too far.

[August Grant] August wasn't the type of kin who made herself known. Sure, she'd moved in two or three weeks ago again - but she wasn't the sort that was loud or needed to be the center of attention.

In fact - most of the time she just sat alone in room eight and minded her own business. Notably, the only person that ever visited that room was Erza. Tonight - however was different. She'd been out all day - working actually - and had just recently trudged/waddled her way up the stairs towards the common room of the Brotherhood. The young woman looked exhausted, and more than ready to pop. That baby must be due any day.

With a sigh, the blonde kin seated herself in one of those overstuffed arm chairs and plopped her feet up on the footstool. She really shouldn't be walking everywhere nowdays, it was just too much for her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Truthfully, Lukas wasn't even aware August had moved out at all. As far as he knew the quiet -- very pregnant -- young woman has been here all along, keeping to herself.

Lukas keeps to himself most days, too. There's a difference, though, between the quietness of someone who keeps to himself because he chooses to and the quietness of someone who keeps to herself because -- well. Because she has no one. It's evident even in the way he comes up the stairs: every footstep confident, firmly planted, the Ahroun himself whistling under his breath as he ascends. It sounds vaguely Slavic.

And it stops when he comes to the top of the stairs and realizes the common room isn't empty as it often is at this hour. Lukas blinks as he sees August. He has a plate in hand: a slab of steak, a scoop of potatoes, some string beans, which seems to be one of all of three or four vegetables he'll actually eat. In the other hand, his large fingers gripping over the rim, a glass of wine.

"Hi," he says. His eyes drop to her belly. "Wow. Any day now, huh?"

[August Grant] The kinswoman didn't really look up until he addressed her. Usually, she was just overlooked and that was fine - she was used to it. So, the mere fact that he addressed her, was a bit of a surprise. Soft hazel eyes shifted up and she smiled lightly.

Even her small smile brought a brightness and joy to her features. She suddenly didn't look quite so worn out. "Hello.." The greeting is returned and a hand goes to her belly as she responds to his question. "One can only hope.. though it could be a few more weeks."

A beat. "This isn't your chair, is it?" She suddenly looked concerned. She must have assumed it was the likely reason he was speaking to her..

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "No." Lukas heads straight for the sectional, setting his wine down on the coffee table. A feat of admirable balance, then: he throws himself down on the couch without spilling a single string bean into his lap. "This," he smiles, "is my favorite seat."

He nods at the empty stretch of the couch around the corner bend, then. "Why don't you have a seat?" he adds.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [what the. "Why don't you join me?" -- i meant!]

[August Grant] It was an amazing feat of balance and dexterity. She would have for sure dropped some of that food on her lap (or belly as it were) if she tried such a move.

"Sure.." August slid her feet down off of the footstool and somehow managed to make it into a standing position still in one motion. While she was comfortable in her chair - she was a smart enough kin to know that you don't really say no to a polite request from a trueborn.

A soft, lithe hand smoothed her shirt over her belly.. and her skirt slightly as she moved the few steps towards the couch. But - before she sat, she paused. "Is there anything I can for you before I sit? A napkin.. or anything?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] While August makes her laborious way over, Lukas sets his plate aside and moves the coffee table a ways over to make room. It's not a light piece of furniture. Wyrmbreaker moves it onehanded, easily. That alone could hint at what auspice he is.

The rage shedding from him like flame-dust from a star: that seals the deal.

August has spent enough time in town, too, to know what tribe the man in Room 2 is. It's written in his black hair, pale eyes; in the stern lines of his face, which are evident even when they soften with a smile. She must know what's said about Shadow Lords; how they treat their kin. For all that, there's a mild surprise when she asks if she can get him anything. Do anything for him.

Lukas leans back, shaking his head as he cuts free a strip of steak. "I'm fine, thank you." A short pause. "Who taught you to do that?"

[August Grant] Ah, but August wasn't entirely wary of Shadow Lords. She had spent several weeks living with Erza .. and even learning to accept his oddness as just part of daily life. And, she'd spent some time with Simon - and she knew both of them were Shadow Lords. Nothing negative had come from her time with them.. and thus Lukas didn't intimidate her simply because of his tribe.

However, she knew of his rank and status within the sept. That, in itself was enough to make her a little nervous. She did her best to hide it behind her sweet smile, however. Once he answered, she carefully seated herself on the couch (and she did her best not to make it look like a whale beaching itself.) Alright.. it didn't look nearly as ungraceful as she imagined it might.

Hazel eyes flicked over to meet his for a brief second before she answered. It seemed as if she was trying to judge which version of the answer he wanted to hear. Unable to entirely determine.. she simply spoke up.

"It was just the way I was raised. I was up, you were not.. it is polite to ask if the other person needs anything before you seat yourself.." That said nothing about the dynamics involved given if the people were kin, true, or a mixture of both.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Ahroun's mouth quirks. He points out, "You're also -- forgive the expression -- about to pop."

[August Grant] "It doesn't give me an excuse to start being rude, rhya." She smiled a bit brighter and a hand slid up to tuck a few stray strands of hair back behind an ear.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a quiet; a consideration. Then Lukas says, "You don't need to treat me like an honored official, August. The sentiment is appreciated, but unnecessary."

He goes back to cutting his steak. "So what have you been up to? We live in the same building, but somehow I never see you."

[August Grant] Mm.. what world did he live in? It was of more than necessary! She gave him a bit of a skeptical glance, but would never openly question him on it. She simply wasn't that sort of young woman.

August shrugged slightly in response to the question. "Nothing.. really. I work for the women's shelter every day.. and then I come back here and help out around the kitchen, and then I clean up up here.. and then go back to my room for the evening. Nothing really of note or interest I suppose. I like to help out as much as I can - but, hardly anyone seems to want my help now days.."

Politely enough, she reciprocated with another question. "How about you?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He notes the skepticism, but has the courtesy to respond to her question first. "Duty," he says, simple and wry. "And pack and mate when I can."

Small talk. Virtual strangers sharing a couch and -- well; not even a meal, really. He's eating. She's not. It's the middle of the night, after all. Wyrmbreaker keeps strange hours.

"You didn't look like you believed me," he adds, "when I said it wasn't necessary to ask if I needed anything before you seated yourself."

[August Grant] "All very important things.. that's wonderful. What's the name of your pack again?" Sure, she knew he was in one.. or had one - or something, but on details she was lacking. And usually, she wouldn't ask but today it didn't seem like an inappropriate question.

"Uh.. well.. where I was raised, it was more than necessary to ask a Trueborn if they needed anything before you sat. And yes, things are different here - but I still feel that offering it as a courtsey is polite. I try to earn my keep.. not just assume I have it.."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "The Unbroken," he replies, "under Perun."

All this time he's been eating. Lukas is not a messy eater. He doesn't chew with his mouth wide open, or spit crumbs as he speaks. He is, however, a swift eating, rapidly packing away the rather large amount of food on his plate even as his eyes stay on August, keen and curious.

"I'll be blunt, August," he says when she's finished. "I do expect a certain amount of respect. From kin; from Cliaths; from my packmates and auspicemates and tribesmen. Respect isn't lip service or going through the motions, though. It's here," he taps the center of his chest, "and you can sense it without anyone having to say a word. So I don't insist that others bow and scrape to me.

"Besides that," he adds, "I don't want respect because of what I was born as. I want respect for what I've accomplished and achieved, nothing more or less. All of which goes to say -- you don't have to serve me, August. And pardon me for saying this, but it doesn't seem much like the Children of Gaia to command their kin to humble themselves before their Garou."

[August Grant] It was clear enough that the kin felt scolded. Like she'd done something wrong. And, scolding the emotionally unable kin was never a good plan - unless one was wanting tears as a result. Her gaze dropped to her folded hands in what was left of her lap.

Luckily for him - there were no tears tonight.. just a quiet sigh and a timid response. "I'm sorry if I offended you.. and not to disagree with you.. but you do not know the family I come from. We weren't your traditional Children of Gaia.. "

[Christian del Piero] He doesn't appear from out of nowhere. His appearance isn't that sudden. August and Lukas can probably hear him coming when he starts up the stairs...may even hear him when he enters the building. He storms rather than walks. His foot steps are heavy. His Rage blows up the stairwell like a backdraft. It gets there before he does. Neither of them have seen him here before even though he has a key and has been staying in a room. He's not very tall, but he's solid. His eyes are electric with the current of his anger running through him. The knuckles on his right hand are cut but the bleeding has long since stopped. It's a wonder he doesn't ooze breeding instead of blood. When he sees the common room occupied he stops, uncertain. Looks between the two of them. Remembers his manners.

"Hi..." he says.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] It was neither Lukas's intent nor desire to browbeat the kin further. There's a certain inevitability in that, of course: the beaten dog will always see another beating coming when the master raises his hand. Even so, a flicker of a frown furrows the Shadow Lord's brow. He's silent a moment.

When he speaks, it's very even. "August," he says, "I'm not offended. But I am curious: what was your family -- "

someone's coming up the stairs. Footsteps heavy, rage rolling up through the open stairwell. Normally, Lukas wouldn't be fazed; would finish his sentence, give his companion his attention until their conversation was through. This time, though, he breaks off. Too personal. Too private, and a kin like her would probably answer -- miserably -- out of some sense of obligation.

So it's into a quiet, expectant atmosphere that the young Silver Fang emerges. Lukas is on the long arm of the sectional, relaxed, eating; August on the short, perhaps looking a little cowed. The former is a Shadow Lord. The latter is a Child of Gaia, alone in this city.

Conclusions could be leapt to.

Lukas speaks first. "Hi," he says. "Christian del Piero, aren't you?"

[August Grant] When he spoke her name again, evenly and with no obvious anger or disappointment, she glanced up. She appeared to be listening carefully and intently to his question. And, it seemed Lukas knew the kin well enough - she would have answered, had he finished the question.

However, August wasn't ashamed of her story. She was proud of it infact. She was proud of what she'd overcome.. but.. the more the thought about it in the silence that followed as they waited for the newcommer to arrive - she was increasingly glad she didn't need to tell it. Who knows how he might react to the fact that she left her husband and stole his child. He might demand that she be returned to him. And, with no hint of a backing left in this city - there would be no one to stop it.

The mere thought sent a cold chill down her spine.

The kin was silent then - allowing the Trueborns to introduce themselves. She did offer Christian a small smile in greeting, however.

[Christian del Piero] The teenager blinks. For a few seconds he looks surprised and suspicious. This isn't the first time in his life that someone he's never met before has known his name. So the surprise dies out before the suspicion. He takes a few more steps into the common area, but isn't bold enough to sit down with the Lord and the very pregnant kinswoman without being invited. Though he glances at her he doesn't return the smile. Maybe he doesn't know how to smile. He doesn't look as though he knows how to do anything other than throw a punch. Looking back to Lukas he asks, "How'd you know?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a lot of breeding in this room. The three of them are unmistakably different; August the milk-and-honey of Unicorn, that ancient tribe of Mesopotamia; Christian with his ancestry of kings and madmen; Lukas, whose blood runs with storm-raked peaks and crags. There's no way any Garou could look at them and not see them for what they are. There's no way any human could look at them and not sense in some way not fully understood just how different they were, how special.

"I saw you at the club the other night," the crystalline-eyed Shadow Lord explains. "Briefly. Kate spoke of you afterward, too. She mentioned we shared an auspice. I'm Lukáš Wyrmbreaker."

He pans an open hand toward the couch, next to August -- likely because it's easier that way for him to face both of them at once. "Please, join us. This is August Grant, a kinswoman of Unicorn."

[August Grant] August's assumption about why Christian wouldn't return her friendly gesture had nothing to do with questioning his capabilites in smiling. No, she was quite certain that he was one of those garou who instantly looked at kin and deemed them unworthy. Perhaps it wasn't a fair assessment.

The young woman wiggled a few fingers in greeting.. but said nothing further. He didn't seem like the friendly type.. and if he wasn't the friendly type - he probably wouldn't enjoy the banter of some random kin.

She shifted on the couch slightly, trying to allow him more room to sit.. and as she did, a hand went to the side of her belly and she whispered something to the child within.. it sounded suspciously like 'stop kicking me, please.' August always tried to be polite.

[Christian del Piero] The finger wiggling, he can manage. He waves to her with the hand that hasn't been torn up fighting tonight, and when Lukas gestures to the couch, Christian does join them. He doesn't look like a typical Fang, all expensive clothing and impeccable grooming. His hair is overdue for a trim, and he's wearing boots and cheap bluejeans and a plain t-shirt that probably came in a pack of 3. The scent he wears doesn't come out of a bottle...it comes from the heat of the day and being out in it and getting into fights and spending time in places an 18 year old doesn't belong. August isn't looked at any more than necessary. She's obviously someone's mate, and of a different tribe besides.

Once he's settled, Christian says, "Honor's Compass-rhya told me about you. Kinda. You live here?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "In Room 2," Lukas confirms. "Right down the hall."

He watches the youth as he sits. Something to be said for unorthodox representations of their respective tribes, too: August the timid, browbeaten Coggie kin. Christian the thuggish kid of a Fang. And Lukas, whose honor is so fucking impeccable it's got to be a trick. Just one no one's figured out yet. Right?

Lukas could ask where Christian lives, now. Keep up small talk. Keep it easy and friendly and pleasant; but then, look how quickly he got around to asking August about her undoubtedly dark past. No, not much one for small talk, Wyrmbreaker. Those clear pale eyes scrutinize Christian for another moment, and then he says, "Do you mind if I speak plainly?"

There isn't much pause for acquiescence before he goes on, "Kate's my packmate, and I trust her judgment. She told me you've got promise. Potential. But a lot of rage, and not much control. She asked me to keep an eye on you. Teach you if I can. Are you interested?"

[August Grant] She knew when she was no longer required, or perhaps wanted in a conversation. It was nice enough that Lukas spent the time to speak with her this evening - she didn't expect him to speak ot her over another trueborn - especially one new to town.

And.. in a nice pause in the conversation - not to interrupt either of them, August spoke up.. "If you two would excuse me.. I should get settled in for the night.."

The young woman then carefully stood, using the arm of the sofa to assist in the maneuver. Had it just been Lukas in the room.. she may have teasingly offered to get him a hot towel (since she was up).. but.. she didn't know the new one.. he might not find it funny. On second thought - Lukas may not find it funny either! Hrm.. good plan skipping it August!

Once up, she stepped out of the way of the coffee table and turned to face them. "Good night.." She almost looked like she was going to curtsey.. but caught herself just in time. Instead.. she just turned and headed towards room eight.

[Christian del Piero] A Fostern asking a Cliath if he can speak plainly. Christian actually looks around the room to see who else besides August is witnessing this. When she bids them goodnight he waves again, but he's rooted in place by Lukas's question. He goes on, and the kid scoots over a bit to occupy some of the space left by August. He does not sit as though they're at afternoon tea after a croquet match, but he also doesn't slouch like some kind of hooligan. He keeps his feet on the floor and his knees together and his hands on the couch next to him. Sitting still is difficult for him. He grips the cushion he's sitting on, knuckles going white. After a moment of staring at the Fostern's chin, he looks at his eyes. There's no challenge in it. This kid is filled with Rage but he isn't an animal. Lukas's proposal makes him frown. He's not sure about this...but every question and doubt that pops up answers itself.

"Yeah," he says, slowly. Catches himself. "I mean, yes, -rhya."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a quick quirk at the edge of Wyrmbreaker's mouth. Then it passes.

"Good," he says. "There are a lot of packs in this city, and any number of them could use a strong Ahroun. Or perhaps you'll start one of your own. But until you can temper your strength with will, you're as much a danger to your own as you are to the enemy.

"So for the next couple months, until you've learned to keep ahold of yourself better, I want you to run with the Unbroken and live with the Unbroken. Kate's got spare rooms. Or you can move into the Brotherhood. Your choice."

A pause while Lukas eats the last of his dinner. The plate is clean: the entire porterhouse gone; the mashed potatoes gone; nothing but a single wilted string bean left. He downs his wine too, and then rises.

"Can you bite back a frenzy if you have to?"

[Christian del Piero] It's a lot to take in. The kid looks like he's used to being alone, and fighting that way. It's a wonder he's still alive. He's got to know Lukas is right. He's as likely to kill another Gaian as he is to bring down a Wyrmling. Maybe when Lukas had asked his name he'd been thinking that news of what happened out west had traveled inland by the time he got here. It hasn't, and he's not in a rush to change that. But now he's being told he's going to be staying with his tribal elder. He's going to be running with a pack that he's heard stories of ever since he arrived. He has a choice. There's always a choice. But if he turns it down he might as well go jump into Maelstrom.

While Lukas eats, Christian sits quietly. Occasionally he tightens his grip on the cushions, as though he's fighting off some urge or another. The only time his heart isn't racing is when he manages to get his Rage under control. He's used to it by now but still...he's not so far removed from a wild animal. He watches Lukas when he stands up.

"If I have to, I can..."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A slice of eyes blue and pale as gas flames: "Can you?"

Lukas is moving toward the staircase -- not down, but up. Third floor. Possible Christian's never been up there before; most people ignore it. Most people think the Coltranes use the entire space up there. Most people don't realize this place used to have another owner, a Shadow Lord woman. These stairs are lesser-used, and squeak as the Ahroun walks up.

He doesn't stomp and thump the way Christian does. He walks calmly, if such a thing is possible for a Full Moon on a full moon night. He's large, though, several inches over six feet; and he's broad through the shoulders, thick in the chest. His weight can be felt in every step.

At the top of the stairs, he turns and goes up again. This flight of stairs is only wide enough for one at a time, and they're passing through the attic-space, the insulation. It gets warmer and warmer. At the top, a small door, and then the roof. Moonlight makes everything seem deceptively cool. It's hot, though. Eighty degrees still. Humid. Wind off the lake. Summertime.

"Burn off some rage," he says. "Enough that you won't fall to the Wyrm. But not so much that the Beast is quiescent. And then prove it to me."

Christian might be wondering: How?

[Christian del Piero] He's supposed to follow him. Christian jumps up when Lukas gets to the stairs. He almost knocks into the coffee table in his haste to follow the Fostern. He tries to mimic Lukas's quiet way of walking, but he's still growing into his body. If the war and his own Rage doesn't kill him before he's old enough to buy beer he'll probably grow several more inches. He follows Lukas up the narrowing stairs, then flinches when the summer air hits him outside. It blows his hair out of his face. He looks at the lake, lets the door shut behind him, and turns to Lukas.

The first part is easy enough. Proving it, though. The challenge enough is almost enough to incite Christian to frenzy but the way he is now he's almost certain to enter a Thrall. The younger Ahroun looks around for something to throw. He finds a rock and an empty can. The can, he throws normally, towards the other end of the roof and not the street...it's the rock that is hurled with a burst of Rage, so hard that it nearly shatters when it hits the ground. When he turns to Lukas, he looks confused.

"So..."

[Ruarc o'Conaill] They enter the roof.

And they are not alone. A low ”Ruh...?” And the large Fianna sits up, blinking at them as they exit. He had been laying on the roof, stretched out and staring at the moon. He had been staring and then… Someone had knocked him over the head with a shovel, that must have been it. The Full Moon leans forward, blinking and working his mouth as if it was dry. Considering the amount of drink the man seems to imbibe it most likely was.

“Mornin lads…. Errhh.. Evenin even.”
He raises a hand in greeting to the pair that comes to the roof. He glances up as a rock bounces near him, hurled with such furious anger by the younger of the two.

“’ey now…”

And then he is pushing to stand. Those stormy gray and blue eyes opening slowly. He stands to his full height, stretching as he does and looking around, then scratches the hard ridges of his stomach through the thin grey v-neck tunic he wears.

[Sinclair] She knows where to find him. Because he's her packmate, and more than that, her brother. Surrounding all of that: her Alpha, the one she chose to follow, forsaking Twister, Josephine Oliver, and her own mantle of leadership to do so. Perun is of the sky, and the sky is over everything, sees everything. Perun is of the earth, and even several floors up, the earth resonates up through their feet, into their bodies, with all of its strength.

She has no idea what's going on, but she knows where to find her Alpha. And because she's a wolf, and one who as of late has wanted to spend almost no time in extended solitude, she finds him. On the roof, where Sinclair comes out of the small door and peers over at him, and at the Silver Fang he's with. The young woman has her hair in two braids, both of which are tied back near her scalp in loops. There are even ribbons on them. Pink ones. Decorated with wee skulls and crossbones.

More than that, she's in the sort of denim cutoffs that would get her pinned instantly as white trash in any southern states. It's a good thing she's got more T than A, or they'd be well beyond indecent. As it is, they make her hips look even narrower than they are, and expose the viper tattoo on her right thigh in its totality.

The viper is black, and covered in green glyphs. It wraps three times around her leg. It digs its fangs into the sport where one would slice to find her femoral artery. Lifeblood. The serpent has no eyes. Compared to the rest of the markings on her body -- the tattoo around her left ankle, the ones on her arms, the one on the back of her neck, the piercings, the invisible scarring that decorates her -- this one makes them look positively mild. Gentle and soft, even the spikes inked onto her left bicep.

Her orange and black t-shirt is oversized, V-necked, and though it fits her form, it mimics an athletic jersey. The team: the Tigers. The name on the back: Tony.

Heh. Heh.

She's barefoot when she comes out on the roof, under a moon that will soon darken her eyes and bleed her heart dry. Her eyes find Lukas's, however briefly.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] S-- leaves Christian's lips and Lukas is suddenly on him, so quick he literally moves before the lesser-ranked Ahroun can react.

And he shoves Christian. Hard. A vicious, twohanded thrust that sends the youth smashing back into the door. Wyrmbreaker's in his face, then, the air around him gathering energy as he pulls on his birthright, his rank-right; the blessings of Luna.

His eyes are cold. His head tips to the side, short and animal.

"So what?" he mocks, a sneer as soft as velvet. "Are you always so confused?"

Ruarc -- for the moment -- goes unregarded. Sinclair gets her glance, but it is, indeed, very brief. Then his eyes are back on Christian.

[manip-subterfuge: act like an ass!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [and a precautionary luna's armor! -1gn]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Kate asked me to train this one, says the Shadow Lord into her mind. You remember, that night at the lounge. If Ruarc gets his panties in a wad, keep him out of it and explain what I'm up to.
to Sinclair

[Sinclair] Of all the Unbroken, Sinclair is the most obviously primal, the most immediately and visibly primitive. She does not ask Lukas, out loud or in her thoughts, what's going on. There's just that look she gives him, questioning and submissive at once in a way that is unspeakably animalistic. She tips her head a moment later, as though receiving an answer from his body language or -- yes, possibly -- his mind. And then she

sidesteps, neatly, out of the way Christian is being shoved, moving as fast as the young Fang is once Lukas pushes him.

She whips out of the way quickly enough that her bare feet skid slightly on the rooftop, which is rough and uncomfortable and makes her soles raw. She drops to a crouch at the completion of the slight dodge, hands on the ground, eyes going from the Fang and Lord to the Fiann. He's the one she looks at now, as though waiting to see what he'll do.

[Christian del Piero] (( Rage - 1 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Ruarc o'Conaill] Lukas turns and goes for the young Fang. The moon is still bright above, if not at its fullest anymore. The Fianna is also quite primal. It shows in his immediate reaction and instinct. One step forward.

His foot comes down hard on the roof. Not because he stomps, but because he holds his weight with it. A weight that was itching to go forward, to get into the fight. Possibly to stop it. Possibly just to join in because. But he is a warrior, and he has a respect for Lukas. He has stood beside him when things looked to be at an end, and they fought side by side in honor.

That is what stops Ruarc from moving ahead. And it shows in his body language, in the way he draws in a slow breath, then sinks into a crouch. He does not try to hide the tension in him. The strength that lies there, ready to send him leaping forward should something happen that called for it, but for now, he trusts in the Auspice elder and simply watches.

Sinclair is not looked at directly beyond a flicker of eyes in her direction before the two ahrouns draw that stormy gaze back.

[Christian del Piero] Christian slams against the door. The others are ignored. All he can focus on is the larger Ahroun right in his face, trying to rattle him. It's like trying to get a rugby player taking a drama class for extra credit to show emotion during a scene...only more likely to end up with someone having his throat torn out because he doesn't realize he's being baited. The kid snarls, but nothing happens. He doesn't become the monster that's constantly threatening to break out. He doesn't just take it, either. He shoves the Fostern as hard as he can.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas takes the shove, moves with it, lets himself fall back that step or three as he

laughs. It's as vicious as the shove; worse, somehow. That fallback becomes something else; flows sideways, becomes a prowl. The Fostern circles the Cliath, closing in, keeping on the move, one animal turning around another. Balance low. In his auspicemate's space, crowding him.

"Was that it? I thought you were worth my time. No wonder Kate sent you to me. She's embarrassed. She's been trying so hard in this Sept, you know. Trying to make your tribe something more than a crumbling relic, something worth its name and history. And then you show up. Helpless and pathetic and confused. Can't control yourself with those weaker than you. Can't even get it up when you're faced with a stronger wolf."

This time it's not a shove but a shoulder-check, something brutal enough to send a lesser man sprawling. The insult is in the ease of that motion; the quick deft effortlessness of all that crushing strength; the lightness of his feet as he keeps his balance.

"Come on!"

[Christian del Piero] (( Again! ))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Sinclair] Wolves are not solitary creatures. They do not live in a vacuum, even those who are outside of a pack. Ahrouns are not set apart from the rest, nor Philodoxes, nor ...any of them, really. At their core they are all wolves, whatever duty they serve. And like all pack animals, they are a part of everything they witness, and they are unquestionably, ceaselessly aware of those around them.

Like, for instance, the Galliard on the sidelines who, as though spurred on by Lukas's mockery of the Fang, starts -- yipping. In homid, no less, barking and yelping and crying out in a shrill, vicious-sounding voice that grates on the ears and is directed, however wordlessly, right at the young, wild Ahroun. She's making fun of him. She's enjoying this. She's watching her Alpha berate him and belittle him and she's like a goddamn beast, waiting to be given leave to leap on him, join in, tear him to pieces

like they would the weakest youngling straying behind the herd, too sickly to keep up, too small to fight back.

[Call of the Wyld / effects tbd by st]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [since it's actually a gift, i'd suggest each succ = +1 rage in this case.]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [trav needs to go nom! i'm totally fine with the rest of you RPing on around us until he gets back]

[Victor Oseragighte] He'd come in to change and shower, but hearing that call from above draws him up to the roof, curious, wary, wondering what is happening. The Wendigo emerges to pause and try to assess what is happening, dressed in hard-toed boots, brown dungarees, and a red and blue Montreal Alouettes jersey. Somebody was getting their head torn off verbally, and he hoped that was all.

[Ruarc o'Conaill] Ruarc is still crouched. When Sinclair begins to yip and bark at the young man, it makes his eyes narrow slightly. Thoughtful as he watches her, listens to the insults that makes his blood boil even if he isn’t the target of them. He clenches a fist, then looks back to the two ahrouns.

Until Victor shows up. The new face draws his attention like a moth to the flame, scanning over the wendigo slowly. He smiles at him, a lips curved back, showing teeth sort of smile that the bloated moon above allows. But a smile.

And he raises his hand to him in some form of greeting.
“Ye might be wantin tae move away from the’e lad, afore th’ two warrior’s be draggin ye intae their little game”

[Christian del Piero] "Fuck you!"

They say he's out of control. Humans can tell he is. Cubs can tell he is. It's no surprise that a Fostern of his tribe has said that he is. Yet he didn't frenzy when Lukas first provoked him. Even with the second and harsher heckling, he just bristles. Violently, mind, but he still doesn't lose it. Lukas goes right for the jugular on the second pass, saying all sorts of things that should have Christian turning into a crazed monster in a second. All it really does is make him angry. He shouts at the Fostern, goes to hit him back when the Glass Walker joins in the taunting. It's the first time he's really aware of her. It may be the last thing he's aware of period.

(( Rage +1, difficulty -2 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 6 at target 3)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a certain level of thanks. really. in the wry glance Wyrmbreaker tosses Sinclair --

-- an instant before he surges into Hispo to meet his suddenly very, very frenzied auspicemate.

[sorry for short crappy post! promise i'll be faster. should we go to inits?]

[Thirty Second Silence] There were numerous things in the fridge, some of them labelled, Gregory could see patterns there. One said My tuna!, one said Left Overs, one said hands off!/i] there was another one, a strange looking dish that Gregory had just put in there himself. It said, [i]Cut to the chase if you want to taste, just don't think twice its all right, inside it held half a cup of walnuts.

He stood back from the fridge and was about to come up with some clever word play involving the labels when the roaring and shouting from overhead greeted him. How curious. He decided to investigate. Clomp Clomp Clomp up the stairs until he was squeezing his head through the door way jew-fro-first.

The sight that greeted him was most unusual.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. And then he spoke.

"Aren't you that kid I totally beat up that one time in the alley?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] +20!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Ruarc o'Conaill] There is a sense to a garou in frenzy. There is a feeling about them,fighting on desperate instinct and anger, surfing the rage. You know a garou in frenzy.

The Thrall of the Wyrm makes that pale. It is such a horrifying thing to even watch, much less go through. It is a terrible terrible thing as the Wyrm literally takes the mind of the garou, swallows it and makes it a part of itself. There is a feeling to the Thrall.

It is Hunger.

Ruarc reacts with reflexes born of countless battles. The shift to Crinos is instant and he leaps forward towards the fallen Silver Fang. Not to kill, but to subdue.

[Ruarc o'Conaill] [init 8+]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Christian del Piero] (( +7 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Victor Oseragighte] One second he is walking in on some sort of confrontation, from all he can tell. The next, everything is horribly wrong. He's seen this only too recently, in his own packmate, and he cannot possibly mistake what he sees. His horror does not stop him from acting, though, for this time there is no reprieve if somebody dies.

(( +19 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Thirty Second Silence] [init +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Sinclair] [-1R snapshift to hispo
+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [Inits:
Lukas 24
Victor 24
Christian 16
Sinclair 14
Ruarc 13
Thirty 10

Declare in reverse! Chop chop!]

[Thirty Second Silence] [reflexive : -1R snapshift to hispo 1a: stand around and bark]

[Ruarc o'Conaill] [Declare
reflexive 1r crinos

1a. Salmons leap to behind Christian
1b. Jaw lock

Rage1. Hold (or jaw lock again if needed)

[Sinclair] thanks. really. in Lukas's gaze.

A shrug, tight and close to her body, eyes wide open and mouth quirked in a weird little expression, from Sinclair. whatchagonnado?

Then a flurry of changes around them, as the Garou gathered on the rooftop shift into floor-creaking shapes. Hers is dark, though not the pitch black of her packmate's. It's a charcoal gray, iron gray, shot through with bits of black, dustings of white. In hispo she is about as good-looking as a furred creature gets, the sort of sleek and muscular appearance that might have once upon a time been pure breeding in the Glass Walker lines. But one never knows, now.

They can't hear their ancestors anymore. Don't even know most of their names.

[1a.
1b.
R1.
R2. -- all held for Lukas's orders, if any]

[Christian del Piero] (( 1: Bite Lukas.
3 Rage: All bites. ))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Orders come more as an impression of thought than words -- Don't let him get off the roof. Don't let the others kill him.
to Sinclair

[Victor Oseragighte] He sees Christian starting to hurtle forward and moves rushes in after him, hoping to drop him swiftly and safely.

R to snapshift to Hispo

1 Jawlock from behind!
R1 Same if required!

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The last time a Garou frenzied on Lukas; the last time a Fang frenzied on Lukas, in fact --

Well. The results of that ordeal are still in the Caern, carved onto a headstone for all to see. None of the ones here tonight except Sinclair were here to see that. To hear of it. If they were, they might not expect restraint from Wyrmbreaker.

Sinclair knows him, though. She can literally hear his thoughts. She knows better than that. Even if the black hispo explodes forward with a snarl; even if his bites look devastating, and sure, and merciless --

there's restraint there.

[1a/b/c/d - bites!
R1 - bite more!

held at incap.]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [ok, i'ma roll my a/b, then everyone else's first actions, then back to my c/d as per house rules!

here goes. -4!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 5)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [LET'S TRY THAT AGAIN. -5]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [dam +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( Stamina +3 - Soak ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] Jaw Lock with Rear Attack Bonus GO!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 4)

[Victor Oseragighte] Strength + Athletics to pin!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [for future reference -- and this isn't Wind's fault because i actually told him otherwise before remembering he was jawlocking -- jawlocks typically don't get the rear or flanking attack bonuses because they're only performable from behind or above.]

[Christian del Piero] (( 1: Strength + Ath, +4 Crinos, -2 health ))
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 10 (Failure at target 8)

[Victor Oseragighte]
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP]

[Christian del Piero] (( 2 more dice, forgot no health penalties in frenzy! ))
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( Dex + Brawl, +1 Crinos, +2 diff part. immobilized ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 7)

[Christian del Piero] (( Strength +4 Crinos +1 bite +4 staging ))
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [whoops, sorry! soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Sinclair] Once upon a time -- and she remembers, because she wasn't frenzied, because she was something else -- Sinclair lost her mind and tried to kill three already injured Garou. She did. She killed all three of them, put them down in pools of blood in an alley, and she did it in seconds. Two of them came back. One of them is carved into a headstone, and she wears his name on her arm.

He was the only one who didn't walk out of that alley. He was also the only one who tried to hurt her when she was trying to kill them. He is the reason she stood at the moot to tell her story and told the Garou of Chicago what would happen if they didn't take down a mad wolf with all their fervor.

Sinclair hears her Alpha's orders, and she takes them through the filter of what she knows. What she experienced. What Christian will experience, if he comes out of this and they did not do their duty by him. Don't let him get off the roof can have a lot of interpretations.

[1a. Bite Christian.
dex + brawl + perun -2 (split) -1 (moon) // diff +1 (changing actions) -2 (partially immobilized target) -1 (flanking, as per position before combat began)]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 13 at target 3) Re-rolls: 4

[Sinclair] [strength + 2 (hispo bite) + 12 // stopping at incap if necessary]
Dice Rolled:[ 20 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( Stamina +3 - Soak ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Victor Oseragighte] Christian goes limp and he waits, tense, wary, knowing that he could well get a second wind, his final wind, really. When he does, only then does the great gray wolf release him, careful now, backing away and sliding through forms toward that of his birth, running both hands through his wild black hair. He didn't even know the man. Or boy, rather, from the looks of him.

[Sinclair] The Glass Walker lunges, maw widening, and then clamping down, digging into the meat of Christian's side. Digging down deep, till blood rushes out of him in a multitude of shredded holes, til she tears a chunk from him that would kill a lesser creature.

And yet.

She yanks back before she reaches arteries, before she breaks through his ribs to tear at his lungs or heart. Sinclair shows restraint, and from the sheer precision of that attack, it isn't hard to see that she had to do so, if she wanted to avoid killing him. A moment later the frenzied light in the Fang's eyes flickers out, and he drops in his own blood, Victor still holding him.

Warcry stands over him, as though to block any further blows against him. The posture of the direwolf is unmistakably... guarding. Not protective. And there's a difference. Her eyes track over to her Alpha, and then her bloodied teeth go to her side, pulling something seemingly out of her very fur. It's a small gourd, hollowed out, painted with various symbols, and filled with water. She crushes it in her jaws, and lets the water and the particles of the gourd fall across the fallen Ahroun with a brief rush of bluish-gold light that is soon swept away by the wind.

She spits out blood and bits of gourd, steps back from the near-unknown male, and steps over to stand to the side and slightly behind of Lukas.

[-1G, +4HP to Christian]

[Ruarc o'Conaill] It is always quick and brutal. Always insane. Ruarc leaps forward, carried by the gift of his tribe, but by the time he lands, it is over.

The massive crinos turns, looking to the fallen and then to the others. HE doesn't shift down, simply waits for now, in case the other rose to continue the struggles, the fighting. He waits until Lukas shifts down and only then does he follow suite.

[Sinclair] In his mind, again, no mere words. It's a sense of... not quite shame or admission of fault, but there are flavors of it. There's traces of wariness, of heavy uncertainty. And acceptance. It's a comforting sensation, almost, weighted as a blanket that holds one down and covers one at the same time. This is her submission, and it is not a burden.
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's blood and fur everywhere. The jaws of the two wolves of Perun are running red; one other, the Wendigo, had his teeth set firm in the Fang.

By the time Ruarc lands, it's over. By the time Thirty Second Silence even inhales to start his mad barking --

it's over.

Warcry heals the damage she dealt, and then some. She comes to flank Wyrmbreaker, whose head turns to follow her for a distance, then swings back. He pads forward then, nosing the Fang until he wakes.

"You did not hurt anyone."

That is the first thing he says. The first thing, because every Garou waking from a frenzy -- from such a frenzy -- dreads the knowledge that awaits him. Who he killed. Whose names he will have to wear carved into his heart forevermore, badges of everlasting shame. Just ask Sinclair.

Then this: "I pushed you too far. I should not have allowed my packmate to heckle you when I knew you were getting closer and closer to the edge. That was my miscalculation, and it endangered your very spirit. Forgive me."

A pause. And finally, this:

"But your control is not what you think it is if a handful of words can incite you to such fury." That's not beratement. It's statement of fact; and then a promise: "We'll work on that."

[Christian del Piero] He doesn't remember anything.

He wakes up face down on the roof, sticky and with dying cackling, blood lust, in his ears. In homid, his wounds look worse than they actually are. Strangely, he's calmer than he was even after Lukas coached him to curb his Rage. His vision fades from black to red to clear, and though he doesn't ask - don't suffer thy people to tend thy sickness - he gets an answer. Christian closes his eyes in relief, then squeezes them shut harder. There is still a bite mark on his belly. It makes itself known in a haze of pain. He pushes himself up on his arms, then sits on the roof. His eyes stay down the entire time Wyrmbreaker speaks. Even when there's space for him to answer, he looks at his own thumb. The teenager nods.

"Okay." He looks up. "Can I go?"

[Victor Oseragighte] He marks the boy's face now, getting a better look at him. A lesson. A lesson hard learned, and he cannot tell how well it is taken to heart as he looks over those present, one by one, and swallows the bile in his throat. It had been such a close thing. But not again. Definitely not again.

And so he's entirely silent. There are fosterns talking, for one. He's the outsider, a position he's well used to, and one he can accept. Silent but not idle, absorbing everything that happens here with black eyes and sharp ears.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker doesn't wait for consensus. He steps back, rises up. Somehow, with his dedicated clothing reforming on his body, he looks more savage than ever. Mouth bloody. Eyes still so very full of rage.

It's different for Christian. There's calm in him now, and Lukas understands that too. The greatest peace an Ahroun knows, next to being dead, is the red oblivion of frenzy.

He nods. "Yeah. We'll talk again soon."

[Ruarc o'Conaill] Ruarc crouches down and in so doing his form shifts and blurs and as he places his hand against the roof, it is a human hand, holding up a human form. Not the massive hulking war-beast.

His gaze goes to Christian, then to Lukas and then back to the young Ahroun. He doesn't speak. There is nothing to be said for him. Not until Chstisian asks if he can leave.

“I’ll take ye downstairs. We should make certain…”
Make certain the wyrm wasn’t still in him. Wasn’t still gnawing at him from the shadows of his mind, his heart.
“A good cleansin will make ye feel right an’ä proper lad…”

And he rises up again, glancing to the others, nodding to them as he waits for Christian to move ahead.

[Sinclair] It is geometrically more pleasurable to hear secondhand the praise given about you outside your hearing. Just as it is geometrically more punishing to stand nearby while someone apologizes for you.

Lukas takes the responsibility for Sinclair's heckling, as he calls it, on himself. She is his packmate. He is her Alpha. That is the way. And though she doesn't tuck her tail and drop her pale blue eyes to the rooftop, there's a heaviness in the way she watches the two Ahrouns. It is not shame. It's something else, not quite so clear-cut or easily pinned down.

She watches Christian as he comes to. No way for him to know who damaged him, or who healed him. There are two wolves bearing blood on their maws, and two others surrounding him. She watches him go, still in hispo even as Lukas shifts back to homid, as though she is more comfortable in this form than any other.

Sinclair does sit back on her haunches though.

[Thirty Second Silence] Gregory shifts, wolf-fur curling and shrinking into the messy jewfro. He coughs and casts his eyes around. He had barely been in Hispo for a heart-beat and it was all over. Once they had finished talking gregory was shifting, moving across the roof-top to intercept Christian before he left. His wounds did not look fully healed, despite Sinclair's offering. It was one thing for the weak theurge to watch a lesson be taught, it was another to leave behind suffering when none was required.

He nods to Ruarc briefly and touches a palm to Christians stomach, without warning, without comment. He looks the Silver Fang in the eyes.

[mothers touch dif 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 6 at target 4) [WP]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The sudden convocation begins to scatter. Before they each go their ways, Lukas adds, "Thank you all for your assistance."

His eyes meets theirs, one by one. Then he heads for the stairwell door. As he passes his packmate, he stoops for a second, his fingers burying knuckle-deep in the thick fur at her shoulder.

What that means, precisely, is hard to tell too. Then he's through the door, descending.

[i gotta hit the sack, folks! thanks for the RP -- had a great time!]

[Victor Oseragighte] Another new face for him, curly-haired and curious, and he marks how he steps in, the subtle changes that cannot help but occur as Christian's last wounds are healed and the pain bleeds away, faster than his blood did almost. That marks the second new face as only one of a few things, and Victor is patient enough to discover which in due time.

Lukas meets his eyes and he simply nods. Nothing more needs to be said. It was his duty. It was what was expected. Nothing more.

Except it's not nothing more behind that calm facade, usually a true picture of the Wendigo, in this moment a mask, fallen back on by default. Ruarc seems to have the bloodied young man in hand, and he's secretly glad, for though he should be checking on him, his state of mind, right now he wants little to do with another recently emerged from the thrall.

[Sinclair] There is no shame in this, either:

that Sinclair, when Lukas puts his hand in her fur, leans her head against the side of his leg, rubs her pointed ear against him for a second, before withdrawing. She rises up on all fours, and follows him as he walks to the stairwell. It does not seem she is going to be staying on the roof. Her body slims down, gets smaller, as she leaves with her Alpha. By the time they get to the door, she's in Lupus.

By the time they descend, she's moved into her breed form, and at that point, well

she has to go the laundry room and rifle through the bin of extra clothes, since every stitch she had on when she went to the roof essentially disintegrated when she shifted. Everything but the ribbons in her hair, in fact.

For some reason, those are dedicated.

[Sinclair] [Sinclair's gonna shower and change and leave the Broho! Thank you guys for the RP, I had a blast!]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [same! :D *jets*]

[Christian del Piero] (( Thanks for the scene, all! Get some sleep! ))