a challenge for ray.

[Ezra Turk] *The brotherhood in the daytime was a strange place for Ezra Turk. People milled about downstairs, serving food to customers.. being customers, a frantic pace that didn't match the lazy stillness of the upper floor. Room doors were shut tight, many empty, others containing garou now resting up for a night of hunting, scouting, whatever it was these freeloading chumps did. Fingers rat-tat-tat-tat-tat along the walls of the stairwell as he makes his way to the roof, as arranged by a note earlier in the day. Ezra Turk arriving on the scene with a meandering swagger that had no right to be seen on such a physically unimpressive creature. He looked malnourished, hungry and unapologetically wicked, vulpine features breaking in a sharp toothed cheshire grin upon spotting Wyrm-Breaker. Fingers are wiggled in greeting as the theurge rasps.*

Morning sunshine. You got my message MmmMMmm ryha?

[Wyrmbreaker] If the Shadow Lords, a tribe of black sheep if ever there was one, had a black sheep of their own, it would be this jackal-faced creature. Having received Ezra's ... request, shall we say, to meet on the roof, Lukas ascends the narrow staircase and lets the door shut behind him.

It's hot out here, stuffy and humid. Chicago doesn't see much sun in the summer. Just heat, oppressive and constant. Wyrmbreaker is dressed for the weather, his shirt light and white, shortsleeved, his pants loose linen. He squints at the sky for a moment, then looks to Ezra.

"Ezra Turk. I haven't seen you around for a while, but I keep hearing about you. What's your business today?"

[Ezra Turk] All good I hope.

*Madness sparks baleful in black eyes, jest seeming to please the weaselly little man immensely as he hurls himself into the gravel. Scuffed leather shoes send a spray of rock around him as he gets settled in a lower position. His attitude certainly didn't speak of anything like respect or deference, but at least his posture seemed to slip submissive to a Shadowlord higher in station, naturally enough. His leather jacket creaks as he rolls broad shoulders on a too thin frame, and peers up at the imposing form of the fostern in front of him. *

I come about your unused kin.

[Wyrmbreaker] All good, he hopes.

"You really think that's a possibility?" Lukas seems amused; though, for what it's worth, not angry.

They align themselves according to rank and instinct. Lukas wonders, briefly, if Ezra wasn't cooking in a leather jacket in this sort of heat. In contrast, the Ahroun looks cool and summery, his naturally olive skin tanned a shade darker by the season: like a young man of means and manners, with perhaps more than his fair share of a temper, ready to go on vacation somewhere in the mediterranean.

Kin are mentioned, then, and Lukas's eyebrow flicks upward. "What about them?" he asks.

[Ezra Turk] Well...

*Ezra looked hot, alright. Leather jacket weighing on his shoulders like a heavy burden, lower edges of wild black hair wet with sweat. Still, he didn't take it off. Who knew was hidden under all that dead cowhide? He was a theurge afterall, and not the sort Lukas was packed with. No healer this. With a sniff tongues his teeth, before chuckling with a ruined rattle of vocal chords.*

I manhandled dear Raymond last night. Put a claw hole in his shoulder. Fixed it up for him, but the smarmy little shit still doesn't know his ass from his elbow from a knocked up bonegnawer.

*That last gravelled flatly, black eyes flicking up to Lukas's in challenge. If there was one thing Ezra couldn't stand, it was un-educated kin.*

I want him.

[Wyrmbreaker] "If you know about the knocked-up Bone Gnawer," Lukas replies evenly, "then you must know Ray's a headstrong kinsman, as likely to break as to bend."

When the Theurge's eyes flick up, he finds Lukas's meeting his flatly. And no matter how level his tone, how relaxed his manner, his eyes are as chips of ice, glittering and pale.

"So tell me, what are you plans for him?"

[Ezra Turk] Headstrong is an excuse not to bother. I have no intention of coddling him until the little shit grows some respect and responsibility. If I have to, I'll scramble his brain until it reconfigures itself into something more at peace with his place in the world, until he's a functional member of our sick little society....

*An oil slick smile at that, as sweet and poisonous as antifreeze. Lukas looks down at him with eyes of chipped ice, and Ezra looks back with black orbs that never quite seem to still. Twitching, rattling around in their sockets much like his fingers continue tap-tapping on his dusty knee. Teeth flash in a pointed grin, grinding against one another as the theurge strains at civility.*

But letting him wander uninformed and unused is folly, and only useful to our enemies. MmMMmMM?

[Wyrmbreaker] "I agree that he should be educated," says the Ahroun, "because when he's not being rebellious, Ray's resources have in the past made him immensely valuable to the Tribe and Sept. My concern is that you'll break him before you forge him into anything of use."

A moment of consideration, the Ahroun's eyes leaving the Theurge, going to trace the tall towers and etched skyline of Chicago. Similar, but so different, from the city he grew up in.

"There's also the matter of his Bone Gnawer girlfriend's intention to challenge for him. Since she's yet to fail utterly, I can't give Ray into your car entirely. So here's what I'll offer.

"You can take guardianship of Ray until the next moot. From now until then, I remain his warder, but you may attempt to educate him. Before the harvest moot, I'll assess your progress. Also, at that time, if the Bone Gnawer is prepared to challenge, I'll handle that. If she miraculously proves herself worthy -- something that's looking more unlikely by the day -- then Ray goes to her. If not, then I decide whether or not he goes back to you.

"If you don't agree with my decision then, you may challenge me formally after Sticky Fingers' challenge is concluded." A tiny pause. "Unless you want to challenge now."

[Ezra Turk] I'm challenging now.

*Rancor, pure and simple. Something the ahroun had said had invisible hackles raising on the twitchy spirit speaker, his eyes slitted as he makes to stand. Tone a level gravel, but gravely serious.*

I'll not wipe his nose only to have my efforts and protection benefit some Urrah slut too stupid to keep her slimy thighs shut in the presence of a redblooded kin of thunder. I'll not do your job for you Wyrmbreaker. That is not a challenge, but a cop out for your own convenience.

I challenge you now.

[Wyrmbreaker] "Accepted." Crisp, that. "Wait downstairs until I've settled with Sticky Fingers."

He takes his phone out, thumb sliding across the touchscreen until he finds Marni's phone number. Or however one might contact a homeless Bone Gnawer who eats out of trash cans.

As Ezra is passing, though, Wyrmbreaker turns with him. "One more thing, Ezra." He waits for the Theurge to face him again. "Watch your tongue. If you disapprove of the way I'm leading this tribe and its kin, you're more than welcome to challenge that as well. Right now."

[Ezra Turk] One thing at a time - ryha... MmmMm?

*He's given the Ahroun a wide berth as he sidles passed, but slants a broad toothed cheshire smile over his shoulder, eyes narrowed as he moves passed. It was no wonder he had so many scars across his back and throat, the shameful scars of a coward and cocky bastard both. Moments later he's headed to the commons to wait for the gnawer.*

[Wyrmbreaker] [to be continued!]

[Ezra Turk] [DUN DUN DUUUN!]