirt, navy blue Dicikies with a wallet chain resting against his hip. His leather boots are steel toed construction boots and are scuffed and dull from wear. In one hand he’s got a bag clenched. The front of it bears the logo of one fast food joint or another. In his other hand is a large (super extra large) drink.

Dark sunglasses cover dark eyes that scan for a bench that appeals to him.

[Quinn] [what does that mean! empathee]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Amunet Trujillo] She bites her bottom lip, trying to decide how much longer she can babble like an idiot without sacrificing her personal safety.

“Just. You know. I was doing some stuff there and he knows and we did that big fight the other day with Stefan and Joey and…..”

[Eli Booker] Eli is, for the sake of game play, not quite 20 feet from the two women and the over sized dog when he finds a bench to his liking. There were not tell tale signs between kin. No secret handshakes or clich√© winks to alert one another that they were in the same club. So, when his eyes wander over the both of them they don’t stray to long on one or the other, instead they move toward the dog as he digs out a very large cheeseburger and sits the bag of remaining food next to his right thigh. The soda rests between his legs. Dark eyes shift from joggers or mothers with strollers to the dog and back again while he eats.

[Quinn] “Oh?” she asks, watching Amy, listening with interest as Hudson rises from his seat and trots toward a bush, sniffing and snorting at the muddy, slushy snow hidden in the shadows. Apparently Amy hangs out with Hunter, this information is accepted without concern, nor is the knowledge that there was some sort of fight. This is Chicago, danger lurks around every corner it seems. “What sort of stuff?” she asks, curious about what other kin are doing in the city, and if it aids the Garou or not. Tugging absently on Hudson’s lead, she tips her chin toward one of the trails, indicating that they should walk. The dog needs it, and maybe motion will help Amy’s tiredness a bit.

Hudson reluctantly leaves the bush behind and trots beside his mistress. At only two months old, he comes nearly to her knees, but he still moves with with gawky awkwardness of a puppy. So when a scent catches his attention, his whole head and shoulders swivels in that direction. Food. Fooooooood. He can smell whatever is wafting from Eli’s lunch bag, and he wants it, whatever it is. So he shoots forward, and is most distressed to find his progress cut short by the length of the leash.

[Amunet Trujillo] He’s going to MURDER her. Horribly. And she’s deserve it. “Just stuff, Quinn. Serious. We ran into Lukas at the club last night. Nothing big.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Unlike her sister, someone got some rest last night. Well, if you can call “sleeping it off” rest. But she’s back into her regular clothes..the leather duster over a pair of snugly-fitting jeans and a shirt. Today, it’s cold enough that the shirt is a heavy, long-sleeved number. She’s walking along through the part, humming to herself and smoking. She takes a drag off her cigarette and…

Waitagodamnminute…she squints as she looks ahead. When she sees that it is who it is, Quinn and Amy, she smiles a little. Her pace picks up and footsteps make her way in their direction. “Hola, se√Īoras. ¬ŅQu√© pasa?

[Quinn] “You guys went to a club last night?” she asks as they amble along. “I’m sorry I missed it.” And she means it. Last night was her night off, and she spent it at home like a spinster, playing with her puppy and cleaning out upstairs rooms at The Winchester. Then again, if she’d gone out, her spinsterhood probably would’ve been obvious. She’s not young, not by the Nation’s standards, where the life expectancy of their Garou doesn’t have them leaving their teens.

Groaning, she forcibly yanks Hudson back toward her. “Sorry,” she calls to the mohawked man with the tattoos. He’s a stranger, looks rough and tumble, yet Quinn is unconcerned with his gruff appearance. She works in a bar, has served Ahrouns, has fought for the Nation since she was still in junior high. Bikers don’t scare her.

And she stops, ordering Hudson to sit, which he does, leaning heavily against her leg. Looking at Amy she says, “Look, if it’s something to do with, you know, you don’t have to protect me. I’m not a some delicate hot house flower.” She’s smiling assurances when Sarita finds them, so that smile gets directed toward the Garou. “Hey lady, how goes?” Hudson looks up at the Ragabash with wide eyes, scrambles to his feet, and scurries behind Quinn’s legs. It’s his first Garou. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

[Amunet Trujillo] OhthankGOD. She smiles to Sarita, looking decidedly less like she’s about to freak out. “Heeeeey. Hi!”

[Eli Booker] The burger is huge. It’s very probably two thick patties and four slices of cheese topped with every condiment one could imagine. On more than one occasion his tongue snakes out to catch a smudge of mayo or ketchup that gets left on his lips. It takes very little time for the mohawked man to make quick work of said sandwich. He’s done, poking his tongue at the back of the mouth and watching the dog.

“Cute dog.” He says with a nod. The bag sits on his right side but he reaches for it with his left. “What’s he eat?” He asks, because it was a very well known fact that some dog owners fed their pets nothing but the best organic / healthy dog food that they could afford – and nothing else. Eli couldn’t judge if Quinn was one of those pet owners or not.

She does not pass him by in quick strides or avoid eye contact with him out of fear that me might speak to her. Other than the hardened exterior Eli wore a very personable expression. His eyes are hidden by sunglasses but his face bears faint lines from laughing and his brow is slightly creased with too much worry.

With Sarita’s approach, he returns his eyes back to the joggers and mothers with strollers, his fingers coming free with a handful of greasy fries.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Quinn…how YOU doin’?” It’s a question a la the great Joey Tribiani from Friends, said with a little smirk as she approaches. When Hudson does the “hide between the legs” trick, Sarita gives a sympathetic smile and holds where she is. She gives a shrug to the question. “I’m a’ight. Other than the fact that I ~got ditched~ last night at a nightclub.”

A mocking sour look is given to Amy, complete with narrowing of the eyes. She can’t hold it too long though, just smiling at her sister after too long. “Good night?’

Eli is also noticed. She can’t help but notice the guy on the park bench with the strong Fenrir genes, after all. She gives him an appraising look and grins, giving him an upward nod as well. “S’up?”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her eyes get even bigger, switching between Sarita and Quinn.

[Quinn] Quinn most certainly isn’t the hippie sort of pet owner. She grins at Eli, looks down at the massive pup pressing up against her calves. “Uh, you’d think industrial strength fertilizer, but he just gets Purina.”

She looks back to see the mocking sour look, and she smiles at Amy. “Ditched, huh? Sister before misters, Amy, I thought everyone knew that.” The look she gives her is a knowing one, one that says Oh so THAT’S why you’re so tired today. “I hope he was worth it, at least.”

[Amunet Trujillo] All she can do now is keep her mouth shut and hope that it doesn’t get any worse. Her hand runs in her hair, and she leans into Sarita a little.

“Yeah. Well… You know.”

[Eli Booker] Eli’s breeding is not as strong as it could be. Even still, it’s apparent to Garou. His face bears the features of some long dead Hero from generations already passed. And, even if he doesn’t realize it, it’s likely the root cause for the swagger in his step and the confident arrogance he all too often bears.

The soda is drawn to his lips and then left to rest on the ground between his booted feet. He leans back on the bench, his posture relaxed and unconcerned for the moment.

To Sarita he nods, overs the faintest of grins and appreciative look,”Hey.” It’s less formal than hello.

“You feed him scraps?” By now Eli is digging in the front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt for his cigarettes. A Marlboro is slipped between his lips and lit. The wind thankfully keeps the sharp smell of carcinogenic smoke from lingering too long around them.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She slips an arm around her sister’s shoulders, supporting the tired kinfolk without complaint.

“Naah, it wasn’t like that. Crazy little chica here was hopin’ she could follow her new buddies into some kinda of fight. And I keep remindin’ ‘er, all she needs to do is wait ’till I get drunk enough and then we can find a good fight against some douchebag clubber or another.” A little sigh. “Guess the random clubbers don’t do it for her anymore.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Fucking Lukas…. Wasn’t going to have any fun with him there.”

[Quinn] “Did you find some, then?” she asks, with a mind toward Amy’s tiredness. “Nah,” she says to the man on the bench, the faintest touch of irritation bleeding into her tone that she tries to rein in. He’s a stranger looking for idle conversation, and he’s finding it with a woman otherwise engaged, at least for the moment.

The exchange of greetings between Garou and unknown-kin is noticed. “Do you know him?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We talked. That’s it.” She scowls at Quinn for a second, then leans into Sarita again.

[Eli Booker] Eli nods, stands and grabs the nearly empty bag of food at his side. The soda is scooped up as he’s straightening and without anything further to the group of strangers he starts down the path opposite of them.

Lunch was, after all, only thirty minutes.

[Eli Booker] (Thanks for the scene!)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Awww.” She grins and squeezes her arm around Amunet’s shoulder. “Yeah well, you should have stayed. Homie was at least a sheet and a half to the wind. Everything woulda been fine.”

In response to Quinn’s question, she shakes her head. “Nope. Think Kora might, though.” And just like that, her attention turns to Eli. “M’I right, or m’I right?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Delete the part about talking directly to Eli.]]

[Quinn] [D: WHY YOU SCOWLING?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Quinn] [NO SERIOUSLY C’MON]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 10 (Failure at target 7)

[Quinn] [FINE]

[Amunet Trujillo] “Maybe. Or Homie might be a good fucking actor, and I’d be completely fucked right now”

[Amunet Trujillo] [No empathies for you!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Trust me, he was gone.” She raises an eyebrow at the scowl she gives. “You’re grumpy when you haven’t slept.”

[[Don’t feel bad. You’ve actually done well on an Emp roll against Amy. That makes you…well, the second but the first player still!]]

[Amunet Trujillo] “You try fucking sleeping between two fuzzy fucks on the floor”

….FUCK

[Quinn] The scowl is answered with a wide-eyed look of surprise, and one hand lifted palm out as if to ward off a blow. Or bad mojo. She studies Amy’s face, perhaps a little more intently than she means to but the girl just scowled at her. Maybe it’s the tired? Maybe she’s touching too close to something?

Sarita says Kora might know the smoker (Marlboro’s, a man after her own heart), and she gives him another look over. Not Garou, so he must be kin. This factoid will be stored away for later, as the man gets up and leaves before she can invite him over to join their little party.

Turning back toward the sisters, she seems wary toward Amy now, unsure what might earn her another look like that. The mention of sleeping between two furry fucks on a floor gets a raised brow, but nothing more.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Okay, that gets about the same reaction from Sarita as it did from Quinn. She arches a brow and then shakes her head, taking a drag off her cigarette.

My fucking god, this is a goddam disaster waiting to happen. How long till the kid who delivers papers down the Mile knows?

She just chuckles a little and lets it go, looking to Quinn.

“So, on that uncomfortable note…how’ve you been? Ain’t seen you a lot lately.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Sure, she’s prayed for death before…. but that was always for selfish reasons. Now, clearly, her ceasing to exist in her current state would only benefit the world as a whole.

Hands in her pockets and shoulders hunched, she errs on the side of just shutting the fuck up before she makes everything much worse.

Should have just said she fucked him…

[Quinn] There’s no way of them knowing how Quinn would react to the news that Hunter fucked another kinswoman. Firstly, it doesn’t get brought up. Secondly, so far as Quinn knows, and she doesn’t know anything when it comes to whatever keeps passing into Amy’s face, making her scowl at her, all anyone could possibly know is that Hunter likes her. But if there are rumors about her apparent slutitude going around again, she’s going to find a new use for her shotgun.

Her eyes on Amy, her head turns toward Sarita. Whatever the kid who delivers papers down the Mile knows, he hasn’t told Quinn yet.

“Alright. I finally got The Winchester cleaned up enough to live in, hence the puppy,” she says, looking down again, twisting about to look at the pup, who looks back up at her with those soulful eyes of his. “It’s a whole lot of empty, isn’t it, boy?” It doesn’t take much of a bend of her body to lean over and scratch his ear. Hudson lifts his head and licks her fingers once before continuing to give her that look.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Right on.” She smiles and nods to that. “I gotta stop by there one of these days, for more than just a couple of minutes. Inflict my patronage onto your and your establishment.”

It’s said in that good-natured, humored way that she has. Not that Sarita showing up would be some sort of affliction…though you can never completely discount it.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah, we should stop by.” She nods. What the hell. “I can bring Hunter. You guys can talk.”

[Quinn] “We’d love to have you,” she says, straightening. “Family owned and operated, so we welcome the Nation especially. And if you’re in the area and need a place to crash, just, um. Hm.” She looks thoughtful a moment, brow furrowed as she lifts a hand to tap a finger against the corner of her mouth. “Oh, duh. Let me give you my number.” Wrapping Hudson’s lead around her wrist, she digs around in her bag until she finds a scrap of paper (an old receipt (&+9835; four sweater vests &+9834;)) and a pen.

“Here you go. But don’t go spreading it around,” she warns. “We’re open to help, but, uh, yeah I’d sort of like to be familiar with who’s coming around, you know?”

A confused frown to Amy. “Hunter comes around enough, I think.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She gives the confused frown right back. “What? You don’t like having him around?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Oh Jesus Fuck.

She just takes the number when it’s offered. “We’re cool. We’re actually looking into getting our own place. But thanks…the offer’s noted.”

Amy gets a look that may not seem like it from outsiders, but is clearly Daughter-Of-Estebanese for ‘Quit digging the hole.’

[Quinn] “I don’t mind,” she says, thoughtful. “We’re friends,” she finishes with a shrug, wary of saying more. They’re neither his tribe nor hers, but Quinn is still careful. It’s true, she and Hunter are friends, that’s what she got him to agree to be. “He comes around enough without needing more of a reason to.”

[Amunet Trujillo] The scowl returns, but at least she shuts up.

[Quinn] Another scowl? Quinn flinches slightly, then the expression clears somewhat. “Do…do you like him or something?” she asks, cautiously testing the waters.

[Amunet Trujillo] What’s it going to be, Ames? Save your ass, or campaign for your friend?

“We’re friends. We hang out, but he’s waiting for somebody else to give him a chance.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She rolls her eyes and slips her arm away from Amy. She’s already tired of this conversation. She was tired of this conversation and ones just like it a week ago. She takes the excuse of being done with her cigarette to gain some distance on the conversation, flicking a the stub into the garbage can before she lights up another.

[Quinn] Somebody else. It doesn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to figure out who that somebody else is, unless Hunter finally has gone off and found himself another girl to lose himself to. Quinn’s gaze drops, lifts to follow Sarita, then goes back to Amy.

And she sighs. “Did he happen to tell you that Somebody Else is a widow? And probably won’t ever be able to give him a chance?”

[Amunet Trujillo] She nods. “Yeah. And now, sure. He said shit was pretty new, but… Never say never, you know? Those guys…. It’s hard as fuck to find good guys like that. Just seems kind of stupid to make blanket no statements.”

[Quinn] Quinn watches Amy, her expression serious, blue eyes dark with some hard to forget emotion.

“Have you ever lost someone, Amy?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t think that any of us haven’t ever lost anyone. After a while? It’s just an excuse.”

She runs her fingers in her hair. “I’m not saying to to fucking Vegas. But let him hang around if he wants. Stop worrying about why you shouldn’t, and just get to know him. Give him a chance. If it doesn’t work then it doesn’t work, but at least then it’s not for lack of trying.”

Amy. Mistress of the lost cause.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes a drag off her cigarette, watching the two. There’s a frown on her face as she looks between them again, once again relegated to the outside looking in on the situation around her sister.

[Quinn] Quinn looks at her, and it’s sympathetic more than anything. It’s just an experienced veteran looking at the young, new blood. They’re probably close to the same age, but right now, right here, Quinn seems older. Weathered. Worn.

When she speaks, it’s with a slight upward quirk of the corner of her mouth, and her voice is steady, even almost until the end when it starts to crack. “Tell you what. You go on and spend most of your life with the other half of your soul, and you stand by their corpse during their Gathering for the Departed. You try to live with your heart buried in the ground, or incinerated, or whatever it is your tribe does. And when some fool comes sniffing around your door, begging for a chance at your severely broken heart, you come find me, and you tell me that you don’t feel the tiniest bit guilty that you can’t give it to him.”

She tugs on Hudson’s lead, urging him to his feet with a cluck of her tongue before she looks back to Amy. “And for the record, no one’s stopping Hunter from coming around The Winchester. We’re friends, that’s all. I’ll see you around.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Aaand there’s another potentially friendly conversation ruined because Amy had to bring up one of the Defiance boys in conversation. She gives a disgusted look and takes a drag off of her cigarette. A smile is attempted as she nods at Quinn.

“See you, Q.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She had, apparently, not thought about it like that since the brief consideration last night. She can see it in her head, way too clearly for comfort. She can see it, knowing that it’s an absolute certainty.

Nodding a little, she sighs and wraps her arms around her middle. “Bye Quinn. Sorry.”

[Quinn] As Quinn walks off, she loosens the slack on the Great Dane pup’s lead, letting him run and roam and romp as she’d intended coming here. She lifts her hand as she goes, though, not looking back to the sisters as she offers them a wave.

[and she’s out! thanks for the scene, peeps!]

[vikthya] [thanks for letting me lurk!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Quinn go, and snorts. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Ames. Nice work.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She’s quiet.

It’s been happening a lot, lately. Nodding a little, she just stays quiet.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns at Amy’s reaction, almost as much as she did at the conversation. This is not an Amy she’s entirely familiar with.

[[Why Not Try: Emp!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Amunet Trujillo] (Woooow)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yep!]]

[Amunet Trujillo] This is not an Amy she’s familiar with, because this is not an Amy she’s ever seen before. Her Amy runs head first into things, and doesn’t bother with consequences until they come to bite her in the ass. Sarita, for the year that they’ve been together, has gotten to know Reinvented Amy.

Out of Her Element and Fucking Terrified Amy lurks for a minute, then goes away and leaves Sarita being scowled at again.

“The fuck are you looking at?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns, deeply. It’s clear that whatever she just saw, she didn’t like it. She shakes her head and gestures toward the sidewalk. “C’mon. We are leaving, and we are talking.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We need to look at apartments.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I said, come on. We’re leaving, and we’re talking. The Bitchmobile isn’t far.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Instead of arguing, she shrugs a shoulder and waits for Sarita to indicate which direction they’re going.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She flicks her cigarette away and walks along the path. After a couple of minutes Amy can see the VW bus coming up in their view.

[Amunet Trujillo] She doesn’t way a word all the way there, getting into the van and settling into the passenger seat as if it’s any other day.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She drives along for a while, silently. The radio is off for once, leaving only them, silence, and the sounds of the road. She’s not heading anyone in particular, just driving.

“What’s going on with you,” she says finally.

[Amunet Trujillo] “That’s kind of broad.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You know exactly what I mean, Amy.” She frowns. “I barely recognize who you are half the time anymore.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “People change, Sar.” She’s looking out the window, specifically to avoid looking at her. “They grow and they move on and they get packs and find things that they thought they couldn’t have. It happens.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns, silent at that for a long time. “Yeah, people change. And it’s not always for the better.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Just come the fuck out and say whatever you want to say”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m saying that I don’t even know if I know who you are anymore. I’m saying that you’re obsessed to the point of unhealthiness with them, Amy. Seriously fucking obsessed.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I am not fucking obsessed. Jesus fuck. You GOT your pack, Sar. Let me have mine.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “This isn’t your pack, Amy. This is your boyfriend and HIS pack.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “How is that any worse than my sister and HER pack? At least I fucking fit in with them”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You haven’t ~tried~ to fit in with the Unbroken. You offered to fight with them, they said no and you gave up on the fucking spot. And Hunter’s not letting you go out and fight with him. You may think he’ll soften up, or maybe you can work on John and have him get Hunter to let you go out and do stuff with them, but it’s not going to happen.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “A fucking Lord Elder and his Project fucking Runway girlfriend? Really? And a fucking Fang with more rank that everybody else I know put together? Did you just fucking meet me? I’m not going to fit in with them. I’ll run scout shit because they’re your pack, but I seriously don’t have a fucking clue how you can look at me, and look at Unbroken and Defiance, and honestly be surprised by who I want to associate with.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Even if that were the case, and you are totally judging off of appearances which is completely unfair, that’s not the point Amy. You are completely obsessed. Do you know when the last time we had a conversation that didn’t revolve around them was?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m not fucking obsessed.” She waits a second. “When?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t know. Seriously, I legitimately don’t know, and I was asking you. Maybe a couple weeks ago? Maybe more?” She frowns. “You are completely obsessed and you’re all about them 24/7. You can’t even stand to not be around them for a night it seems.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Why do you keep putting it like that? Obsessed? Do you even know what the fuck we’re doing that’s taking up my time? Do you have a fucking clue what’s going on with them?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I know what you tell me, which is shit like ‘He’s got a big cock,’ ‘We spend all night talking’ and ‘Oh yeah, we’re moving to Bronzeville.'”

She scowls. “You’re hiding shit from me, and literally ALL you do is talk about them. Even not with me. We couldn’t even go OUT last night without you inviting them. Without telling me. And then when Lukas showed up and you had actual WORK–which is what you’ve been dying for and which you haven’t bothered to even ask about–you skip out.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t belong with Lukas. Neither do you, but it’s your life. And I told you that I’d do whatever Lukas has set up and needs done. I’ll play nice, Sar. But I don’t belong there. Especially not now.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s silent as she drives, still more or less wandering around the streets. She doesn’t look at Amy…in fact, she’s looking ahead so strongly that it looks almost seems painful somehow. Her face is set in a taut expression.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I miss my other family, Sar.” She looks out the passenger window as things go flying by. “I miss the guys. I miss feeling safe. I miss all the shit I got yanked away from because he was in a fucking hurry to get on the road.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And I miss you.” It’s said with a tightness to it, though she takes a breath and shakes her head. When she speaks again, it’s a touch more relaxed.

“There’s a difference between reconnecting and submerging yourself in it. You’re hiding in there.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Because I know I’ve only got so much time. With all of it. The clock is ticking.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Are you THAT sure this is all going to blow up?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m not even talking about blowing up. That Thunderwyrm thing? That was like ‘Oh. Must be Tuesday’ to them. One of these days they’re going to go out and not come back. Same with you and Stefan and Leon and everybody. We die for Gaia. It’s what we do.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “There are forty, fifty year-old Ahrouns out there, Amy. So what you’re saying is that you’re going to bury yourself until they die, whether that’s next week or next year or five, ten years down the road?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “It’s been four fucking days, Sar.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, and before that you were falling into the same trap with Leon. And before that, John the first time.”

She shakes her head. “When was the last time you even slept at home?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I was using Leon. Leon wasn’t any different than the guy in St. Louis or the one in Denver. Really not the same thing”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And the last time you slept at home?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Okay, I’ll give you that. Like, last week.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And tie that in with the fact that we haven’t had a conversation that hasn’t centered on them in a lot longer than that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Then what do you want to talk about?” She sags a little, shoulders hunching.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay well, to start with what’s with that reaction?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t know what you want, Sar. You don’t want me to talk about the guys fine. I won’t. But you’ve got to help me out then.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh my god. Amy, it’s not about individual symptoms. It’s not about having a single fucking conversation with you that doesn’t involve Hunter and John, or having you spend a couple nights with me.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Why Lukas? Seriously.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Because HE FUCKING ASKED ME.” She slams on the breaks, nearly causing a car accident, and looks over at her.

“He. Fucking. Asked. Me. I don’t know why you have this sudden, livid hatred for Lukas all of a sudden, but you know what? He showed an interest in me. Fucking Hunter can talk all he wants about how he was scouting me out, but nobody FUCKING told me that for at LEAST three FUCKING weeks. Fucking Joey was all about ‘Yeah, we should go on a hunt.’ NOTHING. When we’re together, they don’t talk to me. They talk to fucking YOU. They COMPLETELY FUCKING IGNORED me last night because you were there. And you had NO problem with Lukas and didn’t act like he was the fucking enemy–which even now, he’s NOT–until you started hanging with them.”

Her hands are tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Why Lukas? Because it’s somewhere I’m WANTED. And it’s somewhere you’re WANTED to. I’m sorry that it can’t be all about you with the Unbroken. If I could be kinfolk and make you Garou, I would. I would move heaven and earth for you, and you know that. I am letting you put many, MANY Garou in direct harm’s way, including myself, because it’s what you want. So please, TELL me that Lukas is the enemy and how I don’t belong with the people who actually WANT me.”

[Amunet Trujillo] There’s John’s influence, and her thinking it through before she talks again.

“They’re a little fucking busy, first of all. Second, I never fucking said Lukas was the enemy. Fucking EVER. And I seem to recall Hunter fucking talking to you, but you were probably too busy being pissed off at me for having people that care about me now that you didn’t fucking notice”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, because they totally couldn’t have just picked up the phone and said ‘Hey, Sarita, come by and we can talk.’ I didn’t say you said he was the enemy, but you’re sure acting like it. And yes, he talked to me. Once he realized I was there, fricking five minutes after the fact.”

Cars are screaming behind her and so are the drivers. She clearly doesn’t care.

“I’m glad they like you. Fucking great. But you know what? They don’t give a shit about me unless it has to do with you. But please, tell me more about how I belong with them.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “How is that different from Unbroken and me?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, you know it’s kind of hard to say since you’ve avoided them like the plague outside of that first night when you talked to Lukas.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “He put me in my place, Sar. There wasn’t a whole lot that needs said after that.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And how is that different from what Hunter did, except that you actually decided to stick around Hunter?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Because he’s doing it for totally different reasons. Because he gave me a chance first, and a choice of what I wanted more.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Really. Hunter took you out fighting?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Did you miss the part with the Thunderwyrm? He didn’t shove me off in a corner for that”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, but he didn’t TAKE you to it either. If you were around when the Unbroken were forced to fight something, the same would happen.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She’s quiet for a few minutes.

“Are you jealous?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sits back in the seat, sighing. The anger’s drained out of her for now.

“Honestly? Yes, a little. Not of you, but of them.” She shakes her head. “But that’s only a small part of why I’m upset. I’m upset because I don’t even feel like I know you anymore. I feel like you’re someone entirely different and you know how many times you told me to stop you if you changed into someone else.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “If I changed into the kind of Kin I hate. That’s what I said.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Other than the fact that you’re not getting pregnant any time soon, tell me the difference between who you’re becoming and the kind of Kin you hate?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Do you really think that I’m just blindly doing whatever they tell me to? I’m still going to do stuff, Sar. I’m just not going to fight.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Fucking I don’t know. Yes, that’s exactly what you’ve made it sound like, and you’re…” She sighs.

“Jesus, Amy. You’re acting fucking meek and scared around people now. Like with Quinn. TELL me that’s not the kind of Kin you hate.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hunter is in love with her. I was trying to figure out how to tell her to give him a chance, without blowing my cover. But then she dropped all that about her mate… That terrifies the fuck out of me. I used to only have you to worry about, now I’ve got them, too. Same reason why I’m not going to fight. You didn’t see the look on his face when he came to make sure I was okay. Not just not hurt, but really okay. What kind of selfish fucking bitch do I have to be to keep putting you guys through that when I get it now?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “Fine. I’m completely wrong, everything is fine, I’m just fucking nuts.” She starts driving. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You’re not nuts. I’m not being a drone. I’m just thinking about shit other than myself for a change.” Her head shakes. “Wherever. I’ve got stuff tonight, but I’ll come back to the Broho for a couple of days tomorrow, okay?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sure.” She doesn’t seem to have any conviction that it’ll happen. She shakes her head, turning to head toward Bronzeville.

[Amunet Trujillo] “He wants you in. You’d like them.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Never bring that up to me again. Please.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I think you’re making a mistake. I know you. I know them. I know it would work. That’s it though. I won’t say anything else about it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Then they should have asked me. I don’t turn my back when I make a commitment to someone.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Jesus fuck, Sar. You’re so fucking stubborn. And you haven’t made a commitment. You’re fucking engaged, that’s it. You’re still not official.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pulls the car to the side of the road and gets out. “Drive it to wherever you need,” she says as she starts to walk. “Bring it back tomorrow.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sar…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She keeps on walking. “I’m DONE with this for tonight, Amy. Fucking DONE.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Get in the goddamned van. I need to get some shit from the Broho anyway.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You can’t even keep a promise for five seconds!” she screams out as she walks. “Jesus Christ!”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Jesus FUCK!”

The door of the van slams a minute later.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She tenses when the door slams, and she looks back. The Strider is still angry, but she sighs and turns around, walking back toward the van.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Which is running and left alone, as Amy walks the opposite direction”

[Amunet Trujillo] (Oops. *Erases the ” “*)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Amy…” She looks around and starts running after her. “C’mere, please.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She stops walking, but doesn’t turn around

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She walks up behind her, sighing, and wraps her arms around Amy from behind. She doesn’t say anything, just holds her tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

[Amunet Trujillo] She leans back into her sister, arms wrapped over hers and not saying anything.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s silent, hugging her for several moments. After a couple, her shoulders start to shake, face burying in Amy’s shoulder.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Please don’t make me pick, Sar.” Her voice is quiet, and she reaches back to pet her sister’s hair. “You’ve got your pack, and I’ve got mine. Neither of us want to pick.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She speaks in a cracked voice.

“This is gonna go all wrong, and I’m gonna lose you. One way or another. I know it.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m not planning on it. You’re going to be spending this much time with them pretty soon, then we’ll be even.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No.” She goes to pull away, wiping at her nose. “I don’t think so.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Why not?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She steps off to the sidewalk, feeling around for her cigarettes. “I just…” She shrugs. “Even with them, I’ll still need you. They might be my pack, but you’re my fuckin’ blood, Amy.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m not going anywhere. I can love them and still love you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I know you can, I just…” She shakes her head. “Yeah, sure.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Just what?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Just…it’s not about love. We both know how well love works out.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Shitty, yeah. All I can do is hope that this is different.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s a lot of faith against a whole lot of shit, Amy.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “What am I supposed to do, Sar? Ignore how he makes me feel? I can’t. And I can’t ignore that being with him and Hunter makes me really happy. It’ll probably all go to shit, yeah. That’s why I’m going to enjoy the ride as long as it lasts.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And what happens after?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. Not yet.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I can’t help but think of it.” She wipes at her face, finally finding her cigarettes. “It’s not gonna be good.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Just let me enjoy it? Please?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “Yeah. I ~will~ pull you out if I think it’s getting too close though. For you and John.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “What do you mean, too close?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Too close to the end for you guys.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her jaw sets, and she looks angry. “Don’t you dare. Don’t do that to me. I don’t want to be yanked away from anything else.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You’d rather get a few more days or weeks with him than possibly have a chance that you both ~LIVE~?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “If it starts going that way, then we’ll end it. But it’ll be ours to end. Not yours or Hunter’s or Lukas’ or anybody else.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Probably. But you’ll notice that I’m not trying to get myself fucking killed anymore.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah you are. Just in a different way.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She sighs “How?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Tell me that you don’t think this will lead to you getting a deathwish if something happens to John.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t think it will. I’ll hate it, but what good would it do for me to self destruct? How is that honoring him?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “What if it destroys all of us? What then?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She doesn’t seem to be speaking down of it at this point. She’s still upset, and she’s still wiping tears away. But she’s just asking Amy’s thoughts now.

[Amunet Trujillo] “We won’t let it get to that point.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Once it hits the breaking point, it’s not in your control, sweetie.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks upset, eyes on something far away.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m sorry.” She sighs and walks over, hugging her again. “I’m just…I’m trying to figure this out in my head. I’m not…I’m sorry.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I spent so much time obsessing over how I could make it work, and now there’s so many reasons to worry about what could go wrong. I just want a few days to enjoy it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “So shall we plan for my shitting on this say…this time Thursday?” It’s a weak joke, but an attempt at humor.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sure. Tell you what. We can spend all Wednesday and Thursday dissecting anything that could go wrong.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’d rather not.” She sighs, squeezing her arms around Amy. “To be honest…and don’t take this wrong…I don’t want to talk about anything relating to it.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Alright. Fair enough.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh…before I forget.” She pulls out a scrap of newspaper clipping, handing it to Amy. “This is what Lukas wanted you to look in on.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She takes the clipping, reading it over twice before nodding. “Okay. I’m on it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey. The streets took them. That’s totally danger.” She smiles a bit. “Right up your alley.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She forces a little smile, folding the clipping and putting it in her pocket.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You know what we’re doing Wednesday? I have it planned out.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “What are we doing on Wednesday?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, or Thursday. Or maybe both.” She produces a key from her pocket. “Hanging out by a pool.”

[Amunet Trujillo] To her credit, there’s only a half second of panic. “I could be alright with hanging out by a pool.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We got a room.” She smiles. “And I’ll see if I can find us a good apartment tomorrow. If I can, I’ll get us moved in Ay-sap.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “At the risk of pissing you off again… Can you help me take a few things over to the house tonight?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Like what kinda things?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “There are a couple of blankets and some candles that I want to take over. I need to find a little propane heater until we can get the power turned on.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh gee. Can I help you bring things over so you stay there more?” She sighs and nods. “Yeah, I guess. If only because I know otherwise you’ll be carrying that shit down the street.”

A pause. “John owes me some serious fuckin’ gratitude here, by the way.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Her jaw sets” Nevermind.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, sweetie. Homey owes me some gratitude regardless. That particular comment was just a joke.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You know, you’re making it pretty fucking hard to not just move in there, period. Don’t worry about it. Hunter will help me out, and you don’t have to deal with the house.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “Wow. Really? I can’t make a fucking joke anymore?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You know, if this was the other way around, I wouldn’t be going out of my way to be a bitch.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m not goin’ out of my way, chica. Just comes naturally. You know that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m going to go. I’ve got shit to do”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “C’mon. I’ll give you a ride and help you bring the shit, of course.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She wants to say no, but it’s fucking cold and a long way from the Broho to the house.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Listen, I’m sorry. I was trying to be funny. Even I’m not 100% on that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Alright.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Forgive me?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I always do”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs and hugs Amy again. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to be bitchy about it. C’mon, let’s buy you two lovebirds a space heater and shit and get them over there.”

Of Lineage, Shadow Lords and Buckets Of Cold Water

[Sofie Janssen] After an adventure back to the Brotherhood, which had her covered in snow and more than a few falls off the back of a sled, Sofie had showered, changed clothes and grabbed something to eat. That was hours ago. Now the Kinfolk was sitting on the couch, television off, taking advantage of the fact that plenty of Garou are out on a Saturday night and not lounging around like herself.

White ear buds sit in the young womans ears, strings sliding down to the mp3 player, not iPod, laying on her stomach. Blonde hair dried and falling over the arm of the couch, she’s resting the back of her neck over the arm and had her eyes closed. Sweat pants and a t.shirt is warm enough in the Brotherhood and bare toes tap to a regular beat, tucked up onto the couch with her, knees bent and looking comfortable.

“Unmade bed.
Makes me feel.
Like a failure…”

She’s singing louder than she realizes, and Hunter need not defend himself after hearing the Fenrir Kin’s voice.

[Hunter] At least there is that; at least Sofie doesn’t sound as bad as Hunter does. He of course thinks he sings perfectly lovely, which makes the Fenrir kin’s voice sound like an angel. Footsteps are heard on the stairs but they don’t come from below, they come from above and she sees his feet appear before his face.

He moves heavily, the grace of a predator but not the inhuman litheness that she had witnessed in him even in his drunken state. Something about him seems different, stronger, more resolved and it continues into his face when it appears. His eyes are perceptive, scanning the room even as he enters. It had been empty when he had gone upstairs, now there is someone sitting in it. He wears Jeans, boots, his rough and long brown jacket buttoned tightly around his body.

His hair is ruffled by the winter winds, flecks of snow can be seen in parts of it though he doesn’t brush his hand through it to remove them.

“Yo,” he announces, eyes narrowing for a second, waves his hand if he hasn’t got her attention yet and then unceremoniously dumps himself on the couch beside her. “Whatcha’ listenin’ to?”

[Sofie Janssen] Her eyes snap open when she feels the presence. It’s less about hearing anything or seeing anything, obviously, and more to do with a gut instinct. She looks around and then over to him as he’s strolling out from upstairs. Briefly she wonders what’s up there. By the looks of it just the roof.

Then she’s studying him, her singing ceased, as she tries to place what was different about him. It’s hard to pin point since she’s seen him once before only. She doesn’t move where she’s sitting, shoulder into the back of the couch and lounging back like that against the arm, looking for all the world like a girl tucked up at home in front of the television. Except for those eyes and that blood, and those features.

He can hear the music, pouring out with a lot of guitar, but she reaches up and tugs the buds gently from her ears with one hand and slides the volume lower with her other. “Veruca Salt. Earthcrosser.”

Sitting next to her has her shift to sit taller, and move her toes so that he doesn’t place his ass on them. They wiggle into the space between the cushions, forcing her knees to tuck higher and fold her more in half. “Want to listen?” she asks, offering him out the headphones.

[Hunter] He doesn’t sit on her toes luckily, that would be slightly awkward for both of them. It has nothing to do with his placement of himself though and more to do with the fact that she tucks her feet up at the last minute. He leans back into the couch, eyes closing after he asks that question with his neck curled into the top of the sectional. One eye peels open when she asks him if he wants to listen, he has never heard of the band but then again she had never heard of Bradley and Lou dog so all is fair.

The other eye opens and he nods with a tip of his chin. “Ya’ sure,” a hand reaches out, takes hold of one of the buds and he places it to his ear closest to her. He sways his head back and forth a few times, hmms, vibrating from between pursed lips and then he removes the ear bud, hands it back to her.

“Sounds aight, dunno if it’s my kinda thing tho. How’s this fine establishment been treatin’ ya’?”

[Sofie Janssen] While he listens, she sits there and merely watches him. Sofie doesn’t stare, but lets her gaze flit back and forth across his features as he absorbs the music not to his taste. There really was pretty foreigners in this city, she’s already decided, Hunter confirms this. Sofie’s beginning to firmly believe that Chicago must be an ugly place in dire need of attractive genetics and that’s why there’s a warm of handsome Garou in town, most of them men – who, no doubt, are around to spread their seeds like wildfire.

“Yeah,” she says, taking back the ear bud. “Screaming girls on guitars are an acquired taste.” Tucking the earphones up, wrapping them around her now switched off player, she seems content to be social for the time being. “You wouldn’t know how to play a guitar would you?” There’s a brief grin at that, before she goes on to answer his question.

“It’s alright. No complaints.” Yet. Her gaze roams around the room, then dart back to him. “I was expecting much worse.”

[Hunter] There are pretty men in Chicago, pretty girls. There are also troublesomely pretty girls, though Sofie doesn’t give Hunter that idea. The Fangs are the worst, socialite monsters each and everyone of them, even the nice ones. Apparently screaming girls is an acquired taste and Hunter’s lips quick into something of a grin. His hands start to unbutton his coat and he has to lift forward off the couch to shrug out of it. It’s warm in here for the Ahroun, toasty. Could make a man with as much Rage as Hunter Matthews feel drowsy.

Beneath is just a plain black t-shirt, fitted but without any apparent markings. He drapes his jacket over the arm of the chair while he’s listening to the Fenrir kin talk.

“What did ya’ expect? Like fuckin’ orgies n’loud idiot’s every night?” He grins, clearly joking. The brotherhoods loud idiot died last month.

[Sofie Janssen] A small huff is amused. She watches him take off his jacket, and while he’s leaned forward, takes the opportunity to shift the way she’s sitting so that her knees are to one side, resting into the back of the couch, and her spine is straighter so she doesn’t feel like she’s eating a kneecap. While there had been plenty of room for the Garou to sit elsewhere he had decided to sit right next to her, which doesn’t bother her as much as it might others, understanding that Garou have different boundaries to humans.

“Yeah, more or less. Some of the girls here give that impression to tell you the truth.” Shrugging a shoulder, she’s back to watching his face, his grin. Her own doesn’t come then, though, because she doesn’t think much of folks like that.

[Hunter] He raises eyebrows to that comment, lips curling with incredulous amusement despite the fact that hers do not. It has been awhile since he heard a kin-folk talking about the others around her like that.

“They ain’t so bad, I mean not all of em’. Some good ones n’here for sure. I ain’t ever seen not a single orgy in here before if it makes ya’ feel better.”

[Sofie Janssen] “Really?” The look she gives him is complete disbelief. Not at the orgy comments, but at the not so bad part. Her look is wry, and her low chuckle matches it. “Please. The first time I walked in here, you remember that girl giving you and John the eye? I know you saw her. Pretty as a doe.”

This sort of talk needs beers involved.

“But I’m glad to hear about the orgies. Even if there was, at least I have a decent headset here.” Lifting the player for emphasis then tucking it into her sweatpants pocket with a chuckle. Sofie certainly does not seem to be the type like plenty of others. She hasn’t given out a single come hither vibe to anyone. Then again, don’t Fenrir go about it differently? Probably punch someone in the mouth before kissing them.

[Quinn] It’s early yet for the owner of The Winchester to be returning to The Brotherhood, but then she went in earlier than usual. And on a slow, cold winter night like tonight, they didn’t need so many people manning the tavern.

So Quinn bundled herself up against the cold, and she made the trek north to the place that, for now anyway, is home. She’s been around for a while, has already showered away the smell of the bar and changed into clean, dry clothes. Voices in the common room, faint enough to be acknowledged but not loud enough to be understood, draw her out at last.

The two out there hear a door open, and then there she is, dark hair twisted up into a clip, dressed in a t-shirt and black cotton lounge pants. They can see the trail of birds winding its way up her right forearm. Hunter may notice that her ears are bare.

She stops in the doorway leading into the common room with a, “Whoa hey.” Then she frowns, wears an expression that openly wonders if she’s intruding, especially when she catches orgies. She quirks a brow at Hunter, an unspoken question there.

[Amunet Trujillo] She doesn’t exactly stomp, but she’s no graceful thing either. A career as a ballerina is definitely not in her future. Coming down the hall from her room, she glances around the gathering area and scowls deeply as something is muttered just under her breath.

[John] John comes up the stairs not like an ogre or another mythical beast but like a soldier, his steps controlled and purposeful, boots clomping but not crashing against the wooden stairs as he ascends. Behind him, there is little din from the kitchen. His Rage is half its normal strength, hardly the overwhelming wall of anger and nerves that it tends to be. It doesn’t cause the senses to scream and the ironclad to shy away, though humans, the majority of them, still cannot tolerate him.

This is nothing new. He cannot even understand humans, let alone begin to know how to tolerate them.

It’s cold as hell outside, cold enough to kill, and when John arrives at the top of the stairs, he looks somewhat frozen. Compared to last night, he does not look as though he wishes he were dead; his lips still have a bluish tint to them, and his skin is pale as the moon overhead. There are blisters on his hands that he popped hours ago, draining into the bathroom sink at the warehouse while he scowled, leaving flattened patches that would likely grow infected if he were human.

He didn’t bandage them. Rinsing them off with whiskey is the only thing he could have done to possibly make his own self-inflicted first aid manlier, but he hadn’t wanted to waste alcohol.

So, when John appears, he looks cold. He is cold, but he isn’t here to warm up. He’s here because he finally had the chance to look at his text messages and realize what it is that Amunet was going on about last night. Hunter, at least, is aware that his packmate has arrived before he has to turn around and find him with his eyes. The Modi doesn’t acknowledge anyone out in the common room, save for a cursory flick of his eyes and a shrugging out of his jacket. He tosses it over the arm of the sofa, revealing his uniform of boots and jeans and a tame-colored thermal shirt, and keeps walking.

Whereupon he nearly runs right into Amunet.

He doesn’t stop, and he certainly doesn’t speak. He takes her by the upper arm, the expression on his face hidden from the congregated by his direction, and urges Amunet to walk with him back down the hall. His grip is so light it’s barely worth mentioning; but he is also far stronger than he looks, now, which ought to be a frightening prospect for most people.

[Hunter] A Fenrir would most definitely be more likely to punch someone in the mouth than kiss them, a fury too perhaps, another reason why their tribes are not as different as they claim to be. This Fenrir talks about a girl and Hunter narrows eyes, trying to recall a girl who had made eyes at him. Truth be told he had been intently focused on recruitment rather than relaxation, the girl had probably escaped his notice. Maybe she had, but he has seen her since and he knows with a sudden realisation that blooms on his face of which girl Sofie is talking about.

“Ooohh.. makin’ eyes at me?” He blinks, “Really? Don’t remember that.. I seem ta’ recall she was–”

He pauses, Sofie can see the slightest motion of his nostrils taking in a breath before his head turns and his eyes fall upon the Fiann in the doorway. Whoah she says, hey. An eyebrow is raised at Hunter in question but he isn’t looking at her eyes, they have found their way to her ear and its lack of jewellery. She might notice a difference with the Gnawer too, the way his shirt bunches on his body and the strength of an arm that curls up along the back of the couch in her direction.

“Quinn.” He says in a rumble and seems lost in thought for a moment before he continues. “Was just tellin’ Sofie bout’ tha’ serious lack’a orgies here.” A smile that reaches his eyes, something warm yet amused. Just then there is another girl behind Quinn, scowling and muttering.

Hunter isn’t watching her though.

“Have ya’ met?” He flicks eyes back to Sofie then to Quinn, questioning glance. He barely even looks at John though he knows what is occurring outside his line of sight. They have a totem phone now, he doesn’t have to say anything out loud.

[Amunet Trujillo] Her mouth opens, then closes again. Scowling just slightly, she allows herself to be propelled down the hall without as much as a grunt of protest.

This is not good….

[Sofie Janssen] Giving a glance over to Quinn and Amunet who’s came in behind the tall woman, Sofie watches them a second and takes in both their expressions before giving a quick look to Hunter. Her voice drops, but it’s certainly not a whisper. “One of those your girl?” Unable to help herself, her teeth flash in a sudden and rather fierce grin.

Suppressing her chuckle.

Then John comes in, dumps his jacket and walks out to take Amunet by the arm and off down the hall. “Oooo,” she whispers softly, then does make a snicker of a laugh under her breath. “Someone’s got to tell that guy we’re supposed to have better taste.” We being the Get of Fenris, of course.

Quinn gets a nod and an actual smile from Sofie, though it doesn’t make her expression soft by any means. Gentle and soft doesn’t mix with this Kinfolks features. Her eyes aren’t the sort that can get all bedroom nor pleasant either. “Hey,” she greets.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The Strider comes from the hallway, freshly dressed. her hair is wet and somewhat tangled, having just showered and gotten her still-healing wounds from the other night cleaned up. She’s wearing a black tank top and jeans, and generally seems to be in a good mood. Even if she is walking a bit gingerly. She heads down the hallway to the common room, pausing only briefly when she sees John and Amy heading in the opposite direction. She locks eyes with her half-sister, an unspoken message passing between them before she smiles and nods to John and continues on her way.

Once she makes it through the door into the common room, she looks around at those present and grins. “Hola, chicos and chicettes. What’s shakin’ like bacon?”

[John] Now, he hadn’t made a scene last night though there are plenty of other men, let alone Garou, who would not have taken kindly to being toyed with, whether it was merely his perception or whether there was anything rooted in reality to substantiate the notion, nor being walked away from. John, however, is not a hot-headed young buck who has something to prove. He does not attempt to intimidate or dominate every other male Garou he comes across, though with his height, his breeding and his presence he would likely be capable of it without much trouble. Beyond that, he actually seems like he has a decent sense of humor, takes very little that doesn’t require seriousness seriously, and actually has respect for someone other than himself.

It’s a rarity, given what has been blowing through Chicago in recent years, but given that he can’t talk, he doesn’t do a lot of blowing up of his own ego.

So, last night, John had just laughed at what had happened because he didn’t understand it and walked out. It wasn’t until after sobriety hit him like a bucket of water that it occurred to him that wires were crossed, perhaps. Lord knows what he was thinking.

Passing by Sarita, John looks somewhat amiable considering he’s pedaling her sister down the hallway towards their room. He gives her a lift of his eyebrows and a nod, the light in his eyes seeming to say Oh hey what’s up! as though they’re in a park in the middle of June on a sunny day and not the halls of a hostel.

They continue around the bend of the hall, and a moment later, a door opens and closes.

That’s when he lets her go.

[Quinn] She laughs when Hunter says he was telling Sofie about the lack of orgies here. The sound is low, more of a huff through her nostrils than anything so defined as a hah. “Hi, Amy…” is all she gets before Guy strongly insists the other kinswoman head back down the hall with him. She steps out of the doorway, fully into the common room.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, and heads for one of the chairs rather than the sofa.

“Quinn,” she gives as introduction.

[Hunter] Eyes follow the movements of Quinn intently and it wouldn’t be an illusion if she saw his jaw clench and his lips press together in a flat line when she drops herself down into one of the chairs. But he doesn’t say anything and although that eyebrow of his threatens to raise questioningly, it doesn’t.

Sofie has a question, a low murmur as this is all happening, not a whisper at all but not normal tones either. She wants to know if one of those girls is his and Hunter just straight up does not answer her.

“I dunno, depends on ya’ point’a view. Orgies in here though? Ain’t no place for them sorta’ games.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, seriously. If I’m getting left out of orgies, I’m gonna start kicking some serious ass.” She grins and moves toward the couch. “S’bad enough that my sister gets laid more than I do, but I gotta at least have the opportunity to be competitive.”

She sits carefully down on the couch and sighs. “So we’re all exciting, being shut-ins on Friday night, huh?”

[Sofie Janssen] “Well met, Quinn.” Sofie doesn’t move from where she’s sitting in the corner, back to the arm of the couch and knees pressed together, resting against the back of it. The t.shirt she wears is a simple navy blue and it’s loose enough to sleep in. Her sweatpants are a lighter shade of gray. Bare feet are tucked in with toes curled between the cushions, separating herself and Hunter.

Looking back and forth between the two, and then to the woman that enters calling them names of another language and talking about shaking bacon, Sofie decidedly stays out of any further talk about orgies and sex, especially with the more explicit talk about being laid. There are some lines she doesn’t cross, though these aren’t clear cut.

[Asha Singh] Someone is coming up the stairs. Two someones, actually. There is the sound of some – crazy foreign tongue, that sounds functionally like nothing anyone in the room has every heard before. Like a spider-scrawl of a tongue, seventeen accents and an extra umlaut per vowel that you cannot even tell from the consonants.

One of two people is stomping.
The smaller one of the two.
Actually.

[Quinn] “Nice to meet you, too, Sofie,” she replies with a polite incline of her head. Quinn draws herself up into the chair, wraps an arm around upraised knees, curls a hand around an ankle. She’s friendly, open, not exactly gregarious, but she tries not to leave people out.

“Ah hah, yeah, if any orgies break out spontaneously, Sarita, you can have at it. I’ll be the stick making a beeline for the door.”

Someone is stomping up the stairs. The Fianna kinswoman lets go of her legs, lets her knees drop down so that one presses into the arm of the chair, and she twists to get a look at the stairway. Before anyone appears, though, she looks back at the gathered, casting about a confused Do you know what that’s about? kind of look.

[Asha Singh] And soon enough: a girl emerges. Dark-skinned, slight, with coils of crisp black hair falling in elegant, shampoo-ad worthy waves around her exotic features. She’s wearing a strapless gown of bronze sequins that falls perhaps four inches above her knee, and a single gold bracelet liquid around her wrist. Her feet are bare.

She is carrying a doughnut.
It has sprinkles.

In her other hand, a plastic sandwich bag, the kind that ziplocks closed, smeared with a gelatinous red. It could be cherry pie filling oozing out of a deep-fried crust. It could be an ear.

God only knows.

Behind her a tall, well-dressed man in a tailored suit, crisp lines, black and white. A cravat, subtle diamond cufflinks through the cuffs of his monogrammed white shirt. He has a stick.

At the top of the stairs, she takes a survey of the people in the room, checking them off against some mental list. She pauses when she sees Hunter, waves, rather peppily, and turns to the tall, dignified gentleman with gray curling at his blond temples. Says, leaning as if she were whispering, for all that she is perfectly audible to all. “He’s one of the ones I need a proper introduction to!”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs a little to Quinn’s unspoken question. She seems intensely curious as to who it might be herself, and she glances to the stairwell before she looks back to the kinfolk.

“No clue, but we may wanna call an exorcist. And suggest that they put split pea soup on the menu for tomorrow.”

When Asha and her companion arrive, she looks back, examining the two. Each of the participants in the room are summarily dismissed by the newcomers, except Hunter. That brings a cock of the eyebrow, and Sarita leans back a bit to watch with a grin that can only be described as Cheshire-like. And possibly worrisome.

[Hunter] “Yo’ Sarita.” He throws it out casually with a nod of his head.

Stomping is heard, voices, or what are presumed to be voices. The only thing that marks them as such is the phonetics that vaguely resemble some unknown language and the audibility of it all. His eyes drift past Sofie, past Quinn to the stairs and he actually steps up off the couch to wander over to that exit almost protectively of the kinfolk.

He doesn’t get very far though and he stops before she even emerges. Ancestry strikes him like a blow to the head and causes his lip to curl but it relaxes a moment later into a smile for the woman when she makes her way into the room. There is someone at her side, someone Hunter has never seen before and he looks the man over.

He’s one of the ones I need a proper introduction to!

One brow lowers, the other rises and his lips quirk at the corners, he crosses his arms over his chest. This is unusual. He waits to see how it all plays out.

[Sofie Janssen] There’s little talk that follows the new arrivals into the common room, where Sofie had been listening to her player not but ten minutes ago, alone. Now coming up the stairs is someone speaking gibberish to someone else equally qualified in the language, and moments later Hunter is up to go and see what it’s all about after Quinn’s partially worried glance and Sarita’s quip.

Sofie merely glances over and watches the woman enter along with the man, both of which are dressed in a set of clothes that costs more than her whole closet stuffed in her closet. Its this she notices more than anything else, and the way the woman speaks to the man. Brows raise. Eyes stare.

And her mouth quirks at Hunters stance.

[Asha Singh] “His name’s Hunter,” Asha tells Thomas. The kinsman – whose blood is rather less fine than his rather young mistress’ own – has a certain dignity of purpose about him that makes up for what he lacks in raw breeding. He inclines his well-groomed head to listen as Asha “whispers” to him. “Burnout.” And gives her a smile of approval when she manages to refrain from informing Thomas that Hunter Burnout is very common.

Good girl!

The gruesome little package in her hand is sealed firmly, dark against the striking brilliance of her dress, which sends dancing motes of light all across the floor around her as she moves. “Yes ma’am,” Thomas says, pronounce it mum in his oh-so-posh British way. Then he smiles, magnanimous, toward Hunter.

And raps his stick, once, against the wooden floor. (Asha loves this part, so much.) As if everyone in hte room were not already staring at her. “Mr. Hunter Burnout, sir. I believe you have been casually introduced before. However, do allow me to make an informal introduction.

“I have the deep, abiding, personal pleasure of introducing you to Her Eminent Highness Arundhati Sunyana Elevarisi Asha Priyamvada Natajaran Singh.

“Daughter of Alexander Harrison, Vision of the Fall, Scion of House Wyrmfoe.

‘”Great grand-daughter of Sri Padmanabha Dasa Vanchi Pala Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Dharma Raja Kulasekhara Natajaran Singh, Svatantrya to the Nation, of the Sept of the Broken Sky.

“Descendent of the Maharahajadhiraja Bahadur, Great Prince of Princes, Elder Philodox of the Silver Fangs, House Blood Red Crest.”

All this for a “Cliath Ahroun, House Blood Red Crest, kalaratri to the Nation. Which means both night of death, and death of night, in your own human tongue.” Asha beams at Thomas, all approving. Apparently, that’s all she wanted.

Flashes a glance at Hunter. “Hi!” And takes a bite of her doughnut, the ear swinging casually from her hand, blood contained, but dripping against the sides of the bag. Then, she glances back at Thomas. “I’ve been thinking about moving in here.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her mouth drops open. There’s no other reaction that is remotely attainable for the Strider than a jaw-dropped, googly-eyed stare at the pomp and circumstance of the whole thing. It’s not pure shock, though…the corners of her mouth are upward turned. Her eyes are both disbelieving and glittering with mirth. Either her usual grin has been sublimated by the stunning introduction, or the whole sequence that just unfolded is so funny to her that the wires in her head have crossed and she can’t quite express it.

It takes several moments before her voice finds her again. “Holy fucking hell, I gotta stop doing drugs. Or at least the ones that cause flashbacks. Because I swear, it looks JUST like that actually, seriously happened.”

[Sofie Janssen] The Kinswoman looks like she’s swallowed a fly. Her features do this weird contorted sort of thing, where she’s really trying to stop her eyes from bugging out their sockets, while trying to keep her tongue from flapping and all the while trying not to do what she really wanted to do and bust out laughing. She is going to give herself a hernia with the effort, to be sure.

She can’t be serious. He can’t be serious. Sofie looks between them, and sure enough, they are.

Leaping off the couch, like her pants are on fire, Sofie pads barefoot around the back of the couch and takes a direct path towards and through the hallway door. The moment she’s out of sight, she’s jogging down the end of the hall, biting the heel of her hand as snorting starts to come out her nose.

[Quinn] There is no worry, no concern drawn into the kinswoman of Stag’s face, merely confusion. She doesn’t recognize the language, not even enough to say that it’s one or another. And she doesn’t recognize the young woman who steps into the common room with an escort, though she does recognize what she is.

Hunter rising is noted, drawing her attention pointedly away from the girl in the pretty dress that’s probably worth more than her bar. Blue eyes travel over the Ahroun, lingering a touch longer than necessary before shifting back over to the girl and her announcer.

An intro begins. Quinn turns in her seat to watch. Though she knows she and the other females in the common room have been dismissed with just a glance, she is patient and respectful and not at all wishing to get up and walk out of the room to read or break into a bottle of bourbon.

Her eyes, though, are starting to glaze by the end of it. These aren’t names she needs to know, and yet the kinswoman will remember them, the ones she hears anyway, the ones she pays attention to.

Asha’s looking to move in here, well fantastic. “I must’ve inadvertently shared whatever you had,” she quips to Sarita, unfolding herself from the chair and rising. “I think we’re having the same hallucination. I think I’m going to go walk it off.” And the third kinswoman of the evening makes her exit. This one reappears a few minutes later, bundled up for the winter cold despite the hour and the neighborhood and all of it. She bypasses the Fangs, heads down the stairs, and disappears into the night like a goddamn ninja.

[sorry guys, it’s 2am and I can’t handle life @_@ thanks for the play!]

[Lukas] The thing about Asha’s introductions is — even if you’re, say, in your room, kicking back in your bed, reading a book or writing a letter or something — you still have plenty of time to get up and get over before it’s finished.

So by the time Thomas is done, Lukas is leaning against the doorway that leads out to the halls and the rooms. His arms are folded across his chest. Or well. They are, until he raises one hand — very gradeschool — and asks in apparently utter seriousness:

“I’m sorry, your Eminent Highness, but I’ve forgotten my table of genealogies. Could you remind me of the full ancestry of His Royal Majesty Maharahajadhiraja Bahadur?”

[Simon Zahradnik] Have you ever stabbed your own mother in the back with a rusty knife again and again while listening to her scream I love you so much why are you doing this to me?!? all the while twisting the knife around and laughing? Well neither has Simon and yet why does he feel dirty. Like the kind of dirty that doesn’t wash off? The kind of dirty that clings to the soul and cannot be erased. Simon has always done what was necessary… He has always stood ready to put his duties and responsibilities before himself. Yet the stench of betrayal hung heavily around him. Rage coursed through him and yet it was an entirely unsettling kind of rage. A kind of bitter self hatred that he still couldn’t seem to chase away.

He could still taste the chill of frost upon his tongue. The kiss of freedom… Of boundless, limitless power wanting to be unleashed only to watch it whimper and fade as the Garou turn their backs upon the very forces that feed their inner rage. Their boundless destructive potential, the churning belly of the mother who gave them life… Her skies, her seas, her beautiful mountains.

Funny… Simon has never been a part of such an impressive victory and yet was left feeling like it was a complete failure. In the end though this was the kind of thing that hardens the heart and helps awaken the Shadow Lord to the true nature of the world right? He was learning that sometimes you had to destroy hope cause… Your elder doesn’t like it? What the fuck does that even fucking mean!?!.

“Before you can truly understand what you are fighting for you must stab it in the face Simon! That will teach you the value of… Something something…”He mutters as he swings the door open and makes his way upstairs.

He needed something to calm himself, so why in the fuck did he come here?

Eyes scanned the area. Looking about the Common area. Pool… Pool will help. Right? The darkly clad Ahroun made his way towards the tables. Who in the hell knows what he needed. He should be out smashing something evil’s face in that’s what he fuckin’ should be doing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over when Lukas is suddenly there, and he asks Asha to go through this full ancestry. Her eyes widen to silver dollars, and she looks back. She looks back at Asha and Thomas, smiling like a little kid on Christmas day. It’s not often she looks this giddy, ’cause it’s not often she gets to be this amused.

…no. No, she’s not normal.

[Hunter] A commoner takes part in something he has never before been subjected to in all his years under Luna’s smiling face. If there are words to describe the thoughts that run through Hunter’s heads in this moment then they escape this writer like sand through a sieve. Outwardly he smiles at first when it all begins, this ageing gentleman speaks like it is an honour for Hunter Matthews to receive this special attention and effort from the undoubtedly royal Ahroun at his shoulder.

But it all begins to fall apart because let’s face it, Hunter is no member of the court, he is no Prince of Persia or even the stable boy of such a man. He is a Jackal, a Gnawer of Bones both proud and yet without the restraints of believing that pride is worth anything. His arms go slightly slack, one falls to his side before the other and he stands there lop sided with a hand tucked to his ribs and his mouth slightly open in shock.

It doesn’t end, it really never ends. He wants to scream out HELP HELP IM BEING OPPRESSED , but he really doesn’t have the energy or the cognitive ability to form words right now. She is the daughter of some Indian dude with a name consisting of more letters than the alphabet and all Hunter got out of it was that somehow this is meant to mean something, that this doesn’t happen for everyone.. surely.. she surely doesn’t do this to every person she meets. His eyebrows raise in alarm and confusion How does she get anything done??

About halfway through it he stops looking at the man and starts studying the female at his side, she preens and beams and smiles like this is exactly how things should be all the time. No Asha, this is not how things should be all the time. The look is written all over Hunter’s face and he barely gets a chance to react before all the kinfolk in the joint go running for the hills, hiding faces and bellowing out their sudden disarray at this assault on their senses.

“I..” He stumbles and then Lukas is there, goading her on. The look Hunter flashes him is not one of kindness at all, it is a look a bro might give another bro when he just set him up with a particularly disgusting blind date in order to score the hottie. Hunter growls and his lip curls but his eyes go back to Thomas.

His face says one thing to Thomas, I swear ta’ god if ya’ keep talkin’ imma’ rip ya’ god damn throat out. But somehow it is without simple anger, more frustration and amusement and a totally dominating sense of pleading. He begs, don’t do it!

[Asha Singh] Asha snorts, part-way through her bite of the doughnut. Which is sugar: with sprinkles in multicolors scattered over lavender icing. Then she chews, with a sort of prim precision, like she were listening to some childhood governess in her ear telling her that it’s not polite to slip treefrogs into the folds of your obnoxious sister’s sari before she’s meant to go meet the the eligible young men of whatever is the latest Sept to which she has been paraded for the purpose of Catching a Man’s Eye and Making New Babies for a Dying House while she sits there trying to figure out how to produce more fucking tree frogs now that all the cliath Ahrouns in the Sept slew the ones she had with their stupid little swords (which: mind, were not nearly as cool or bejeweled as her own pata.)

“-rhya” says Asha, with that bored emphasis on the word. “I only wanted an informal introduction. Why, Thomas has his stuck, but he doesn’t have his sword OR his hat.” Neither of which Lukas himself has ever seen. “Anyway, it takes like three days and nights to recite so it’s not very practical, is it? If you want, though,” conceding, at last, something to Lukas’ greater rank. “I can have Thomas write it down for you so you won’t forget. Or he can come by, uhm, if it’s three hours every evening, it will take one turn of the lunar cycle, so maybe 8 p.m. tomorrow?”

Then she wiggles the bag at Lukas.

“Has you see the other one of these? I had a matched set.”

“Maybe you left it in the car, ma’am,” Thomas suggests. Steers, giving Lukas as much of the eye as he dares. “Shall we go have a look?”

“Oh, bother,” declares Asha. “I did not. I suppose I’ll have to get another one.”

AND before you know it, our heroine and her entourage are trooping back down the stairs!

[Sofie Janssen] Down the hall, room seven has busted its door open and partially shut, and a Kinfolk has barely made it to the bed when she’s howling out laughter, with sinuses burning from the previous, snorting effort. She knows don’t laugh. Don’t laugh in front of Garou, which is why she had tailed it out of there the moment she felt it coming on. It’s that bewildered laugh that has turned into something hilarious because of the effort of being suppressed. At least she has mind to roll and bury her face into her pillow to muffle anymore and tries hard to get it under control, while practically crying.

What the fuck was that!

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches the whole thing with a look of amazement. This is the most surreal thing that’s probably ever happened to her, and considering that her half-sister likes to pretend she’s a Garou from time to time, plus other random misadventures, that says a lot. She blinks when they bloody ear is waved about, and she looks around the room, as if asking them if they’re seriously seeing the same thing. Then she looks back.

And then, like they were never there, except for the dumbfounded faces, Asha is headed back down the stairs. Sarita is speechless for a couple of moments until finally she nods.

“Yeah. Totally gotta stop doing the flashback drugs.”

[Lukas] “I — ”

before Lukas can tell her that no, no, it was quite all right, he doesn’t need the full introduction, and no, he hasn’t seen the other severed ear she left lying around someplace, Asha is turning and trooping out again.

“If you want to move in,” he calls after her, “I think the only room left is nine!”

Also, following her in mind if not in body: Weren’t you Her Exalted Highness before? Did you get demoted?

[Asha Singh] Stupid Anchal had a baby. Asha grumbles back in his mind. Maybe she has been demoted. It looks like a wizened monkey’s shriveled head.

Then, moments later when he can feel them wandering through the kitchens.

Hey! Do they have a blender down here!

[Hunter] After that storm of names that mean nothing to the Gnawer it is in a flash that her Highness leaves the building. She talks about swords and hats and ears and all sorts of other things before stomping off back down the stairs with her entourage.

Hunter is left with a foul taste in his mouth and a headache.

“What tha’ fucks’a Pad man asa Dasi fuckin’ Vanny Vichi anyway?” He shouts rather belated and confused like.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hunter’s exclamation causes a spout of laughter from the Ragabash. “Wait wait…I know this.” She pauses, as if to think. “Vinny Vichi V.D.. I came, I saw, I got gonorrhea.”

[Sofie Janssen] After collecting herself and wiping tears from her eyes, Sofie flings her legs off the beds and sits up. She breathes out and double checks she’s got herself under control before she gets up and leaves the darkened room, thankful she hasn’t even seen signs of her supposed roommate.

In the bathroom she takes a moment to splash cool water on her face to help get rid of the flush on her skin, and wonders where it is John and Amunet had ran off too. At first she’s thankful she couldn’t hear anything down the hallway, until she reminds herself, with a snicker, that John’s a mute. The imagery after that is best left unsaid and even makes herself shake her head and stare at herself in the mirror.

“This weather is driving you crazy,” she tells her reflection in a low voice, cautioning.

[Lukas] Over in the doorway, Lukas’s eyebrow flicks up. He shifts his weight, straightening. Rage pushes ahead of him like a storm front as he comes across the room to drop down on the couch — his usual place facing the TV.

“Asha is one of the last scions of a dying House,” he says mildly. “Rather than hiding in her ancestors’ palaces counting kin and waiting to go mad, she’s chosen to dedicate her life and honor to a war she knows her House won’t live to win. For this, her House considers her a deserter. And because of her perceived shame, she’s sacrificed every ounce of renown she’s earned to her tribe’s totem for the last year. She’d be most of the way to a Fostern by now if she hadn’t.”

A beat of pause.

“Laugh at her ways to her face if you want. She’s not so proud that she’ll mind. But don’t mock her when her back is turned.”

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon watches Lukas, and listens to his defense of his packmate. Simon isn’t about to say anything… Lukas has the majority of the Silverfang tribe under his boot. That means the Shadow Lords run the show in this Town. But he gets so defensive when you say anything about his pet Fangs! Simon’s learned the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut. Besides Asha was pretty goddamn nice to look at and Simon… Well Simon is shallow as hell!

“Honestly the Romans were pretty damn clean by comparison to some soldiers… I mean sure they caught their share of diseases off the locals but that’s what happens when you let soldiers do whatever they want to the locals as a reward.”Simon finally says as he lifts a pool Cue and begins to examine it.

“Hey… Anyone know anything about history?”He asks as he wanders over to the table and begins collecting balls.

[Hunter] Simon is ranting in the corner by the pool table and it bashes on his senses, his eyes are for Lukas though.

“Couldn’t fuckin’ laugh even if I wanted to, she do that often?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s still grinning a little, her mood not dampened by Lukas’s shift in conversation to a much more serious tone. She dials back a bit, just as a natural reaction, and looks Lukas over. The man is of course her superior, and she respects that. But she’s not not the kowtowing, tail-between-the-legs type, especially when she doesn’t think she did anything wrong.

“Couple things, with all due respect. A, I wasn’t sayin’ anything that I wouldn’t say to her face. B, I ain’t judging her, ’cause I don’t know her. I don’t make fun of people until they know my name.” Admittedly, the fact that she may have well not existed in the room to Lukas’ packmate irked her, and a bit of that shows on her face, but it doesn’t factor into the situation.

“And C, I wasn’t mockin’ her. I was mocking Hunter for his mispronunciation of the names.”

She grins, sitting back. “But your point is noted.”

[Lukas] “No,” Lukas puts his bare feet up on the coffee table. Wry, “I think she was actually honoring you with a proper introduction, since I gave you two an improper one the other day.”

He yawns, then — a big, jawcracking ho-hum, as though his late night was finally winding to a close. With both hands he scrubs his face, then directs his glance over to Sarita. “You ever manage to track Gina down?”

[Hunter] Thoughtful, far too thoughtful for an Ahroun but he is a Gnawer after all. He is still standing there, now with his back to the stairs though both his arms have managed to fall back to a reasonably comfortable state.

“Fought tha’ fuckin’ Naugh wit’ her, she crushed it like’a champ.”

A ponderous pause, he licks over a canine then closes his mouth like he has come to a decision about the whole matter before he speaks again.

“Ta’ each their own ye’? I’mma grab somethin’ ta’ drink, any takers?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Simon when he asks about history. “I got a high school education in it…that’s about all, though. Why?”

Lukas then grabs her attention, and she looks over at him. She leans back, wincing just slightly, and nods. “Yeah, couple days after. I’ve been working on her…it’s slow going. Pretty understandably considering her history, she’s not too trustful of her own.” A shadow passes over her face then. Sarita is not serious too terribly often. You don’t earn the Deed Name ‘Echos of Laughter’ unless you know when to laugh at life. But something there is distinctly unpleasant as she mentions Gina’s history. And one might pity those others of her tribe that have contributed to that history if Sarita ever found them, if one pitied those who earned their spots in hell.

The shadow is gone quickly though, and she smiles again. “But it’s going well, all things considered. Long as I don’t get shot in the face by her at any point, I should be fine.”

[Sofie Janssen] “Yeah, I’m coming,” says Sofie as she appears around the corner, having come down the hall from the bathroom with impeccable timing. She’s glad to see Asha is gone and that there’s none of that lingering around, because she’s not sure how she’d handle it. At least she’s composed now. Right back to normal.

She makes a bee line for the stairs to head down.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles back to Sarita.”I was just wondering if anyone knew how that whole Nazi thing ended. I mean… Of course they lost blah blah but what happened with the rest of them? You know all the soldiers who were all like… “We were just following orders!” how’d that turn out for them in the end exactly?”He asks with a hint of a smile finally taking shape on his face as he lines up his first shot.

He waits, gives anyone who wants to a chance to answer.

[Lukas] A ghost of pride over Lukas’s face. “Yeah,” he says, “she’s a lot deadlier than she looks.”

A nod then – to each his own. Hunter and Sofie head down for a drink; Lukas turns his attention back to Sarita. “I don’t know exactly what went down with her,” he says, “and it’s not my business. But she’s not the same woman that came to town a year and a half ago. It’s good that she’s got someone to keep an eye out for her now, even if it’s just temporary.

“If you need a hand getting even, let me know.”

Simon’s question makes Lukas quirk an eyebrow. “Strange thing to ask,” he comments. “What’s really on your mind, Bone Grinder?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ooh, ooh. I know this.” She does, actually. She loves pissing off skinheads, and pointing out that you know more of their history than they do is a great way to do it. Especially when you’re darker-skinned.

“Three got acquitted. The rest got ten years to death. And one of them was found guilty of asking a rhetorical question. Don’t remember his penalty, though.”

She looks to Hunter. “Rain check. Totally wanna go drinking with you some day. But on a day when i can get into a bar fight and not have a couple strikes against me.”

[Hunter] She is a lot deadlier than she looks, Hunter learnt that when he was hanging from the fist of a giant and she near cut it in half with one bite. It gave him the slightest window of opportunity and that’s all it takes. He rumbles a confirmation and agreement of Lukas’ words then starts heading towards the stairs though he is looking over his shoulder at Sarita as he does so.

“Ya’ sure thing, Joey’ll come lookin’ for ya’. Night boss.” He lazily salutes the Shadow Lord without bringing his hand anywhere near his forehead and then disappears into the stairwell.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles at Sarita and nods his head.”You and I gotta go out to the Hangar to test your your skills one of these nights soon lady.”He says with a little smile and a nod of his head before taking his shot.

His attention then turns to Lukas.”I am just curious when a man is supposed to know if an order is something he is supposed to carry out and when he is supposed to know to stick his middle finger up and say fuck you ya know?”He asks curiously.”I mean… We don’t challenge our elders in the heat of a battle. I would kill someone for putting peoples lives on the line cause they don’t feel like listening to me. But when is an order the wrong order to follow?”He asks, maybe Lukas knew. He’d been around the block a few times.

[Lukas] For whatever reason, this line of conversation seems to strike a chord in Lukas. The interest is immediate and apparent – flickering through his eyes like a shadow. His eyebrows draw together. He sits up, putting his feet flat on the floor.

“When you feel it in your bones,” he replies. “When you know you shouldn’t follow because the cost of blind obedience is higher than the cost of honorable disobedience — not to yourself, but to everyone around you. That’s when you stop following orders. But the Litany is still the Litany. And if a wolf didn’t catch his leader’s weakness before battle began, then I say he deserves to be punished for rebelling even if his rebellion was just.”

A pause. Then he asks again, quieter, “Why? This can’t be just idle speculation. What happened?”

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles a little and shrugs his shoulders.”The Snow has ceased falling… The ice no longer collecting on our rooftops. No longer keeping people from wasting their hard earned cash on useless goods. We’ve opened the way for commerce to continue and for parents to buy their kids junk food to get fat… Everyone can go back to their lives because the threat has passed.”He shrugs his shoulders.”And yet you don’t get to come back from that…”

“The storm is a gift… It brings destruction, and renewal. Standing in the way of that…”He trails off and looks down at the table for a second.

He shrugs his shoulders.”Would you stand before Thunder Himself and demand he stand down if it was he who decided our city must be wiped off this earth? Would you fight nature itself in the name of this scab whose very existence is an insult to our creator?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks at Simon, talking in metaphors and then generalities and then like he’s composing the Charge of the Thunder Brigade or some shit. It is plain on Sarita’s face that while she gets what Simon is saying, she is completely lost on the path of conversations…like, walked into the La Brea Tar Pits behind the Bates Motel levels of lost.

“Okay…did I forget to eavesdrop on a meeting and did the Incarna decide the city needs to be wiped out? Just checking…I need to make sure I got gas in the tank and enough Twinkies to last Amy and I a few days.”

[Lukas] Lukas’s eyebrow flicks up. He thinks for a moment, eyes flicking briefly to Sarita. Her comment makes the edge of his mouth tug upward for a moment, but then he’s serious again, looking at Simon.

“Yeah,” he says, “I would. Because Thunder and Gaia put me on this earth to protect it. To fix it. To fight in it, and for it. So if something that looked like Thunder or Gaia showed up and told me to stand aside because he was going to level this city, this city that I know has worth, whose worth I’ve seen, then I’m going to question who the fuck that actually is and what their true motives are.

“On the night of the eclipse, Simon, I met a spirit that called itself the embodiment of Gaia, and she was powerful. And good. And she gave me a gift that I didn’t think I could get, and I am thankful to her. But was she Gaia? I don’t know. I don’t … think so. Not really.

“Not too long before that, you and I stood before spirits that called themselves the archangels of the Judeochristian god. And they were powerful. And maybe not so very good. But were they truly angels? No. Probably not.

“My point is this, Simon. When you stand before the Earth-Mother and the Sky-God, I believe there will be no doubt in your heart, none, that you stand before your creator. The fact that you even have to ask this question tells me you doubt. And that tells me you already know whether or not you should listen if whatever you met told you to stand aside.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She listens to Lukas talk. Her head tilts to the right, watching him and taking in the words. She smiles a little…not her usual snarky grin, just a standard sort of amicable smile. She’s not huge with the spirits, herself. Being on the road for years, either alone or just with a kinfolk, means that you don’t get to spend a lot of time with Theurges, and Sarita didn’t have the greatest grounding in Umbral knowledge herself. But it’s always nice to hear perspective.

“And knowing is half the battle,” she says when he’s done. Somehow, it sounds more like a compliment than a joke.

[Simon Zahradnik] He glances at Sarita and shakes his head.”It’s not that complicated… Bad.”He says with a smirk. Had Thunder, or Twister come to this city to destroy it Simon would not stand in its way.

He then listens to Lukas, and once more he hears Adamidas… A different face, and yet he heard Adamidas no less. He drew in a slow and deep breath.”So then we’re all heroes then… We saved the day and we protected the innocent denizens of Chicago against the wrath of nature. Go team…”He trails off. These were not the kinds of answers he had hoped to hear.

He lowered himself to take another shot before sighing to himself and standing up tall.”I should excuse myself Rhya.”He says before offering a bow to Lukas and then Sarita and settling the pool cue on the table before him.

[Lukas] “That’s not quite what I said,” Lukas says — not quite willing to let Simon leave on that note. “What I’m saying to you is: I don’t think it was even ‘Nature’ you faced but the Wyrm by some other name. Even if the spirit itself did not realize it, to call for the blind genocide of millions of souls, every human in the city, is an act of mindless destruction. And what is the Wyrm, if not mindless destruction?

“Simon, I think it’s easy to hate humanity, seeing the havoc they can wreak, seeing how lazy and weak they have become. But if we were not part human, you would not have the drive or the ingenuity we need to win this war. An animal would gnaw its leg off to escape a trap. But a human would dismantle the trap. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking humans are worthless and evil. That’ll open you to precisely the sort of temptation you faced from … whatever it was that masqueraded as the storm.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Some people might expect Sarita to be bored by the conversation. After all, she’s known more for spouting off pop culture references and the seventy-five different variations of her grin than getting involved in deep, overreaching conversations about the nature of the War and the philosophy of evil. The truth of the matter though, as one who looks closely enough to her expression as she listens to the Shadow Lords debate, is that she finds the conversation deeply intriguing. Not only does it give her different perspectives on the deeper questions that the Nation faces, but it gives her a lot of perspective on the two children of Thunder in front of her. And that is information that Sarita finds far more valuable than any game of banter or “So how do you like the city so far” conversations.

So instead of popping in with a witty quip, she stays quiet for the moment, listening and learning. Her attention shifts to Simon, watching him closely for his words and/or reaction.

[Simon Zahradnik] “It’s not about hating humanity… It’s about shattering their misconceptions. I bound to twister because I understood why Twister destroys. I understood that Twister shattered the safety and the silence… He brings destruction. But in the wake of his destruction he leavers a shattered world torn to pieces. A world where people had given up and lost hope…”He shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t you see? Twister takes… But in the process Twister renews hope. He takes from those who have nothing to fear and he teaches them not to give up and not to become complacent and to always push and struggle. The destruction Twister asks us to bring is not blind. It is beautiful… It reawakens the dying soul and instills hope. It refreshes and invigorates…”

“Twister isn’t about hurting people… Twister is about teaching people to live every moment to its fullest because any second it could be snatched away from you.”

“That is what I saw and that is what I felt… It wasn’t a Wyrm Creature… It was a force of the Wyld. It did not hold malice or contempt in its heart. It only wished to do what it does. What it brought was a gift, for in the wake of the Wyld’s destruction there is new life, there are tears but there is new hope. The weaver doesn’t offer hope… It doesn’t offer anything but an empty soulless meaningless existence. Nobody deserves that fate.”

“I’m not some bloody mindless vengeful asshole… Twister chose me because I understand and feel this. In the wake of destruction… New life arises. These buildings were not intended to last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

[Lukas] Now it’s Lukas’s turn to listen, and if Simon looks between them, he’ll see a startlingly similar expression on the Shadow Lord’s face and the Strider’s. Interested. Intrigued.

Perhaps it’s ironic that of all the wolves in this city, the ones having this debate — discussion — whatever it is, are Shadow Lords. Are Ahrouns at that, often accused of being blunt instruments. Blind weapons, rising fast and dying young, brutal and mindless tools for smarter garou to direct.

Simon rebels verbally, explicitly against this. I’m not some bloody mindless vengeful asshole, he says, as though aware — painfully so — that that’s sometimes his exact reputation. There’s a look that skates across Lukas’s face then, part wryness and part empathy, gone almost too quick to catch. Nothing lasts forever, he finishes, and Lukas nods.

“I can agree with that,” he says. “All of it. I don’t … follow that creed myself, life out of destruction, but I see its worth. But why the doubt, then? You sound so sure of what you’ve just told me. Why the questions of right and wrong, when to follow and when to rebel?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And her attention shifts back to Simon. Sarita has her own input that she could offer here, her own opinion. But it is her decision to hold back. Her contribution would probably derail things a bit, and she’s intensely curious to see how this plays out.

So she remains quiet, looking to Bone-Grinder, to see what his volley back consists of.

[John] Without warning the trio in the common room, minding their own business, in the midst of a conversation, become aware of a muffled thump as what sounds like something bigger than a breadbox is pushed–not slammed–against a door on the other side of the wall.

[Simon Zahradnik] He was a little surprised that Lukas did take the time to listen. It’s not like full Moons to do that. He ponders the question himself and shrugs his shoulders.”I followed my orders… And yet I am left feeling as if I should have gone the other way. The Weaver won and what do we get to show for it? Nothing… The weaver will hunt us and give it a reason and its minions will actively destroy us without hesitation. We are its enemy…”He shrugs.”The Wyld is not our enemy and it is weak… It is our hopes and dreams, and the fuel that makes life possible. It doesn’t hate… And next to Gaia it is one of the only pure things left in this world. It might not be our friend and it might never learn to appreciate anything we do for it. But in the end strengthening it weakens the hold of our enemies on the world…”

“People are going to die in our war one way or another… People are going to die. But without the Wyld… No one will truly get to live. With out the Wyld there is only stagnation and death.”

“The Weaver won because we took it’s side. Now we go back to our lives as if nothing happened… Whatever that thing brought to our city for good or ill it brought change. Nothing more, nothing less. We helped the weaver and the weaver destroyed it without mercy. Whatever potential was there… Is no more.”

“I followed my orders and yet… I feel responsible for destroying what could have been. I feel I intervened in a step that could have helped crush weaver and wyrm and open this city up to us and ours.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her head jerks up at that sound, and her eyes narrow. She looks to the wall…she knows what room that is. Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, before doing a literal facepalm.

“Fucking A, bitch,” she mutters. It’s not a pleased sound. She rises and looks to the two. “Excuse me for just…uno momento, por favor.” She slowly, carefully walks back into the hallway, with a purpose.

[Lukas] The thump doesn’t even make Lukas look up. He’s lived here a long time; is used to odd noises and occurrences at all hours. He does, however, glance briefly at Sarita as she gets up — offering her a half-smile as she goes.

“We should talk sometime,” he says.

Then, leaning his elbows on his knees, he presses his palms together for a moment, thoughtful. When he looks at Simon again he says, “I think first and foremost you need to figure out what it is you’re feeling guilty about. If you’re feeling guilty because you feel you did the right thing but at a terrible cost — well, sometimes that’s how this war is. You’ll learn that again and again as you gain rank, and believe me,” there’s a raw note here, like a recent wound scraped up again, “every single lesson is a cruel one. We give so much for so little gain, but in the end, it’s worth it. It has to be.

“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing, because even if you let the Weaver destroy a Wyld creature, you probably saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives. The Wyldling might have had the best intentions, but you know what they say about the road to hell. It might have wanted to break the denizens of the city from the grasp of the Weaver, but that storm hurt far more than it helped. Maybe it’s because of our idealistic differences, but … I say destruction in the name of good ends where innocent lives are lost. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have hesitated to stop the Wyldling however I could.

“That said … maybe there was another way. However I could doesn’t imply letting it die. Perhaps there was a way to stop it that didn’t involve destroying it, a way that your war-party overlooked. And if you do feel guilty because you did the right thing but paid too high a price, then you need to take that lesson and learn from it. You need to learn how to avoid that price in the future. How to do better, not do differently.”

There’s a small pause. Then — and this is ironically gentler:

“But if you feel bad right now because you feel like you did the wrong thing, and you did it simply because you followed orders … well. Then you have a tougher question in front of you. You’ll have to weigh whether or not you should have done differently. Whether you should have disobeyed orders in a battle, broken the Litany, and suffered every consequence you reaped, all in the name of your principles. You’ll have to take yourself and your own self-interests out of the equation entirely and weigh whether or not that course of action would have resulted in greater devastation to your allies and to innocents or not. And ultimately, you’ll have to ask yourself, too, if you backed down from that because you decided the cost was too high — or because of cowardice.”

Another short pause. Then — because this is difficult to say — “Simon, I hope to god there’s never a battle when I lead in such a way that compels you to act against me for the sake of doing what you believe is right — because if you rebelled mid-battle, I will not hesitate. I will cut you down.

“At the same time, we can never know whether our course of action is truly right or not. We can only follow our conscience and our deepest principles — selflessly, and faithfully. So while I hope the day never comes, if there ever comes a day when your honor truly and genuinely compel you to rebel mid-battle, I do hope you have the courage to do so. No matter what the outcome.”

On that note, Lukas gets up. “I have to go,” he says. “It’s almost dawn, and I want to see my mate before the new day begins. Will you think on what we’ve spoken about and let me know what you decide — whether you were right or wrong to destroy the Wyldling?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Footsteps sound, for those who are paying attention and has good hearing, along the wall on the other side of the common room. The footsteps are not stomping, nor are they particularly light. They continue all the way along, until they reach the approximate location where the thud came from. Coincidentally, it is the wall near the pool tables, where Simon currently is. Anyone who might be fanciful might imagine something terrible, like Michael Myers walking along instead of a very pissed-off Silent Strider.

The footsteps stop suddenly, and after a couple moments, there are three loud pounds upon the door. “No est√° permitido tener relaciones sexuales en la sala! Y no a todos hasta que hable con nuestros familiares, perra! No creo que no voy a entrar con un balde de agua fr√≠a!” A pause.

Then three more pounds, and the footsteps make their way back along the hallway. Sarita appears back at the common room door, smiling again. “Sorry about that.” She moves to take a seat.

[Simon Zahradnik] He listens to the words of his elder… Nodding. Call it a lesson. Lukas always seemed a little softer hearted than he which wasn’t necessarily bad for a Shadow Lord, after all he was stronger than Simon. Well… Simon wasn’t about to challenge him anyway. Simon… Believed Lukas was stronger so it didn’t matter if Lukas was softer hearted or not in the younger Full Moon’s mind what mattered was that Lukas has strength Simon did not. That meant there was always something to be gleaned from him.

He nodded his head slowly.”Always stand up for that which you believe in… Noted Rhya.”He says with a nod of his head.”Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I will think on the matter.”He adds with a nod of his head and a little smile.”I will do what I can to put the matter behind me. You take care.”He says with a nod of his head before grinning a little and turning his attention on Sarita.

“No problem… Glad to have you back.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Sarita is almost back to the common room before there’s any sort of answer, which comes in the form of a fist slamming back into the door, then it’s quiet again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Have a good evening, Lukas.” She nods to him, giving him a little grin as she moves to take a seat on the couch. “Or….morning. Or whatever.” She’s still got that underlying pissed-offness to her, but when Sarita gets angry, the snark just comes out a bit more. She’s not so filled with Rage that people cringe at her presence. Maybe they should, but compared to the other two in the room, she’s freaking mellow.

She leans back, wincing a bit, and looks to Simon. “Sorry I missed the end of that conversation. I was enjoying it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And then she frowns when she hears the bang. “Do me a favor, Simon? Hit the wall there for me, right about lined up with the the far corner pockets?”

[Simon Zahradnik] He smirks a little at Sarita’s request. With a roll of his eyes he walks over and hits the wall with enough force to send the noise straight through the wall. At least so it is heard.”There happy?”

[Lukas] Perhaps there’s some truth in that: Lukas has gentleness in him, rarely seen by outsiders but present.

Though, two years ago he didn’t ever show it. Not to anyone not of his pack, anyway. Not to his family, even, except maybe his sister — certainly not to the woman who became his wife. He was a harder, more vehement creature then, filled with the fearless conviction of youth.

Those harsh, cruel lessons he spoke of has tempered that. Made grey out of black and white. Given him a sort of depth and patience, too, that he didn’t have before.

He returns Simon’s faint smile, and the nod. “You too, my brother,” he says. Then, to Sarita on his way out, by way of goodbye — “Hope things work out with your friend in there.”

His footsteps thud down the stairs, not so much noisy on purpose as by simple dint of his size, his height, his breadth. A little later the kitchen door opens and shuts; a little later that, the BMW starts up in the parking lot, then departs through the predawn blue.

[thanks for the RP, guys! really enjoyed it!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No. I probably just pissed her off enough to make my bed the one with the wet spot.” She shrugs. “But if she’s smart she’ll come out soon, before I go in.”

A little smile, and she looks at the man. “So how you feeling after the other night’s festivities? Sounds like you’ve been extra busy since…”

[Simon Zahradnik] He watches Lukas leave before looking back at Sarita.”You want me to go in there and…”He glides his index finger across his neck while asking the question.

He then ponders the rest of her question.”I’m great… How about you? All healed up and shit?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Dude, that’s my sister. No offense, ’cause I like you and all…but you kill my sister and I’m gonna have to kill you. And then someone’s gonna have to kill me. And it’ll be a whole big killing…thing.”

A pause. “And John would bleed all over the room. I don’t want that.”

She shrugs in regard to his question. “Not yet. I still got a little ways to go.” She grins. “Pain is good, though. It reminds you that you’re alive. And more importantly, that you can say, ‘Yeah, but you should see the other guy.'”

[Simon Zahradnik] He chuckles.”I’m just extending the offer… Fuck don’t kill the messenger lady.”He says with a little laugh before shrugging his shoulders and leans against the pool table.”You should see the other guy… What is left is worm food.”He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t dick around with Wyrm creatures… They wanna play in my court they will learn that I have one rule. There ain’t no rules. I am bigger, meaner, and nastier than anything they got to throw at me. I have no problem playin’ Doctor with some asshole who thinks it’s funny to chop up little kids or drag folks off into the woods to… Do whatever.”He says with a shrug of his shoulders.”When I make war it’s total and absolute… Gimme time and I will teach the minions of the Wyrm they have something to fear. There ain’t nowhere the Wyrm can run or hide… If I were them I wouldn’t worry too much about Hell cause it’s right here and it’s comin’ to get ’em.”He says with a little grin and a flare in those eyes.”No mercy, no surrender, no forgiveness… I am coming for every last motherfuckin’ one of them and when I’m done with them I will hunt down their friends, and family and their fuckin’ dogs and chickens and every piece of shit who ever thought it was funny to back their asses up.”He laughs a little.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, aren’t you just Keyser Soze.” She gives a slight chuckle. The woman doesn’t look surprised by Simon’s words, and her comment may have humorous intent, but it’s not meant to be insulting in any way. Quite the contrary.

“I can’t say that I disagree as a rule. You have to hit them where it counts, after all. Do what you can.” She pauses, and the grin widens. “You know…just think. Not long ago I was trying to convince you to kick my ass. Now we’re hanging out and chatting. That’s why I love this city. So far, there’s no end to the surprises. I’m a fan of the unexpected.”

She looks over at the wall, and checks her watch. She seems to be timing something. That time is drawing closer.

[Simon Zahradnik] He shrugs his shoulders.”I am a Full Moon… I get in a lot of fights with a lot of folks. Doesn’t mean anything most of the time. I get pretty goddamn pissed off sometimes…”He laughs softly.”It’s nothing personal.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, totally nothing personal for me either. If it was personal, I would have thrown the first punch. Or, more likely, knee.” She waggles her brows.

Another check of the watch. She pauses, looking up as she does some math, and rises. “So what else have you been up to? Besides killing and pool and awesome conversations with your tribal Elder, that is?”

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins a little and laughs.”You knee me in the balls and we might not be on such friendly terms anymore!”He says with a little grin as he looks her over.”That’s about the extent of what I do around here. I am either talking, killing, or…”He rolls his eyes a little and choses not to finish that. There’s a lady present.

“Pretty boring guy most of the time.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If you were gonna say ‘fucking,’ don’t feel the need to hold back. I am very fluent in George Carlin-ese, believe me. The seven words are like the ten commandments to me.”

She walks over to the wall and pounds four times, loudly. “Esta es la √ļltima advertencia antes de que consiga el cubo!

[John] [Alertness+Perception: DOO DOO DOO… -1 pool (2A), +2 diff (out of sight).]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Simon Zahradnik] He laughs a little and shrugs.”You seemed like a… Refined and sophistocated woman I didn’t wish to…”She pounds aon the wall and screams a little and Simon folds his arms over his chest as he listens.”El Cubo… That sounds pretty serious.”

[Amunet Trujillo] TXT: Back the fuck off, please? I really like him…
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her phone lights up, playing a snippet of “Pocketful of Sunshine,” and she slips it out of her pocket. Simon can actually see her shoulders bunch up on frustration. She stabs at the keys, typing a message back, and puts it away before looking back.

“El Cubocapra. It’s like the bloodsucking bat, but plastic and with a handle. And walruses often get them stolen and then are sad.” The snark is definitely kicked up now. “Anyway. Yeah, I’m one sophisticated bitch, that’s for sure.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] TXT: You shouldn’t have fucked him in our room. You realize that I’ll be smelling that all morning now? Thanks for making me sleep in the van. You get this one time. I’m not pleased.
to Amunet Trujillo

[Simon Zahradnik] He nods his head.”I see… This is like some important cultural shit or something?”He asks her with a little grin. He then looks at whatever she is typing a message into.”Careful those things break way too easy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve only broken, like, seventeen since I met Amy.” She shrugs, coming over and hopping up to sit on the pool table. “Three more and T-Mobile owes me a set of steak knives.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins a little.”Steak knives are pretty sweet. I mean for steak or like… Whatever… I dunno.”He says with a little grin.”She pisses you off a lot? That like a sister thing? Or is she just a bitch?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Mmmm…” She runs her tongue over the edge of her teeth while she thinks. “Right now? I would say it’s because she’s just a bitch. But the truth is, it’s a sister thing. I piss her off as much as she pisses me off. I wouldn’t be pissed if I didn’t care, y’know?”

And in truth, there is a deep caring for her sister underneath Sarita’s anger. The bond with the kin is the thing Sarita has that is unbreakable, and that hasn’t been able to be taken from Sarita. They’ll fight and they’ll argue and irritate from time to time, but there’s a definite sense in the way Sarita talks about Amunet that she’d move heaven and earth for the girl.

As long as she doesn’t let guys pound her in a room where Sarita will be smelling it all day, anyway. Details.

[John] One of the occupants of the room, it seems, has some semblance of sense: the noises from Room 10 stop.

Of course, a shower turns on in the bathroom a few minutes after the last assault from Sarita’s fist against the wall, but that’s a minor detail. She isn’t disturbed again, and when she goes back to her room tonight, there won’t be a tall, apparently-attractive-to-Simon Modi anywhere near the place where she lays her head.

[Simon Zahradnik] He nods.”I see… So that’s like something from your DNA like binds you and shit? Some kinda magical DNA power or something?”He asks her with a little grin. In the back of his mind he thinks John is a pretty attractive Modi and if he were a kin and into dudes there might be somethin’ goin’ on… Unfortunately chicks still seem to have that unhealthy hold on him. Damn… If only!

He then forces a little frown back up when Sarita mentioned not being pissed if she didn’t care and Simon nods his head.”Right. I get it now.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs when she hears the shower. “I better go check and make sure I’m not getting stabbed in my sleep or anything. And possibly get some sleep. It’s been good talking to ya though. We should go kill shit again some time.”

She throws Simon a wink as she heads for the hallway, Room 10 her destination. “Hasta.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins and enjoys the view as Sarita walks away. A little grin showing before he turns and heads for the exit with a bitter little smirk. If Gaia didn’t want you to fuck ’em… Why’d she make ’em so goddamn curvy? Bitch is crazy.

A Trip To The Wieners Circle

[John] Whoever is on the other end of the conversation is not the world’s quickest thumb-typer. It’s easy for her to imagine, perhaps, that the tall Modi is attempting to push the buttons with an index finger rather than his thumb; he does not appear, either in person or her recollection, to be the world’s most manually dexterous person. It is a good two minutes before she gets a response.

[Amunet Trujillo] She gives Leon an apologetic smile, phone in her hand as she waits and tilts her head toward the door. “Shall we? What sounds good?”

[Leon Davenport] He turned hishead to look at her with a smile “Hmmmm only places that mgiht still be open are mCDonald’s or Denny’s. Only you know of another place, I guess Denny’s would be ok”

[Leon Davenport] (*Unless you know…)

[Amunet Trujillo] The smile she gives him is pure evil. “You like hot dogs?”

[Leon Davenport] He tilt his head at her expression “Hot dogs, sure.” he say with a smile

[Amunet Trujillo] GodDAMNIT. How the fuck does she get into these situations? She texts quickly, then slips her phone into her pocket.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I know the perfect place.” She zips her jacket, then heads out into the cold.

[Leon Davenport] He watche her with her phone then nodded at her reply “All right, lead the way”He say moving after her “Should we get a cab?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Probably a good idea, yeah.”

[John] There is no response that Amunet can read on her phone; whoever is on the other end must have figured that silence was the equivalent of acquiescence. Given who it is, that can’t be too surprising. She doesn’t hear from him again until they get to the hot dog stand.

[Leon Davenport] He nods and look around for a cab, once he spot one he hails it and let her give the driver’s directions to where she wanted to go

[Amunet Trujillo] (Acquiescence is a great word…) She makes small talk in the cab on the way over, pulling out a compact to check her makeup and powder her nose in a move that seems far too girly for her.

[Leon Davenport] He watched her with some kind of half smile on his lips. He hoped it was for him, but had a feeling it wasn’t so. Though life is full of surprises right? He talk with her during the ride, paying for the ride once they arrive at their destination

[Amunet Trujillo] The hot dog stand is run down, at best. Even in the sub zero wind chill, the place is overflowing with the usual late night crowd, with people crammed into the tiny space and shouting orders and obscenities over each other.

[Leon Davenport] He looked at the place “Lovely”He say with a grin. He headed inside, opening the door for her and well his presence hascertainly quieten the place a little as people stare at him not without fear as he move to find a place to sit. Those stuck around them are giving him wary glances, not too sure if the man will attack them if htey make too much noice. Fact is..it could happen.

[John] Standing apart from the crowd of people is a tall, solidly-built young man who ought to be familiar to Amunet by now, who Leon might recognize as the nameless Modi whom he had bought shots last night prior to his seemingly uncalled-for disappearance. He’s not paying attention to his surroundings–or at least, he doesn’t seem to–because he’s staring off into the distance, likely at nothing, snow seeming to melt before it touches him as it falls down out of the sky. He is wearing a jacket tonight, but no gloves, scarf or hat. It’s brutally cold, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

[Amunet Trujillo] The drunker of the patrons, which is most of them to be honest, continue to shout and cat call. They aren’t inside five minutes before Amy’s ass is grabbed, the owner of the offending hand spitting out teeth not ten seconds later after a particularly effective right hook.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s moving gingerly this evening after the misadventures from the night before. The Garou is in a fairly good mood though as she walks along, not minding the cold. It distracts from the rest of the discomfort. She flicks a cigarette out the window as she pulls her van up to the hot dog stand, slipping out and making her way along toward the front door.

[Leon Davenport] Just before he sat, Leon noticed John. Great, he tihnks ot himself. There goes his appetite. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He now had a good idea who it was that teexted Amy and made her grin earlier. He doesn’t say anything, except nodding to the man, a barely perceptible nod, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t move closer to John, thinking Amy will either motion him over or go join him

[John] [Hey guys can you do me a huge favor? I’m a slow writer and tend to bail out of scenes I can’t keep up with. Could we do maybe one post per “round” so I don’t have a flail moment?]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[That’s fine!]]

[John] [You guys are awesome, thank you so much! I’ll try and keep my posts short.]

[Leon Davenport] (works for me…so order is you, Amy, Sarista then me?)

[Leon Davenport] *Sarita

[John] [Yeah… we don’t even have to do an ‘order,’ just as long as I don’t have more than one set of posts to respond to at once.]

[John] On the next sweep of the room, he notices a few things: Amy is being manhandled by one of the myriad drunk patrons frequenting the place, she manages to knock out a few of his teeth and move on with her night, and she’s brought along the Ahroun who she was with last night.

This doesn’t faze him. Perhaps that speaks more of John’s intentions being nearly Puritan, but there isn’t a rankling of territorialism or a flash of jealousy when he realizes she’s here with another wolf. He just pulls away from his perch, where he’d been leaning against a wall out of the way, and starts to wander over. He’s moving slowly, but he doesn’t appear as though he’s in any distress.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pushes in through the front door, looking around as she does so. She seems familiar with the unique environment of the place and is grinning a little as she lets the door swing shut behind her. She pauses to take a lean against the door for a second, getting her bearings and figuring out the lay of the land tonight.

The first thing she sees is John, who of course she recognizes from last night. He gets a big grin and a little wave, before she follows his path to see Amy and Leon. Her brow quirks at that, watching the situation placing two male Garou in conjunction with her sister, and she walks over toward the table. Her expression is more or less inscrutable. She’s smiling, but anyone who knows her knows that this could be either good OR bad.

[Amunet Trujillo] Chants of ‘Chocolate Shake!’ start, along with a collection of bills. Once there’s a sizable amount, the wad is handed over to the large, loud black woman behind the counter. After flipping through to do a rough count of the amount, she tucks it under the counter, then lifts her shirt and shakes her bare breasts as a loud cheer fills the small space and echos off the cinderblock walls.

[Leon Davenport] He turned his head and looked at what happened with a brow raised then grinned at Amy “You bring me to most wonderful places”He say witha touch of amusement. He noticedJohn heading toward them and leaned into his seat. He felt Sarita more than he saw her, and turned his head to get a look at her for she was behind him. He recognize the beautiful woman having saluted him last night as he left the bar. She receive a brief nod of greeting, in case she recognize him but he had to turn his head back again, after all he was a wolf, not an owl.

[John] It takes a moment for John to recognize Sarita when she isn’t in another form, but the piercing eyes and the breeding does what his brain cannot do of its own volition. She grins, teeth flashing, but it is the wave that keeps his hackles down and his temper quieted. He feels more like a Forseti tonight than a Modi, his reserves drained down to the dregs last night, but even so, the Forseti of his tribe tend to be as intense as some of their warriors; he does not seem any more calm than he usually does, yet John isn’t exactly known for his hair-trigger temper or his bullheadedness.

Granted, the others see how strong his blood roars in his veins, sees how true to the Viking archetype his physicality is, and they make assumptions. It doesn’t appear to bother him, and if it does, he’s either an adept liar or else he simply takes advantage of his inability to speak. Lord knows what he would be like if he could fire off what he was thinking with the instantaneousness that others enjoy.

A chant starts up, and rather than approaching the couple at the table, John ambles a few feet closer to Sarita, as though there’s some strength in numbers, or as though they share camaraderie after last night. Slowly, one eyebrow raised, he turns to watch the woman behind the counter as she lifts her shirt in exchange for money. The horror on his face is muted to the point of being comical, and when he looks back to Sarita, the question is plainly written:

What the fuck?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hola, chico,” she says to John. When he gives her the look of confusion and horror over the Chocolate Shake show, she just gives a casual shrug and a chuckle. “Welcome to the Wieners Circle.”

She pats his shoulder and nods her head toward Amy and Leon’s table. “C’mon. Let’s get you where you were going. You can introduce me to my sister.” That confusing statement makes complete sense to Sarita,somehow, and she heads over to Leon and Amy, giving them a nod.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She looks between the two, brow raised.

[snowstorm] (closed scene?)
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[John] [Not anymore! Mwa ha ha!]
to Amunet Trujillo, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, snowstorm

[Leon Davenport] (it’s open)
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, snowstorm

[Amunet Trujillo] She flashes a quick grin at Leon, nodding. “I knew you’d like it. They have food, too.” Her arm automatically links with John’s for a moment when he gets to the table, and he’s abandoned a moment later as she leans into Sarita.

[snowstorm] (Where’s the current location at?)
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wieners_Circle ]]

[Amunet Trujillo] (This is why you rock…)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yay!]]

[Leon Davenport] His piercing blue eyes looked up at the woman who arrived it seem to join them with the Get. He didn’t know who she was but he had an idea what she was “Good evening” He say to her with a polite smile. His eyes flicker to John after Amy let go of his arm “Evening”He say a little more flatly.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sister. Leon. John. And then back around.” She points to each as she names them, then circles her finger between them all.

[John] Welcome to the Wieners Circle.

He laughs, looking somewhat shell-shocked as he looses that voiceless Heh heh! and allows the much smaller woman to lead him away from the front counter. Without looking back, they travel the distance between Sarita’s sister and John’s auspicemate. He seems not so much confused as he is reserved when Amy links arms with him, perhaps taking Sarita’s words to heart or simply noticing, immediately, the flatness with which the other Full Moon addresses him.

That’s when he looks confused, but it’s brief, and he’s quickly distracted by introductions. He gives Leon a lift of his chin in silent greeting, eyes curious yet cautious. His face has not been shaved since the last time they met, and while he’s clean, John still looks as though he’d be more at home in a forest or in the desert than in this metropolitan jungle. A glance to Sarita, and he finds a seat at the table with nothing to do with his hands. They’re clapped onto his knees, and he says nothing. He had said nothing last night, either.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles as Amy leans into her, even managing not to wince too badly. “Hey, you. Keeping busy, I see?” It’s teasing, but for once she’s not seeming bitter about it. She’s a little more docile than Amy might be used to from her, and she slips an arm around Amy’s shoulder, relaxing in the seat. That relaxation, the shifting of muscles, causes her to wince a bit. Someone doesn’t have friends who can “Poof, You’re Healed” to her, so she’s still baring the wounds for now. It’s simply that she was doing a better job of hiding it until she sat down and relaxed.

“Wanna introduce me to your friends, who I’ve met…kind of, anyway?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Leon is the one I told you about that’s going to let me train with him. John… “Yeah. What?” Met him at the Broho the other night. He kept me from smacking somebody last night.

She pulls away from Sarita, looking between the two wolves. Fuck. “I’ll get dogs. Everybody play nice.”

[Leon Davenport] He looked at Amy go then brought his attention to John and Sarita. He offered his hand to her “Plesed to meet you. I never got your name. I know she calls you Sar but I’m pretty sure it’s not your full name” He was smiling slightly, trying not ot let the tension or animosity he felt toward John to show. Sad thing is, he know it wasn’t the guy’s fault. It started with the Remy and Sofie episode and then last night with the way Amy reacted to him. He jsut has the worst luck when a kin caught his eye it seem.

He then offered his hand more reluctantly to John to shake it, not saying anything more.

[John] Unfortunately, the man sitting across from Leon is about as empathetic as a head of broccoli. He seems friendly enough, which in turn makes him seem not all that bright, which is only further substantiated by the normal weight of his Rage and the near-fearlessness with which he runs into battle and the fact that when he attempts to communicate via written language, it is riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. Right now, there isn’t a shred of hostility in him, and there hadn’t been last night, either, yet he can see enough of it in Leon’s eyes that it has him eyeing the offered hand before taking it.

It isn’t suspicion so much as it is preparation for it to be some sort of a trap. Leon’s reluctance is telling, but John doesn’t let it deter him. He takes his large hands off of his knees, shrugs out of his winter jacket to reveal a dark blue thermal shirt, and extends his right hand to clasp not the other man’s palm, but his wrist. Eye contact is made, blue on blue, and when he sits back, his confusion has abated.

[Amunet Trujillo] Waiting in line, she sends a quick text and chats with a very drunk group of Sorority sisters.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks between Leon and John, then back to Amy, then back to John, then to Amy. One can practically see the terrible idea welling up in her head before it comes out, and one might even try to stop it if one figured out how. But this is a Strider whose bad ideas will not be stopped. Ever.

So she shakes her head. “Wow. This is just a whole table full of not talking about underlying tensions. And only one of us really has an excuse.” He looks at Leon. “There are two things my sister isn’t a fan of when it comes to her men. One is a small dick. The other is passive-aggressive bitchiness. You wanna get a ruler out and see if you’re 0 for 2?”

[Leon Davenport] He rose a brow at Sarita “Excuse me?” He say, his eyes looking directly into hers, his tone not cold, but certainly not warm either. He hadn’t met this woman for more than 5 minutes and already she was in his face “Look, if I really had a problem with the man, or her, or both, either I would be taking this place down ducking it with him or would leave. Since I”m doing neither, maybe it’s something else entirely and I’m dealing with it. Or maybe it’s just not of your damn business.”

He say leaning into his seat “I’m all right, no problems, let’s leave it at that”

[Quinn] Ah, the park. There’s probably snow piled all over the place, and the temperatures are not favorable to those without Rage. But the streets are terrible for driving, even if one has a vehicle, so a certain tall, lanky Fianna woman is out strolling on foot. Well not exactly strolling.

Dressed for the weather in jeans and sneakers, a leather jacket with who knows how many layers beneath, a blue-and-white knit cap holding down her long dark hair, and a matching scarf around her face, Quinn is making good time as she cuts across the park from one end to the other. Her business this night is her own, and it takes her past a hot dog vendor with some tables and, she looks, does a double take. Her pace slows.

Amunet and Sarita she recognizes from The Brotherhood, the other two Garou, she hasn’t seen before. Hm, interesting. Her steps bring her near but not right beside the table. Close enough for them to pick up on the breeding, that sense of rolling green hills and passionate barbarian warriors, yet not close enough to intrude.

[Amunet Trujillo] (They’re actually here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wieners_Circle)

[John] His phone makes some sort of strange noise that ends up being buried beneath the din within the restaurant as John keeps his attention on the confrontation brewing at the table. Muscles in his jaws are tense but mostly hidden by the week’s worth of growth on his face, but once he releases Leon’s hand he sits back in his chair, hands returned to his knees, looking prepared for an outburst or an attack rather than appearing to be relaxed and waiting for the conversation to take another turn south.

A thought occurs to him, and he reaches into his pocket for his cell phone. It seems to be less permanent and more legible than his handwriting; when he opens the device, though, there’s a message waiting for him. He frowns at it, running his tongue over his teeth with his lips closed, and his eyes flick in the direction Amy had gone before he claps the phone shut again and puts it back into his pocket.

When he looks back to Sarita, it’s as if to confirm that Leon’s answer is satisfactory. They’re Full Moons, one of them a Modi whose Rage is higher than normal. While it is a safe assumption that if there was a legitimate problem they would have hashed it out by now, he looks as certain of the situation as he had in the moments before the human woman bared her breasts earlier. That look doesn’t last long before he’s sniffing, harshly, and turning back to Leon.

[Amunet Trujillo] Amy makes her way back to the table with four fully loaded Chicago dogs and four drinks all stuffed onto a tiny tray. The tip of her tongue pokes out over her bottom lip as she concentrates on carrying the tray without incident, the habit seeming totally involuntary.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just smirks a little bit at Leon’s answer. It’s clear that she doesn’t really buy it, considering both what she’d seen and what she’d heard about. Everything she’d seen so far told a different story…and honestly, it might not be totally clear whether she spoke up for Amy’s sake or for John’s. But she shrugs a little, half-acknowledging the comment and half-dismissing it.

“You talk big, but I know what’s up. I said my peace, you heard it, you protesteth too damned much. Let’s go back to the a comfortably awkward dynamic.”

She looks to John and smiles to him. “So, you feelin’ as much like hell as I am?”

[Quinn] Quinn actually sees them through the window, and she pauses, considering the wiener stand, which isn’t a stand at all and is in fact a little restaurant.

Something draws her to head inside. A pull or push of the entrance’s door, and she enters along with a bit of the wintry air. Stepping into the line, she glances at the table of Rage, thoughtful and contemplative.

[Leon Davenport] He smirked at her but said nothing before turning his attention toward Amy who was struggling with the tray “Hmm John, sister”He say to Sarita as she never offered her name “any of you might want to help Amy with that”He would have gone, but well, he was the farthest from her and he would have to go over John to help Amy. He would behave around John, but moving over and into the man’s personal space to help Amy might not be a good idea.

[John] With the transition, John looks back to Sarita, jabbing a calloused finger at his own sternum with eyebrows lifted as if to confirm she’s addressing him. Of the five of them, the Modi had taken the brunt of the damage, jumping in front of nearly everyone on the impromptu battlefield before ultimately falling beneath the fangs of a war wolf. He was not pleased with the turn of events when he regained consciousness, but he was returned somewhat to rights by the end of the night. One of the few benefits of being born as he was is the lack of necessity of complete immobility to heal more quickly.

The question registers, and John laughs again, that same motion that is more suggestion than anything else. He lifts his left arm to pantomime flexing, as though that’s supposed to be indicative of how tough he is, and when Leon asks if any of them are going to help Amy, he turns around. It isn’t a Fomor attack or a broken ankle but a brief struggle with a drink tray.

As much as he loathes the idea of relying on someone else to speak for him, he seems to be under the impression that either Sarita will agree that her sister can handle the task of carrying a tray a few feet, or she’ll get up to tend to her own Kinfolk. John doesn’t move.

[Amunet Trujillo] Okay, who’s sitting next to who? I’m confused. Leon by himself on his side, Sarita and John on the other?
to John, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[That was my interpretation]]
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Leon Davenport

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “She’ll be fine. Trust me, worst thing you can do is suggest Amy needs help with something.” She looks back at the arriving Quinn and she smiles, raising a hand over her shoulder to wave to the kinfolk in a friendly gesture.

“Hey chica,” she calls out. “What’s shaking?”

[Amunet Trujillo] While the debate is raging, she makes it to the table without dumping anything. Something about “fuckers” is muttered under her breath, and she flops down in the empty spot at the table.

[Quinn] “Hey hey,” she greets with a wave back and a smile seen only in her twinkling blue eyes. She looks over at the line, then back to the table where there are at least two people she recognizes.

Hands in the pockets of her coat, she tugs down the scarf, loosening its stranglehold. “Nothing much, thought I’d thaw out a bit before trying to catch a bus back north. Hi,” she says, her smile warm as she greets the two unknowns and the other kinfolk. “I’m Quinn.”

[Leon Davenport] He nodded at Sarita “Actually it was more that I didn’t trust the other hmm patrons for lack of better words. Apes did come to mind though”He said with a smile, watching the loud and drunk people in the hot dog stand. When Amy sat beside him, he smiled to her “Thanks for the food” He looked at the new girl and offered her a smile “Good evening, I”m Leon”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hey. Amy.” She’s grabbed one dog and one soda from the tray, apparently abandoning the others to get their own.

[John] [I’m gonna go shower real fast, I smell like a Bone Gnawer. John will be alert and attentive but obvious not say a damn thing. BRB!]

[Amunet Trujillo] (Eeew)

[Hunter] [HEY!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grabs her own food, smiling to Amy. “Thanks. You’re the best that isn’t me?” It’s said in a good-natured tease. “Hey, do me a favor…switch places with me. My right side is killin’ me because someone tried to kill me, and I’ll sit better where you’re at.”

Sure, maybe it’s her side. But if you listen close, you can’t help but note the mischievous twitch to her smile. She looks to Quinn and smiles warmly to her. “Sit down, if you want. If you need, I can give you a ride back if you want to go at the same time I do. That’s the nice part of owning a van. Long as you don’t park it down by the river, then you’re a Saturday Night Live cliche.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[“You’re the best that isn’t me.” As in, non-question.]]

[Leon Davenport] He picked a hot dog and a soda, raising a brow at Sarita when she asked Amy to switch place. He leaned back inot his seat as he angled the hot dog in a way he could actually take a bite out of it without sending everything inside all over the table. He did look at Sarita at the mention of someone trying to kill her “What happened?” He ask her with curiosity “That is if you can talk about it here”

[Quinn] “Hey,” she greets Leon with a polite incline of her head. She knows what he is, just as she knows what Sarita and the other, quieter stranger are. The kinswoman of Stag knows her place, is polite and respectful yet still warm in her dealings with strange Garou. It’s the years spent in their company, and the knowledge that the moon overhead has little to no effect on them tonight. Tonight, their Rage is quiet, and only as troubled as the Garou themselves are.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to grab a dog and head out. And I think I’m a little too motivated to wind up in a van down by the river,” she quips with a wink to the Strider.

[John] There is not a lot going on, yet John isn’t speaking. He does not have a tag on his shirt that says MUTE, so while he spars the kinswoman his attention for the brief amount of time that she’s at their table, he doesn’t greet her or attempt to engage her in conversation as Sarita does. Sarita does well enough for the both of them, but she’s otherwise engaged when Leon asks her what happened. The Modi furrows his brow in thought, then taps the edge of the table to get his attention and briefly pantomimes what happened last night.

A fight, is what he can get out of it. And maybe Sarita was squished. It’s hard to tell what he’s trying to convey.

[John] [Hah. “spares,” not “spars.”]

[Quinn] [percept + intuit: Time for a Vulcan mind-meld?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Quinn gets a chuckle, which comes with a wince. “Oh god, I’m turning into my sister.” A reference to Amy’s being banged up for the last week and a half or so. She shakes it off and nods to the Fianna kin.

“Well, fair enough. If you end up stuck out in that weather and need a life, gimme a call. I’m all sorts of down for giving you a lift.”

She looks over at John when he pantomimes what happens, and nods, looking to Leon. “That’s about the gist of it. Things tried to go stabby stabby, bitey bitey and chainsaw-y chainsaw-y. We went bitey bitey and chainsaw-y chainsaw-y better. And never try to throw something bigger than you can pick up.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She half scowls at Sarita, then stands up to change places with her. “Bitch has to go off and get in all the good fights without me…”

[Leon Davenport] He offered a polite smile at Quiinn as it seem she wo’n’t stay. He watched John micmicking the fight and then nodded at Sar’s description “Well glad you’re both fairly ok” And he actually sounded honest on this. No matter what he might be feeling or not toward John and his real or imaginary relation with Amy, in Leon’s mind, there was too few of them for him to actually wish the death of another Garou. He took a bite out of his hot dog “Hmmm, that’s pretty good”He say after swallowing

[Quinn] “Thanks,” she says, and means it. The offer will definitely be mulled over and considered, possibly even accepted. She watches the quiet stranger pantomime a fight, and someone getting squished, to which Quinn lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Well that’s just good old common sense. Excuse me,” she says, looking over at the line, then back to Sarita and the others, “I’m going to try and get some food before they start getting surly.” She steps away to stand in line to order herself a couple of char dogs with the works.

[Hunter] There is a bristling of rage at the door, it swings open to emit the Gnawer who is wrapped up in a long brown coat, not as dark his mop of hair, dark chocolate brown and rustled by the winter winds. It sticks up at odd angles. There is a fine mesh of stubble along his jawline, around his lips and chin and cheeks and after opening the door his hands dip back into his pockets.

He doesn’t look towards the counter, doesn’t look at the displays of options for food, instead his eyes find the inhabitants within. At first he sees John, Sarita, a kinfolk he has seen before and an unknown Garou. He nods to the Modi but does not smile from his position near the door.

There is breeding in this room, strong breeding telling of ancestors and their great deeds. It speaks to the Ahroun but doesn’t overwhelm him, he has learned to become accustomed to it here in Chicago. A particular batch of breeding though claims more of his attention than the rest and his eyes settle on the back of the Fiann for a good few seconds and unless she turns around to see him – he motions to John with a flick of his head.

Hunter would like a word.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She stands and slips around Amy, taking the seat next to Leon and letting Amy have the one next to John. She sits down with a hiss and then laughs. “Fuck me sideways with a chainsaw, that sucked.” She pauses. “Also, being fucked sideways with a chainsaw would suck. And was a distinct possibility last night.”

She nods to Quinn. “Sounds like a plan. Go go, eat. Be Merry. Hell, be Pippin.” Amy gets a little apologetic grin. This one isn’t too apologetic though. “Hey, I don’t find the trouble lately. It keeps finding me.”

And finally, she looks to the door when it opens and Hunter appears. She gives him a little grin, followed by a nod. No need to drag him over if he’s not wanting to come…just an acknowledgment of the fellow Garou.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Jesus, you’re a fucking weirdo.” She grins at her sister, sliding in next to John with her hand resting on his leg and flashing Leon a quick, apologetic smile.

[Leon Davenport] He saw the hand on John’s leg then the apologetic smile. He wondered if she was apologizing for the switch, or for hte hand and maybe liking John. He has no idea how she actually feel about the get, or him, or even him toward her. Might be jsut lust he feels, or some sort of Alpha male instinct to have her. Maybe it’s something else entirely. And it was giving him a headache. So he decided to give her a smile, kinda saying it’s all right with that smile, then continued to eat his hot dog

[John] The sisters stand from the table to swap places, putting Sarita next to Leon and Amy across from him, and John appears unconcerned until the kinswoman calls her sister a bitch, speaks of getting into fights without her. He appears as though he isn’t certain whether to laugh or be concerned, but luckily, the door opens and allows another Full Moon entrance into a place that is quickly emptying of human influence.

It’s the two blue-eyed men at the table, but nobody here is going to admit that.

Without a totemic bond or breeding or excessive Rage on Hunter’s part, John isn’t aware of his presence until his eyes happen to meander over in that direction of their own accord. There’s a shared nod, and then a jerk of Hunter’s head coinciding with Amunet reaching over and resting her hand on John’s thigh. His eyes flick sideways, nostrils briefly flaring, and without ceremony reaches down to take the kinswoman’s hand by the wrist–gently–and set it on the tabletop for safe keeping. Without a second thought, he gets to his feet, leaving his jacket strewn over the back of the chair.

His strides eat up the distance effortlessly, most of John’s power seeming to be in his limbs rather than in his core like a human. Without fur or fangs, he still walks with a confidence that comes from knowing he could kill just about anything that happened across his path tonight, and when he gets to Hunter he gives him another upward nod, an indication that he’s ready to listen. It’s cold as Hell tonight, and he is missing his jacket.

Whatever Hunter has to say is quiet. John leans one arm against the corner of the wall, curling his wrist around the edge, his other hand going to his hip. It’s loud tonight, the drunks out in full force and not reacting well to the monsters in their midst.

[Quinn] Quinn turns, as most people in a line will turn when they hear a door open and feel the rush of outside air filter into a space. Her body twists, and she looks over her shoulder with idle curiosity, not expecting to see anyone she recognizes.

She should know better by now. It’s difficult bordering on impossible to go anywhere without finding a Garou a step behind her, or waiting up ahead. This one she recognizes. The smile she gives him is broad, warm, familiar. Her eyes flick in the direction of the Modi he wants to talk to, and she turns away.

It’s her turn to place an order, anyway.

[Amunet Trujillo] She blinks in total surprise when her hand is moved to the table and John is up and gone almost in one smooth motion. That has obviously never happened to her before, and she seems unsure as to how to handle it. Her eyes track John for a moment, then return with some effort to Sarita and Leon.

[Hunter] Sarita gets a nod of the head but no words, he has seen more than she could tell him and his Beta will find out the rest.

As John approaches, he sees Hunter flash a smile to the Fiann, it isn’t like the comical grins that he has seen before on the Gnawer’s face, this one is warm and understated to the point of confusing anyone but the recipient. But she knows he has business, she doesn’t try to interfere, instead she just goes about her order and leaves him to it. The Gnawer does not hesitate to do just what he had come here to do and his attention reverts completely to the Modi who leans in beside him.

The words are hushed, inaudible to the rest of the room but when he has finished, Hunter gives the Modi a clap on the shoulder hearty and familiar. He grins at him with narrowed eyes. Their war will begin soon. The brief meeting finishes and Hunter pushes back through the door but waits outside.

[Leon Davenport] He was as surprised as her by John’s reaction and some part of him was happy about it. It didn’t change things for him much, or in his favor and Amy’s reaction to it showed that. He shrugged slightly and turned to look at Sarita “Might not be any of my buisness”He ask the Ragabash “But I was wondering if you had joined a pack yet.” He ask with genuine curiosity

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a slight cock of the head to John’s reaction, but not much else. Amy gets a little shrug, and she leans back to look at Leon. The grin on her face might be interpreted by a trusting person as liking Leon. A paranoid person might think she’s imagining what he looks like when he’s been driven into gibbering insanity. Someone who knows Sarita well might say that it could very well be both. Yes, she is one complicated bitch to figure out sometimes. But that’s half the fun of Sarita. She’s like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, surrounded by signs that say Abandon hope, all ye who even get close to this crazy bitch. In an Old English font. Because that’s how she rolls.

“A pack? No, I haven’t.” She shakes her head. “Amy and I are still weighing options.” If it seems odd that Sarita considers Amy’s opinion when choosing a pack, Sarita doesn’t seem to realize.

[John] A clap to John’s shoulder is met with the Modi abandoning his relaxed stance against the wall to return the gesture. Something the Bone Gnawer says makes him look back over his shoulder at the table, yet it’s difficult to tell where exactly his gaze falls. He squints, briefly, before looking back to Hunter a giving a nod of his head.

Alright, it says, to whatever it is that’s been determined, and he steps away from the two-man congregation, arms at his sides and pace slow as he moves across the considerably less-crowded dining room and back to the table where his auspicemate and the two sisters are still sitting. He does not drop himself back down, but rather reaches down to pick up his jacket with one hand. Amunet’s shoulder receives a brief yet not featherlight touch to grab her attention, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

It’s held up, as if to demonstrate what it is he wants, and he jerks his head towards the door, his expression imploring rather than intimidating. What that’s supposed to mean may be an enigma to the other two. Whether or not Amunet decides to get up and come with him, John shrugs back into his jacket and walks off, not much of a farewell given to the two at the table beyond a nearly indecipherable glance between them and a lift of his chin.

[Quinn] Of course she lets Hunter conduct his business in peace. Quinn didn’t come to the hot dog stand to fawn over Garou, just to say hello to some new ones she hasn’t seen before and grab a bite to eat before making the trek back to The Brotherhood. Maybe try to thaw out her fingers and toes a bit while she’s at it.

It doesn’t take long for her order to be filled and thrown into a paper bag. Food in hand, she makes her way back through the restaurant toward the door, tossing a wave to the table in passing.

“See you later, guys. Nice to meet you, Leon and Amy. And you, too, Guy.” This last to John as she passes him on her way out into the cold.

[and Quinn is out! Thanks for letting me flyby, guys!]

[Leon Davenport] He nodded at Sarita “Yes, Amy mentioned something to me as both of you coming together. Well me and two others are looking into forming one. I spoke briefly to Amy about it and I’d like if I could contact both of you to meet with us and maybe some others so we can talk about what we have in mind and see if it would fit with your goals.”

If it seemed weird to him that Sarita was considering her sister’s opinion, it didn’t show. He put down his hot dog and took his soda, drinking some of it. “The meeting should happen saturday and shouldn’t take too much of you time if you’re not interested in what we’re selling. “Hesay to both of them as John comes back. Once again, it seem Amy might leave with the guy. Ah well, life’s like that. You win some you lose some. He smiled slightly and nodded to Quinn, then looked at the sister’s for their answer

[Leon Davenport] (*at the sisters…)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I think we lost Ange, I think it’s safe to assume she might go with John, might be a good place to exit her.]]

[Leon Davenport] (nods* i agree…she can come back later if she wishes to)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, I’ll meet.” She nods. “I won’t promise anything more than that, up to and including the possible permanently pissing off the other prospective pack members you’ve got lined up. But hey, at the very least maybe you can get them all united by a desire to kick my ass.” She grins widely…almost TOO amused at that.

“That’d be fun.”

[Leon Davenport] HeHe nodded with a smile “I’m not asking anything more than that. Do you mind giving me a number to reach you at, or should I contact you through Amy?” He ask, drinking some more from his soda. “I have a feeling you might be at least partly interested in what we have in mind” He say with a slight tilt of his head. He grabbed his hot dog again, taking a bite out of it.

[Amunet Trujillo] She sighs inwardly, jacket grabbed as she slides from the booth. “I’ll be right back. No making any decisions without me.” It isn’t clear which of them she’s addressing, but there isn’t time to clarify as she’s up and moving after John almost before the sentence is out of her mouth.

[John] At the door, John stops to give the kinswoman time to catch up to him. In the amount of time it takes her to reach him, he has extracted his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket; his tongue is pushed into the back of an incisor as he holds the device in the palm of his right hand and slowly, carefully, pecks his way through the fields to do what he wants to do with it. Rather than sending her a message to her own feet, when Amunet catches up to him, he turns the phone around so that she can reach it.

He doesn’t let her take it, but neither can anyone else beyond her read what he’s tapped out, either.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I might be.” She cocks her head to the side. “Might not be. Only way we’ll find is to jump into the kerosene and light a match. If the smoldering corpses float, then they’re witches; if not, they’re innocent. Either way, I’ll bring the marshmellows.”

Did that make sense to anyone? Hey you, in the crowd. Did that make sense to you? No? Okay good, ’cause I’m lost too. But then, maybe that was her point. She grins, watching Leon.

[Amunet Trujillo] Something has irritated her between the table and reaching the door, and there’s a slight scowl on her face even before she reaches John and leans in to read what’s been tapped out onto the screen. The irritation is replaced by complete confusion, which slowly fades into a guarded look as she reads the words twice before shrugging a shoulder and flipping her hair. “Just thought you might want to hang out.”

She isn’t looking at him though. Not directly.

[Leon Davenport] He simply grinned at her. She didn’t make any sense to himat all, but hey, she certainly could keep people entertained with her wits “All right, do that, we’ll have beer. In the canse of Mathieu, probably more like brandy, btu hey, should be fun anyway.” He finished his hot dog, then looked at her “Thank you for agreeing to listen to our proposal. It’s appreciated”

[John] She won’t look at him, and that doesn’t strike him as completely aberrant behavior at first, if only because in his experience, most self-preserving Kinfolk won’t look a Modi right in the eye even on a good night. Tonight, compared to how he normally is, is the best anyone can truly hope for: his Rage is diminished, and he is slowed down by an injury that no one but Sarita knows is present. His typical nights are not marked by out-of-control or crazed behavior, yet his mere presence doesn’t crackle with the force of Rage beneath his skin; when John tries to meet her eyes, the realization that she isn’t like the Kinfolk he is used to prodding him in the kidney, she does not feel as though she’s being sized up by a monster.

They’re, all of them, monsters, to a certain extent. It depends on how far removed from their humanity, from their morals, from their people they are. John is grounded. He hasn’t given himself up to despondency and depravity, nor does he seem to have such a thing in him. He sighs, adjusts the fall of his jacket, and taps out another message.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs and nods. “Hey, can’t do any hard by listening. And if all else fails…that’s why I bring a gun.” A little wink. She looks over her shoulder, casually, at Amy and John, watching them for a moment. For all her bluster, the Strider is protective of her sister, that much is very clear. She won’t stop Amunet from doing any fool thing she tries, but she’s always there to catch her if she falls.

[Leon Davenport] He ddin’t tyunr to look at Amy and John, nor did he really want to know what was happening. Amy’s life wasn’t his business after all. Instead, he simply nodded at Sarita’s words, looking straight ahead as he drank from his soda. He was silent for a moment, before he looked again at the beautiful Garou

“How do you like Chicago so far? Amy hate the cold and snow, but how are you handling it?”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her eyes flash dark for a moment when she reads the continuation of the message. Jaw set, she meets his gaze with a practiced ease that can only come from years of holding her own against Garou. Without taking the phone from his hand she reaches to delete everything typed so far, then finally looks away from him long enough to tap out her own message.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, I loathe it.” Her eyes furrow at what she sees before she looks back at Leon, a grin coming back. “I’m a New Mexico girl. All this white frozen water falling from the sky bullshit sucks.”

She gives a little shrug. “Other than that, I like the city though. Good people for the most part, good business. Lots of excitement. What the fuck’s not to like?”

[Amunet Trujillo] Once the message is complete she looks to John again, giving him a sweet smile before turning to head back to the table.

[Leon Davenport] He did raised a brow at her expression when she looked again at Amy and John, he did feel something for Amy after all. Maybe he only cared, or really liked her, or simply wanted or, or whatever but there was something. Still Sarita was Amy’s sister. If Amy was in trouble she wouldn’t be sitting here talking about the city with him, so the young woman was probably fine.

“I have to admit that you’re right about the people. As for ther excitement, I’m too new to the city to be caught with it yet. I expect and I have to admit, hope that things will change.” He say with a smile. He was awarrior after all and he craved action even though he was used to fights in board rooms as much as on a battlefield

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Just go out at night.” She grins again. “You’ll find it. Just make sure you bring your chainsaw.” Said as if it should be expected that everyone just HAS a chainsaw. Because they TOTALLY should.

She looks back at Amy as she comes up. “Hey Ames, remind me by the way. I need to think about getting Harry pimped out. Get the fingerguard taken off.”

[John] Oh, that’s cute.

Maybe she was expecting him to cause a scene, or grab a hold of her arm, try and get her to stay and explain herself. John just laughs that dry, rattling laugh of his, bemused more than anything else, and pockets the phone. He doesn’t cause a scene. Obviously, he can’t yell after her, but unlike last night, John doesn’t go for her, either. She gets several feet as he stands watching her go, appreciating the view but not doing anything to keep her here with him, and then he turns around and steps back out of the restaurant, the night and the snow swallowing him after a few steps.

You win some, you lose some, right?

[Leon Davenport] He chuckled “Guess I should go out and buy one. Though I think I’m handier with a gun than a chainsaw” He finished his soda and looked up at Amy when she get back. “Hey”he say with a slight smile, then leaning back in his seat as he was done eating. He was actually the only one who had eaten out of the four. He now was content to listen to Sarita and Amy chat about whoever Harry is

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks…. hurt. The expression is quickly swept away in favor of a quick, if slightly forced smile.

“Hey.” She nods at Leon first, then Sarita. “Yeah, Sar. That sounds great.”

Not that she has the slightest idea what she’s agreeing to right now.

[John] [Thanks for letting me crash, guys!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[You bet!]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her expression softens just slightly, for a single moment. It goes back to normal quiickly before she scoots over. “Sit you. Your food’s getting cold.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her head shakes and she leans against the booth rather than sitting, eyes pinned on Leon now. “You ready to get out of here?”

[Leon Davenport] Hesaw that she was hurt, it did stir the Rage inside him some but he kept it under control. When she spoke to him about leave, it did surprise him a little “Yeah, I am”He look at Sarita “I’ll tell Amy when the meeting is”He say to her, since she hadn’t given him a contact number

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She opens her mouth, and then shuts it. She’s a little surprised, the snark taken from her for a moment, but she nods. “Yeah…okay. Amy can give you my number, I guess.” She looks at Amy, watching her for a long moment, and nods to Leon.

“Have a good one.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’ll make sure he’s got it. I’ll talk to you in the morning, hey?” It’s Sarita’s eyes she won’t quite meet now, her expression bordering on apologetic.

[Leon Davenport] He got up, unable to leave if Sarita doesn’t move “It was nice meeting Sarita. Take care of yourself”He say with a look at her injured side “See you on Saturday most likely” He offer her a smile and exit the booth if she let him pass

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, sure.” She says it without really looking at Amy and then gets up, slipping out and making her way for the door. Leon got his farewell already, and one was enough for him in the Strider’s mind. She pushes past a couple people to get to the door and slips out, heading on to her van.

[Leon Davenport] He walked out with Amy, moving past the aptrons “Anything you want to talk about?” He ask, looking at herm zipping his leather jacket. He would’ve asked if she was ok, but obviously, she wasn’t. He took hiscell phone and dialed the operator and got a cab companie number because at 4 am, there were a lot less cabs around

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nope.” Her arm hooks through his as she waits.

[Leon Davenport] He nodded “Ok”He say as he call the caband give them the adress of the Weiner circle “Where would you like to go?”He ask looking at her “Want a ride home or get some privacy and sleep in a hotel room” He said it as if she would be alone in the room, not necesserally with him there.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh, no. We should totally get a room.”

[Leon Davenport] He nodded with a smile “All right” He looked at her while they were waiting, his body close to hers, warm. He was what he was and used to the cold, so his presence could provide her with warmth “So will you come with your sister on saturday?”He ask her, trying to talk about anything but how she feels

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah, of course. She can’t be trusted alone” She flashes a quick smile before getting ready to head out into the cold.

[Leon Davenport] He smiled at that “Sounds good” Eventually the cab arrive and they got in. He gave the adress of the bar they were at earlier to get back his car. Then he headed toward the hotel he used ot stay when he arrived in the city, being mostly silent for both rides, unless Amy felt chatty

[Leon Davenport] (night all)

Coming In At The Tail End of the Wake

[Rory] She watches as he prepares the joint, green eyes following each movement, and how quickly he does it. Then he slides it over to her, and the bites her lower lip, anxiously. It takes a moment, and then she reaches out timidly for the lighter, the joint, as if expecting one or both of them to snatch it away and say that they were just kidding, ha ha ha the mule gets nothing… When they don’t, she peeks up through her curls, and offers a little smile.

She lifts the joint to her lips, and sets flame to the other end, lighting up. She exhales the first drag quickly, before taking a deeper one and holding. She passes it along, and manages only to cough a little bit. She’s been practicing somewhere…

[Quinn] Both women watch Hunter work, one more intently than the other. Resting her elbows on the bar, she leans forward and waits.

Rory gets to do the honors of lighting up and taking the first drag. When she only coughs a little, Quinn smiles. “See? You’ll be a pro in no time.” It’s her turn next. Like Hunter, this is something she’s practiced with, but was done more in her sordid youth than in her adult years. The last time she smoked was at Christmas.

The fact that it’s awakened makes her wary, though. She holds it a moment, looks at Hunter with brow raised. Then she shrugs. No guts, no glory. The drag she takes is shallow, has her brow tensing, and then she passes it next to Hunter. Blowing out the smoke, she says, “Whoaholy crap.”

[goin’ afk for a bit, post around me!]

[Hunter] The joint gets passed around. Rory does exceptionally well considering her previous claim that Howard had laughed at her coughing. There is no laughter from either the Fianna kinfolk or the BoneGnawer Ahroun. They are all friendly smiles and silent waiting for now, soon there will be laughter though. It can’t be helped. That’s half the fun in it.

Quinn takes the joint and looks at it sceptically, Hunter can’t blame her, this shit is rough as balls. But she’s a big girl and she takes her puff regardless, uttering a smoke filled whoaholy crap.

Hunter doesn’t hold the joint between index finger and thumb, he just holds it like a cigarette, like he has done this far too many times to warrant a unique style. It is lifted lazily to his lips and he sucks on it, puffs twice then blows out a cloud of smoke. His eyes close up into triangles and his lips curve into amusement.

“Forgot how fucked up this shit is,” he says once he has caught his breath. The joint gets passed on.

[Rory] They aren’t laughing at her. She smiles, softly, her head tucked to hide it behind her curls, as she reaches for to take the pass from Hunter again. She inhales deep, holds it, and exhales again, her eyes closing as she feels the awakened weed work it’s way through her system. She sighs contentedly, something very few people have ever heard, and passes it again.

While they take another toke, she reaches down to the guitar leaning against her hip, removing it from it’s case, and letting the cloth cover fall to the floor. She lays the guitar across her knee, and strums it lazily, pausing to tune the strings carefully, like this is the most precious thing she owns.

Because it is.

She’s not good – she only knows one song, really, though she practices long and hard at the five chords she knows. She has experimented in putting them together differently, and discovered to her shock, it sometimes sounds like the music that Ruarc left her on her ipod to learn from. She’s practiced till her fingers bled, and then practiced some more.

All for tonight. She glances up, to make sure she’s not offending anyone, and then bends her head again. This time when she starts to play, a very decently passable Danny Boy results.

[Hunter] The weed has gone circles now, twice, back to Hunter and he holds the little of what is left in the joint while he watches Rory tune her guitar. It’s mellowing, his head feels lazy and his gaze turns to Quinn as Rory begins to sing but there are no raised eyebrows, no questioning glance. He just looks at her and smiles then returns his attention to the bard for this evening.

He has heard the song before, once or twice. It’s not really his thing, or so he would have thought, but he enjoys it. Sitting in his stool with his back up against the bar and incidentally to Quinn though she stands more between them than directly behind the Gnawer. Occasionally he glances at her over his shoulder and when the joint is finished he licks his fingertips then puts it out before placing it on next to his drink.

His drink which never seems to empty.. every time he or the Metis begins to near the bottom of their glass, they miraculously find it refilled by the kinswoman.

He raises it in salute at the end of the song.

“To Howard!”

[Rory] She doesn’t sing. She plays. She can’t sing – or rather, she refuses to try, because she cannot get her words straight, and cannot correct it because she doesn’t hear the mistakes. She’s smiled at, but she doesn’t see it, concentrating instead on placing her fingers correctly, hitting the chords, and strumming with careful timing, and a delicate touch.

The last note lingers, and then Hunter toasts, and she smiles shyly, sadly, tears in her eyes. She doesn’t look up enough for them to be seen, instead reaching for her beer and lifting it in toast. “Howard.” The word is soft, but no less heartfelt, as she takes a drink.

[Quinn] Despite how carefully Quinn drags off the joint, her physiology being different from the Gnawer and especially the Fiann means it still hits her more strongly. She feels giddy and lightheaded first. It doesn’t stop her making sure that glasses remain full.

Rory retrieves her guitar, tunes it, and plays. She’s no expert, her skill comes from hard work and dedication before natural ability, but the song is lovely all the same. Leaning into the bar, Quinn smiles. When Hunter looks over his shoulder at her, her eyes are for the redhead, but they glance to him occasionally.

When Rory finishes, Quinn straightens, lifts her glass to join them in a toast. “Howard,” she echoes, and drinks.

Setting the glass down, she sighs, content. “Do you know any other songs, Rory?”

[Tabitha Reese] (Where are they?)

[Rory] [At the Winchester, all seated at the bar]

[Tabitha Reese] The Fury looks ill at ease as she makes her way into the building, moving to the side as soon as she enters in order to keep her back to a wall as she looks around the place slowly.

[Rory] She wrinkles her nose slightly, and takes another drink of her never emptied beer, and sets the mug carefully on the bartop again. “Lust jearning…”

But she does have a couple other songs that she can play passably well. Celtic in nature of course, because that is what Ruarc left her – an MP3 player with instructions and songs that she’s listened too near constantly since he left. It turns out that she has a pretty good ear, and can pick out other things as well. It’s amazing how many songs one can put together with five simple chords…

So she plays. She plays everything Ruarc taught her, everything she’s taught herself.

For Howard, she plays.
[…somewhere, he’s laughing at her…]

[Quinn] It’s difficult to enter The Winchester unnoticed on a normal night. Tonight, the bar is closed only to family, to remember and celebrate a fallen…brother? Friend? Heir of the Ruined Day was different things to different people. Regardless, they’re here to remember him.

So when the Black Fury enters, and tries to keep her back to the wall, she sidles over to the booths, and the bar’s owner, the pretty Fianna kinfolk behind the bar, smiles to her. Lifts a hand to invite her to join them at the bar. By now, she’s the only one left of the establishment’s employees still around. A glass is filled with beer, like it’s some sort of pre-established menu for the night (it is), and set before an empty bar stool.

“Hey,” she greets. Rory is still just learning, and Quin nods.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The VW Bus pulls up outside the Winchester, Stephen Lynch’s “For the Ladies” cutting off only when the engine dies. The perpetually-grinning Strider–who tonight at least has the good sense to not be grinning while she attends a wake–slides out of the driver’s side and flicks the remnants of a joint away as she shuts the door. She comes around the van, looking the Winchester over as she approaches. There’s a bit of a smile but nothing more as she slips inside.

[Hunter] The toast is had, the brew is drunketh, and Hunter is high as a mutherfuckin’ kite. He shouts Howard’s name loudly in the toast and slams his empty vessel down upon the bar top. The tears aren’t missed, they just aren’t allowed.

“No crying here!” He says to Rory, then looks to Quinn, back to Rory, back to Quinn. “What are we gonna do about this? I think… yeah!.. you got another song Rory?”

And she does have another song. Excellent.

Hunter gets up to dance. Or what would be dancing if he didn’t spot another Garou wandering into the place. She is unknown.. wait.. no he knows her.. maybe.. He narrows green eyes on the Fury, squinting. It isn’t because he’s blind.. well it is sort of. Everything is a little blurry. “Hey!”

[Tabitha Reese] “Hey…” She looks Quinn over quickly, relaxing a fraction when she recognizes the girl from the gathering house. “Is this… I’m not sure if….” Her shoulders hunch a bit, hand jammed even harder into her pockets.

[Adamidas] No one knows where Adam comes from. Sometimes, people love each other very much. They do things. They have babies. Those babies become children like Alethea Adamidas.

Which means that children come from the depths of the umbra bringing god-knows-what with them. Today, she enters as she usually does.

With a loud pop and exiting the women’s room.

… It’s good to be Adam.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks around once she gets through the door, getting the lay of the land. She recognizes Tabitha of course, as well as Rory who she met the other night and Hunter. Quinn she knows only very vaguely, and Adamidas she doesn’t know at all. They all get little nods though, with smiles to those she’s met before she’s moving toward the bar.

[Quinn] More people are entering the bar, including, thankfully for Quinn, her redhaired bartender, Tom. The tall Fiann enters almost on Sarita’s heels, waves to Quinn.

“I forgot…are you high?” he asks, brow quirked, and he looks at Hunter, then Rory playing her guitar.

“Yes,” says the tall pretty Fianna kinswoman behind the bar. Quinn gathers up her belongings, shrugging into her coat as Tom heads back to grab something from behind the bar, as well. As she passes him, Quinn gives him a high five, which is actually more like a wrestler tagging in a teammate to deliver the finishing blow. “Close up for me, will you, hon? I’ll owe you so big.” Banter is exchanged, and Quinn leaves her bar, exiting out into the chilly winter night.

[sorry, guys, i’m falling asleep at the keyboard. Tom will be your bartender, info on The Winchester’s in my gallery. if you break anything i will find you! and i will wag a finger in your face menacingly! thanks for the RP and good night!]

[Rory] Hunter says no crying, and Rory does what Rory usually does – she blushes, and protests. “Not.”

Then she shrugs it off and plays what she knows while Hunter pretends to dance, but really eyes those that enter the bar. Quinn leaves, and Rory’s fingers soon fall still, having played everything she knows already. So she simply holds the guitar like it’s her only friend [..it is..] and drinks. Things are a bit fuzzy, thanks to all she’s partaken of tonight, but it doesn’t make her any more likely to speak when she doesn’t have too.

Though hunter is treated to one of her very rare smiles…

[Hunter] Quinn begins to leave, Hunter would be following her movements but he’s stuck looking at the new comers. Tabitha gets a once over, followed by Adam and Sarita.

“Sup ladies, Yo Adam! Hows my fav’ greek home-girl doin?”

But he catches flight of the Fianna kin disappearing from the bar and Hunter pauses to watch her leave. His gaze goes back to Rory just in time to catch that smile and he grins his own weed-induced one.

“Be right back, gotta’ check on somethin’!”

And he darts for the door.

[I gotta cook dinner!! might be back in a little bit!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She raises an eyebrow as Quinn leaves and then Hunter soon after. A little shrug and she takes a seat at the bar, orders a couple tequila shots. One gets raised, held there for a moment as if in a salute and then downed. After the rim of the shotglass is placed against the bar, she finally speaks.

“Well, I showered today, so I know it’s not me.” It’s meant as a joke, obviously. Only a certain kind of person jokes at a wake. Sarita is that kind of person.

[Adamidas] Hunter gets a grin out of her. She’s too young to be in a bar, and everyone in the city knows it. Adam is no longer the youngest garou in the city, but she is the youngest Fostern. She is the youngest theurge in the city. She is also one of the most experienced. If we’re going to get too technical, Adam was also there when Howard. died. (didn’t do anything. Didn’t do enough. Alas, alas. Woe is us.) She grins and parks it at the bar. She crosses her legs, she straightens her spine, she smiles like she belongs and she smiles like she’s joyous.

Because, you know, she is.

“How’s the party been? C’mon, we should be doing something. Pissing off that pretty Fenrir or something else that’s Howard-appropriate.”

[Rory] Sarita has a seat, and Rory looks at her, shyly, and rolls a shoulder into a shrug. She always has that effect on people, so the fact that Quinn and Hunter have sat with her this evening is something of a minor miracle, and something she’ll cherish – though she’d never admit it aloud.

She pulls up the cloth case for her guitar though, and goes about putting it away, carefully. She sets it on the floor, leaning the neck against her hip as she reaches for her never ending beer.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, I’m all sorts of game, chica.” She grins at Adam. She may have toned herself down a bit, but she’s still Sarita. “I just got here, after all. And you’re right, this place needs a bit of livening up.”

She downs the second shot and turns, leaning back against the bar. “So what’s the plan then?”

[Adamidas] “How did you guys know him?”

She asks. Her attention doesn’t waver, but she catches the posture that Rory has. her always, always shy demeanor. She notices that Sarita is gorgeous, that she is appealing and sexy and downright lovely in her own right. Adam looks at the bar and orders a shot. the bartender gives her a look

She orders a Shirley Temple instead. Doesn’t matter that she’s a Fostern, she’s still a damned kid.

“We need stories!

She says it as though Gaia herself commanded this.

[Rory] She waves off Tom when he goes to refill her drink again, and stands, tugging on her coat. She slings on her pack, and the guitar. She’s been here hours already, and her streets won’t patrol themselves. A shy look for those that recently arrived, and a wave of her fingers as she weaves her way through the tables toward the door.

A breath, a final goodbye, and she slips out into the night.

[night, ya’ll – it’s bedtime for lessa!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Rory go, giving her a little smile and nod, then looks to Adam. “First time I saw him, he was being helped out of the bathroom of the Brotherhood with his ass bleeding. Didn’t really talk to him much then though. That came at a coffee shop. Tabitha was there.”

She looks at Tabitha and grins a bit. Sarita’s sure Tabitha knows the day in question.

[Adamidas] “Tell me more,” she says, and she sits on top of the bar at this point. Her feet are ont he stool and her butt is planted firmly on the bar. the bartender doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, Adam takes a long drink off of her distinctly non-alcoholic beverage, and she’s grinning. She’s grinning like a child at story time.

“What was he doing at the Brotherhood? Did he get into a fight? Did he slip in the shower?”

She kicks her legs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t honestly know.” She chuckles and shrugs. “It was like, my second day being here. I showed up to explore the upstairs. All I know is that Quinn was in there, Patrick was in there, Hunter was and Bridget too. There were towels involved, some yelling, a yelp of pain, and they just walked on by and left like it was all perfectly normal.” She smiles, looking over at Adam.

“So yeah, my introduction to Howard. Which, of course, was an appropriate introduction.” Her head cocks. “How about you? I knew him all of two weeks. You’ve probably got some actual stories.”

[Adamidas] “I can’t say that I really knew him that well. I can’t say he was solid. I can’t say a lot of things except that I was where when he died. And he fought, and he did what he did well. Howard was Howard, and now he’s in his ancestral homelands and livin’ it up,” she takes another drink. She smiles. She seems at peace.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And he’s a lucky bastard for that, in some ways.” She smiles a little and nods, getting another shot. “I guess I just appreciate what he did. Hell of a Ragabash, for a Theurge.” She pauses, downing the shot.

“And I mean that in the best possible way.”

[Adamidas] “To one of the best ragabashes the Fianna have seen,” she says. She raises her glass and grins wide.

She downs the drink.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins widely at that, getting yet another shot so she can join in. “Hear fuckin’ here.”

One more down the hatch, and she looks around with a sigh. “I always hate being the last to a party. But then, if I wasn’t irritated and amused, it wouldn’t be a good Howard wake, so it fits.”

[Adamidas] “Irritated or amused? Which is it?”

She’s grinning wide, and ever-so-curious tonight. She’s watching Sarita, she’s paying attention. She can’t look away just yet.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “What, you can’t be both?” She matches the Fury’s grin with one of her own. “I’m frequently irritated and amused at the same time, myself. Haven’t you been?”

A little cock of her head, as she puts the ball back in Adamidas’ court.

[Adamidas] “I’ve been a lot of things,” she says, “but usually? It’s hungry and tired. I’m pretty much like a cholicky baby.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ahh, I see.” She chuckles. “You should try swaddling yourself. I heard that does wonders.”

[Adamidas] “Have you ever tried to swaddle yourself in anything? It’s difficult. Not only that, but you end up- okay. Swaddling is uncomfortable. And what if my butt itches, huh?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, that’s why you set up a Rube Goldberg-esque device with a button that you can press with your nose that will scratch your butt for you.”

She shrugs her shoulders, as if it’s an obvious answer. “Problem solved.”

[Adamidas] “Can you find me three frying pans, two eggs, a candle, and seven yards of twine?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Seriously?” She grins. “Chica, gimmie like a half-hour. Forty-five tops. I’ll even throw in a wooden spork and four mouse traps.”

Amy and Sarita Get To Know Their Fellow Newbies

Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“…and then she just walked out, leaving him pretty much speechless.” She slides out of the driver’s side door of the Van, slamming it shut. “Not that anyone wouldn’t be speechless after that.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“She laughs, head back as she slams the passenger door behind her. “No shit? Goddamn. Did the poor thing recover?” Her jacket is zipped against the cold as she shivers and waits for Sarita to come around the front of the van.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, eventually. With some adjusting of the pants and a bit of stammering.” She grins, coming around. “I gotta admit, it was pretty damned priceless.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“That just proves men are pigs. You would think that the implied threat of death would negate any need for pants adjusting.” She pulls an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and frowns. “We need to get some money.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hmmm.” She looks over at Amy and nods. “Yeah, probably a good idea. I need to talk to my new supplier here anyway. I’ll give him a call so I can get going. ’bout time I got off my ass and started pulling in a bit of dough.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Damned right. I have certain requirements that aren’t being met, and if you don’t start making some money, I might have to make an impression on you.” She raises a hand threateningly, then laughs again

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A chuckle rises up from her. “I’ll do what I can to avoid the Pimp Hand of Doom.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Yeah, you better.” She grins, then starts down the street. “So anything else interesting happen?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Mmm…chatted with the Mack Daddy and his pals for a little bit. They seem tolerable, if a bit quirky.” She falls into step next to Amy, keeping her eyes on the street. “I think I missed most of the good excitement though, curse my timing.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Guess you should have ditched out on me earlier” She makes a face. “I didn’t expect that shit to take so long.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Ehh, ain’t no thing.” She shrugs. “There isn’t any kind of time table for that kind of shit…it’s cool.” She pops a crumpled, hand-rolled cigarette out of her pocket and lights it. “So what’s the plan for today?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“We need to get our asses over and meet the important people at some point. You think Mack Daddy might be somebody we want to work with at some point?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Maybe. Only seen him twice now, and one he was all limping and shit, so he gets in his share of trouble. That could be good for us.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I like trouble.” She nods approvingly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“You and me both. I guess it depends on figuring out some dynamics of how people get along, but he’s not bad. You met anyone fun yet?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Fun, yes. Useful, no. But he was fun.” She grins again, grabbing the cigarette and taking a drag before handing it back.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She arches a brow, grinning madly. “You dog. Anyone I should know?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Maybe. Not that I remember his name.” She shrugs, looking completely unapologetic.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A shake of the head, and she chuckles. “Am I a bad influence on you? If so, then good.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“No, I was a wanton slut way before you came along. I grew up in a sept full of Get. What was I supposed to do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Man, if that doesn’t prove that we’re related, nothing would.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“If you have a thing for fucking Get men, I don’t want to know. Isn’t that like, the BIG big rule?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She elbows Amy with a smirk. “I meant the wanton slut part, bitch. Yes, that is the big rule. Along with ‘Stay away from concentric, consistently-shrinking pathways.'”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Lucky me, not having all these silly rules to follow.” She elbows back and points at a coffee shop. “I’m freezing. I want a latte.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Technically, you do have to follow some rules, you know.” She nods and alters her course to head for the shop. “Not that I’m gonna play enforcer. Just sayin’.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Seen and not heard and all that shit? Yeah. We know how well I follow those.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Well, more the ‘Respect your elders’ and such. ‘Don’t hang out with evil fuckstains,’ shit like that.” She holds the door open for Amy. “At some point someone may try to put pressure on you to be made into an honest woman. Ain’t gonna be me, mind.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Which is where we get to the ‘You’re expected to pop out crotch fruit’ part” Her nose wrinkles and she steps into the warmth of the shop. “No fucking way.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, like I said…ain’t gonna be me. An’ I’ll do what I can if and when to block it from ya. I’m just saying, might happen.” She follows behind.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“If it happens here, we’ll spilt. Just like Denver.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Gonna run out of cities eventually, you know.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Here. Then we still have Europe and shit. And by then I’ll probably be dead anyway.” It’s matter of fact enough to disturb the poor woman waiting in line ahead of them, and she makes a hasty retreat from the shop once she has her tea.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Please, I’ll be wormfood LONG before you’re kicking up daisies.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Only because you can’t fight for shit.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Fuck off.” She smirks. “I can fight just fine, thank you. And I have Harry to be my backup when I need.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Which is a lot.” She smirks, then orders her coffee.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Again with the fuck off.” She gets her own coffee, a quad shot Americano.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“So what’s our next move here? We should find somebody to hook up with pretty quick.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“We gotta meet some more peeps, first.” She heads to a table away from everyone else, and takes a seat. “Can’t just hook up with the first band that we come across. Maybe meet the bigwigs, like you said.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Might not be bad to have friends here before we meet the bigwigs though. Just in case.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Which brings us back to the meeting more peeps. Which means you gotta stop cruising bars for dick and start getting out and about.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“We’re out and about now, aren’t we?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, but not in the right places. It’s a shot in the dark that we’ll find our kinda people around here.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“So it might be cruising bars while looking for dick. You don’t know.” She sticks her tongue out at Sarita and takes her coffee.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Then I gotta get out there and start getting laid. Seriously though, I was more thinking our new home away from home or the like myself.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Yeah. Last time we tried to hang out there, some creepy fuck had me drinking rooster balls.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Jesus, you’re so sensitive…one set of testicles slides down your throat and you’re all skittish to hang out there again.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I don’t mind testicles down my throat, as long as they’re connected to someone.” This is enough to drive the rest of the respectable folk out of the shop, leaving them with their choice of tables.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She laughs, ignoring the fleeing people and the shocked employees. “Dude, chica, if you can get them all the way down your throat WHILE they’re still connected, I would be impressed.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She just answers with a sweet smile, sipping her latte

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins. “Bullshit. You’re a dirty, dirty liar.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“You’ll never know, will you? But I will remind you that you got out of jail in that shitty little town in Missouri without either of us posting a cent of bail.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“One-a these days I’m gonna get a carrot and find out the truth of these no gag reflex boasts you keep making.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“You’ve been fucking guys with carrot shaped dicks? Goddamn. No wonder you’re cranky.” She gestures outside. “You want to head over to the house, then?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She finishes up the coffee and nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She makes her way upstairs, flopping onto the couch dramatically. “Jesus fuck it’s cold out there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, you think I’m gonna disagree?” She sheds her duster, draping it over the one side of the couch before she settles down on the floor to go through some back-popping twists of her body. “New Mexico born and bred, bi-atch.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Yeah Yeah. So tell me more about this guy last night”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Ain’t a whole lot to say.” She settles one foot on the other side of her leg and twists her upper body in the opposite direction, resulting in the appropriate pops and a contented sigh. “Generally an ass, but that’s nothing different from us. Got a pack member or two, both guys. Had some wierdness with his vision last night that I’m not sure about. Didn’t ask.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Pack of three guys. I like it already. What about the bitch?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Who, Miss Let-Me-Show-You-My-Tongue-At-Extreme-Close-Up?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“That’s the one.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Dunno. I met her for all of five seconds. She’s got some skittish chick she’s here with.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Skittish Garou that I should be scare of, or skittish Kin that I can fuck with?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She pops her back the other direction, then lies back on the floor. “I didn’t exactly ask for her membership card so I could check. Be nice…ish. If I gotta be nice, you gotta be nice.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Nice is overrated.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yes, but we need friends. Remember that conversation we were just having, ADD-girl?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Am I wrong, though?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Usually.” She grins.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Oh fuck off.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She laughs a little. “I’m just sayin, we gotta be somewhat nice for now. I’m not saying sugar and spice and everything nice, just not complete bitches. We need friends.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Alright. I’ll play nice. For now. Any idea where the remote is?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Check the cushions.” She arches her back off the floor, arms over her head and stretching in a cat-like manner.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“You check the cushions” She apparently doesn’t care enough to actually get up and look for it.

[Tabitha Reese]
The Fury makes her way up the stairs first, as if checking things out before letting her packmate up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Bitch, YOU’RE on the couch. Check the fuckin’ cushions.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Eh. Fuck it. There probably ain’t shit on anyway.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“You’re impossible. More than me, and that’s fuckin’ saying something.” She sits up, noting Tabitha coming up the stairs, and grins. “Well, hola.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Hey.” She nods to Sarita, motioning Tala up the stairs.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She follows Tabitha, looking around.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I remember you too.” She hops up off the floor. “S’up?”

[Tabitha Reese]
Her eyes narrow for a moment before she places Sarita. “Oh. From last night. Right. How are you?” She looks Amy over quickly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Not too bad. Yourself?” She looks at Amy. “This is the one I was telling you about.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Ooooooh…..” She nods slowly, understanding dawning as she sizes up both the women.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She’s too busy taking in the environment to really pay much attention to the others right now.

[Tabitha Reese]
Her eyes narrow at the kin. “What?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She chuckles. “Chill. This is my hermana Amy. I just mentioned meeting you last night to her.” She pauses. “Oh, right. I’m Sarita, by the way.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Tabitha. This is Tala” She reaches out to tug the other girl’s arm and get her attention.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hm? What?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Pay attention, weirdo. We’re meeting people.” She smiles, the name clearly affectionate.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smiles and waves. “Hola. We met briefly last night.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. Hi. I’m Tala.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“So I heard. Nice to meet you.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Hey. Amy, like she said.” They are both sized up quickly, and she settles into the couch again.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” She doesn’t seem as ill-at-ease as she did last night, much calmer.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smiles and sits back down on the floor. “So, you guys new around here too, or is it just us?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“New, yes. How long have you been here?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Mmm, about a week or so.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. That’s still longer than us.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins at Amy. “Does that mean we’ve lost our new car smell?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She scrambles up and leans to sniff at Sarita “Yep! Now you just smell like skank.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“That’s ’cause I need to hose down the van since you’ve been sleeping inside it.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks between Amy and Sarita blankly.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Fuck you. I don’t smell like skank.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She watches the interaction between the two, hooking her arm through Tala’s protectively.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“What was last night’s name again?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Why do they talk to each other like that?” She doesn’t lower her voice or anything, looking at Tabitha.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I kept screaming ‘Oh God, Oh God’, but I don’t think that’s his name.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She shrugs a shoulder, still just observing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“And you’re not the one with the skank smell. Riiiiight.” She looks at the other two women and gives them a quick grin and wink.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks completely lost.

[Tabitha Reese]
“The implication is that she’s a slut, Tal.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. Is she?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I don’t know.” She looks Amy over. “Are you?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Only in the nicest definition of the word.” She scoots back to lay against the front of the couch from her spot on the floor. “Feel free to get comfy.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Um. No.” She scowls at Tabitha.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Don’t look at her that way.” She glares at Amy.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Or what?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Just don’t.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Or what?” She stands up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She frowns. “Wow. Can we not be getting into threat mode already? Amy, sit down. And you,” she looks at Tala. “Looks don’t kill. Chill the fuck out.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She scowls. “Don’t tell me what to do. Only Tabby tells me what to do.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
‘Fine, Tabby? Tell her to chill the fuck out.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She sighs. “Chill the fuck out, Tal.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Gracias. Amy…Recuerde, se supone que debemos ser agradable. No me hagas ser una perra a usted aqu√≠.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She scowls at Sarita for a moment, then shrugs and flops back into the couch. “Fine”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She gives Tabitha one of THOSE looks, but quiets down abruptly.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Good. Pissing contest over now?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Well, that’s out of the way.” She grins brightly. “Only go uphill from here, right?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She’s glowering now, but stays quiet.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I wasn’t…” She huffs at Tabitha, glowering just like Amy.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Alll righty, then. So, how about that fucking cold-ass weather? Or alternately, insert your own awkward segueway here that we can build off of.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I heard you like to kiss other Garou.” Not exactly an awkward segueway…

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
You can practically hear the internal facepalm going on in her head. It’s an amused facepalm though, from the look on her face.

[Tabitha Reese]
She looks Amy over again, slowly “Only when I have to.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, I said it in an impressed way for the record. Shut his ass up.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Doesn’t seem like much else was going to. You know him?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“You did what?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Nothing” She gives Tala a sweet smile.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Only briefly. Saw him getting helped out of the bathroom here by his green-eyed friend, and the guy Patrick was there to help. Then saw him last night when I saw y’all.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Tabby. What did you do?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Nothing, Tal. I kissed him to shut him up. Which worked. It was nothing.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Great. So we’re in town a couple days and now everyone thinks you’re a charach.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Oh, it’s not that bad. Only she, he and I were there. And I doubt he’s going to want to admit that he didn’t stop her from doing it, so…”

[Tabitha Reese]
“No they don’t. Jesus.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Those are the only ones you know of were there.” She shoots Tabitha a look.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh for god’s sake, Tal. It wasn’t a big deal.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s not talk about you being a slut.” Her tone is vaguely teasing, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She rolls her eyes and looks away, letting them argue.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Yeah, okay. I’m a slut.” She rolls her eyes.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Well, at least you can admit it.” That actually seems to relax her somewhat.

[Hatchet]
[Locations! Et cetera!]

[Amunet Trujillo]
She shrugs at Sarita, looking vaguely amused.

[Amunet Trujillo]
(All upstairs, couch-ish)

[Tabitha Reese]
“What the fuck is your problem?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She shrugs back to Amy, as if to say “whatever, let them sort it out.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I don’t have a problem.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“So you’re just being a bitch for no reason?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She moves a little bit closer to Sarita, though apparently only to get a better view of the oncoming fight.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m not being a bitch to be bothered by you running around slutting it up.”

[Quinn]
There are voices in the common room. A tall dark-haired kinswoman wanders her way up the stairs from the kitchen. She’s dressed in hat and gloves and scarf, jeans and sneakers, and a leather jacket. She smells like the outdoors and, for those with a nose for it, there’s an air about her that calls to mind emerald fields overlooking cold grey oceans.

She is Quinn. And she’s come home from wherever she went today. She offers a smile and a wave to the people in the common room. “Evenin’.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She nods to Quinn instead of biting Tala’s head off, but there’s a definite simmering irritation surrounding her now. “Hey.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks over at Quinn and gives her a little smile and nod. “Hola hola.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She’s scowling, now, laning against the closest wall.

[Quinn]
The Fianna woman doesn’t stick around for longer than that. She heads down the hall and disappears into room 4. A few moments later, she emerges in a grey t-shirt with what look like painted on black hearts, and a pair of black lounge pants. Her hair is down, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and her feet are bare.

In one hand she holds a red toothbrush and a tube of tooth paste. She disappears into the bathroom.

[Hatchet]
Down the hall a door opens up. Down the hall some footsteps come walking, far softer than they should considering the size of the owner of the feet and the heaviness of the boots, and then around the corner comes a man who fills the room by presence and, to some extent, size. He looks like he could be an Ahroun, albeit one with muscle more lean than bulky. There’s a scar notching his eyebrow, there’s a scar along the right side of his throat, there are five white lines of scar tissue running down each forearm, elbows to wrists. His rage flows into the room well ahead of him, a wall, a wave, a surge. It’s as intense as any Ahroun’s.

His eyes are a pale gray, almost colorless tonight. His t-shirt is black. His jeans are fraying at the seams a bit. His boots are black. The man’s hair — a bit on the longish side — is a bronzelike color, not quite red enough to mark him as a member of his tribe, not fair enough to suggest a tribe of finer breeding. He’s a few inches over six feet, and when he enters the common room he looks across the group of women.

Quinn passes him and his eyes leave them instantly. He watches her til she gets down the hall, then looks back to the others.

Something about him — his stance, his scent, his presence — hints at authority. At rank. He can sense the tension in the room without needing to interpret glares or body language — its in the air. Then he decides to be polite.

“Buried Hatchet,” he says, “Fostern Half Moon of Stag.” No pack is mentioned. No totem. No titles beyond his deed name.

[Amunet Trujillo]
She stretches, cat like, standing up slowly. “Sar, I think I’m going to go to-” She looks Hatchet over with an expression that Sarita has seen before. “Bed…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks up at Hatchet from the couch. “Hola. Sarita Eco de la Risa, Cliath Ragabash of Owl. That’s my sister, Amy.” She looks at Amy, giving her a ‘not a good idea’ look.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She pushes herself off the wall, offering the newcomer a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hello. Tala Whitedeer. Cliath Theurge of Uktena’s children.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Tabitha Reese. Fury.” She’s still pissy, and it shows.

[Amunet Trujillo]
Sighing, she looks to Sarita. “Oh mi dios lo quiero. ¬ŅPuedo quedarme con √©l, por favor?”

[Hatchet]
The man in the room with them now makes most Kinfolk who meet him uncomfortable. Some of them he outright terrifies whether he even looks at them or not. There is at least one kinswoman in this city who doesn’t bat an eyelash at him, but she was once mated to an Athro Ahroun whose rage made Hatchet’s look like a candleflame against an inferno.

Amunet isn’t terrified. And he nods to Sarita and Tala and Tabitha as they introduce themselves by mortal names, something he notes but doesn’t comment on. Then Amuent sighs, and speaks, and a faint tug appears at the corner of Hatchet’s mouth. He’s leaning on the doorframe at the moment, arms crossed over his chest. The tug is more smirk than smile, but it’s not unfriendly. Just… amused.

“Love me?” he echoes. “Usted apenas me conoci√≥,” he goes on, in a chiding tone of voice. His arms unfold, and he heads into the room, taking up a seat on one of the seats of the sectional with… a decent amount of space between himself and the group of females. “Y yo soy una mala noticia.”

Hatchet leans back, putting his feet up. “Ask anyone.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins at Hatchet’s response, looking back at Amy. “BUS-ted…”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She at least has the good grace to look mortified, not bothering to correct that love wasn’t exactly what she was thinking. Making a face at Sarita, she pulls together what’s left of her dignity and looks back to Hatchet. “Las malas noticias es mi favorito. Cualquier otra lengua que deber√≠a evitar con ustedes si no quieren que usted saber lo que estoy diciendo sobre usted?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She takes a step closer to Tabitha and leans in to speak quietly to her.

[Hatchet]
He certainly doesn’t look like someone who speaks Spanish. This deep into winter his skin retains a faint golden brown tan, something genetic more than having to do with the sun. His eyes aren’t emerald green, his hair isn’t livid red, his skin isn’t pale and freckled. He doesn’t much look like a Fiann… or like a Fenrir, for that matter. But the Garou in the room can scent him easily enough and tell that the man has nothing when it comes to purity of blood.

His eyes flick over to Tala whispering to Tabitha, and tsks softly. “So rude,” he murmurs, not terribly invested in whether they’re rude or not. His eyes go back to the Strider sisters.

“I was packed with an Uktena Ahroun by the name of Muerte Fr√≠a for a number of years,” he explains, as far as his grasp of Spanish goes. There’s a pause, something flickering in his eyes. “Though it was a Child of Gaia named Mender of Words who taught me the language.”

A beat, and he goes on, directly to Amunet this time: “Oh, stop flirting,” he says, his lips twisted wryly, still amused. “You’re the one trying to hide things. Now go to bed before your sister spanks you,” he adds, jerking his head at the door to the hallway.

[Tabitha Reese]
She nods at whatever Tala says, and bumps her shoulder against hers. “You know better than that.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She just shrugs, starting to look a little overwhelmed with all the new people showing up.

[Amunet Trujillo]
She snorts. “I’m not flirting. You’re a lot cuter before you open your mouth.” She settles back into the couch, apparently intent on staying up just because she was ordered not to.

[Tabitha Reese]
She keeps her voice low. “Are you okay? Do you want to go?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m fine.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smirks, looking between Hatchet and Amy. She’s not intervening yet, curious to see how it plays out.

[Patrick Llewelyn]
Patrick doesn’t even go here anymore.

That, of course, never stopped his Alpha from making nightly visits and right now, it isn’t stopping the broad-shouldered Galliard from loping up the stairs from the restaurant, his breeding and Rage heralding him whether he wants it to or not. For once, he’s not in his work clothing, but clean, worn in jeans, boots and what seems to be the only jacket he owns. It’s black, leather and probably came to him second hand.

He smells like the great outdoors; that being wind and snow, respectively.

When he rocks up to the second floor, he’s tucking some piece of paper into one of his pockets and running his other hand back over his head, dusting it free of snow flakes. Very clear, very bright eyes absorb the scene before him. Females — and Buried Hatchet.

He raises his eyebrows.

“Entertaining?” He says dryly.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Not very.” She answers Patrick before actually looking at him, arms crossing over her chest.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Not yet, but I’m hopeful it’ll pick up soon,” she says to Patrick.

[Hatchet]
That, of all things, makes Hatchet grin. Broadly. He chuckles, even. And at that point he might open his mouth again, go straight on until he flat-out offends Amunet and then Sarita and probably tries to wrangle Tabitha and Tala into the party of people getting annoyed by him,

but Patrick comes upstairs, and the Fostern throws his hands out. “Patrick!” he says happily, dropping his hands again. He shrugs those broad shoulders of his, shakes his head. “No. Being entertained, yes. Those two,” and he points at Tala and Tabitha, “are passing notes in class, so be prepared for that. And that one,” he points at Amunet, “thought I was cute til she realized I’m a prick. And she,” pointing at Sarita now, “is that last one’s sister and I think she and I are going to be fantastic friends.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“She does tend to be friends with cock knockers.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, now. Says you…”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“It’s true. That guy in St. Louis? And the prick with ears in Denver. Though I think you might have found your dream dick here.” Most kin would certainly have more sense than this…

[Hatchet]
If he were really an Ahroun, Hatchet might whip his head around at that, stare at Amunet, make her back down. He does give pause, and looks at her a moment, then just… looks at Patrick instead. “Or may not,” he says, dryly. “Want to grab a few shots downstairs?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She sets her jaw, but says nothing, closing her eyes for a moment.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“First up, chica, poor choice of words. No offense,” she says as an aside to Hatchet. “Second…um. You suck.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She scowls, pushing up from the couch suddenly and stomping off to Kyle’s room.

[Quinn]
The water running in the bathroom stops, and a door swings open, closed. Another opens, but doesn’t close. And eventually, the tall Fianna Kin makes her way back out into the common room, stopping in the hallway.

The crowd has grown. “Hey hey,” she greets again. “I’m Quinn,” she offers, and sidesteps Amunet as she heads down the hall.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Patrick, was it? Hi. I’m Tabitha, this is my packmate Tala.” She nods to Quinn, to include the arriving girl in the introduction.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She opens her mouth when Amy heads off, then shrugs and gets back to her feet. “She’ll cool off fine soon enough.” It’s said to no one in particular. “Now…where was I?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. I’m Tala.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
It’s unusual for anyone aside from Howard to look pleased to see Patrick, and it gives him a moment’s pause, he looks the Fostern over rather carefully as though checking for signs of being toyed with; then lifts both his shoulders in a rather nonplussed fashion. “Well,” he says to Hatchet graciously.

“You are a dick,” his eyes flick over the assembled women. “But then, so am I, so yeah let’s take our dicks downstairs and do some shots.” That was either a mistake, or entirely intended to sound the way it does. He watches Amunet push off the couch and stomp off.

Shakes his head, brow furrowing. “I’m so glad I don’t live here anymore.” Quinn emerges; and gets a nod up from the Cliath. Then Tabitha is introducing himself; those blue eyes swing to her. “Hey, uh, how’s it going.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Is that an open invitation for shots? Or is it boys only tonight?”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
[er, HERSELF. OOPS.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks over at Quinn when she comes in, nodding with a lopsided grin. “Hola. We may have met already. I’m losing track. I’m Sarita”

[Quinn]
Quinn nods here and there, and waves, and shakes her head No, she’d remember if she’d met Sarita.

She looks at Patrick, and she smiles. It grows slowly on her pretty face, and her shoulders lift, but eventually she just shakes her head. “Hon, it’s going smashingly. I don’t know if you noticed it yet, but I had to leave my truck by your place. I know it’s pretty much a lost cause, but if you think you can work your magic and resurrect it from the jaws of death I will get you free drinks until the end of time.”

[Hatchet]
No offense, Sarita says to Hatchet, but he’s talking to Patrick, and just shrugs it off. He doesn’t even seem to notice Amunet stomping off, though he does indeed notice Quinn coming back in. But he’s still talking to Patrick.

“Yes,” he says, not arguing. “Yes, I am. I am a dick in dire need of whisky, and then I can scold you about flirting, too. I mean it’s bad enough when kin not of my tribe do it, Patrick,” he says, lifting himself to his feet and heading for the stairs, “but you and your packmate are already building a horrendous reputation without dragging me into it. Quinn,” he says without missing a beat, as though they’ve been introduced, as though they’ve ever met in person, “you come get some shots, too.” Tabitha asks if she can come, and Hatchet just shrugs, as though to say knock yourself out!

He heads down the stairs, yammering aloud and picking up where he left off. “You know, bitching about how glad you are about something is still bitching. Was it strictly necessary to say that aloud just so all of us know how anti-social and above it all you are? We’ve had this conversation before, Patrick –”

and that’s the point where the women upstairs lose track of what he’s saying as distance muffles it, but if Patrick is indeed walking with him, and if Quinn is, they can hear this as he goes on:

“– you’re entirely too concerned with people knowing how you feel about everything. You could achieve the exact same effect by just glowering every time someone speaks to you. Come on, there’s a bottle for me in the pantry that Jenny said is all mine if I promise not to beat anyone up for at least two months. And it’s a pretty big bottle, I think she’s trying to pacify me.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Jesus…” She blinks after Hatchet, then looks to Tala and Sarita. “What do you think?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She arches her eyebrow as Hatchet directs his attention away, and then decides to sit back and watch.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“What do you want to do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“What do I think of what? I’m fucking lost now.” She grins.

[Tabitha Reese]
“I could use a drink, but there seems to be a pretty thick film of crazy on that one, so…” She shrugs and looks at Quinn again. “What happened to your truck?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Alright. We can stay up here then.” She shrugs.

[Quinn]
Quinn doesn’t follow down immediately. Her brows rise when she’s addressed directly by the stranger. She was a bit too late for his introduction, doesn’t yet know that he’s the one her employee called her about earlier in the week.

He leaves in his wake a cluster of confused and vaguely baffled females, Quinn among them. She winks at Tabitha before pushing off from the frame.

“If he’s Fianna it just comes with the territory. And it got pretty smashed.” A shrug, and Quinn starts down the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “A state I’m happy to join it in.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Do I smell or something? Seriously. I’ve never seen a room fill up and clear out that fast.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She chuckles. “Like I said. Totally fucking lost on what just happened.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“They’re going to drink,” she volunteers helpfully.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Me too.” She bumps against Tala again. “Feel better now?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m fine.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
To say Patrick’s face falls when Quinn mentions her truck being (likely) beyond repair is an understatement. The man looks rather crushed, all told. For a moment there’s actual emotion present in his eyes, straining into tiny lines around them; lining his brow. “O, dduw. A’n dlawd beiriant,” he murmurs in what could easily be considered Gaelic, or some variation of it.

He’s giving the common room a distracted, general sort of wave and jerking his head at Quinn to follow if she wants and they can hear the Fiann retorting as his feet clomp back down the stair-well. “Dude, okay, for one thing, I haven’t flirted with anyone. You can blame Howard for whatever has been doing the rounds and secondly, so what if I bitch aloud?

Someone needs to say what’s on their mind in this city and either I do it, or you get Howard’s version.”

Then his voice is muffled by distance.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I got that part…thanks though.” She smiles to Tala, the expression actually fairly gentle for once and not the variation of taunting, teasing, joking or mocking that has been the norm so far.

[Tabitha Reese]
“So where are you two from?” Tugging Tala along, she moves to the couch to sit.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She gets tugged along without much resistance, taking a seat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Oh, all over the place, really.” She settles back down on the floor, stretched out on her side. “I’m from New Mexico, originally. How about you guys?”

[Quinn]
That was exactly the look…no wait, there’s actually emotion there. Patrick doesn’t blankly stare at Quinn, quietly judging. His face actually falls, and with it goes Quinn’s spirit. For a moment she feels like she’s kicked a puppy. She wants to say she’s sorry, so so sorry, but the Galliard heads down the stairs.

So she sticks around and offers a couple remarks to the women still in the common room before following after. To collect herself, as it were, and stop feeling like she just ruined Christmas.

When she does go finally, she catches up to the other Fianna, wherever they’ve gotten themselves to.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Michigan, then South Dakota. That’s where I met Tal.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“The Qualla.”

[Hatchet]
“Yes, yes, you two are sole crusaders in speaking your mind,” Hatchet says amicably, waving his hand at the Galliard as he enters the kitchen. He’s going to the pantry for that bottle of whisky, and bringing it back to the big table in front of the fireplace, setting it down with a thump.

His eyes go to Quinn as she enters the kitchen as well. He seems to have simmered down a bit as he grabs some tumblers and pours. Not quite shots, but oh well. This whisky is good enough to be savored.

“My name’s Taggart,” he says to the kinswoman. “And having spoken to the other Fianna I could find in the city, I intend to state my claim as elder of the tribe in Chicago at the next moot. For you, this really only means that I will be your ‘official’ guardian for as long as you remain in the city unless challenged by another Garou who wants to be responsible for you.”

There’s an air of blah blah blah to all this, though that doesn’t necessarily indicate how seriously (or not) he takes the issue. His eyes lift from pouring, and he slides one tumbler towards the end of the table, more easily reachable by her or Patrick. “After the moot I’ll get in touch and discuss it more with you, as there’s things you should know about what that all means — and doesn’t mean — for you. But I wanted you to have a heads up. Also, I owe your bar for a couple of drinks. I’ll be glad to pay you back, should I ever have a drop or two of cash, but I’m open to other suggestions for compensation.”

He lifts his own glass now, toasts them both. “Sl√°inte.” And downs two fingers of whisky, entire.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Cool. I passed through South Dakota once…didn’t really stop, though. I was kind of in a hurry.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She smirks a little. “What did you do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“THAT time?” She grins. “Nothing that running a couple states away didn’t fix. Apparently framing the local upper tier-ranking skinhead drug dealer on charges of sexual deviancy is not to be advised if you want to stay settled down.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks impressed, sitting forward suddenly. “That’s good. Really good.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Damned good.” She nods appreciatively.

[Quinn]
Quinn moves around the table, pulls out a chair, and sets herself down with an exaggerated groan. She listens to Hatchet’s spiel, and nods and, even though she’s spent time with Caldera, has even stayed a couple of nights at their packhouse, her eyes do not stray toward Patrick at unless challenged by another Garou who wants to be responsible for you.

“Man, that has such a terrible, ominous ring to it,” she says, and sighs. After a month in Chicago, though, she can’t really say that it’s not true. How many times has she had to fight someone or something? Twice now, her truck has had to be looked over for repairs. It’s a dangerous place, and the Kinfolk here, from what she’s heard, are troublesome.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she says, and this is genuine. “The Winchester has a longstanding Family-drinks-free policy. But if you ever really want to trade, I’ve been working on fixing the place up since I took over. Patrick built the stage, which earned him a bottle of bourbon.” She lifts her shot first to the Galliard, then to Hatchet. “Cheers.” She can’t take the shot all in one go, but she tries, bless her heart. She tries, and she gets it on the second swallow.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She shrugs it off. “I have my moments. He crossed a line, and once that line is crossed, all bets are off.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
Patrick can’t help the slight grin curling up the corner of his lip as the Fostern Half Moon talks … and talks. He’s on about them being sole crusaders and taking his place as Elder of the Fianna in the city and the next Moot — which does interest Patrick, that’s obvious — and that makes him Quinn’s Official Guardian, like he’s her sponsor for a marathon or something of the sort and all the while the younger of the pair of Garou is peeling off his jacket and folding it over the edge of a chair; the shirt he’s wearing beneath it is long sleeved; a baseball jersey with red shoulders and neck and the number 83 printed in heavy font to its back.

The Galliard takes up his own shot; and toasts it with a word that is perhaps unfamiliar to the ear, but whose meaning is quite the match for the sentiment in Quinn’s.

“Iechyd Da.”

When he speaks the native tongue of his ancestors, or one is aware of where his heritage lies, those bright eyes and that blond hair of his make a great deal more sense. His accent possessed nothing but time spent in the States, yet he clearly spoke Welsh with a familiarity that begged long time exposure to it from somewhere.

He wipes his mouth and slams his shot down.

“Good stuff, Jenny doesn’t scrimp.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“What did he do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Had me left in a ditch after I stopped his dealers from slinging meth to kids.” She smirks, briefly. “The attempted murder’s fine, turnover is part of the business. Churn, as they call it in so-called legit industries. It’s the thinking I was gonna let him keep dealing like he was that crossed the line.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She nods, obviously approving. “When was this?”

[Hatchet]
Quinn sighs about the ominous ring of it all, and Hatchet shrugs, setting his glass down and capping the whisky again. One glass seems to be all he wants at the moment. Maybe he’s saving up that bottle for as long as it will last him, as a way to get through the two months he promised Jenny he wouldn’t throw anyone down stairs or boot-stomp them in the common room or something. “I can do a bit of this and a bit of that,” he says, “but I’m best at taking advantage of free drinks. So you can be assured I’ll do plenty of that for the Winchester.”

He goes to the sink, washing out the tumbler he used. “Reuben is a hell of a brewer,” Hatchet agrees with Patrick, rinsing it out and setting it on a nearby rack. He looks over his shoulder as he dries his hands. “I’m going to head out on a patrol. You two crazy kids don’t get into too much trouble,” he adds without so much as a waggle of his brows, and goes for the door. He hasn’t got a jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Cold air swirls in, and the door closes behind him.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“About two and a half years back. Ain’t been to that part of Montana since.” She sighs. “Sucks too…nice countryside.”

[Hatchet]
[Thanks for the RP, everybody!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[Bye! Thanks. ūüôā ]]

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh.” She glances to Tala, seeming disappointed.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Why do you ask?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“If it was more recently, it would be easier to find him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smiles a bit. “Ain’t no thang. Like I said, lots of turnover. I wouldn’t be shocked if he got a turn at the ditch already…and Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t have great furry X-Men-like healing powers.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Being a skinhead is reason enough for me, Tabby.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
The remaining Fianna doesn’t so much as blink when the Fostern heads out; leaving a whirl of cold air in his wake. Rather, he drums his palms against the countertop and cants his head at Quinn; his expression, if anything, could be called winning. The suggestion of a smile, the rise of sandy brows.

“You want a beer? I’m going to raid the fridge and hang down here until things quieten upstairs.” Anyone would think he, a grown, strapping lad, was afraid of a few girls. He crosses to the fridge and pulls out a pair of long-necks, handing one over to Quinn if she accepts.

“So, tell me what happened to your truck…”

He pulls up a chair, straddling it and pops open the cork on his beer. This, could take them a while. In truth, it’s probable they don’t emerge for some time, if Patrick’s love for car detail was any indication.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Me too, Tal. Hard to track somebody down after a while, though.” She nods to Sarita. “We can hope so, hey?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Nothing would put a bigger smile on my face.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She looks over to the stairs. “Should we go down and get that drink?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A grin spreads over her face. “I’m ~always~ up for a drink.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks uncertain. “I can go down there…”

[Quinn]
Hatchet, no Taggart, is best at taking advantage of free drinks. Quinn smiles and lifts her empty glass in a kind of salute. The trade-off doesn’t necessarily come in the form of labor versus alcohol consumption, though right now that’s the best that Quinn can ask.

He doesn’t stick around much longer than that, and so the bottle of whiskey is stoppered. Quinn can’t say she’s terribly disappointed, her chest still wants to burn from that one drink. She once told someone that Kinfolk are more breakable than Garou, and really, it goes in more ways than simple wounds or broken bones. She could never keep up with Hatchet or Patrick if they were really determined to drink the night away.

“That would be fantastic,” she says of the offer of a beer, and she accepts a bottle happily.

Patrick asks after the state of the truck, and what happened. Quinn closes her eyes, sits back, and groans. “I think we should wait a couple beers. You’re not going to like it.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Okay then.” She stands and stretches, then heads down the stairs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins and rises, following along.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She follows Tabitha, somewhat timidly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks around when she gets downstairs, making a beeline for the bar.

[Tabitha Reese]
Empty. Well son of a bitch. She makes her way to the bar, settling where she can see the door.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She sits near Tabitha, lookin around uncomfortably.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I think just a beer for me. What are you two drinking?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I don’t drink for fun.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Beer works. Tal doesn’t do anything for fun. Though probably, watching Rol and I try to drink each other under the table was fun.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Beer it is, then.” She looks at Tala. “Why don’t you do anything for fun?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I have responsibilities.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“We all have responsibilities, Tal. Don’t be a snob.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“We all…” She nods at what Tabitha says. “I ain’t trying to give you a hard time, chica. I’m just curious. If you don’t wanna say, that’s totally cool.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Hey.” She turns to Tala suddenly, frowning. “Last night. You said you couldn’t have a chocolate because you promised somebody something. What was that about?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m not being a snob. I have different responsibilities than you do. I’m an intermediary.” She shrugs at Sarita. “I know you aren’t. It’s just chiminage. I can’t eat or drink for pleasure for a while.” And back to Tabitha. “Just that.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“When did you do that?” She frowns.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Ahhhh.” She nods, light dawning behind brown irises. “Yeah, that would do it. Makes perfect sense.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Back. You know when. Before we left.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She procures the beers for her and Tabitha, setting one down in front of the Fury before opening her own.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Why should I have? You don’t tell me everything you do.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I tell you the important things.” She sips at the beer, then starts to peel the label.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She snorts, but doesn’t say anything.

Exploration Leads To Shower Wackiness

[Cordelia] She looks at her cautiously… but mostly, her expression just confused. Her eyebrows are knit together, then pushed upward. One eye is a little more open than the other, and her lips are pressed into a line. Her arms unfold and rest on her knees.

“Why… would… anyone..? Eh?”

[Hunter] “I ain’t done this before!” comes shouting back. A long pause ended by a sound from hunter that vaguely resembles shocked disgust.

“I can’t! It’s IN TOO DEEP I CAN’T GET IT OUT. QUINN GET OVER HERE PLEASE HELP ME!”

[Patrick] When Patrick spots Bridget, he almost looks a touch startled. Or was that guilty? It’s something and it might occur to the Kinfolk that Howard has either spoken to, or Patrick knows of her time with his Alpha. He is quick enough however, to school away his expression into something far less pointedly aware and cants her a lop-sided, tired half-grin.

“Hey, Bridget.” He gestures at the bottle as he comes fully into the common area, glancing in passing at the Silver Fangs gossiping in a corner. He still wasn’t sure what to make of that tribe, honestly. “Drinking solo tonight?” Then, there’s a distinctly familiar squawking from the bathrooms, and Patrick’s eyebrows crawl toward his hairline.

“Uh,” Hold that thought. “Bridget, maybe you should wait.”

Then, repressing a smile, Patrick rubs the edge of his thumb over his eyebrow. Howard? Whatever you’re doing, finish up before you destroy the coping mechanisms of everyone living here.

[Kristiana Coleman] “Just. You know. People telling people that I’ve done things that I haven’t… That sort of thing.” She picks up a silky tank top, looking it over before tossing it in the opposite pile.

[Patrick] [Whatever. I can’t fucking keep up with you lot. Patrick is where ever he is, ignore that SF Kin. Or… don’t. Whatevs, man.]

[Bridget] It’s written on Patrick’s face. He knows, the bastard gossip hens!! Really, the feral kin couldn’t give a hair off Stag’s tail about who knows. She just doesn’t care. And the bathroom situation is just too intriguing for her to wait. Besides, she’s already near the door when he says something.

Pandora. Box. Open Sesame!

[Cordelia] “Kristiana,” her voice is stern, “is that a pointed comment or are you actually concerned?”

[Howard] [FUCKING IE ATE MY POST FUCK HANG ON]

[Howard] Once Quinn turns off the shower head, whatever’s going on in the bathroom becomes considerably more audible to the rest of the floor. Even the kinswomen in Room 8, if their door is shut, are not spared. Howard is goddamn loud even when he’s calm and sitting still. Right now he’s neither.

“Look, man, you fuckin’ started this. Don’t pussy out on me now!”

[Quinn] “You need a better grip on his hip.” Compared to the squawks of the boys, Quinn’s voice practically floats out of the bathroom. “Here, put your hand here.”

[Hunter] “Put my hand WHERE?” Hunter whines. “And you shut up Howard, you started this. You practically begged me for it.”

[Bridget] A few steps into the bathroom provides no clues, so she follows the loud shouting until she finds the source.

“What the fuck is going on?” she asks loud enough to be heard.

[Kristiana Coleman] Cordelia can see the panic starting to seep in. “Why? Are people saying something? Did he tell people that we did something? Because we didn’t. I knew he was going to do that. Guys like that always do that. Oh my GAWD, what if Mattieu hears that we did something?!?” She wails, burying her face in a pile of Calvin Klein cardigans and Michael Kors sweaters.

[Howard] “You want me to keep beggin’ you? Christ you’re sick… here.

He says this, but then he clears his throat. There’s a rustling to accompany his speech.

Please Hunter Jesus I need you fuck!

[Cordelia] She stands up and sighs. Who would have thought her to play the older sister role. Who would of thought her to be the nurturing, somewhat protective type. Then again, she’s proven her metal recently. The young woman sits down beside Kristiana and she pats her on the shoulder. She notices panic, she notices a lot of things. The female pushes her glasses up.

“Calm down, it’s okay… breathe…”

She says.

“Did you know my sister’s a philodox?” she has a train of thought there.

[Quinn] A few steps into the bathroom, at least from where she’s entering, and Bridget gets nothing more than the benefit of the trio of voices echoing off the bathroom walls. If she steps in further, moves around the sinks in the center of the room, she still sees nothing.

Unless she looks down.

There are two, no three pairs of feet beneath one of the shower curtains. One set, which can’t be anyone’s other than Quinn’s, is bare and facing inward. There’s a sneakered foot, a booted one right along side it, facing out.

“Now you’ve got it. Howard, do you need a hand?” One of the bare feet shifts forward.

[Kristiana Coleman] “She is?” That doesn’t seem to make her feel any better.

[Hunter] “So help me howard, I’ll turn this fuckin’ car around.” He warns and then there’s a bit of silence followed by grunts. “Shit Howard, it’s tighter’n’a nuns holy place. Ugh, oh oh there I think–”

A huge sigh of relief and a slippery sound.

“DONE!” Triumphant, proud.

Silence, drip drip drip.

“WE GOT A LEAKER!, QUINN! GET A TOWEL!”

[Howard] [I don’t know where the hell Jacqui went but I’m giving her 15 minutes before I post again!]

[Cordelia] “She is,” she tells Kristiana, “and some people say that circular, adament denial… especially in the way you’re denying… doesn’t do well to prove the strength of one’s case. Your response is paranoid, and leads me to believe one of two things- one being that something did happen between you and your nameless mister and you are feeling the impact of buyers remorse… or you didn’t do anything, and you genuinely are afraid of what the perception of your feminine virtue will say about your family and will decrease your prospects of doing what you were sent to Chicago to do.”

A beat passes. She sighs and reaches over. The female runs her fingers through Kristiana’s hair. She sighs and relaxes. There’s a certain worth in what she says.

“If it is either of those possibilities, then it determines your next course of action.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She seems to be in a good mood as she opens the door and slides into the main room, a little grin as if she’s managed to amuse herself with some private thought. She’s shivering under her duster…the girl is used to warmer climates. Thus, the door is quickly shut and she shakes off the chill, rubbing her hands as she glances around.

[Patrick] [SORRY. TYPING.]

[Kristiana Coleman] She leans into Cordelia, sighing. “Is that not how you were raised? A Kin is worth more if they’re pure.” She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “It seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

[Patrick] Patrick follows after Bridget, more out of expectant amusement than horror. He’s well acquainted to Howard’s tendency to pick, uh, public places to get amorous and can only trail behind with one arm over his chest, the other resting against his chin. Eventually, Bridget will come upon the three sets of feet sticking out from under a shower curtain.

Patrick rocks back on his heels a little.

Considers; then says in a carrying voice. “Should I get you three some Vaseline?”

[Cordelia] How was Cordelia raised? She keeps stroking the other young woman’s hair, and she thinks about this… she’s unsure of how she should act next. She looks down, and Cordelia exhales. Slowly, deeply, and she inhales through her nose. Takes in the air, “you need to define, for yourself, what you are worth and what purity is.”

If seemed like a really good idea at the time.
“Why? Did you want to?” she’s cautious with this question.

[Howard] Somewhere amongst all that noise there’s a sharp, histrionic noise that isn’t quite a scream and isn’t quite a moan. Coming from most of the other people in this building it would either be stoically muffled, or there would be little doubt that this was genuine pain being expressed.

DONE! Hunter says, and Howard can be heard panting under Patrick’s question.

“You’re such a bloody stoppered-up twat,” he says, sounding utterly indignant. “Don’t fuckin’ stop, fuck!

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She purses her lips to the left, eyes narrowing a bit. She’s seen all of the downstairs already, and nothing too exciting is going on…time to explore. She pauses a moment, trying to remember the directions she got on the tour of the upstairs, and then shrugs as she trots over to the stairs. They get ascended with every other step skipped.

[Kristiana Coleman] She looks around, slipping into French just to be sure the conversation stays private. “Vous ne pouvez pas dire √† personne, Cordelia. Promets-moi. Si Mattiew d√©couvre … Non pas que je pense qu’il me prend pour un compagnon, mais je voudrais au moins √† la date de lui pendant un certain temps. Je ne veux pas qu’on sache que j’ai fait une erreur comme √ßa.”

[Hunter] There’s a pause and then a clinking as something falls down on the shower floor. It looks like a claw. “I swear ta’ god I’d put it back in if it weren’t such a fuckin’ hassle gettin’ it out.” He throws open the shower curtain and storms out leaving a bleeding Howard and a nearly naked Quinn.

[Howard] “YOU’RE NOT EVEN GONNA STAY AND CUDDLE?!”

[Patrick] Patrick watches the progress of the Bone Gnawer as he stalks out of the communal bathrooms, dropping his hand from his face and its adopted pose of nonchalance and tucking both hands into the pockets of his work clothing. Revealed with Hunter’s departure is a nearly nude Quinn and a bleeding and somewhat suggestively positioned Howard.

Patrick’s face forms itself into something of resigned bemusement.

He glances at Bridget, “it’s honestly easier just to accept it at face value than to try and comprehend it.”

[Quinn] “Another towel’d be nice,” Quinn calls. “We’ve only got the one and it’s, uh, sort of in use.”

A claw drops to the floor, the shower curtain is pulled back. Hunter is seen first, then Quinn, her long hair dripping wet, a white fluffy towel wrapped around her body. Until tonight, the only person in Chicago to see this much of Quinn’s body had his own burned to his Homelands. Now, Bridget, Caldera and Hunter can see: the trail of birds working around her right forearm, the outline of a star on the inside of her left wrist, claw marks that start at her right shoulder and trail nearly to her elbow and, when she turns, the branch of some tree in blossom, stretched across her upper back.

She smiles at Howard in sympathy. “Are there anymore?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Into the common room she heads, peering around with a swipe of her hand through her hair. She pauses a moment to try and remember which way is what, then just gives up and follows the sound of voices.

[Hunter] It’s then he sees Bridget, standing there. He looks at her with raised eyebrows. “Go give em’a cuddle, he’s like a big baby.”

Then he stops, turns around, looks at Howard and cracks up laughing. “You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.”

A pause.

“I can’t believe I just pulled a claw outta’ya ass. I’m hungry, and I need a fuckin’ drink. I also wanna’ get the fuck outta’ this place. Who’s comin’?”

[Bridget] The Canadian gawks with a bottle of liquor in hand. She unscrews the bourbon then sips at it.

“What the hell happened?” she asks.

[Howard] Once he thinks he doesn’t have an audience anymore, Howard turns his back to the shower wall and doesn’t so much let himself slide down as he just collapses. Quinn is close enough to see that his hair froze from taking a shower and then going outside for far too long, that his corduroys–previously yellow–are drenched in blood. It seems to have originated from his left sacroiliac region, but the entirety of his leg and backside has turned a stomach-turning red, and it’s stained his torso as well, as though he was lying in blood for a good amount of time. Pain has turned his skin dusky, and there is blood on his hands as well; hand prints coat the walls of the shower, and there’s a trail of prints where he was marched across the floor.

He’s still panting as he rests on the wet floor of the shower. To his credit he doesn’t attempt to peek up Quinn’s towel; with his sunglasses on no one can see he’s squeezing his eyes shut.

Quinn wants to know if there are anymore.

“Wha?”

You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.

“Oi!” Howard snaps, his rancor feigned, before lifting a bloody hand to flip Hunter a bird.

Who’s comin’?

All the Theurge does is laugh a high-pitched, almost hysterical laugh and rest his head against the wall of the shower.

[Cordelia] “… Le plus gros probl√®me ici, c’est que vous n’√™tes pas s’accepter soi-m√™me et vous n’avez pas √† accepter vos d√©cisions. Les gens font des erreurs. Les gens grandissent. You are human,” she doesn’t chide. Maybe it’s the nature of the language, it sounds softer. Something about the way Cordelia handles the language makes it gentle.

She sighs, and her voice drops to the realm of almost inaudible.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She makes a slow walk down the hallway, the grin ratcheting up a touch for no immediately apparent reason. Maybe it’s just an involuntary reaction to approaching trouble.

[Kristiana Coleman] She nods slightly, her voice quiet. “Il vient de quitter apr√®s. Je n’avais pas honte avant qu’il vient de quitter.”

[Patrick] Patrick studies his pack-mate, his mouth thinning with something like distaste for the state of him, then cuts a glance at Quinn. It’s short, but considering. He takes note of her scarring, of her tattoos. If ever a man could make you feel at once attractive and an oddity simultaneously, it was the Galliard.

Still; he doesn’t leer.
That must be a point in his favor.

“I think there’s more towels in the hall closet, if I remember right. I’ll get you one.” He takes up Bridget’s bourbon, first, however, downs a gulp and gestures toward Howard. “Get some into him, he needs it. He looks like something’s chewtoy.”

Eyes back to Howard.

“What the hell were you fighting with, anyway?” This as he ventures into the hall to return with clean towels.

[Quinn] “No clue,” Quinn says in answer to Bridget’s question. With one hand holding her towel in place, she carefully squeezes her knees together as she lowers herself to her knees beside the Theurge. Her eyes take in the hair, the sunglasses, and the bloody trousers. Rather than looking overly concerned, her mouth quirks. when she first met Howard, she was both amused and confused. Now, she just looks at him with a kind of sad amusement.

Reaching out to at least attempt to knock a frozen curl back from his forehead, she looks at his face and says in a voice not meant to carry, “I think you’ll be okay if you shift. A claw to the ass really isn’t that bad.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses, head tilting as she sees Patrick come out of the bathroom, and gives him a quick appraising look and a grin. “Hola.”

[Cordelia] “Pas tous les hommes sont comme √ßa. Votre point de vue sur le sexe es diff√©rent que le sien. Je pense que … vous recherchez un lien affectif, et que vous voulez quelqu’un pour vous faire sentir aim√©e,” she sighs, and just strokes her hair still, “Je ne pense pas que moins de vous.”

[Bridget] There is a huge bloody mess everywhere. The Canadian just blinks. Her sequin top does indeed look ridiculous at this point. That’s neither here nor there. Quinn seems quite concerned, so she kneels down to where the Fiann lies on the floor. Patrick instructs her to take him the whiskey and temporarily conviscates it without asking and returns it to her. The girl swishes the liquor bottle into his field of vision.

“You need to stop getting your ass handed to you. I already carried you here once all bloodied up,” she says quietly.

And after a moment of thinking about it, she adds, “Are you alright?”

[Kristiana Coleman] “I ruined everything. I should have just listened to you.”

[Howard] What the hell was he fighting with, anyway?

“My feelings,” he says.

Quinn ducks down next to him, her towel secured, and he doesn’t horse around as he tends to, doesn’t try to flip her hair into her eyes or loosen her towel. She tells him he’ll be fine, and he doesn’t argue with her, exactly, but neither is he in any great hurry to get up and haul himself out of there either.

“Oh, no, the ass would’ve been fine,” he says, his own volume dropping so as not to overpower the kinswoman’s, “but there’s bone, Quinn! So much bone!

And there’s Bridget. Howard draws a breath; the finger of one hand splayed on the floor involuntarily twitches.

“Well, tell ya the truth, Hunter’s a tad selfish. Didn’t exactly give me a reach-around just now. Sooo, unless you’re offerin’ to finish the job…”

[Patrick] He has to duck his head around the side of the closet door to glimpse the Hispanic woman who addresses him at random. Patrick was a tall guy, though not as tall as many of the male Garou in Chicago at 5’11. He had quite vividly blue eyes and a head of blond hair to match that was kept short no matter the season.

Currently, he was also covered in car grease, his overalls soiled from time spent beneath vehicles.

The stranger grins at him; and the Galliard, who in truth almost matched some Ahrouns for sheer force of Rage turned, shutting the door with his back. His arms were full of towels, and voices carried from the bathroom. “Hey,” he replied with a quiet, somewhat restrained tone.

He hesitated a beat. “You lost, or? If you’re looking for a place to sleep,” was he about to offer to share a bed with her? “I think the owners are downstairs. Ask for a Jenny.” Then the broad-shouldered Welsh-man vanished back into the showers in time to hear Howard’s final words. He offered a towel to Quinn, and tossed the latter at Howard’s head.

[Bridget] An eyebrow turns upward, a sigh escaping her. He’s joking, so he’s fine. But he does not take the bourbon, and instead kind of lashes out at her with his brilliant sense of humor. She takes a long swig of the bourbon and sets the bottle down on the floor of the shower stall.

She’s in a strange mood today. Howard is okay, so the cabin fever rolls back over her like a heavy cloak. She’d do for a good night’s worth of sleep, but that will never happen here it seems.

“Nice,” is all she says before rising back up to her feet.

[Cordelia] “No,” she sighs, and she hasn’t taken her hand off of Kristiana’s hair, “no, you did what you thought was right and you made your own decision. All you can do now is learn from it and move on. If you don’t want me to say anything, I won’t say anything.”

[Kristiana Coleman] “Don’t. Please. I don’t want people to know.” She reaches up and pats Cordelia’s hair too. “You can take whatever clothes you want.”

[Quinn] She quirks a brow, tilts her head, and she smiles. There are things she could say. Questions she could ask.

But just like that night on the roof, Quinn doesn’t close that distance. For one thing, they’re not really alone in this stall. There’s an audience, just over Quinn’s shoulder. For another…well, who knows.

She pats his shoulder. “Finishing what he started means he started something. I thought you weren’t into men’s manly muscles.” Rocking back, she rises to her feet just after Bridget. She shakes her head to the offer of another towel. “Thanks, but I’m covered.” Hah.

“Hunter, I’d be super happy to head out with you if you’ll give me a couple minutes to put some clothes on? This extended leave of absence crap is making me crazy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She opens her mouth to answer, but just grins when he’s gone quicker than she can do so. She reaches out and opens the door slightly so she can get her response out. “Ain’t you ever seen the bumper sticker? Not all who wander are lost. Think it’s in some kinda book, too. But no, I’m just explorin’ a bit. Thanks, though.”

[Hunter] He sighs, looking at Howard, and then makes a blergghh face.

“Jesus H Christ.” And he steps back into the shower, grabs him by the front of the shirt and pulls him to his feet.

“C’mon dick face.” He says to Howard. “Quinn, I’ll meet ya’ downstairs, bring a coat.”

And begins manoeuvring the stubborn Theurge out of the shower and hopefully out of the bathroom, back to his brother.

[Cordelia] “I’ll hand it to him, Ivan Press is nothing if not discreet. So, if you don’t say anything, he won’t… and I gave you my word.”

[Howard] By the time Hunter gets back to Howard he has quite literally curled up on the floor of the shower stall to cuddle with the bottle of bourbon Bridget left behind to keep him company, as if he’s just planning on going to sleep in a pool of bloody water. His momentary respite from being asked if he’s alright is interrupted by a meaty hand grasping the front of his drenched shirt and hauling him to his feet.

Whoa!” he shouts, louder than is absolutely necessary, not grabbing the Ahroun for support this time. “What! No! Fuck! Where are we going!”

He’s limping, but he can actually assist in the walking task now, his left Converse squelching with blood every time he steps off of it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hearing people approaching the door, she lets the door close the crack that it had been opened and takes a few steps back, simply so as not to block traffic.

[Kristiana Coleman] “I was worried about that. Good.” She pulls away to stand. “I should go back to the hotel and get the rest of my things.” (Which is Angelina for “I’m exhausted and it’s past my bedtime”)

[Cordelia] “You need to get rid of some of this,” she chides. Her heart’s not in it; she can’t stop grinning, “go get your things.”

[Kristiana Coleman] She scrambles up, leaning to kiss Cordelia on both cheeks before heading out.

[Bridget] As for bloody messes, she’s seen it before a few too many times to get all worked up right away. Bridget knows Howard is fine now, so she retreats back into the original pensive, quiet state she was in prior to all this. Part of her is sick of the city, sick of being cooped up like a goddamn bird.

Hunter marches past her into the stall to go have another potentially-homoerotic-themed spat. Bridget blinks, then follows. She just keeps walking past all the mess and straight into room 8, where she shuts the door behind her. The girl doesn’t even look at the two blonde kinswomen before she does an epic swan dive onto her own mattress.

She could actually get out of here for the night, but frankly she’s kind of tired of the Garou antics. She’s exausted, homesick, and tired of the big city and all it’s unwild mess. Rotting, Simon had described it.

So the kin mumbles into her pillow, sounds like singing, but it’s half-hearted.

“Shu shu shu shu shu shu, Sugar town.”

[Quinn] Quinn goes back into the shower she’d used just a bit ago. When she comes out she just smiles, doesn’t even pause to tell Hunter Adoy. Of course she’ll be bringing a coat. It snowed today for Christ’s sakes. Quinn will be going out in full on tundra gear, hat, scarf, gloves, sweater and leather jacket, jeans. And she’ll leave her heeled boots behind in favor of shoes with traction.

The tall kinswoman disappears into room 4 to make that outfit happen.

[Patrick] Sarita follows after Patrick a few steps to respond to him, but the Galliard’s focus has by this point been drawn back to the scene at hand before him. He watches Hunter drag Howard up and out of the showers by his shirt front; the latter leaving bloody foot prints in his wake and glances around, then at the towel in his hand.

“Yeah, whatever.”

He mutters to the air, and moves over to turn the facet on in the stall Howard had curled up in; blood begins to wash down the drain, and Patrick leans his body against one side of it, towel slung over his shoulder. The Galliard does not follow after his Alpha and the others just yet.

He watches the water turn pink, then clear.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just leans against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed as she watches the various people emerge from the bathroom head in their own directions in their various physical and emotional states. She looks more bemused than anything else. “It’s like watching a clown car empty,” she says quietly to herself.

[Cordelia] Cordelia looked at the pile of clothes on her bed, and then at the pile of clothes on the floor. The female sighs, and she starts to strip out of whatever it was she was wearing. Cordelia rummages through her drawers to find something to throw on. Alas, the female doesn’t find anything.

Bridget’s closet yields better results. The female ends up sleeping in a tee shirt that isn’t hers and a pair of camoflage underwear. Given that there’s a giant pile of clothing on her bed, she blends right in.

[Hunter] “You got a car? Need’ta sleep man.” He asks Howard.

“Either that or you’re growin’ some fur, either way ya’ gettin’ better for’I’leave.”

[Bridget] The noise picking up in the bar and carrying through the floor makes the Canadian glare angrily into the dark. She watches a naked Cordy raid her closet, turns her head, and sighs. She plays at trying to sleep some more, but it won’t come easily. After staring for a while, she drags herself to her feet and goes back out the door. She tiptoes out and closes the door quietly, then slumps down with her back against the wall, just staring.

[Patrick] At some point, whenever the next to arrive does so in the showers; they find them quite deserted and empty. Patrick had never re-emerged after the others, and there’s a clean towel neatly folded beside a stall that smells, faintly, of recent blood. The coppery tang lingers in the air.

There was, of course, an abundance of mirrors.
One can only assume where the Cliath had vanished to.

[Howard] Howard is not exaggerating the difficulty he’s having with walking; if anything he’s attempting to downplay the fact that he doesn’t have the Gift necessary to ignore his wounds nor the constitution of a man who can endure being stabbed by just grinning and spitting in his attacker’s face. As he’s shuffled down the hallway, he keeps clutching the bourbon bottle to his chest; being asked direct questions has even less effect than usual.

“Your concern is touching,” he says, “really, it is.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She tilts her head as she sees Bridget come out and then sit against the wall, glancing around before she shrugs and approaches. “Hola. Y’okay?”

[Patrick] [Thanks for play, all! :D]

[Bridget] A lovely Hispanic woman she hasn’t met before addresses the Fianna kin. A blink. She looks up, then nods. There is undetectable rage, but stranger things have happened.

“Can’t sleep,” she says. “I think I’ll just throw on another coat and go for a walk.”

She hoists herself vertical, then looks to the other brunette again. She’s so preoccupied that she doesn’t introduce herself until she re-emerges from the room with a studded leather jacket to cover the gold sequin tunic over black stovepipe jeans. She’s wearing combat boots this time, and has a tube of lipgloss in her hand the color of rich burgundy. The hippie headband is missing, allowing her waves to fall wildly.

She offers her spare hand. “Haven’t seen you before,” she says. “I’m Bridget.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles a little as Bridget heads off into the room, then back out. She takes the offered hand. “Sarita. My and my sister arrived just last night. Nice to meet you.”

[Bridget] “Nice to meet you.” She puts on a smidge of the gloss, staining her lips a sort of berry hue.

“I should probably make sure they’re not punking each other out again,” she says absentmindedly. “Things can get rough around here. Sorry, I’m a bit out of it today.”

She trudges off in the direction they were headed when last she saw the two Garou, a look of confusion on her face. Quinn’s gone, Patrick has vanished.

“Where the fuck?” she mumbles. “Howard.” The last stated somewhat loudly while she looks around.

[Hunter] “Yeah yeah.” Hunter says as they limp towards the stairwell in the common room. “I’mma take ya’ ta bed big boy, give ya’ that reach around ya’ wanted. Just fuckin’ don’t talk please.”

The words drift away in the air as he hoists the Theurge down the stairs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, no worry. I been there before. And rough is just my style, really.”

When Bridget looks confused, she points down the hallway. “One guy was helping another guy walk down the from the bathroom. I think that’s them down the hall.” She points her thumb in the direction of the voices. “The guy who came out for towels didn’t come back out after you all did.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Delete the first of the points. I can make sense, I swear! ūüėõ ]]

[Howard] [Thanks for the scene, ladies!]

[Bridget] Aha! Voices. Sarita points things out to her just as she puts things together. The homoerotic flirtation continues as the half-wild Fianna girl comes trudging after them as if she’s been invited. She doesn’t even bother asking. At this point she will snap if someone tries to keep her pent up in this place.

“Hey, wait up,” the chit calls down. “If I don’t get out of here I am going to lose my goddamn mind.”

Her combat boots come thumping down the stairs after the two in more rapid succession until she catches up.

[Bridget] [Okies you too Jamie]

[Howard] [Ack! Didn’t see you posted hang on!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Bridget head after them, chuckling. She just grins and lets her head off, then looks around to figure out where to resume exploring.

[Howard] At the door leading out into the alleyway, Howard hears hollering down the stairs. He thrusts the bourbon at Hunter and forcibly peels himself away from the Ahroun to turn around and face Bridget. He’s favoring his left leg, for rather obvious reasons, and he looks back over at Hunter once as she rounds the bottom of the stairs.

“Goin’ to what?” he asks, as though he missed what she said. Must have water in his ears. Howard tries to clear out his ear canal with a finger, tipping his head to one side as he does so, then jerks a thumb at Hunter. “Catchin’ a ride home with this prick, my ass is killin’ me.”

Stepping just outside the kitchen door, Howard stumbles a bit as he tries to remember which room is Quinn’s, whereupon he cups his hands and yells “OI!! QUINN!! MOVE YOUR ARSE WOMAN THE BUS IS LEAVIN’!!”

[Hunter] It doesn’t take much for Howard to peel himself off Hunter when bourbon gets put in the Gnawers hands. He takes it and wanders off slowly, leaving the two Fianna to their own devices as Howard begins talking. He spends his time looking in the fridge, picking out bits of meat and chewing on them.

“You wanna steak?” He absently shouts over at Howard. “HEY QUINN YOU WANNA STEAK?” He offers the kinfolk still upstairs.

And then just shrugs, puts it back in on it’s plate, wanders out through the door to the alley.

[Bridget] Howard faces her, not understanding what she says. Bridget looks to Hunter before looking back to Howard. Her face is twisted with a bit of worry.

“I’m coming with you. Anyone who wants to keep me here will have to tell it to my hunting knife.”

She’s joking, right?

The punk chick folds her arms over her chest and looks to Hunter with a quirked brow. She scratches the back of her head, then looks to the injured Theurge.

“You better come along, sugar. Your ride is leaving.” The kinfolk approaches her kinsman and loops an arm around his torso so he can brace himself a little if need be.

Quinn tags along or doesn’t.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And she’s out of sight, having wandered off somewhere upstairs. [[Thanks for the scene. ūüôā ]]