[Shepherd] This kid is almost as tense as the strings on Hatchet's guitar as he sits on the couch with the red-head smacking of Fiann breeding sits between them, as the brunette who has likewise been identified as one of Hatchet's works on her beer and talks about how she used to play guitar, and it wouldn't take eyes to tell that the Full Moon on the couch next to Aidan is getting agitated.
It starts out slow, the jostling of his right foot, but it builds as the conversation does likewise. There is so much going unsaid despite the kinswoman's attempt at conversation, and the two of them have likely figured it out already, but neither man has indicated that the other is anything more than a packmate. They didn't have to.
When the older Kinfolk stands up and looks down at him, lays the charm on thick as honey on bread, Ryan narrows his eyes and flares his nostrils but doesn't lash out at him, doesn't roar, doesn't kick up a fuss.
"It ain't my couch," he ultimately concedes, and scoots over to give the kinsman more room.
[Liadan] Her head drops to the side slightly, considering. The guitar has obviously been around the block a time or two, but it's so well cared for that it's slightly worn exterior does nothing to harm the sound. She listens to the idle notes, clear in tone and timbre. “Maybe.” She'd rather have her own, but it wouldn't suck to get that guitar in the event of Taggart's death.
And then Liadan remembers something she'd almost forgotten. Ryan. That's the name of one of the people who lives here, someone she could go to if she found herself in trouble. She studies the man on the other end of the sectional, the third Garou she's met since she came to Chicago. At least she assumes his Garou, given that he has Rage about as strong was what she feels when she's around Lukas. Even from here, it's unpleasant to say the least.
And the boy, Aidan, was antagonizing him. And he was being so charming about it.
She takes another drink of her beer, not saying a word, just watching the events unfold now.
[Hatchet] He has almost nothing. The clothes on his back, another set, maybe an extra shirt. He has his boots. He has his knapsack. And then he has this guitar. Perhaps he is just joking about leaving it to her in the event of his passing -- which, judging solely by that scar on his neck, is something she might want to think about happening in the forseeable future -- and perhaps it's an indication of just how seriously he takes familial bonds, even with someone who might be rightly called a 'stranger'.
Both of the Kinfolk sitting on the couch, one between the Garou and one to the side of the guitarist, have been told that if they need help and cannot find Taggart that 'Ryan' is someone they can go to. 'Sol' has been mentioned, too, but this twangy Texan is apparently someone they're supposed to be able to rely on for help. Someone who Taggart has said won't hurt them.
Liadan goes quiet, while Aidan picks himself up and dusts himself off. Hatchet's eyes slide over, one light-colored eyebrow lifting as he peers up at Aidan being like cool iced adorable. He flicks his gaze at Ryan to see how he takes it, and exhales quietly when Ryan doesn't rip the guy's head off.
"Siddown," he mutters. "Someone give me something to play. Liadan, hand me that beer, would you?"
[Sampson Musembi] The room that Sampson shares with Sam is empty in one moment, less empty in the next.
In the process of entering the room, something fragile encounters gravity for the last time, with the resulting crash being audible more or less on the whole floor.
It was an ugly thing anyways. Sam won't miss it. Probably.
The next sound from that direction is the slamming of the door in the same room, and then Sampson is flying in to the commons area at his top safe Super Strider Speed to take up a spot on a chair as if he has been there The Whole Time. A breeze forms in his appearance with the displacement of the air.
This is a man wiht a perfectly innocent look on his face.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I heard that," Lukas says to Sampson, drolly, as he's coming down from the third floor.
It's overcast outside. There was a light drizzle earlier. The shoulders of his coat, and his hair, are speckled with droplets of rain, which he's dusting off with his hands as he descends.
"It wasn't that one glass-encased, laser-monitored, climate-controlled baseball card, was it?"
[Shepherd] [WP: Phobia Flaw. Rawr.]
[Aidan] He honestly hadn't been trying to antagonize the gruff ahroun. Merely lighten the mood. And the attempt failed miserably, in spite of his best efforts. Which told him one thing rather clearly.... being charming was not the way to deal with this particular individual. That was alright though. He was adaptable.
Hunkering back down on the sofa, he allowed himself to relax a little. "You aren't bad, at that." This directed to Taggart as he gave a little nod towards the man's guitar. He's making an attempt to gloss over all of the underlying tension, having clearly noticed the man's anxious reaction to his performance. It, and Ryan's irritation, told him a lot about the blond one.
Then, suddenly...Sampson was blowing in, and he actually almost jumped in surprise.
[Sampson Musembi] "%$+(*@*+%4@$$!@+", he replies in some language from more or less eastern Africa. The reply is quite coherent, which makes it a damned shame Lukas never learned that tongue.
"It is near Pissy Philodox night! Is it not, Lukas? What a beautiful time for games!" His beatific smile is a warning to all, stark white and possibly alarming against his dark, dark face. "It is nearly as fun as Pissy Ahroun night! But far less painful!" The cadence of the Kenyan is exotic, yes, but enthusiasm translates well in most languages.
Around him, tensions brew, but then, the garou already has a mighty thirst. The potential fun in the room is promising.
[Evan McCollach] The brotherhood was still something of a foreign land to him. He had not truly interacted with many of the Sept of Maelstrom in quiet some time. Hell outside of the occasional passing meetings with someone from Chicago and maybe Kemp, he had kept close to Eagle's turf.
But after bringing back the kinwoman from the woods and the open invitation that the Brotherhood provided. He figured it would be best to check to see if she healed properly and to learn who else was in the Chicago. He returned the same way he had come to the brotherhood last time, through the backdoors, away from the normal people that might call the place their own hang out.
[Wahya] It has taken Wahya time to convince himself to return to that building, the place of thieving brothers. He had only entered the one night following Mrena and Maija like some lost animal in need of shelter. Perhaps, that is why he is here again. It was made known as a place of shelter for the wayward, like himself. So often has he kept to himself since his arrival into the city that he hasn’t thought to return until now.
Too many wonders and sights to take in, has kept this one away. But now he skulks through the threshold of the front doorway. His shadow stretching in a long cast across the walls as he moves inside; droplets of water fleck his face, shadowed by the long, snaky tendrils of his matted braided mane. His head tilts up to cast his gaze around. Lean shoulders drawn inward, body engulfed in clothes (ragged cargo jeans and a hooded sweatshirt) that are a few sizes bigger than him, borrowed from a tribe mate’s closet and have yet to be washed in days.
The stench of the city washes over his body in a film of dried sweat and motor oil. Where has he been sleeping? Who knows.
[Liadan] Liadan obliges, not because Taggart tells her to, though she thinks she knows him enough to know that he's not going to rend flesh from bone if she doesn't give him the beer as asked. She gets it for him because he was the reason she brought two beers up in the first place. She picks up the half empty bottle and hands it to him.
“How about something old? Know any Clapton other than Layla?”
And then there's a sudden breeze, and another person has entered the room, bringing a wind that ruffles her ponytails.
[Shepherd] Something happens to the blond kid who plenty of people have seen survive battles or end them with well-placed swoops of his honed claws. Sampson rushes into the room like a coyote on a mission and Ryan freezes; Lukas appears, Lukas who has never been a threat to him and has stood watch while inexperienced healers tended to his wounds, and one would think that he was an unchanged Cub surrounded by Black Spiral Dancers by the way he suddenly has to struggle to keep himself together.
He keeps himself together, alright, but that doesn't change the fact that something in that head of his snaps. All he can think to do is get the hell out of there, and fast. So that's what he does. He lurches to his feet, and with a tremulous "Nice meeting all'a y'all" he turns and hurries into the hallway, slamming into and disappearing behind the first door he comes to.
For the duration of the evening he doesn't reappear.
[Hatchet] [Manipulation + Subterfuge]
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas comes down that last step right as Ryan hightails it out of the room.
The Ahroun's eyes follow the kid. Then they skate across to Sampson, unerringly, as if he'd known all along exactly where the Ragabash was. Which is, of course, exactly the truth.
The packmates share a glance. Then Lukas heads for his own room, unbutton his coat as he goes.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (unbuttonING.)
[Sampson Musembi] ((*Plays smarmy strip music!!*))
[Hatchet] CRASH!
Taggart stops, his head lifting like a dog's, twisting around to peer in the direction the sound came from. He blinks once, but is watching as Sampson flies into the room. If he sighs, it goes unnoticed. Once Sampson has sat himself down, he turns his attention to Aidan. He would have said thank you, but then ...the crash, and the Ragabash.
"That's Sampson," he says drolly, to Aidan...perhaps to Liadan as well. "And Lukas," he adds, as the Shadow Lord enters.
Know any Clapton, Liadan wants to know, as she hands him the half-full bottle he was drinking from earlier. He takes a long swig and is about to answer, but that's exactly when Ryan gets up to walk out. He looks up suddenly, and tries, and utterly...utterly fails to hide the expression that crosses his face instantly. If it had a verbal translation it would be No!, empty of anger, empty of demand, but as kneejerk as any reflex: he does not want Ryan to go. Hatchet looks down at the guitar in his hands to hide it, but it's too late.
Anyone looking at Hatchet as Ryan is walking out the door saw it, plain as day.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Totemphone, rather deceptively mild: You ever see the kid and Taggart-rhya hanging out together?
to Sampson Musembi
[Sampson Musembi] Sampson's innocent look slides away into perfect blankness as he watches Hatchet, his scout's eyes drawn by the sudden movement, the attempt at concealment.
No. Do you know what happens, my alpha, when a philodox tries to act the ragabash?
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Sampson Musembi] Sampson's innocent look slides away into perfect blankness as he watches Hatchet, his scout's eyes drawn by the sudden movement, the attempt at concealment.
The failure.
His nostrils flare, as if scenting blood.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They fail, Lukas replies, out of the room already, his disembodied voice startlingly clear in Sampson's mind. And; well. Keep an eye on them. They're quite fond of each other. I don't know if it's my imagination.
to Sampson Musembi
[Liadan] Luckily for Taggart, Liadan was not watching him. Her eyes were darting to the new faces in the room, to the dark skinned man with the near manic grin, to Lukas just as the tall man is walking away. And then Ryan is leaving, and instead of looking at her clan elder she's watching the blond man leave.
Now the only people on the couch are two Whelans and Taggart. She looks at the man introduced as Sampson and offers a smile of her own.
“Hey. I'm Lee.”
[Evan McCollach] Moving through the back doors of the Brotherhood towards the voices that seemed to be stemming from the common room. He didn't go very far the first time he entered the open territory for the garou of Chicago. But now he had been given permission to enter and to explore. Something he was more than willing to do.
And there it seems is the gathering of the uncommon residents of the Brotherhood. The kin and garou that called Chicago there home and had found this establishment as their own. Light green eyes seem to scan across the faces, most of them all foreign to him. Only one face he had known already.
"Well isn't this a fine gathering."
[Aidan] Ryan was gone. Frankly, Aidan didn't blame him. He was feeling remarkably uncomfortable now, himself...and it wasn't just because of the rage swimming about in the air. For a guy who'd spent his entire life trying to avoid Garou... suddenly getting thrown into a room full of them was more than just disconcerting, it was... too much, too quickly.
His jaw clenched briefly, back teeth grinding down on each other. A habit of his, whenever he was feeling a strong emotion that he didn't want to express. He unclenched it just in time to glance back at Taggart as Ryan left. And saw...everything. For a second, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
Then his jaw clenched again, and he looked away. Others were addressing them. Introducing themselves, and he nodded politely to each before offering his own name. "Aidan."
[Wahya] He maneuvers his way towards the back, managing to avoid any of the common folk in the front room as he heads to the back. His memory of the place not so well kept, forgetting which the proper door to have gone through was. His head kept down not making eye contact with anyone until Wahya has found his way up to the back rooms, Evan passing before him. The pounding of noises drifted down minutes later to alert him of many presences residing up the back stairs.
He is not there to see Ryan leave, only the remaining people left in Ryan’s absence. His silence is kept as his tongue pokes into the side of his cheek, causing it to bubble out as he breathes in deeply. His breath held for a few seconds before released in a soft rush out his nose. One thick eyebrow crooks up at a jagged angle of a scarred cheekbone. Curiosity brimming in his dark eyes.
[Sampson Musembi] The Kenyan nods once, to someone who won't see the acknowledgement. Slow, regretful.
His eyes, close to the shade of brown just before black, dark like his equatorial dark skin, remain focused where they were.
"A great pleasure to meet you, Liadan, Aidan! I! I am Skinny Legs! Sampson Musembi! Silent Strider of the New Moon, cliath in rank! I am not a Philodox. I do not pass judgements. I observe, I point out flaws, I drag secrets from the darkness! And!
I enjoy what I do!
I am bonded with the Unbroken Circle! Under Talons of Horus!"
AND! he's a smartass.
But the Fianna probably caught that part.
[Hatchet] Head down, he doesn't see the way Sampson looks his way, the flare of his nostrils. He does look up when Evan enters the room, however, smelling his breeding and sensing his Rage. He stills his hands, and then carefully turns his guitar until the end is resting on the carpet. He looks at Liadan first, but she seems...okay. Then he looks at Aidan, and his eyebrows tug together slightly.
He gives the self-proclaimed whore a small upward nod. "You all r--"
Sampson introduces himself. Hatchet closes his eyes, swings his head around to look at the New Moon, lifts his eyebrows, and smiles. "Skinny Legs, Aidan and Liadan are my Kin." Not that anyone would doubt that: they both stink of their heritage, Fianna to the core. But there is a faint ephasis on the word my. It indicates just how little fucking-with Hatchet will tolerate, when it comes to the two near-mortals on either side of him.
[Sampson Musembi] (Sorry, Lee not Liadan, until Hatchet corrects them, read that post wrong!)
[Sampson Musembi] Taggart is not good at being a Ragabash. I think you are correct, Lukas. I think tonight the moon waxes and shines on secrets.
This is not a nice night!
Ahh.. Sam will be gone some time, yes?!??
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's room is practically the first door out of the common room. They can hear him thumping around in there -- but not banging around, not making noise for the sheer sake of noise. He hangs his coat up, kicks his shoes off, tosses his socks into a hamper. He comes back barefoot, and all of a sudden his jeans, which are dark, distressed, and roughly eight to ten times more expensive than your average pair, look a lot more casual than they had.
His shirt is collared and button-up, a pale grey close to white. The undershirt beneath that is a blue a shade darker than his denims, exposed when he, coming back to the common room, tugs the top few buttons of his shirt open.
Evan's in the room when he comes back. Lukas looks genuinely pleased to see the man, though it's up to Evan whether or not to trust this. "We figured out who your mystery Garou the other day was," he says. "In fact, you just missed him. His name's Ryan Shepherd, a Cliath of the Bone Gnawers."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Well, keep an eye on it. Don't make too much of a fuss; there's no reason to yet.
And,
Yeah. It seems so. I hope he comes back wiser than he left.
to Sampson Musembi
[Liadan] When Sampson—Skinny Legs—speaks, Liadan's eyes glaze as the information is shot at her too fast for her to process. She has never heard of any of these things before, his words are all but meaningless. But something about him seems familiar. She doesn't know why he seems familiar, she's never met the man before today. More than likely she'll never know.
And now she's at sensory overload. There are just a few too many people here for her know how to be. So she drinks from the beer in her hand, not guzzling it as she has the two other times she's had alcohol in Taggart's presence. She's not afraid, just...wary, unsure of herself. She doesn't care for the feeling.
So she smiles politely to the room, her uneasiness visible to those who choose to look and see it for what it is.
[Evan McCollach] He had entered the room just before the Strider had given his introduction to the pair of kin that seem to flank the rage engulfed man in the middle on the couch. He still was unsure of how this place did not burn to the ground. The last time he had seen any packs from Maelstrom, they were at constant odds with each other. This was the start of what he hoped were many pleasant surprises.
Then Lukas appears, speaking up on the mystery garou that he had seen the other night. The one with the silver around his neck and leaving as he healed Danicka and brought her her.
"Well that is good to hear. Now I don't have to search for a strange garou to question what was going on. Did he get the collar removed from around his neck?"
He looked around the room, seeing to who was concerned of who he was. Proper introductions were due.
"I am Evan "Judgement of Sterling Silver" McCollach, Fostern Philidox of the Children of Gaia. Beta of Eagle's Chosen."
In that one short spoken voice, any garou who could smell his breeding could feel the mystic powers it held dissapate quickly.
[Sampson Musembi] "Ah, Ryan. He is missed indeed!"Sampson grins most wolfishly at Taggart, not taking his eyes off of the Fostern, though rather than staring with challenge, he watches his ears, his chin, his neck. Sometimes the eyes, for reaction.
Kinfolk. Fianna kinfolk, then. And yet.
Warmth fills his voice, and maybe that is not all he expresses. "Kinfolk are a blessed gift! How good it is, you have two! I have honored to have kinfolk myself! I have! Four wives, each of great wisdom and beauty! And many children. We are very happy together! Truly, blessed is the garou who has kinfolk! Don't you agree, Taggart-ryha?"
[Hatchet] [WP -1]
[Aidan] Probably the best analogy for how Aidan felt at that moment was... rather like a female rape victim who'd suddenly found herself in a room full of men. It wasn't that he bore any of them specifically any hard feelings, or even believed that they would harm him. He just couldn't shake off the instincts.
The Strider's greeting would have amused him at a better moment. He might have even enjoyed speaking to him. Aidan could appreciate someone with a flair for performance. Instead, he just smiles thinly and gives another small nod.
To Hatchet...he doesn't meet his gaze. Just speaks quietly. "Yeah...Just need some air, I think."
The tense note in his voice, though, was plainly obvious. Suddenly he stood up and left the room. He made an attempt not to look conspicuous (though, really, Aidan could never *not* look conspicuous in this crowd), moving with a consciously relaxed gait... but the moment he was down those stairs...he practically flew through the back door. Once outside, he leaned against the side of the building and closed his eyes, breathing in and out in a focused, calming manner.
[Wahya] Wahya is Evan’s shadow for the most part, having come up after him. He skulks into the common room. Those who think to acknowledge his presence will smell him before they see him. The man short, swathed in the heavy street clothes, his hands stuffed into the large pockets of stained hooded sweatshirt that had once been black, or maybe blue?
Some are having a sensory overload from all the rage and breeding being packed into the room. His own eyes are straying about, lazily at first, drawn to the different pitch of voices, and then following to the people that owned them. Evan and Lukas engage in conversation, introducing them, they smell of high breeding. His eyes snap across the room towards the quartet, Hatchet protective over the pair of kinfolk that bleed with even more breeding, it almost makes Wahya choke.
He makes a small noise in the back of throat, perhaps clearing it, as if he was to speak, but he doesn’t. His right hand pulls out of the pocket of his sweatshirt, brought up to drag aside a few stringy braids from his face. He is momentarily confused by what he is witnessing.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a curious beat of pause. Then, "Yeah. Hatchet got it off of him. Have you met Hatchet-rhya?" There were introductions in the room, before he'd reentered it; he's not sure if this particular pairing has been mutually acquainted.
"Which reminds me," he adds, directing this to the Fianna now, "I didn't get a chance to ask earlier before Ryan was taking off. Any news on what the hell was going on with that whole incident?"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (heading home pretty soon, folks. should be back about 30 min after i leave.)
[Hatchet] He's never met Evan before, but he nods to his introduction. "Buried Hatchet. Fostern to the Nation, Philodox to the Fianna, Alpha of Weasel's Gang." He leaves off 'Truthcatcher'. He's heard about the Eaglse and knows Evan isn't a part of the sept; to Evan, he's not his Truthcatcher.
Sampson trills about Ryan and gives Hatchet that grin, but Hatchet isn't looking at him. He's not looking at him until he's addressed directly, and looks wryly over at Sampson. "Depends on the Kinfolk," he says dryly.
As if on cue, Aidan gets to his feet and informs him that he needs some air. Hatchet nods to him, as though giving permission, and then looks over at Lukas. "Not that I've heard. No more abductions that I've heard of, either."
His eyes drift to Liadan. "Do you need a break?"
[Liadan] Liadan is not the comforting time. It's just not in her nature. So when Aidan rises to leave, though he says he just needs some air, all she can think is, Damn it. It'll be conspicuous if I leave, too.
So she drinks her beer, now mostly gone. Her discomfort comes, not simply from the fact that she's the one meat popsicle in a room full of werewolves, but also because there are just too many people here. She prefers to have the attention of one, maybe two people.
For now she watches, and she drinks. And then her bottle is empty. She tilts her head back to get the last drop of liquid, shakes the glass for any signs of remaining drink. She doesn't know what other people think of Reuben's own brew, but to her it's fucking nectar of the gods shit.
Do you need a break? Taggart asks.
She looks at the table with the unopened bottle of beer, then looks at Taggart. “That's yours. Think I'm gonna go get another,” is her answer to the question. And then she rises and heads for the stairs, conscious of the others in the room who may or may not be watching her exist.
[Sampson Musembi] "Philodox, ahh on a philodox moon. Eagle-rhya, I am Sampson Musembi! Called Skinny Legs! Bonded under Talons of Horus, with the Unbroken Circle! I am New Moon! Of the Silent Striders! Cliath in rank. Welcome! How coincidental that both our philodoxes in this very room are of Fostern rank! And one a Truthcatcher!
And tonight! The Philodox moon!"
The ragabash inhales the fragrance of the hunt, sharp and hot and it stirs the hair on the back of his neck.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas considers this for a moment. Then, "All right." And that's it: the subject of the abduction(s), since there was nothing new to add or interpret or dissect or analyze, is abandoned.
The Fianna kinfolk are scattering to the winds. Lukas seems to be on his way out too -- or at least, down the stairs. Unfortunate for Liadan, that.
"I'm going to get a bite to eat," he tells Sampson, starting down the steps now. "If Mrena and Caleb show up, tell them to stay put."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (going home folks! back in 30!)
--
[Sampson Musembi] "Our weaknesses include a lack of law and song. I would dearly love to see a philodox added to our numbers. Immediately. Yesterday. To challenge for sept positions."
And this is why the grim, why his gaze flicks to Lukas so.
"Suddenly, we are Spirit-strong, with shadows and strength. We are without the strength of earth-law, though, without anyone to sing for us. We could offer chiminage to a Galliard of another pack perhaps.
But the lack of law-- is serious. I think there is not enough half moon light in this sept, and when a ragabash so speaks, perhaps other auspices should heed."
Sampson speaks wihtout energy, and stares at his duck thigh in place of eating it.
[Armstrong] Did she get an MBA while he wasn't looking?
"Ask me about the stock market," she said, deadpan. Mrena went on. "Now that we've established where Sam is, we need to continue."
We are without Law. Their strengths were with the spirits, and with that she nodded. They needed someone to tell their tales and they needed someone to keep the peace and interpret the Litany. With that, she was quiet, and seemed to take note of this. Mrena's mouth stayed closed, however, until everything was said and done at that moment.
[Armstrong] (BRB! rounds!)
to Aidan, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Gabriella Bellamonte, Sampson Musembi, Wyrmbreaker
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Compared to last night, Gabriella's day had been fairly normal. She'd spent the night in Mrena's room on the Theurge's request, and a good thing, too. She woke up with a sharp screech slick with sweat somewhere around three in the morning, and it was very reassuring to have a Garou in the room with her, to feel that tingle of Rage and recognize, while it did make her feel only a little like prey, that it was a good thing. It meant that something powerful was there to protect her.
The next morning she was rather quiet, but would smile and respond easily when spoken to. She was getting better at hiding trauma. At one point she went out, ran some errands of her own, and returned to hole up in her room and do some reading. Now, though, she exitted the room that she had made her own for the time being, dressed comfortably and casually in a pair of loose fitting, older and worn-out jeans, along with a yellow T-shirt with a carton piece of bacon standing beside a sandwich, with 'You'll Find Me In The Club' in text above the image.
She had an empty glass and plate balanced in one hand, and paused partway out of the dorm hallway and into the common room when she saw the better part of the remaining pack gathered. Her eyebrows lifted some, curious, and she half-smiled to those gathered, lifting her free hand in a somewhat lazy wave. "Hey... Is this something important?"
[Sampson Musembi] 'Yes." Simply said. However, he smiles a little for Gabrielle, for she is kinfolk and precious for it. And better, the Strider hasn't seen her be a brat in his presence for a long time now.
He does not, on the other hand, indicate in any way she is not welcome.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas looks up as Gabbie shows up. "Have a seat, Gab'," he says. "Have some duck."
And, "Agreed; we do need a Philodox, and not just for Caern positions. It'd be nice to be able to settle disputes without having to resort to ambushing stray Philodoxes from other packs. A Galliard would be nice, but not as necessary.
"Have we got any prospects, or are we just hoping and wishing right now?"
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Miss Bellamonte," he said, greeting her with a pleasant smile as he sipped at the glass of Bordeux he's poured. Amusingly enough, the only cup he managed to find at this juncture was made of styrefoam. Mother would have a fit, seeing her son drinking good wine out of a styrefoam cup. Why, it was nearly NASCAR-esque. "Good evening."
Philodoxes and Galliards, they spoke of. He pondered this for some time, having been at this sept the longest out of those present. "The Philodox that reside in Chicago that I do know of are affiliated with packs already. Galliards are not as hard to come by, but.. It is much the same."
An off-handed shrug - their guess was as good as his, especially since he spent the majority of his time for the past year or more locked away in his woods.
[Sampson Musembi] "I know of none available to us at hte moment, Lukas. I point out more that this is a weakness-- and we should, when we make decisions, do our best to, considering how tied LAW is to HONOR and how easy it is to let loose of truth ,"
and now he snarls at his duck thigh, no matter that it is roasted and bald of feathers and unable to fight him back, "remember our Honor. Even if tempted to give into our wilder furrier passions."
CHOMP. He shoves the whole wing in his mouth and isn't polite at all about the chewing process. At least it shuts him up.
[Wyrmbreaker] Maybe it's the waxing moon. Maybe it's the strain of hemorrhaging packmates. Maybe it's having a goddamn SWOT analysis in a pack of werewolves. In any case, Lukas has to clench his jaw to avoid snapping immediately at Sampson.
"If you're going to point out a weakness, Sampson, I'm going to ask for a solution. Otherwise it's called whining. And why don't you speak plainly for once? What are you suggesting, that we aren't making decisions wisely and honorably?"
[Armstrong] "It would be nice to have a Philodox present in the pack. I think that we should start looking to the outside for a suitable Philodox that suits our ideals. However, we'd be looking for a Philodox, not a ghost."
A pause, and then?
"Realistically, we won't be getting a Philodox any time soon. I would rather us go without than take on someone who will not pull their weight. It wouldn't hurt any of us to become more aware or the law. I say that we let it be known that we're recruiting, but until then we all take it upon ourselves to become more familiar with the litany. We've stumbled over the basics before."
[Sampson Musembi] The thigh is semi-chewed, enough at least so that life and breathign will continue when the mouthful and more is swallowed.
This time, Sampson does not back down from his words, not precisely at least. He looks at Lukas directly, in strength but without challenge. Also, without the perk, the sass, he usually has.
"I think that I have seen dishonorable behavior by one not present, and that without a strong element of law to keep us straight, that we will have increasing challenges to maintain Talon's strictures. And I have given a solution as best I see them, to the weaknesses I point out-- to chiminage to another garou, and to pay strict attention in the meantime to honor and law. You hear no whining from me, Lukas."
But otherwise, no. I am angry over the foolishness of another garou, not of our pack. Not at any of you. Angry, at hte moment, about Honor, though ours is intact."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie smiled to Lukas and shook her head at the invitation to have some duck.
"No thank you," she verbalized, but she did come to join them, seating herself on the sofa in whatever space was available-- likely on Lukas's side that Caleb wasn't occupying. She leaned forward to set her dirty dishes on the coffee table, making sure they were slid into a corner where they wouldn't be in the way of the food that Lukas and Sampson seemed to be helping themselves to-- Sampson more enthusiastically than the others.
They mentioned needing a Philodox, talked about whining, honor, law, and Gabriella leaned back into the sofa, crossing her legs so her right ankle rested on her left knee. She was quiet for a moment, then suggested: "Well, what about Taggart? Doesn't he only have one packmate? Why don't you guys..." She thought for a moment, searching for the word, then moved her hands and brought them together, interlacing all of her fingers as she did so, "...merge?"
[Wyrmbreaker] "Jesus Christ," he nearly cuts Mrena off -- exasperation. "When have we stumbled over the basics of the Litany? Can we try to be specific?"
And he shoves the rest of his peking duck roll in his mouth, starts rolling another.
"You too, Sampson. Stop dodging behind euphemisms and vaguenesses. If you're talking about Sam, say his name. If you're talking about Ed, say his name. You're my goddamn packmates, and I shouldn't have to guess at your meaning.
"Mrena wants to talk weaknesses. Fine. Let's talk weaknesses. In detail, precisely, with names and examples attached. Otherwise what's the use? How are we to do better if we don't have the guts to lay it all out on the table?"
A glance sideways at Gabriella.
"It's been suggested. But I wouldn't recommend it." And for all he's just said about specifics, examples, reasons, all out on the table -- Lukas closes his mouth and doesn't say why.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb flicked a glance between the two, Sampson and Lukas, and remained quiet for the moment. The wine in his cup was set on the coffee table as he sat back on the couch, propping his left ankle atop his right knee with his hands clasped behind his head.
"To have a strong pack," Caleb began, "we don't necessarily need a Philodox. Look for one should any come along that will fit our criteria, but we are all honorable men and women." A light shrug, then Gabriella mentioned a merger of sorts with Hatchet and his Uktena, Soledad.
Taggart, perhaps he might consider packing with. Not knowing the Fianna as well as the others, the man himself was largely unknown to Caleb aside a few meetings here and there. As far as Soledad went, the woman was a loose cannon as Caleb saw it. Add her to this mix, and there was bound to be trouble.
[Sampson Musembi] Sampson freezes at Gabriella's words, at her question.
"We are not just packmates, present, Lukas. But as you will. It is your right to demand.
Errors, then, in detail, as you wish, as Mrena wishes."
He takes another piece of bird, ad holds it, looking directly at Lukas this time. "Yourself, for ever allowing one of your tribe to date a garou who wasn't. You meant well. You meant to be fair. However-- you ARE Shadowlord and so was Danicka. Sam will never be. Always, your very spirit would tell you, call to you, to protect her from thievery, to keep her safe, to hold the jewel that she is to your tribe, for all kin and especially purebred kin are jewels, close.
And this put you into conflict with Sam. His asking, his intrusion, put him into conflict with you. This was unwise. And this you know, but attention to the Litany, woudl it not have helped then? That our precious kinfolk are OURS, and one should not poach out of tribe.
You have reclaimed your kinfolk and this is good- but
Later, Did not Sam poach again? Gabriella this time. How many times did he violate The Law with his groin?? I failed my pack to not scream this at the time, that mistakes were repeated , even when there was one or two philodoxes in our pack? how much harm was done?
And then.. Sam-- he because dishonorable again, in challenging your authority sideways, sniping at you over and over again, even after being beaten in combat repeatedly, AND both of you ahrouns! Again, the Litany was not... honored.
What sins one of us makes, we ALL make. We are pack. Good or bad, we share. Renown, loss of renown, honor, loss of honor.
I say we should share in this learning too. And be stronger. And NOT make these same mistakes again. I do not say these words with the eloquence of a galliard, but with the intensity and warning of the darker moon."
[Sampson Musembi] "And as for Taggart-- No. No and No. He is too busy being a failure of a ragabash to have time to be our philodox."
Here is anger.
[Wyrmbreaker] Perhaps Sampson expects Lukas to -- do something untoward now. Bite his fucking head off, of something.
Remarkably, Lukas actually seems to settle down a notch. If he were in another form, if his fur were jet black and his jaws massive and slavering, his hackles would have come down ... a little.
His legs would still be stiffly locked, though; his tail straight out.
But he's not in another form. He's homid, something close to human, and all he does is snap up half his new peking duck roll in one bite.
"Thank you." Much more level, this. "I mean it. I think everything you've said is right. I just wish you'd say these things earlier, before shit hits the fan. And I know doubletalk and deception is the way of your auspice, but when the rest of us just don't get it, you should consider whaling us over the head with it. For the good of the pack."
[Armstrong] "You and Sam, on the structure of packs. That, however, was his failing. You both failed to wait on ruling from a neutral philodox, that had been called for. You both went to blows in the common room. In front of a complete stranger instead of taking it to the caern. Or into private, at the very least. That in particular is not a breach in the litany, but in bad taste."
What sins one of us makes, we ALL make. We are pack. Good or bad, we share. Renown, loss of renown, honor, loss of honor.
"Sampson makes a damn good point."
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb's eyebrows rose by increments as Sampson's tirade continued, first about Danicka and Sam, then Gabriella and Sam. About Lukas regaining the Shadow Lord Kin, and then Sam's indescretions with the Silver Fang kin.
As sharply as his eyebrows rose, then they began to furrow in a deep, sharp V. For precious few moments, Caleb was silent to let the Ragabash's lungs empty of air, and at the moment that Sampson looked about to speak again with a sudden inrush of air, the male theurge held up a hand to forestall any more from the Nandi at the moment. "The matter of Sam Modine and Gabriella Bellamonte has been dealt with, Monsieur Musembi. With the absence of her siblings, and her next-of-blood kin, I take full responsibility for her at the present.
"The failure was not yours, to not of spoken up when this arose. It was the failure of the Fenrir, and he acknowledges his dishonor - what further went on between he and I, that is for us to know as Silver Fang and Get of Fenris. Suffice to say, he and I have come to an accord. For now, that remains between Sam Modine, Miss Bellamonte, and myself." His hands were no longer clasped behind his head. They were resting on his knees as he peered intently at the Silent Strider.
"As far as Lukas deals with his Kinfolk, that is for him to decide - he and his elder. As far as Silver Fang kinfolk, that is for me to decide until such a time that blood-kin present themselves."
A slow, soft chuff escaped his lips as he cocked an eyebrow. "However you do make a valid point. What disgraces one, disgraces us all. If such disgrace can be kept within our pack, then none are the wiser and it is for us to deal with such grievances as they come. Shame, but our shame. The bards cannot sing of something they do not know about, unless you wish to proclaim it for all to hear."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella, suddenly, felt like the topic of discussion. The fact that she and Sam had slept together, the fact that Sam had been with Danicka prior, was being spoken of as openly as Swine Flu was on the news these days. Immediately, she became very uncomfortable.
After twiddling her thumbs, twirling them forward then backward over and over again in her lap, she leaned forward, grabbed her dishes, and stood up.
"I think I'll excuse myself now..."
[sampson] Sampson does not silence, though, when Caleb speaks, interrupts-- he keeps on. Were there two garou speaking at the same time, then there were. He makes no attempt to silence Caleb.
And when the Fang has spoken, Sampson continues.
"That logic of it beign a tribal matter only has been tried and we failed with it, Caleb. As long as Sam is in the pack, its a pack matter." He shrugs to the Fang, shrugs at LUkas too, for that matter. " Boot Sam and the problem is solved."
Its a choice, and a Solomon's choice. The implied question is placed and its now no longer the ragabash's to deal with.
[Wyrmbreaker] "Hold on a minute, Caleb. Everything on the table right now has been settled. We're not bringing them up to work them out; we're bringing them up to examine how we might avoid the same mistakes in the future. Don't take offense."
Then, to Mrena: "I'll allow that it was in bad taste, but it was also my only choice at that point.
"Consider this. A wolf growls at you before all the pack. Do you growl back, or do you avert your eyes, wait for a private, convenient moment, and then snarl at him? What is the latter, if not submission and weakness? Sam had made direct, repeated attacks at my place. He wasn't laying down challenges. He was refusing to submit. No matter what a philodox might have to say about succession in a pack, I rank over Sam, and he was snapping at my heels again. He was asking for it.
"No matter what our human logic and laws might say about formal challenges before philodoxes, wolf instinct demanded immediate retaliation. If I hadn't taken him down then and there, instinct would have told him, and every last one of you, that I'd submitted. I didn't lose my temper. I did what I had to."
And Gabbie rose to go. And Lukas says, "Sit down. I know you don't like being spoken of as a possession, Gabriella, but is ignorance really better? Wouldn't you rather know what was said?"
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] There was a sharp, audible clack of teeth without parted lips, that Sampson would continue speaking when clearly Caleb had something to say in regards to the matter. That deeply furrowed brow relaxes somewhat.
"As you say, Lukas," and no more then.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Lukas told her to sit down, and sit she did, though it was reluctantly so. She turned her head to look at him, to study his expression while he spoke until the Rage got a little too hot and she had to glance away, down at the dirty dishes in her hands. With a faint sigh, she set them back where they were on the table and leaned forward from where she sat beside him, feet square on the floor and elbows on her knees. She folded her hands together and touched her knuckle to her lips, tapping it there a few times before murmering quietly, easily heard by Lukas and Caleb for their proximity, but Sampson and Mrena would have to strain a little to catch her precise words.
"I'm not ignorant, Lukas. I'm well aware of his flaws. But it doesn't make it any easier for me to sit and listen to our relationship spoken about as casually as a report viewed on the evening news, or to hear threatening suggestions at kicking him out of the pack while he's not here to defend himself. I feel almost guilty of betrayal by sitting in on this conversation and not saying anything in his defense."
Pause.
"....This pack is his everything, you know."
[Armstrong] Lukas spoke, and she listened.
"I follow your logic."
A pause, about removing Sam from the pack came up, and she inhaled and gave her reply. "He's already been punished, he's already been given his last warning, removing him now on a permanent basis without immediate cause on previous grounds that have already came with disciplinary actions, that have already come and gone and are supposedly forgiven, would be dishonorable."
A beat.
"What I'm trying to say is that I'm against removing him from the pack as of yet."
[Armstrong] (have already COME, not already CAME. UGH!)
[sampson] (Yeah, you dont wanna have CAME too soon)
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] (BRB post around me! )
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Back! )
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( We posted around you! :D ))
[sampson] "Loyalty is a wonderful thing, Gabriella! And you are put between your loyalties by the trespasses of others. You should not be made to be responsible for these, or to feel guilty for the sins of others or their bad decisions. We garou have an unfair advantage in matters of attraction."
What his statement to her has to do with what Skinny Legs says next is perhaps vague, but connected they are. Somehow, in the depths of his Strider's brain.
He pauses, then looks directly at her, his dark eyes intent as he asks, "What do you know of Taggart and Ryan's relationship?"
A ragabash questioning is not often comfortable. In fact, it can be utterly painful. It can rend and rip to the heart of a matter, and leave one feeling exposed and raw and angry, can lance wounds which fester out of sight.
Only later, is the reason known, particularly with the more secretive tribes like the Silent Striders.
[Armstrong] A beat.
Silence.
"... pardon?"
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas looks -- well, confused. "Removing Sam ... "
And then, abruptly, and unexpectedly, he laughs. It's not a hard sound, a scornful one; it's genuine, and a little apologetic.
"I'm not arguing to kick Sam out. We had a talk. Before he left. There was an agreement. From what I could tell, Sam came around. He agreed to apologize for his past behavior, to serve as the pack's Omega until he'd earned his way back up, and to do better in the future. Sam's in the doghouse, and he's on his last strike. But he's still one of us."
[Armstrong] "Define relationship."
Because she was thinking, because her brain was going through information, and suddenly she inhaled slowly. And suddenly she was very composed.
[Wyrmbreaker] Sampson brings up a new topic. Lukas shoots the Ragabash a glance, but says nothing. He makes himself another duck roll.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Lukas assured her that they weren't going to kick Sam out, and she looked at him with a touch of scrutiny-- But Sampson just said....-- but she let it go and nodded. The lanky man whose skin was the same color as a rich mahogany wood commended her loyalty, and she smiled a little awkwardly at him. But then...
What do you know of Taggart and Ryan's relationship?
....Why did this sound so painfully familiar? Everyone seemed to be having some sort of a crazy notion in their head about the Fianna and the Texan and it baffled her. It was like trying to fit together two corner pieces of a jigsaw puzzle-- it was impossible, illogical, it just did not work. Her eyes, wide with surprise, blinked rapidly, then she shook her head, like she was clearing water from her ears or smog from her face.
"Ryan as in Shephard? The Texan? What... Relationship? How do you mean? Are they... Is Ryan joining Taggart's pack? Are you worried you won't be able to ask him to join you because his pack is growing bigger now?"
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] It seemed like a good a time as any to forego the cup of wine, and drink straight from the bottle. "I think we're going to need more, Lukas," he said off-handedly as he rose and went downstairs. Returning he carried with him two bottles of cognac, a light coat of dust on them.
Instead of drinking the wine, he uncorked his cognac and took a long swig before offering it to whomever wanted some.
[Armstrong] "So, back on topic, I think that the entire pack would benefit greatly from familiarizing ourselves with the Litany more in-depth."
She inhaled, slowly, and then... then after putting her words together carefully. She assessed the damages, and acted accordingly. "We're fine without him right now. And, if things continue as they are, he will have his hands full and needs to attend to his affairs. And, if he is an honorable male, he will attend to them, or else someone else will have to make him aware of them."
Spoken like the final word on the matter. No, no Hatchet. Next question.
[sampson] The questions are asked of a Silver Fang kin; Sampson falls silent probably in part due to Mrena's redirection of the conversation, probably in no small part because the guardian to said kin leaves the room, and it would be rude as hell to continue without him present.
When Caleb returns, there is a new focus to the conversation.
For now.
A delay in questioning, But Not! the end of it.
"Oooh. Cognac!"
Swig. Swiggy. swiiiggg SSSWIIIIGGGG swig swig!!!!
If he must be redirected, this method will work as well as any. Soon, he won't care who Hatchet misses.
[sampson] (goign to bed! gnight all, thanks for good scene!)
to Armstrong, beer, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Gabriella Bellamonte, liar, Wyrmbreaker
[Armstrong] "Next point of concern. Our lack of galliard is a concern, but it's not something that is an automatic necessity at the moment. So, until that becomes our most valid concern, we'll need to be singing our own tales. Or, at the very least, we need to be making one Hell of an impression on someone who has a way with words. Might look better if someone who isn't our pack is singing our praises as well as... well... if we're singing our praises as well."
A pause.
"When it gets closer to the time, I think we should meet again and discuss issues that may need to be brought up at the next moot as well."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella had fallen silent, still leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her knuckles pressed gently to her lips. She was now, however, gnawing lightly, harmlessly, and anxiously on that knuckle pressed to her teeth, running her front teeth over it in a slow, thoughtless chewing motion as opposed to actually getting her knuckle with her canines and molars, like a dog would a bone.
She'd gone silent, her eyes unfocused. After the combination of having her affair with Sam dragged out and kicked around like a hackysack and another slap of Oscar and Ryan in the face, this time on the other cheek, she was just left quiet and withdrawn.
[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Caleb's gonna sit quietly and all. night folks! )
[Wyrmbreaker] Gabriella might be ignorant of Taggart and Ryan's 'relationship', but surely she can't be totally unaware of the way the pack instantly shut up on that subject; tucked it away; moved on as fast as possible.
"There is that Black Fury," Lukas points out, as the conversation moves on. "Serafine. She's a Galliard. Anyone have a chance to run with her?"
[Armstrong] "I did have the chance last night," she said. "I've seen her in a fighting capacity, not a tale-spinning one. She held her own, walked out unscathed, even stuck through to the end. Gabbie and I were out in Chinatown, came across something that felt absolutely wrong. As it turns out, Serafine- L'ange Noir- was there. As was AnneMarie- Ruhiger... you know, the tall, quiet, intense Fenrir that's been around recently. Cliath, runs with the Eagles. Anyrate, something's in this food stand resturaunt, I tell Gabbie to run, and run like Hell, she tells me that there's some sort of shadow creature in there and this weird kid is standing outside-"
a pause.
"Weird kid is going to be important later."
She continued.
"It's pitch black, we attack whatever is in there. It tries to grab Gabbie. Weird kid saves her, bolts and gets her as far away from there as possible. Ruhiger's packmate- James, Sandman, galliard, fostern-" in that order, she continued "Comes and manages to light the place up, right? So, they fight to kill the thing. L'ange Noir and I go to find Gabriella, because there's no telling what happened, and then we find her on a rooftop. The weird kid turned out to be a Stargazer, ahroun, said that that little section of street near and around that restaurant was governed by the beast courts and we weren't welcome."
A pause.
"She walked out unscathed in that moment. But, it was dark. I think it might be a little more effective to see her in the light to determine her worth."
[Armstrong] She was quiet for a moment.
"If Serafine doesn't work out, I am not going to be the one telling our stories."
[Wyrmbreaker] Gabbie was saved, put on a rooftop. Lukas glances at the girl as if to confirm this. Then: Stargazer, Mrena says, Beast Courts.
Lukas's expression is best described as: WTF?
-- then it breaks; the underlying tension that's been there all night (which is something Lukas mourns; why wasn't it as easy as it used to be with his packmates?) breaks for the first time, and this time when Lukas laughs, it's true humor.
"Make Caleb tell the stories." Back to business, then: "Well, unscathed is good, so long as it wasn't because she was avoiding injury out of fear. I'll try to make it a point to run with her sometime, too."
[Armstrong] "I'd like everyone to have a chance to work with her individually. Then, as a group in a hunt. Because working well with individuals does not mean working well with an established pack."
The theurge looked at Lukas, and for her part she was business, and White Eyes continued on. "And then we can make a decision."
A pause. "At the very least, it could result in us acquiring an ally."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella would have confirmed it for Lukas, maybe even embellished the story a little (He ran up a wall, Lukas! It was so cool! And oh my god, that monster was TERRIFYING. Did Mrena say that it almost ate me? It almost ate me, Lukas!!)...
...but she wasn't paying attention anymore.
She was slowly, slowly, drifting away. Just like how Edward would become inexplicably morose, or Katherine would refuse, flat out refuse to be wrong or wronged, how she could not tolerate filth on her person. It was one of those Silver Fang things, but with Gabriella it was nigh impossible to notice.
[Wyrmbreaker] HAIL KAHSEENO
[Armstrong] (WTF?)
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is nodding along to Mrena at first, but by the end he's frowning at Gabriella. He tosses Mrena a glance -- something between an apology for his wandering attention and a hey, look at this -- and then reaches over to take Gabriella by the shoulder.
"Hey. Gabbie. You all right?"
[Armstrong] She looked at him for a moment, and she had been engrossed in her halfassed story telling and inexperienced planning. He reached over, shaking Gabbie's shoulder. Mrena looked at her, looked for something. And she noticed that Gabriella Bellamonte looked... distant.
Mrena Armstrong was not an empathetic creature. As far as she knew, Gabriella was zoning out. For her part, Mrena didn't know why. On some level, one had to wonder if she cared. If she knew that this was supposed to be a cuase for concern, or if she really cared. There were so many questions there, and so many thoughts that were not developed; Mrena Armstrong looked at Gabriella's distant expression, her unresponsive demeanor in the same way that she had looked at Danicka's initial deception. She took it at face value, she did not know why the events were occuring.
She just knew that something had happened, but for now she was not in-tune enough to Gabriella [A shame, it really was. Mrena might have considered them close. Considered them friends; they hung out. They did girl things. Part of the reason she had insisted Gabbie stay in her room last night had to do with Gabriella's well-being, but also with concerns that Mrena didn't quite understand. She moved on.]
Lukas is the one with the good sense to ask if Gabriella's alright.
"... Gabbie?"
[Gabriella Bellamonte] It really did take physical contact to coax a response, words alone wouldn't likely have been enough. So the Ahroun's hand comes to rest on Gabriella's shoulder, large enough that his fingers would fall to her collarbone and his thumb would rest on her upper arm. She blinked, but her eyes didn't return to focus, not properly, and glanced in Lukas's direction.
"Hmm..?" Then a flicker of those light blue, somewhat faded eyes toward Mrena when she echoed her name. "Oh, I'm fine. Just thinking."
Mrena would notice that something was a little bit off, still. She seemed okay, but just not completely right, and it was hazy, too hazy to pinpoint what the precise problem was. Lukas, however, could figure that she wasn't entirely there. Normally she spoke with a light in her eyes, of some sort or another, be it happy or angry, and plenty of personality and thought in her voice. Now, however, it was bland. It was like Gabriella was running on auto-pilot, and the captain had checked out.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's eyes move past Gabbie. He shakes his head at Mrena: some sort of mute denial of what Gabbie had said.
"Thinking about what?" he presses.
[Armstrong] Something wasn't right. She knew something wasn't right and she looked briefly at Lukas. Mrena wore her confusion openly, even if she wore it briefly. It was pushed aside. Something wasn't right; Mrena folded her arms across her chest and kept her hands off. Because now, she was back where she was comfortable- observation.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] "Hmm?"
Again came the mellow, questioning hum. Truth be told, it was a time-buyer. Her logical mind was hunting for something that she would normally be thinking about, something that would sound convincing so that she wouldn't have to be pressed for detail, detail that she wouldn't be able to give. She wasn't thinking about anything, she wasn't present enough to think anymore, but she couldn't just say 'nothing' either. If people started digging too much, there was a small fleck of consciousness that worried the confrontation would create something of a paradox between her two minds.
Oh. That Stargazer. That's something Gabbie would be thinking about.
"Oh, just that Stargazer. I'd never met one before."
[Armstrong] I'm fine, she said.
Lukas shook his head, quiet denial that Gabriella was okay.
"How was that? What did he say to you? Something had tried to eat you Gabbie, that's an uncomfortable prospect for anyone," she said. Tell me what you are thinking. She said. Tell me how that felt. she said.
I don't understand, she said.
But Gabriella Bellamonte wasn't home to answer those unvoiced questions.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is just quiet now; quiet, and frowning.
The way they're sitting, Gabriella can't look at both the Shadow Lords at once. Lukas is to her right; Mrena to her left, across the bend of the sectional. As she turns to answer the Theurge, the Ahroun sits up slowly to close the lid on the boxes of food, abandoned now.
Briefly -- and intensely -- he misses having the totemphone.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] That's right she wasn't. It became painfully obvious when these questions were thrown at her in rapid succession. Normally Gabriella would have taken a moment to find answers for all of them, then answered everything with smooth transition between each answer, turning it into a story rather than chopped up seperate answers.
However...
"Nothing, really. I'm fine."
That was way too vague. It didn't take extensive empathy, like what Gabriella usually displayed, to begin to figure out what was happening. Some sort of a trigger, probably stress or a sensation of being overwhelmed (her and Sam being discussed so plainly, Hatchet and Ryan being together, surely they couldn't?), had caused her to withdraw further than most people would. The Gabriella that they knew had checked out.
The tricky part was, how does one get her to come back?
[Armstrong] How does one get her to come back?
And in her brain, that response had not made sense. Something had triggered Gabriella to illicit this reaction- it was like an allergy. And, for a moment, she observed her with quiet curiosity and almost familiarity. The circumstances were different, the behaviors were different, but everything had a root, had a cause.
["Make them go away..."
"What?"
"Make them go away, I know you can, that's why they're here, and they'll listen to you if youjust tell them-tell them-tell them to go away, that's all you have to do-"
"I don't-"
"Liar!"]
"..." she had said that communication, and communicating openly was not her forte. But she tried, and all she could do was respond genuinely. And wear her sentiments openly, because this was no time or place for subtle manipulations. "... I don't think you're an object."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] I don't think you're an object.
Something flickered across Gabriella's face. The corner of her mouth pulled, neither upward nor downward, but it did make some sort of an effort at expression beyond a bland half-smile. She blinked, and she looked at Mrena, studied her for a few seconds.
And after those seconds passed, in a slow and almost cautious voice, she responded. "I know you don't."
This wasn't all it took. It was like feeling the slight tugging of a nibble at the end of your fishing line. You still had to reel it in.
[Wyrmbreaker] And --
calmly, and possibly coldly: hasn't that been said already?
-- Lukas just watches. He keeps watching. He watches Gabriella; and he's watching Mrena.
[Armstrong] "I think the world of you, Gabbie," she said.
And for a moment, she didn't particularly care that she was saying all of this in front of Lukas. And Mrena was looking for words and trying to find some way to express her views or opinions without feeling like a moron, or flailing and panicking that she had revealed too much or...
She had told Lukas that it was incredibly difficult to communicate openly. But, she continued. And she tried.
"And that has nothing to do with who your brother or sister or second cousin or great great grandfather is, and has everything to do with the person that you are."
A pause.
"Because, if you were an object, that makers mark would be all you were worth and that is wrong."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] For being a Shadow Lord who didn't seem to care too much when Andrea had gotten her face smacked up by a Garou, Mrena was proving to be surprisingly gentle with her words. She was coaxing, she spoke quietly. Her words were the equivelant of having someone wrap their arms around you, whisper hushing sounds in your ear, and pet and smooth your hair.
She stared at the Theurge for a few moments, then glanced over to Lukas, to check what he was doing, how he was reacting. This was more alert, now. Self-conscious, for herself and Mrena both. But her eyes would return to Mrena, and a small, almost sad looking smile pulled the corners of her mouth up, and managed to touch her eyes but not as completely as they ought to.
She was coming back to the forefront, but was still fairly numb. It was like having lost feeling below your elbows and knees, that's how she would try and explain this state if anyone ever asked what it was like, and no one has yet to date.
"...Thank you."
And not just for the kind words alone.
[Armstrong] There was silence, and then?
"If you need anything, let me know."
And that was all she could say. Because, despite all her kind words and sentiments voiced, she still didn't say please.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is just -- well. He's just watching, his regard keen but his face blank, taking in without revealing.
Gabbie thanks Mrena. She departs. Lukas waits until she's out of earshot.
Then, quietly: "That was well done, Mrena." He gets to his feet as well. "I mean all of tonight."
[Armstrong] She was quiet; her voice didn't travel as far as it usually did. Meant for private conversations, and she replied.
"Thanks," she said. "That means a lot."
celebration.
9 years ago