a brother's return.

[Keith Sommers] He didn't notice Lonna immediately. Keith, he wasn't the most perceptive creature. But here was a blonde woman -- a lovely one, no, even a beautiful one -- and she was approaching from one side of the street. Keith flung the coin at the fountain. The coin richocheted off of Good Fortune, bounced off of the rim of Love, straight into Long Life, where it fell with a resonant clink. Keith snorted. His breath plumed, draconic, because it was cold outside and wet. Cold enough, wet enough, to bring vapor clouds, to begin seeing people's souls.

And then! Oh yes, then, the (boyish) [ahroun] young man eyed Lonna sideways and askance. Was that? It was. That crazy woman. That crazy kinfolk! Crazy.

[Lonna Larson] The time for irony was a good week from now, at least. The moon still hung in the sky, and a judge's moon had no place for cruel jokes. She is inspecting her quarter, as though it is something fascinating.

Virgina quarter. It was still shiny. Something about it made her smile. Made her expression brighten a little. She looked at it, then up, and at... Keith. A flush came to her cheeks, and for a second she thinks back to the last time they spoke, and the time before that... the moon was waning to half. For some reason, she felt it necessary to be referent on such days. To dance, to move, to feel a beat in her body and realize that she's connected to something bigger.

She looked at him from the side, "hey," she offers.

There is a pause.

"I... umm.. really need to talk to you."

[Keith Sommers] The moon is waning. The tidal pull on the force that, quite simply, has Changed his life and touched his mind (oh, but he's a Silver Fang Prince: of course it Changed him; of course he is tied to Lunacy) is ebbing. This does not mean that Keith is a comfortable person to be around. The air around him is tense, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to break, for somebody to slip. He flexes his fingers, idly.

The last time he saw Lonna he almost beat one of his kinswomen. The last time he saw Lonna the moon was overbrimming with fullness and she was clinging to his neck and pressing her mouth against his. The time before, he danced her into an ambulance. His mouth quirks, and it's sardonic as all hell.

"Right," he says. The Royal Pain Himself.

[Lonna Larson] "I'm sorry," she offers.

She looksa t him, and it's the first thing that comes out of her mouth. The last time she saw him, she was trying to distract him, she knew what his lips tasted like long before she knew what his favorite color was, or even that he was a Silver Fang.

There had been quiet horror in that realization. A three-day stomach ache and nerves that were so on-edge that the Child of Gaia was unsure of what to do with herself. She regarded Keith again, and her expression was quiet and genuine. He's sardonic, and she's apologetic.

"I didn't mean to... you know... disrespect you... or.. your tribe... or... anything like that."

[Keith Sommers] Percept Empathy whuuut?
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Keith Sommers] (AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! LOOK AT THAT!!!!!)

[Keith Sommers] His eyebrows draw together, and his gaze is touched by (what else?) confusion. Lonna perplexes Keith, and Keith, in a rare moment of insight, looks the kinwoman (he doesn't know what her tribe is) over carefully. He notices things. He notices a lot.

"Apology accepted." A beat. Then, he cracks a crooked grin, and both of his eyebrows go way, way, way up. He's an expressive creature, Keith. "Just what did you mean to do?" Even as he asks, his mood sinks downward a little. He wasn't proud (of that). "And who was your friend?" Moira, he means. The Get of Fenris, who'd also, at some point, been standing around his table. He remembers through the haze that there were three attractive kinswomen -- no, four! let's not forget the Fianna -- all there to witness his lapse in judgment.

Temper, temper.

[Lonna Larson] "Distract you enough that you forgot what you were angry about in the first place," she says.

She shrugs a little, and slips her hands into her jacket pockets. She is careful with herself, and instead looks up at the sky as though it would offer her some kind of insight. Breath disappears into the air, and a haze seems content to settle into the area. It's almost picturesque.

"And her name's Moira," she says, "the guy's name was Temple."

[Keith Sommers] "Yeah, well." He huffs. "It worked." He glances down the street, and then brings his direct gaze back to Lonna. Back to Lonna's. "But it was stupid. Next time, don't try to help." That sounded harsh. He couldn't help it -- or, rather, he could. But that would require work. That would require him to gentle his voice, not to decree it shall be so the way he just did; it would require him to be a little less noblesse without the oblige. "I don't even know what tribe you belong to," he says, after a silent (tense) moment. He chuckles. "I thought you were just some stupid human chick." Well, he thought she was maybe wyrm, too, but he's not going to tell her that part.

[Lonna Larson] "Child of Gaia," she tells him, "my dad was a philodox."

She isn't sure why she tells him that, but instead she finds the quarter interesting again. She looks at the well and tosses it in. She misses and, instead, her quarter bounces off into the section for long life. She looked at it for a second and looked back at him.

"Only stupid human chicks come too close when there's trouble?"

[Keith Sommers] "Oh, of course," and he's thinking of Genevre. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to think about that. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and Keith is dressed nicely. He always dresses nicely, unless he's specifically in a tough part of town. The coat is tailored, but simple, and it gives him elegant lines. He wears it simply, too. He just put his hands in his pockets, but he takes one out to run through his hair, silver glints caught out by the light, oh, catch him out: go ahead. It's easy. "But I mean. I thought you were addicted to the thrill. Or something. Uh," hey, check out Mr. Eloquence. "Addicted to feeling scared." He eyes Lonna, sidelong again. Then he offers this: "Are you doing okay?"

[Lonna Larson] [Do you really wanna lie to him?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 8)

[Lonna Larson] "... there's something about that sort of intensity that has an allure. And... this is going to sound stupid, but... there is a rush, something that's simultaneously comforting and terrifying about it. Safe and dangerous all at once," she told him.

The blonde regards him, and she tries to come up with something to say. He asks if she's alright, and what wants to come out of her mouth is a lie. Something elegant and easy that one told their friends so that they don't worry. The kind of thing that she told Liadan when she first saw her. Her eyes water slightly, and she tries to keep some kind of composure.

"I-" and it's as far as she gets before she starts crying, "my warders are dead, and I went out with my friend and we were just driving and there was this guy who looked like he needed help so we pulled over and-and-and I'm so stupid-"

She choked out half a sob, but didn't stop talking "-and I remember wishing she'd just get back in the car and drive... and everything hurt... and when I woke up-and-and-... they needed other kin..."

She wipes her eyes quickly, enough that she half smudged her makeup.

"And I miss Evan..."

[Lonna Larson] And she just kept crying.

[Keith Sommers] Now she's crying.
Of course she is.

Helena would be finding this hilarious. Keith can almost imagine the galliard's mocking comment now. It makes him smile, a little. (A rake's smile, though -- too easy, too sharp.) Not that he thinks Lonna crying is funny! He doesn't. He's alarmed, and also wondering whether or not she's bipolar or something. Insane, maybe. He'd snap his teeth at the word, if he weren't so focused on the crying girl. He cocks his head, scratches behind one ear. There's noone around to see, so he reaches out and pulls Lonna into a onearmed hug. "There, there," he says.

Wait. "Wait. Everything hurt? They needed other kin?"

[Lonna Larson] "Spirals can't breed on their own, they could but-but they'd all die out, and when you run out of breeding stock you have to go find some," She leans a little into the hug. The sort of half assed-sort of thing.

"And... and I keep thinking about it, and it wasn't... I mean.. I'm okay and... but," and this, ladies and gentlemen, is where she proves that she's a bleeding heart Child of Gaia. She regards him, and finds herself thinking about things like morality and the well-being of others, "how could... how long could that have been going on? Wouldn't someone notice people missing? What happened to whoever else passed through there?"

[Keith Sommers] Lonna leans a little into the hug and Keith strokes her hair. There there. There there. There the- But then his hand stills. For a second, his hand is crushing, his strength is -- just for a second -- intense. But he doesn't hurt her, because he is in control of himself, and that moment -- that second -- was really just the outward manifestation of surprise. A shock of adrenaline, a dilation of the pupils, so dark they're black as winterice. Spirals, she says, needed other kin. And Keith, frowning, says, "People go missing all the time. Nobody notices. We don't even notice. There's too much of all that. What did they do to you? I mean," and he frowns, again. "Did they already know you? Or were you just unlucky?" Keith, Keith ... A beautiful woman is sobbing in your arms, and you're trying to probe her trauma?

[Lonna Larson] He tries. She knows he tries. The blonde leans a little into it, and her hair is soft and her posture straight. For a second the gesture is comforting, and would be lost on her. But, for a split moment his strength is almost frightening, and the rabbit inhales sharply. Lacking the necessary self-preservation instinct, she doesn't run.

"I was out with my friend, and.. she's Fenrir kin, and noticably so... so... I guess they figured..." she shrugs, and he lets a half hearted shrug come, and for a second tears pull down to a minor trickle, "I'm just unlucky, I guess."

She takes a second to bend her neck forward a little, and pulls the collar of her shirt to the side enough to reveal some particularly nasty bruising. She adjusts herself again after a second. What did they do to you?

"That."

She pauses.

"We got help, things didn't.. get that far.."

[Keith Sommers] "Jesus," he says. And then, "I'm sorry."

There's a moment silence. He is aware of how inadequate an apology is. Didn't Lonna apologize to him tonight? He already doesn't remember, or brushes it off, or... Lonna didn't do anything that an apology was necessary for. Not to him. He doesn't know that she was in agonies over it. He doesn't know that she went to Kate and apologized to her, too. For disrespecting their tribe.

(Royalty.)

What he doesn't know could fill a book. But so could what he does know. "But you got help? Good." A pause, and then, a lopsided sort've smile. "We should go dancing, if you think you're well enough to manage it without a collapse."

[Lonna Larson] "I've eaten today," she announces, as though this makes all the difference.

It does make all the difference, actually. It had made all the difference the first time that they met. But she remembers that, and something about it made her smile. She is a woman who has done many things. Who has kissed royalty and not had it taken out of her hide.

She's one of the few women, or people in general, who seemed to use the phrase you're a Silver Fang as something indicative of being royal instead of deranged. Reverence, in a strange way, but neither here nor there.

"We should go dancing," she announces.

[Keith Sommers] He stared at his hands. They were bloody. They'd been bloody before, but usually, in truth, the blood was dripping from claws; from talons. They weren't usually bloody, not like this, not in this shape, and as the Monster subsided again -- retreated, a dull roar, an echoing in his head, hammer, hammer, hammer -- Keith's eyes widened in horror. He looked from his hands, to Lonna. From Lonna, to his hands. To what was left of Lonna. "Wake up," he shouted. Commanded. He was a FANG, and she WOULD listen, she --

[Keith Sommers] (( LMAO OH FUCK. *sweeps that PM under the rug* ))

[Katherine Bellamonte] (*points and GASPS*)

[Keith Sommers] They're by the wishing well. They've both tossed coins over their shoulders, and those coins have both landed in the bucket with the writing for Long Life. The wishing well has a sense of humor, and is also a liar. Lonna, judging from her taletelling today, is about as likely to live long as Keith is. But look, she is no longer crying, and Keith smiles (hopefully) lopsidedly. "Then let's go." He spreads his arms, wide. Magnanimous, the young prince. Oh, Lonna, with your reverencing: he'll just take it as his due. As they all will. Take, and take, and take. "Let's go right now."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Go where?"

Lukas and Kate, entering stage left: the tall Shadow Lord with a steaming cup of ... well, it's actually hot chocolate, but it looks like coffee. Both of them are bundled up against the cold: the Ahroun in a wool overcoat that falls past his knees and gloves and a flat cap, a white brushed-wool scarf the only non-black article of clothing visible. With the brim of his cap low over his eyes, the angles of his face are accentuated; so too, oddly, is his surprisingly personable smile.

"Hi, Lonna," he greets them then, gently playful, "and you too, young sir, Mr. Sommers."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (ok, i declare chilltank defunct. we shall proceed chill-lessly.)

[Keith Sommers] Keith meets Lukas' eyes. No he doesn't. Lukas' cap is pulled low. But Keith swings his head in the Unbroken packmates' direction. His arms are still spread (hail, for I am your savior!). He drops them, after a heartbeat, and a smile flickers into place. "We're going dancing. And this time? Lonna has promised that she's not going to faint. You guys want to come?" He's energy, now. See it? He's restrained (barely) energy. He doesn't quite look at Kate. Perhaps he's still remembering that cuff? Perhaps he's trying not to remember it. Either way.

(( *jumps post order* ))
(( also, the chilltank just died i think, totally and completely, LOL))

[Lonna Larson] She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist and offered Keith half a smile. "I look like shit," she announces.

No, actually, she doesn't look like shit. Her hair wasn't a mess, her makeup wasn't too bad, everything that she wanted covered was covered, and her fingertips weren't daring to freeze off. By and large, Lonna Larson looked pretty damned good. It was her default.

And stage left, two new actors enter. They cross to stage center, and neither of them block out. It's the first time she's seen Lukas playful. In fact, it's the first time she's seen Lukas not delivering horrible news or looking incredibly intense about something. By and large, this was a surprise, and her expression- with brows raised and eyes wide for a split second, indicated as such.

"Hi, Lukas," (she secretly hopes she got his name right. No, not so secretly hopes) "evening Miss Bellamonte."

Because her name is not Katherine. It's Miss Bellamonte.

"And yes, we're going dancing. I'm trying my best to keep my word."

No fainting. She promises nothing.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine also carries a hot beverage in her gloved hands but her own is darker in appearance and taste than the Ahroun's; dark chocolate with a dash of white mixed into it. In a startling contrast to the man beside her, the young Half Moon is dressed entirely in white, a knitted cap tugged down over her immaculate waves, and her fingers housed in the only splash of black on her person; leather gloves.

Unlike Lukas, Kate did not smile (she had been doing so less and less of late, her stern demeanor not lessening the creature's outward beauty but keeping it somehow isolated; frosty as the weather) but rather remained a silent fixture at the Shadow Lord's side; her pale eyes traveled from Savage Dawn to the tear-stained cheeks of the Gaian Kinswoman she'd spoken to before the Moot.

The moon was Waning, and Truth's Meridian felt her moon approaching; it prickled her skin like the kiss of a snowflake against hot flesh.

[Katherine Bellamonte] As she's greeted, her chin lifts, she nods at Lonna; Keith.

"Evening to you both," she said softly, in her young girl's voice; it was so odd to imagine that the owner of that voice sprouted fur and claw and ripped things apart until they bled.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The two packmates are an arresting pair in dark and light. There have been jokes made within and without the pack. Katherine's been called Her Majesty, a virgin queen, the white queen. Sam used to think of himself and Lukas -- when he wasn't thinking of them as Superman and Batman, or whatever else his comicbook mythology implied -- as the white and black knights of the pack. It's hard not to note that every one of the pack has pale blue eyes right now. It's also been noted that most of them are wellbred, and every last one of them is, quite frankly, rather beautiful.

It's hard not to feel just a little underwhelming in their presence. Though that's not, one suspects, something Keith will have trouble with.

And for what it's worth, at least one of the pair looks affable tonight, smiling, a charming savage in a fine coat. Lonna gets Lukas's name right -- so far as the spelling goes, anyway. She doesn't get the emphasis right, nor the long a, nor the aspirated s; but then, outside of a very small number of native Czech speaks in this country, not many people have gotten that right in his entire life.

So he forgives her. And he gives her a long, piercing look -- piercing, because that's the color of his eyes, and he can't help it any more than she can help the bland americanization of his name.

"You all right, Lonna?" Lightly enough, that. And then he glances at his packmate, eyebrows up in silent question, before looking back. "Sure, why not."

[Keith Sommers] You all right, Lonna, Lukas asks, and Keith shakes his head -- faintly, almost imperceptibly. The young man (oh, no) doesn't look at her. He doesn't look at her in a way that is Very Very Obvious. He doesn't look at her, and oh, his shoulders've gone slightly tenser, as if. Well, as if something.

"How are you, Katherine?" Lo! Polite deference. Sure, why not, Lukas says, and Keith rubs his hands together. His breath steams. "Excellent." A pause, and then, "Does anybody have any suggestions? That club last time," this is to Lonna, who he turns to face more directly. "I just found it by sheer chance."

[Lonna Larson] She didn't call him Daniel. Or Stephen. For the most part, she got it right, and it was as close as she could get without being intimately familiar with the Czech language. The woman did beautiful things with Gaelic, but that had taken years of practice. Alas, Lukas might not live long enough for Lonna to be able to pronounce his name correctly.

But, instead of trying to lie and say that she was fine, she simplifies things and takes the honest route with the Lord. "I had a horrible weekend," she admits. It is the understatement of the year.

In comparison to her company, she is nothing outwardly special. Not well bred, no notable parentage to speak of. Just a pretty, pretty blonde with pretty, pretty curls who looked like a very good dream.

Attention back to Keith, and she shrugs, "I don't know anywhere on this side of town. I heard there was a place a few blocks from here, but I wouldn't be sure that.. you know... you wouldn't end up getting stabbed on the dance floor if you aren't careful."

[Katherine Bellamonte] How are you, Katherine?

Her lips quirk faintly, her amusement rising in tandem with the sudden light in her blue eyes at the question. She raises her steaming cup of chocolate to her lips and sips from it, the liquid staining red, red lips for an instant before a pink tongue licks away the traces and she lifts a shoulder in a very light, unassuming manner. "I am quite well, Keith, I thank you."

Lonna's been crying, and it is to her that the Royalist's eyes tick toward as suggestions are made over where they should go, and the Silver Fang chimes in with: "I know of a place not far from here, it is somewhat more ... refined in terms of whom it admits but I know the owner, he would let us through on my word. It's called Spiral."

A little laugh there; silvery and playful all of a sudden.

"Don't take the name too much to heart, though."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'm sorry to hear that," Lukas replies. He means it. The matter also ends there for him. Lonna isn't his kin

Lukas laughs under his breath. "I don't think we'll have any trouble with getting stabbed on the dance floor." He sips hot chocolate, then nods at the street ahead. "Lead the way."

Lonna or Katherine. He doesn't appear to have a preference.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Spiral was a Nightclub located on the outskirts of Chinatown and had stuck to the theme when it had come to designing the outside of the venue, at the very least. A gigantic dragon's head was propped above green and gold lights fitted beneath it above heavy double doors; a pair of bouncers stood before them; arms crossed over their chests, sunglasses on despite the hour.

From inside the venue came the muted but steady thrum of bass and a long line of revelers stood weaving their way down the block, awaiting the moment when the red tape was drawn back and they were admitted within. The Silver Fang leading the way in her knee-high white boots did not stop when protesting girls in the line yelled their objections at her as she by-passed them and stepped up the stairs to lean across the red tape and and speak into the ear of Bouncer A.

She murmured a few things, and the Bouncer pressed a hand to an earpiece fitted into his left lobe, a wire spiraled down beneath the man's jacket, and there was a sharp burst of static as a response was given, and he jerked his head in the positive at his co-worker. They unhooked the barrier, and waved the Philodox's party through.

"Hey, NO FAIR!"
"Think she's famous?"
"I been waiting an HOUR!"

The shouts died away as they entered into a darker establishment, divided into levels. The first floor was mostly comprised of dance-floor and room-length bar; above them on all sides were a second level of seating; red sofas scattered around the complex, offering a balcony view of the dance floor beneath it. Katherine pointed toward the stairwell, and made a bee-line toward the metallic stairwell.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas doesn't look too impressed with the way Katherine gets them in, if only because he's, well, used to it. Rolling with Fangs has its advantages, after all.

Keith was here to dance. The young Fang breaks off from the group and hits the floor. They get glimpses of him out there as the rest of the group heads for the stairwell, Lukas hanging back to motion Lonna up ahead of him. He brings up the rear, undoing his overcoat as he goes, unwinding his scarf, shedding his hat and his gloves.

There are empty sofas up there, but none in prime spots. Not a problem. Lukas's grin is lopsided as he leans down to murmur -- or rather shout, though it comes through as a murmur -- in Lonna's ear:

"Watch this."

[Theron Locke] Theron was sick of sitting at the Brotherhood, he was tired of keeping a low profile after the events of several nights before. He had sent a message out via totemphone enquiring what people were upto. He had received a few mumbles, but Lukas and Kate had replied about some nightclub. So he was out the front when they arrived, he greeted Lukas and gave Kate a curt nod.

He had followed them inside . Trying not to draw much attention to himself he moved through the large gathering of people. Eventually though he had slid Lonna a small smile in greeting, but seemed to not take it much further for the minute.

[Lonna Larson] The question of whose kin Lonna was happened to be a difficult one. She was a penny- ubiquitous. She's passed through so many hands that, for awhile, her actual value was doubted. The copper was worth more than the actual coin, no matter how tarnished it got. Either way, it didn't matter her value, metaphorical or otherwise, because she was in someone else's purse. And that someone had VIP access.

Lonna Larson didn't normally get into these places unless she was attached to someone's arm.

Supernaturally so, she paled in comparison to her company, but on a mundane level, Lonna gorgeous. It's up the stairs with her, making up park of Katherine Bellamonte's entourage of pretty, pretty people. Theron gets a smile and a little bit of a wave.

Watch this, Lukas syas. And she perks up and, with curiosity that shouldn't belong to her, and a half of a grin, she watches. She's not sure what she's watching, but she watches.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Beneath her winter's coat and gloves, Katherine is wearing a modest, yet appealing long-sleeved dress in palest pink, cut to just above her knee with a V-neck that revealed the tiniest of glimpses of the curve of her chest and finished at her elbow, leaving her lower arms free but for a small wristwatch that loosely hung from her left wrist.

It wasn't a question of whether or not eyes followed the Silver Fang as she reached the top of the stairs and crossed toward the lounge chairs affording the best view -- it was a question of how many did, how many watched the frontal and rear attributes on display as she reached her destination and leaned in to the gaggle of half-drunk office girls out for a fun time.

Only Lukas can overhear her words, feel the unspoken menace beneath that sugar and spice voice: "Move. You're in my reserved seating."

The women exchanged startled glances, a flustered choir of chickens in a disturbed roost, they began to cluck at her: "But I didn't think there was reserved seating here?"

Katherine stared.

"...okay."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas laughs aloud, a single ha!, as the office girls gather their things and wobble to their feet. His coat over his arm by now, the Shadow Lord stands aside, smiling politely at the ladies as they take their leave.

Only one of them manages to meet his eye. And not for very long.

Then he's tossing his coat over the back of a recently-vacated sofa, scarf and gloves tucked into a pocket. The newsboy cap he sets atop the coat, running his hand through his hair to unflatten it from under his hat. Then he pulls his thin sweater off as well, leaving himself in dark-wash jeans and, as it turns out, a casual blue-and-grey striped buttondown, slightly and deliberately rumpled.

Lukas's ancestors ruled from mountaintops and cliffsides, in stone halls and rock caves: blackfurred monsters with white teeth and vengeful memories. For all that history, he's startlingly urrah -- accustomed to living it up on the town. He flops down on the couch and stretches out, slinging one arm over the low back, lookng around to see who was still on their feet.

"If someone else wants to get the drinks," he says, "I'll pay for this round."

[Theron Locke] Theron the last one to arrive, and still on his feet "Yeah I'll go.". His eyes were scanning the crowd as if looking for someone, but when they didn't find their target they returned back to the group in front of him.

His black jacket was removed and placed on the back of a spare chair, revealing a lithe body so unlike the Ahroun - his Alpha. "Anything particular you want Lukas" he asked, then took orders from the rest of the group.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas shifts his weight to one side, getting his wallet out and handing Theron his trusty AmEx card. The name stamped on the bottom reads LUKAS KVASNICKA.

"Just get me a double of Glenlivet, neat." No fluorescent-blue drinks for him tonight, apparently. "Kate? Lonna?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine liked cocktails; her favorite was a martini, with plenty of olives in it for her to stir and slowly pluck off the toothpick, one by one. This is what she orders tonight from the Theurge, her pale eyes meeting his darker for a brief moment of sharp interrogation, perusal as if the female Garou were hunting his form for something; some tell-tale sign.

It is most almost certain that their Alpha knows of what had passed between the pair in an alleyway, that Lukas was aware that the strain that kept Truth's Meridian mostly quiet tonight had much to do with the repercussions of that same revelation from her new ward. Tense was not an unsuitable definition for Miss Bellamonte's state of being this night, even the manner she placed herself on the sofa, legs crossed and body turned so that she could keep an eye on the dance-floor below them spoke of her avid awareness of everything and everyone about her.

When Theron has departed to fetch the drinks, Katherine, a hand idly tousling through her thick waves of hair turns to regard Lonna. She has not forgotten their last conversation, and her lips discover a smile as she remarks casually: "I see you have made your peace with my Cousin, Lonna."

Silver Fangs often used the term for their tribalmates. Most everyone seemed to be a cousin, or a sister, a niece, a nephew -- someone whose blood tied back to theirs, eventually.

[Lonna Larson] She thinks about this. Lonna is trying to figure out what she wants to drink, and instead of ordering something nice and pretty and sophisticated, she orders.

"May I have an amaretto sour, please and thank you?"

Possibly the girliest drink known to humanity. Something that would, as she had been told once, knock her on her ass without having to feel it. Lonna wasn't thinking about Isaac right now, though.

[Theron Locke] Theron shifted uncomfortably as he felt the icy cold eyes of Kate fall upon him. She would have to be satisfied though, that Theron had at least not scene her kinswoman since they had parted company last night. It had not been out of choice....it was out of necessity

"Martini, Amaretto Sour....double of Glenlivet... got it' he answers as he pockets the Amex card and proceeds towards the bar.

[Lonna Larson] Did she make piece with Kate's cousin.

"Well, Miss Bellamonte, he didn't seem particularly phased," and, by the sound of her voice, that seemed to surprise her. She paused for a moment, then spoke up, "which was kind of a relief, I suppose."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, curious: "Was there peace to be made?"

[Lonna Larson] Lonna's cheeks turn bright pink in response and, instead, she decides to get herself out of her coat and what-have-you. She dresses nicely, or as nicely as finances can afford. Though, admittedly, when one has curves like hers they shouldn't dress as conservatively as she was at that moment.

This also said, Lonna Larson did not make a habit of keeping well-covered.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas rather automatically gets to his feet, holding Lonna's coat as she slides out of it. His eyes flick from Katherine to Lonna; his bemusement has a touch of humor to it, as though he were waiting for the punchline to a joke that everyone else seems to have already intuited.

"What am I missing here?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Mm," Katherine; amused. "No, as I said to you previously, I believe he was simply startled by your methods of keeping the peace." She fiddles with one of her drop earrings as Lukas fishes for the information to make sense of the Kingirl's blush, Katherine's continuing smiles.

"Miss Larson here put a rather, well, intimate halt to Keith's temper toward Genevre the other day in a cafe. She kissed the boy, and distracted him from making a very bad decision."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Across the totem-link, she goes on: Genevre provoked him, he lost his temper and intended to strike her. I intervened, as did Lonna and dragged Savage Dawn outside for a dressing down on his actions.

[Lonna Larson] "And we've established that it was a bad idea and I didn't know who was going to do anything and-" she exhales and is still blushing.

"Next time, leave the situation diffusing to professionals."

A pause. She didn't need to say that she felt bad about it. Given her reputation, it was a strange thing to be upset about doing.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas bites back a burst of hilarity; perhaps in the darkness they can't tell. Instead, as Theron returns from the bar, he reaches out to accept his drink and his credit card with a thank-you.

His only comment, "Genevre is a handful, isn't she?"

-- or rather, that's his only verbal comment. Across the totemlink he continues, You need to sit that kin down and spell it out for her, Kate. She'll be nothing but trouble for you otherwise.

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Elle est la nouvelle épine dans mon côté," Katherine murmurs back beneath her breath as her drink arrived and she cradled it in her hands, idly stirring the olives about it. Her fair brows knitted together as she seems to focus on something in the distance. Experience with their kind would note it was the expression many adopted when conversing with their pack-mates.

I have tried, Lukas. I have spelled, I have laid it out, I have all but hired a sky writer to inform her, she believes that her position as the daughter of a King gives her leave to do as she wishes, despite my informing her that is does nothing but the contrary.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (irk, it, not is.)

[Lonna Larson] Lonna Larson was a smart woman, and an observant one. She does catch that Lukas is trying not to laugh, brows raise and she lets a half grin cross her face. Instead, the blonde takes a drink and thanks Theron. The conversation switches languages and enters a realm that she can't quite understand. So, instead, she's content to drink and debate with herself.

[Theron Locke] Theron returns and a small statement is directed his way verbally.. then it is added too. A small flicker of...pain crosses his eyes..he goes to respond but fails to find the words. His mind running through a series of thoughts, looking ever so briefly at Lonna "I'm beginning to think nearly all kin are."

He was aching to add his two cents to the conversation, but it wasn't the time or place. He doubted that his pack-sister was ready to listen either. So for now he just noded in response to the thankyou's he received and then found his seat. His face turning to look out over the other club goers.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (they're all convened at a nightclub, CC if you wanna bring Eddie in! Sitting on the second level. First floor is dancefloor and bar.)
to Edward Bellamonte, Lonna Larson, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Theron Locke

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's mindvoice betrays his impatience with the subject: She may be the daughter of a King but you're the chosen of Falcon. And the tribal elder in this city, which is the city she's chosen to reside in. If she doesn't want to do as you say, she can move. Or go home to Daddy.

[Katherine Bellamonte] If she doesn't do as I say, Katherine returns a might sharper than before, I'll be sending her home to her father with a penned note of every infraction she's committed since arriving and you know I am nothing if not a sucker for detail.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas abruptly bursts into laughter, so suddenly that he coughs on his sip of scotch.

"So Lonna," he diverts the conversation, "forgive me for prying, but what's the story with you and Edwin? Last week at the moot both he and Joey were rather keen on warding you."

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward . . . generally only does nightclubs if there's a game room involved. And maybe there was, at some point, but he's trying for something akin to responsible, to wearing his big boy pants. Just because he'd done what he had to do didn't make the way he did it right, after all. His presence over the totemphone, since re-pledging, has been scarce at best. Now, there's something akin to amusement, and it spells a nightclub, really? and Edward's close, and coming closer. It's not long before he's topping the stairs and moving towards their table.

"Bonjour," he says as he pulls up a chair next to Kate (or near her, anyway), and his smile, while there, bears little resemblance to the bright, open thing he'd once worn. It's not much, but he's out of the loft (the times he's left since returning can be counted on one hand) and speaking to people. It's a start, and a Good Thing. Now, he plays catch up with what he hasn't gotten over the pack intercom, as it were.

[Lonna Larson] "Well," she starts. And all good stories begin with stalling to find words, "Edwin's... well... we have a lot in common. I... we're friends. We have a lot of the same priorities, it seems. I used to..."

At this moment, she was trying to figure something out. There was a blush on her cheeks again, but something more spurred on by nostalgia than anything else.

"I used to be friends with one of this old packmates. We were close, he was kind of the reason I decided to come to Chicago... as it turns out, said packmate is dead and... well, I suppose that could be a contributing factor."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Edward seats himself beside his sister and she turns a face suddenly aglow upon him; as if lit subtly from beneath her very skin. She seems to soften, the Philodox, as soon as her brother's presence makes itself known across the link. Katherine's mental projection of pleasure such that he could almost feel her greedy fingers tracing outwards over the club in search of him.

Demanding he be closer already.

When he seats himself, a flood of delighted french trips lightly from his sister's tongue, she leans in to briefly tug at a lock of darker hair before reclaiming her drink. "Did you win or lose tonight, my brother?" She teases.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Truth be told, Lukas has trouble focusing on what Lonna's saying. If she knew the history between the Ahroun and the Ragabash who's come to join them, though, perhaps she would forgive him.

There's something a little familiar about this. The bass, the booze, the Bellamontes and Lukas in an exclusive club somewhere. Once upon a time, when they were younger and a little less concerned about their responsibilities and duties, the pack used to go out like this all the time. Hit up some club in Boston or NYC. Take over a couch, a sofa, a cluster of armchairs, a VIP booth. Carouse all night. Party. Live the good life, because they were young and damn near immortal... except of course they weren't, and they had duties and responsibilities, and sooner or later they grew up.

Or most of them did.

"Ed," Lukas says, and while there's surprise there, and perhaps a little concern, there's no shame at all in the way he looks at the man he would've once called his best friend. Before he and his best friend's sister conspired to take Alphaship from him, anyway. "Hey."

The rest is totemic, and give him this much: the concern is genuine. How have you been?

[Edward Bellamonte] He's actually dressed well - the sweats that cause his sister to twitch have been left at home. The suit is well tailored but artfully rumpled, his hair mussed, his tie undone. He almost looks like him old self.

Almost.

He's still too thin, but his cheeks are already filling back out a bit - eating regularly will do that to a person, it must be said. "Lukas. Good to see you," he says, and it's genuine even if it does lack the smile that they're all (well, Lukas and Kate) used to seeing. He's even less ready for that than he is to be out and about, really, though there's a definite sense of relaxation and right as he joins his packmates.

He, more than most, doesn't deal well without them.

I've been better, frankly. But there are more interesting things to speak of than that. At leas he doesn't say 'I'm fine' when it's obvious he isn't really.

[peek] (Going to grab coffee and switch to an IC hat)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (I'm still here -- AIM just crapped)

[Katherine Bellamonte] (I noticed! It's like an exodus on AIM right now)

[Edward Bellamonte] (.....mine too.)

[Eleanor Courtenay] (ugh...same here)

[Theron Locke] Theron watched the new arrival and offered him a polite nod in greeting "I guess your Ed...nice to finally make your acquintance. Rather than just hearing your sister scream." a small smile is given.

"Unfortunately I don't think I'm that good a company tonight. So I'll take my leave of you all. Thanks for the invite out anyway Lukas...I'll speak to you later"

"Kate..Edward..Lonna." he tips his head as he stands , turns and begins to head towards the nightclub doors.

[Theron Locke] ((Looks like AIM auth servers died.. just reconnected just then))

[Edward Bellamonte] (One of my accounts is working, the other isn't. So weird.)

[Lonna Larson] She gives a bit of a nod and a polite smile, "keep safe, okay?"

It was a valid statement for Lonna Larson to make. Given her track record, it made sense

[Theron Locke] Theron stops and turns and offers Lonna a genuine smile , it was the first one he had managed since he arrived "Only if you do" and with that he continues on.

[Edward Bellamonte] "....." Edward is noticeably biting his tongue - but he controls his mouth like a good boy, at least for the moment. "And you're Theron. Good to meet you, and enjoy the rest of your . . . is it night or morning now?" There's a wry smile, and then an earlier question answered. "Won. I always win."

At cards, anyway.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (AIM's been crap all night >:!)

Lukas gives Edward a long searching look at that, but says nothing more on the subject. For now, at any rate.

"See you, Theron," Lukas says as the Theurge takes his leave. When he's gone, he says for Edward's benefit, "Our new Crescent-Moon. Of my tribe. And this is Lonna Larson; have you met? She's one of Unicorn's."

[Eleanor Courtenay] Fate had a funny way of manipulating things. Situations. People. She'd find the irony in that later. Now, the kin to Silver Fangs is skating past the main entrance after flashing a very good fake ID to the burly, wide shouldered door man. There's an obvious lack of braces and knobby knees this evening. Ellie's thin frame is draped classically in a dark silk shirt that hangs with a threat of suggestion off one slim shoulder. It is too cold in her opinion to wear anything but a fashionable pair of black pants that almost look leather and fit snug against a pair of legs that seem to go on forever.

Once again, her hair falls freely in pale brown waves to just above the bend of her knees. It is long and thick and lustrous against the darkness of her clothing. She is not alone tonight. There's a boy and two girls with her, and as the trio start to make a push for the bar and the liquid courage behind it, Ellie's eyes are squinting against the flashing then dimming lights searching for, maybe, a table.

[Theron Locke] ((okay guys that's me out... thanks for the scene..sorry I was so sparse ))

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine is studying her elder brother's wardrobe choices for the evening with a frown. She does not go so far as to lean over and fuss with the collar, to adjust as she sees fit but rather makes a brief tut as he greets the others and takes one of the olives from the stem in her martini and chews it, her voice joining in the totem-phonic discussion of his current state of health.

You are still far too thin, and I am making a note to include more red meat in your meals.

Theron excuses himself, and the Half Moon's pale eyes watch him depart, she nods briefly at the Theurge before her attention strays back to the Gaian Kin still seated with them. Beside her brother, the Bellamonte ancestry seems all the more reinforced, both Katherine and her brother bore the same proud noses, the same high cheekbones and that aura of the just; of the privileged and the Royal.

Bred to rule.
Destined to lead.

The remark about her screaming, and her brother's expression of innocence draw a vague scowl, and she leans over and lightly doffs the back of the Ragabash's head. "La terreur d'un frère," she murmurs and then Katherine's head is turning to inspect the wide expanse of the dance-floor beneath them as if something had caught and held her notice.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (gonna be slowish, folks, STing!)

[Edward Bellamonte] I've hardly been avoiding food, you. I'll be fine. Not is, but will be - there's a difference, even if he's not as firm on the latter statement as he should be and there's dark in his eyes where once, there'd been little but light regardless of what happened.

Theron leaves, and Edward shrugs; they'll speak later, he's sure. Then Lukas is introducing Lonna, who gets a charming nod of his head, and a quirked up half-smile. "It's a pleasure, Miss Larson, and one that I haven't had yet, no." He offers a hand for a shake, and he is, in some ways, the closest to human a Garou's likely to come. "I'm Edward." Ed is reserved for packmates and other people he knows well, and Eddie is the sole purview of sisters and mother. And then Kate's attention is caught, and his eyes follow hers to land on long legs and longer hair.

"Nora's here." The 'Knobby Knees' is dropped for now, and no longer apt anyway.

[Lonna Larson] "It's nice to meet you, Edward," she tells him. The blonde takes his hand and gives it a shake. She's normally a more confident sort, but for today all she has to rely on are the drink and the sheer desire to seem put together. She is nothing if not personable.

[Edward Bellamonte] (Showering really, really quick. Back in 10!)

[Eleanor Courtenay] The trio return to the long haired young woman, frilly drink in hand. The way that Ellie drinks it is the way that someone in need of a little shoring up of their foundations would drink. There's a shared laugh as the two girls with Eleanor drag the male with them off to the dance floor - she herself having begged them off. Eyes rimmed in smoky shades of grey and charcoal lift up toward the second tier of the club. If she sees Edward or Katherine it shows only in the faint drawing up of one edge of her mouth.

The girl with the long legs and even longer hair disappears into a sea of bodies that moves like the ebb and flow of a tide. Soon enough she reappears at the top of the stairs, her direction undoubtedly the Bellamonte table.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (pinged you back in CotB!)
to breeze

[Edward Bellamonte] (Back! And Jacqui fell offline. Hmm.)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] ...which isn't so much a table, really, as it is a cluster of low, modernistic couches around a coffee table already littered with drinks. Most of the glasses there aren't theirs. There's lipstick at the rims, and the Garou don't look like they've been there long enough. Nor do they look drunk enough.

"Who's this Nora, anyway?" Only two of their number are Silver Fangs. The one who speaks -- the one who sits sprawled on the couch, one arm slung over its low back -- is one who would traditionally be considered a Fang's worst enemy. His eyes are pale blue and his hair is black. Every inch of him breathes Shadow Lord.

Or would, to one who could sense such things.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Her family has an estate that borders on Mother's, in France," Edward says, and gives the girl a nod - she may approach, it says. "Eleanor Courtenay. About Gabbie's age? Maybe a bit younger. She's here for university, and has taken an apartment near the loft."

He smiles for her - and adjusts his sprawl on the couch next to Kate so that there's room for his kinswoman to sit as well - but the smile doesn't meet the eyes darkened by whatever he's been through in the months he was gone. He'd been in France surely enough, but that sort of look doesn't come about one who frittered away months at blackjack tables.

"Eleanor, this is Lukas. Lukas, Eleanor."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's eyes flick up to the Fang kin as she comes within earshot. The Shadow Lord stands; a flicker of manners that he surely didn't learn lounging around clubs like these.

"Eleanor." His hand is strong, warmer than a human's would be. He grips firmly, though not cruelly, and his smile is genuine. "Good to meet you."

Seating himself again, "Did you come over with Ed, or is this a chance meeting in Chicago?"

[Eleanor Courtenay] Eleanor would never be considered Garou. Her breeding is as exquisitely fine as any aged French wine - and as heady. Her blood sings with the deeds and deaths of heroes long since perished and remembered only in songs and tales around campfires on sacred grounds. To men, she's simply a beautiful young woman. To Garou she's much more.

Her own eyes are blue, though they lack the icy coolness that fills Lukas's. Instead, hers brim with both wonder and curiosity. The bareness of her shoulder is pale and is obscured only by the softness of extraordinarily long hair. The Shadow Lord sprawls like a big cat, relaxed and sure. Her eyes focus on him first before lowering as he stands. His hand envelops her smaller, cooler one and she nods. "It is nice to meet you Lukas." Her voice bears the faintest hint of a washed out accent from the South of France.

When Edward adjusts his position to afford her seating, Ellie edges onto the couch. Her drink - half empty - is sat on the table and her hands gather her hair so she doesn't sit on it.

"No, actually I was in New York working and studying. I'm in Chicago for University...that the Bellamonte's here is a great struck of luck for me..." Blue eyes cut toward Edward before returning to Lukas. "Are you a native of this city?"

[Eleanor Courtenay] (Ahem. Should say: that the Bellamonte's are here is a great stroke of luck for me)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "No," Lukas replies with a shake of his head, laughing. "I'm was born just outside Prague, in the Czech Republic. Grew up in New York City, like Ed and Kate. That's where we met.

"Are you at the University of Chicago?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward is, for the most part, pleased to let conversation flow around him for a bit; once, younger and prone to pranks, he'd likely tied knots in Eleanor's hair. Now, he absently pets at the end of it, once, twice, testing the texture with his fingers. It's the touch of someone who'd known her once, but since has spent most of his time away, elsewhere.

"One of the gents at the table was from U of C. What a mess - I think he was gambling his tuition money."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (I'm was born? I was.)

[Eleanor Courtenay] "Yes..." It's said with a nod, her hands bringing her drink to her lips. As Edward pets her hair there's a soft redness that slowly rises at the apple of her cheeks. She does not look at the Ragabash, her eyes instead remain focused on Lukas - or as much as they can given who he is and the Rage that churns in his soul.

"I'm majoring in psychology with a minor in biology..." Her accent changes the way the words sound, even if only slightly. Edward mentions he might of met a student gambling away his tuition and she shakes her head slowly. "He'll regret that next semester..."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "My mate just started there," Lukas replies. It's likely Edward didn't even know Lukas was seeing anyone, much less mated to someone. "Give me your number, and I'll pass it on to her." A faint quirk of a smile, "Maybe you can cram together."

The totemlink opens. After so long, it must be strange for Edward to hear Lukas's voice speaking into his mind again. They used to be very close, these two; best friends, brothers. There's a distance there now -- an awkwardness of time and space that Lukas doesn't really know how to bridge.

This question, which would've been thoughtlessly teasing a year ago, bears a sort of forced cheer now -- So, am I talking to your new girlfriend here, Ed?

[Edward Bellamonte] The touch is light, and only in the last inch or two of her hair - there's old friendship there, certainly, but it lacks the awkwardness of one that had been truly close and messed by time and distance. And it is strange, that voice in his head, but not unwelcome - there is, in fact, a hint of smirk and a slight, brief lighting in his eyes that even Kate hasn't been able to bring yet. He's very close with his sisters, of course, but brothers are different.

I hadn't seen her in years, until a couple days ago. I . . . wasn't always kind to her. Edward is hard on himself - he's kind to nearly everyone, as much as he knows how to be. As much as he can be. And it's with the mental equivalent of a shrug, followed by, .....mate? So much he's missed, so much he doesn't know. And once, not so long ago, he'd been front and center.

[Edward Bellamonte] And added, a distracted afterthought, "Yes, I'd imagine he will. I won his car, but he'll find the keys in the pocket of his sport jacket." And some of the money, though Edward doesn't say that - it simply hadn't felt right, taking it all. Even if he had won it fair(-ish) and square.

[Eleanor Courtenay] "That's a wonderful idea, thank you Lukas." Edward's voice off to her side and back brings a small smile to form on her lips. "Hopefully he'll have learned a lesson." Is her reply. Edward could have been far more cruel and if he had been it's very likely she would have still thought he set the moon. Now, there's a chasm of space between the two, though the comfortableness of friendship - or at least of knowing one another - remains. Eleanor has blossomed in the last six or seven years. She isn't gangly or too tall and her body is no longer flat in all the wrong places, her mouth isn't cluttered up with bulky braces.

"I gambled once in Atlantic City on vacation." Her head turns slightly to the side, her eyes cut even further to take Edward in through her peripheral vision. "I won $100." This is said proudly, as if that $100 was $1000.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] And like that, Lukas remembers something of the rapport they had; what sort of man Edward was, and still is.

The Shadow Lord laughs under his breath. "You're too nice, Ed," he says, but there's affection in it. "He'll just lose it all again to someone else who won't give it back." And, he adds, silently, I seriously doubt your 'unkindness' amounted to much more than a passing prank.

He's getting to his feet, downing the last of his scotch. "I'm going to head out," he says, pulling on his outerwear one at a time: gloves, scarf, flat cap, sweater, overcoat. "It was nice meeting you, Eleanor."

And, as he's descending the stairs again, he answers over the totemlink, Dani&+269;ka Musil, kin to my tribe. Apparently an old acquaintance of your family in New York as well. You'll meet her sooner or later, I think.

I'll see you around, Ed. It's good to have you back.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the scene, guys, but i'ma catch a quick nap and then go to work! *LOL*)