[Rory] The moot is over, and she has been dreading this moment ever moment since Lukas gave his speech, and noticed her reaction. Rory is a lot of things - a contradiction, a battle powerhouse, unbearably shy, fiercely protective, completely submissive - but one thing stands above them all, haven been beaten into her since birth.
She is utterly, completely, 100% respectful. Always.
And when she makes a mistake, she owns it. Even as embarrassing as this may be, she has made a mistake and deserves the punishment coming for it. Not even Edwin would be able to convince her otherwise.
And so it is, she arrives here at the brotherhood, silent, and dressed in her oldest tattered jeans and t-shirt that's been washed so many times the color is but a faint memory. Her pack is on her back, heavy and clanking and clunking in a way that suggests it contains a variety of interesting gizmo's that only she would find valuable, and on her feet simple flipflops - something easily cast aside - which she does, slipping them off to stand barefoot before the door to room two.
A few breathes, trying to find the courage she fairly bleeds on the battle field. This is no battle, though and she is unable to find it. So she finally lifts a trembling hand and knocks on the door, eyes steadfastly on her bare feet.
[Wyrmbreaker] Some part of Rory must hope for the last-minute reprieve that Wyrmbreaker's absence would offer. No such luck, though: the Shadow Lord calls through the thin door, "It's open."
The hinges are well-oiled, and do not squeak. When the door swings open, Lukas is on his bed, back to the headboard, a leather padholder propped on his knee. He's writing longhand, a black rollerball pen gliding smoothly over paper.
It's not until he finishes whatever thought he was setting down that he looks up, recapping his pen with a deft motion of one hand. "Rory," he says, "what's on your mind?"
[Rory] It's open. Of course it's open. Of course he's inside. Of course there's no reprieve, because there has never been, and will never be one for such as Rory. She closes her eyes, briefly, and then reaches with a trembling hand to open the door, slipping inside, silently, quietly. One might think to see the look on her face, the way she trembles, the way she refuses to lift her gaze to his that she has killed one of his, that she has brought a swift justice for some perceived insult and come away with Shadowlord blood and sinew between her teeth.
She doesn't look up, other than to briefly acknowledge his words in a swift travel up somewhere around his jaw, and a slam back down. She slips free from her pack, and settles to her knees on the floor, keeping herself resolutely below him. There's the sense that if he demands she crawl to him on her belly, she would do so, without hesitation, in complete and total contrition.
She presses her lips together, her brow furrowing as she tries to find the right words, and prays that they come out right, knowing it's an impossibility. "I wave hronged you, Wyrmbreaker, rhya."
[Wyrmbreaker] The thing about Rory's curious speech pattern is that it is possible to get used to it. It is possible to hear beyond the swapped consonants; to hear the vowels and the end of the word instead. Soon enough the switched sounds don't even ping on the consciousness anymore.
The Shadow Lord frowns. He slips his pen through a loop on the inside of the padholder and snaps it shut. "How so?"
[Sinclair] The Galliard of the Unbroken doesn't live here anymore, neither in Room 6 nor 7 nor 3 nor anywhere, really. She passes through, grabbing a bed when she needs one or a shower stall or a run in the washer or dryer. She eats here sometimes, but usually she pays. Tonight she's just passing through with a bowl of stew, a hunk of bread, and a slice of cheese. And paying her Alpha a visit, since she hasn't seen any of her packmates for more than a Hi y'all I'm back before flopping facefirst into one of the beds at the Loft.
The door is open behind Rory when Sinclair comes by, balancing two bowls with enormous islands of roll trying not to sink into the thick not-soup food. She doesn't hear what Rory says, but she sees the frown past the redhaired sinborn's shoulder.
Her eyebrows quirk.
[Sinclair] I brought you stew. Should I skedaddle?
One thing that's hard to ignore, since Sinclair came back: the regionalisms. The slight accent that she drummed out of herself for years, that she no longer seems to be restraining.
to Wyrmbreaker
[Rory] She can't look up at him - so she doesn't. She shouldn't look up at him, which is why she can't. Instead, she lowers her gaze to her hands, twisted into a knot in her lap, gripped so tightly that her knuckles are white, that the freckles stand out in sharp contrast. And there are a LOT of freckles.
She clears her throat, in attempt to gain courage. It doesn't help.
"I have slept with kour yinsman, Ray."
She could add details. She could say that it was her first, that he taught her it was ok, though she knows it was wrong for the sinborn to even think of indulging in matters of the flesh... but she says nothing else, unless prompted.
[Sinclair] [Just said over totemphone!]
I brought you stew. Should I skedaddle?
One thing that's hard to ignore, since Sinclair came back: the regionalisms. The slight accent that she drummed out of herself for years, that she no longer seems to be restraining.
to Iona McNevin, Wyrmbreaker
[Iona McNevin] Iona had spent the last few days since the attack, in her room, going through what little stuff she has there. The walls were covered in some of the forgings she had done in the past. A Shield emblazoned with the Clan McNevin coat of arms, a few different swords, and the like. Otherwise, there was very little else save for clothes and alot of empty whiskey bottles. The door to Room 1 had a "Stay the fuck out" sign on it.
Then something caught her attention and she looked around her room.
[Wyrmbreaker] Briefly, Lukas's eyes flick over Rory's head to the Glass Walker standing outside. Then they come back to Rory as she drops the news. There's a pause. Then Lukas snorts quietly.
"I'm starting to wonder if anyone hasn't. At least you can't end up impregnated." The cold blue eyes rest on Rory for another moment. "I didn't lay the law until the moot. So unless it happened last night, I won't count you indebted to me or to my tribe.
"You should probably avoid further contact, though. Another Garou has been asking to challenge, and I doubt she'll appreciate the competition."
[Wyrmbreaker] Maybe give us a minute, Lukas begins. I don't mind, but I think she --
Rory blurts it out. Tongue-tangled and all.
-- nevermind then.
to Sinclair
[Iona McNevin] Over the totem, there was a bit of confusion. "Who said thah?" She was still reeling from the Spirit of Rabies, and what he had done to her.
to Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] [oops.]
Maybe give us a minute, Lukas begins. I don't mind, but I think she --
Rory blurts it out. Tongue-tangled and all.
-- nevermind then.
to Iona McNevin, Sinclair
[Rory] "But I..."
It's out before she stops it, and she flinches back, expecting to be hit for her impertinence, her audacity, for the very fact that she wants to do something, to have something she isn't allowed to have. Pain there, naked and obvious at the thought of giving him up...
Softly, so much so he may have to strain to hear. "Marni." She knows. "Te hold me."
[Wyrmbreaker] "But you what?" There's a certain mercilessness in the way his eyes pin Rory, stay there. It's not to say he glares at her. It's simply: his eyes are so very pale, so very unflinching.
[Sinclair] Sinclair: "Hey," interrupting and indignant. "Kate and I haven't boned him. Or Asha. I'm pretty sure."
She quiets after that though, walking in and squeezing past Rory to take one of the bowls of stew -- and the roll -- over to Lukas's bedside table. She glances over at Rory once as she takes her own bowl over to the desk and perches on the edge of it. She's dressed simply as ever, in jeans that have a hole in one knee and an old Tide t-shirt that she got off a website specializing in fake vintage.
[Iona McNevin] Iona slipped to the door, and opened it. She poked her head out and heard the voices from Lukas' room. She slipped out and moved to the door to listen, her head canted to the side.
[Victor Oseragighte] (( Open? ))
to Wyrmbreaker
[Rory] She trembles - she dared speak it, but was not able to finish it, and now she can't possibly hold back. He demands answers, and she provides by telling the truth. Complete honesty, total submission.
"...tant woo."
And then Sinclair is joining, and then Iona too - and poor Rory is mortified. Completely. She flushes bright red, and keeps her head down, letting the curls hide her face, though nothing can hide the way she trembles, and the way she fears what will come next.
[Wyrmbreaker] [yep, always]
to Victor Oseragighte
[Victor Oseragighte] Iona is listening at the door. Victor is just exiting his room, having changed freshly into a pair of brown dungarees and a gray shirt with a faded motif in French, so old it's difficult to read now. He pauses as he spots somebody else in the hall, tilting his head.
[Wyrmbreaker] "That's unfortunate. But that's the risk you run when you fraternize with the kin of another tribe. My answer is no, Rory. If and when Marni is allowed to challenge, and if and when she wins, you can take it up with her."
They've developed quite an audience. Lukas looks at Iona, look at Rory, and sits up. His feet swing off the bed. He puts the pad aside and gets up.
"Was there anything else?"
[Iona McNevin] The sound of a door behind her makes Iona turn her head. A light nod was given to Victor, though she had no clue who he was.
[Victor Oseragighte] He smiles as he recognizes her and heads over, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his pants as he approaches. "Good to see you well again," he ventured in his terse, brief manner.
[Sinclair] Sinclair remains perched on Lukas's desk, tucking into her stew. She breaks the roll and dips it into the broth, eating with surprisingly good manners for a girl who looks like the wannabe girlfriend of some biker. She stares at Rory for a little while. The Ahroun is, uncomfortable as she is with it, in quite the spotlight right now.
[Iona McNevin] Iona's attention turns from her Alpha's doorway to Victor. He is greeted with a smile. "Aye, thank ye." She thought for a moment. "Ye....were there? When they rescued me?"
[Wyrmbreaker] [DI, Victor was there in the whole scene. I'm pretty sure Iona saw him before she went all rabid!]
[Iona McNevin] ((Nick told me, the spirit fucked her up mentally. She has some temporary memory loss for now))
to Wyrmbreaker
[Victor Oseragighte] (( I don't think she ever saw him in homid, though. ))
[Rory] She closes her eyes, tight, and then nods her acceptance of his word, her lips pressed together to hold back anything else, even as she blindly reaches for her pack, and pulls it into her lap. She fumbles with the zipper, and finally gets it open. The pack is ungainly, the things inside causing it to look misshapen and odd. He knows she works with metal, with small machines, with pieces and parts of things that others find worthless and throw away. She pulls something amazing from things broken... there should be a lesson in that. She doesn't see it, it - as with everything else about her - simply is.
She reaches inside, and find the right piece, and slowly pulls it from her bag, her fingers nimble and strong as she adjusts the copper pieces that are designed to catch the rain, formed into little tulip like cups, and let the water flow from one to the next and finally to the ground. It's... surprisingly delicate, and pretty.
She offers it to him, her voice soft... "For you. And mour yate."
For him, acknowledgment of what she can never, ever, dream to have. Once he takes it, baring anything else, she clutches her pack to her chest, and rises, intending on making a quick escape.
[Victor Oseragighte] He was not terribly surprised when she did not recognize him; he'd left before she'd awoken, after it was certain she'd been cured and healed, and he'd come in behind the other Garou, in Crinos by the time they probably saw him. He just nods and chuckles softly. "Was there the whole time. You probably remember me better with fur, though."
[Iona McNevin] She frowned and looked away. "I dinnah remember any o' et. Juss whah I 'ave been tohl thah happened." She sighed softly and leaned back on the wall.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas holds his hand out for the delicate sculpture, his set expression clearing into a genuine appreciation as he see it.
"This is lovely, Rory. Thank you."
And as she's heading for the door, "Sinclair told me about your leadership the other night. You did all right. But I want you to come along when I take a few of your auspicemates and the other Alphas into the Battleground Realm for training."
[Wyrmbreaker] [BURN THE WITCH!]
[Wyrmbreaker] [...awww, too slow.]
[Victor Oseragighte] Understanding dawns on him now; he knew of such rages, so terrible they wiped away portions of your life it seemed. He nodded and removed a hand to stroke his beard. "Not sure what to tell you. Saw you and those other two on the run. Caught my eye. Then suddenly we have kin running from a Spiral and a manifested spirit of Rabies. It got to you. We... managed to contain you."
Not the time, he thought, to bring up the viciousness of the one who'd really dropped her. Not the place. "Called in your pack. Friends of mine. Just lucky they could cure you."
He waits another beat before he adds. "Jacket wrapped around your wounds was mine."
[Rory] She stops as he continues, as he speaks of the leadership she never should have taken. She has stepped beyond her boundaries too often, too clearly lately, and since they have not punished her...
...well. She is confused. Completely confused.
But this she understands. He commands her to join in training, and she nods, her curls bouncing, though she does not attempt to answer. she holds her pack tightly, and makes her way to the door, her slender frame quaking. She holds control only by the thinnest of threads, and needs. to. get. out.
And they are there, blocking the door. She tightens her hold, and murmurs an achingly soft "'scuse.."
[Iona McNevin] She listened and nodded. That much she knew already. Then she smiled. "Och, so thah's who. I am 'avin' it cleaned. " She let Rory slip out by her if that's ok with her Alpha. But her attention was to Victor at the moment. "Et is more than thah though. I felt like I had been trapped there fo' years, when everah one has tohl me et was only minutes. And I fo'got a great many things. Buh I am trying hard tah 'member."
[Sinclair] Watching Rory go, Sinclair adds no further comment concerning what she told Lukas about Rory's leadership. It was basically as Lukas said: she did all right. Sinclair has one flip-flopped foot on the seat of Lukas's desk chair, twisting it back and forth, her body always in motion as though keeping still takes more effort than fidgeting a little. She gnaws on a bite of steak from the stew, and when Rory is gone and she's swallowed, she turns and looks at Lukas.
"Okay, seriously, I hope whatever that guy does to these women, you do to your mate. Because. Jesus."
[Wyrmbreaker] "Goodnight," he calls after Rory, who was already shrinking her way out. In her wake, the Shadow Lord carefully sets the beaten-copper raincatcher on his desk. Then he picks up the other bowl Sinclair had brought and, without ado, tucks into it.
And laughs. "I don't kiss and tell," he says, mock-mysterious -- though one might note he does, in fact, change the subject thereafter. "Good trip home?"
[Victor Oseragighte] He moved smoothly aside himself, not one to keep somebody obviously agitated trapped when Luna's face was showing full in the sky. "How much have you forgotten?" He knew that rabies was a deadly disease, and that awakened it must have been far more dangerous still. He could only imagine the full effects it must have had on her.
[Rory] She's let by, and she swoops to grab her flipflops, and soon is nothing but a memory, her bare feet near silent as she makes her escape - before she breaks down, before she loses what little control she clutches tight too.
She does not stop until she is outside, in the darkness of the alley, where even her hair - flaming read and so very noticiable - is hidden by shadows. Only once there, once she's alone, once she's completely hidden does allow herself to react, to let the intensity of her fear and longing and loss overwhelm her...
Edwin threatened to feed Ray his heart if he broke hers. Perhaps it is good then, that Lukas has done the job instead.
[Iona McNevin] Again, a frown appears on her features. "Mo' than I care tah admit. Names, dates, things thah 'ave happened tah me o' tah mah friends. An' the things I do 'member, they dinnah feel right. Everah thing feels like a nightmare. Et's strange. I mean, I 'member being locked away. An' being tortured ova and ova. He....et messed up everah thing in mah head." She shook her head.
[Victor Oseragighte] "Give it time. Some of it might come back. Human ability to recover can be amazing. And ours... well." He stepped forward again to offer his hand. "You never knew me to forget. Victor Oseragighte. Philodox of the Wendigo."
[Iona McNevin] His comment made her smile a touch. She gave him her hand to shake. "Iona." Then she huffed, and called over her shoulder. "Och, Luke. Whah tribe am I again?"
[Sinclair] One shoulder shrugs up, then rolls back and down. It's a smooth motion, fluid enough to disguise the strength inherent in her deceptively slender frame. She and he eat, and her ears pick up slightly on Victor and Iona's voices outside the door, but she doesn't call either of them in. It isn't her room. And for now, she's perfectly content to just eat with her Alpha.
"That's really pretty," she comments, on the ...thingydoowhopper, her head says... on the table. "And yeah. We took like four days and went to this place called Arapahoe Basin, in Colorado. Apparently they've been going there like, every year since I went to college. So we caught the veryveryvery end of the season and I took a snowboarding class which was awesome, by the way."
Another bite of stew, and bread.
Iona calls into the room. Sinclair rolls her eyes.
[Wyrmbreaker] "My name is Lukáš," the Shadow Lord replies evenly, "and if you've genuinely forgotten your own tribe, then I'd suggest you not suffer your people to tend your obviously great sickness."
Maybe he's joking. He's calm, dipping bread into stew, eating soft, fork-tender steak.
"I," he replies to Sinclair with exaggerated arrogance, "ski. I do not snowboard."
[Sinclair] "Oh," Sinclair says slowly, with dawning comprehension that may or may not be feigned. She nods gently, her eyes growing tender. "I understand. It'd be really hard for you to have me show you up. I get that."
[Iona McNevin] She looks back to Victor and shrugs. "Et'll come back. Buh I kin stihl fight, an' I 'member how tah shift. So I'm nah totally helpless." A smile given to Victor.
[Victor Oseragighte] Not remembering her tribe. Oh boy. That was... a big one. He sighs and shakes his head ruefully, his hand moving to rub at his eyes a moment before he lowered it again. "Well... you might be Fianna. Just a guess." His mind is already working, thinking about methods to help Iona best regain her memory. It would help if he knew her better, but he figures there are people he can talk to for that, right? He had been there. He was surely partially responsible for her state, and that was not something he took lightly.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] *POP*
She shimmies through the bathroom mirror, crouching down in one of the sinks as she looks around, hands grip the edge of the bowl as she snorts. Her head tilting over a shoulder to cast a glance at her reflection. Blue eyes stay focused on her image for a few minutes, entranced by whatever it is she sees. Another snort erupts with a heavy expulsion of air from her lungs, and the small Gnawer climbs out of the sink.
She brushes her hands over the denim overalls she wears, the pant legs chopped off high on the thigh to make them easier to move around in. Bright pink stockings encase her legs, tucked into rainbow knee high socks and black scuffed up boots. Three layers of tank tops of various garish colors flatten across her torso under the bib. Bleach blond curls stick out at all ends in a frizzy halo around her cherub face. Nose and cheeks smudged with either dirt or chocolate, hard to tell...
She wanders out of the bathroom, adjusting the gunnysack slung across her shoulder, head cocking to one side as she listens for voices and follows her nose to seek out the conversation.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas shoots Sinclair a dirty look. Then he bumps her with his shoulder. "Ass." He tilts his head at the door, indicating Victor and Iona just outside. "You meet him yet? He's a Wendigo half-moon."
[Iona McNevin] She nodded. "Li'l things ahr comin' back. So I know this wihl nah last fo'evah. Buh like I said, whah I could 'member was...tainted." She reached out and touch his arm as she went on. "Like...there was a fight. An' I killed anotha garou. That's how I 'member it. Buh that's nah how et feels. I -know- I dinnah do et, buh I 'member doin' et. Do ye undahstand?"
[Sinclair] "No, I'm Tits. You're the Ass," she quips back, swinging a bit to the side, keeping her stew bowl from spilling. "Hey now..." mutters the Galliard, protective of her food.
But then her attention's distracted and drawn outward. She looks past Lukas at the door, at the Wendigo, and shakes her head. "I'm gonna live a hundred years and not get why any of the native tribes would want to live in Chicago."
[Victor Oseragighte] He did, a little. Most Garou had had dark frenzies, rages so terrible they did not remember what had occured afterwards. And he had phantom memories, too, from his ancestors, whispering through his mind at times. Most of all, she needed to hear that somebody understood, so he nods, places his hand over hers. Philodox listen. "I do. It can be hard to sort if all out. Where you end. Where this other self that does not seem to be you ends."
He had heard himself mentioned, by tribe and auspice at least, but he does not turn to acknowledge this, not until addressed directly. Iona seemed to need his attention more right now.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] "It's the water. Everyone comes for the shows. It's like the black hole of Calcutta. Sucks everything in like a giant squid and we ain't ever gonna break loose. We'll all die here, ya know." The Gnawer answers Sinclair, coming up on the pair of Unbroken peering out the door. She wrinkles up her nose, canting her head up to nod to Sinclair and Lukas.
She stops, hands gripping the straps of her gunnysack, "How's the alcoholic?"
[Iona McNevin] She smiled her thanks. Atleast someone was understanding. She heard his name as well, and motioned Victor around. "This be mah Alpha, Lukáš and she be..." She had to think hard, very very hard. "Sin...claire. Sinclaire." She nodded.
[Victor Oseragighte] Mama breaks in and he shudders slightly; no, for him, it was not the water. The water had no pull upon him at all. It was the wind that blew him here. Why he still did not comprehend. But he would. He nods to her, then Iona, happy to turn his attention from thoughts of the dark pool endlessly turning. "Met him. Not her."
[Wyrmbreaker] "Well," Lukas says, "now's your chance to ask."
Iona introduces them. Lukas -- bowl of stew in hand -- strolls out of his room to be social, nodding to Victor as he steps into the hall.
"You're running with the Windrunners now, aren't you? Good."
[Wyrmbreaker] [*cough* MOONrunners.]
[Sinclair] Her brow wrinkles in confusion. "There's a black hole in Calcutta?"
Sinclair shakes her head, taking another bite of stew and chewing on her broth-soaked bread. Soon enough Lukas walks out of the room and she decides to follow after, feeling awkward about taking up space in another wolf's den while said wolf isn't even there. So a moment later she comes out into the hall as well, but doesn't stop there.
Heading to the common room, Sinclair bumps lightly against Iona. A silence descends on her as she goes towards the couches, but only Lukas and the Fiann know why. It isn't a faraway look in her eyes that indicates, with Sinclair, that she's speaking to them through their totem. It's an odd, pervasive stillness, as though her energies are drawing inward and making her outside seem that much calmer.
[Sinclair] Iona, if you're joking around about forgetting things like your tribe and your packmates, it isn't funny. And if it isn't a joke, you should ...well, obey your Alpha and tend to your own sickness. You're a daughter of Perun, for fuck's sake, stop wandering around like you've got alzheimer's.
to Iona McNevin, Wyrmbreaker
[Victor Oseragighte] She does not ask. She hardly even acknowledges him. And he just shrugs to this, murmuring as she goes past, "heard of the Black Hole of Calcutta. Don't remember what it's supposed to be."
[Mama Ankle-Biter] "Wyrmbreaker. Warcry. Have ya met one of --" a blink, and a furrow of eyebrows, "Yeh, he's one of Mama's. Said ya directed him to us."
She rolls her shoulders back, looking up at Victor with an easy, friendly smile. That smile grows wider at Sinclair's confusion, "Oh, yeah! Ya didn't know?" If Sinclair starts to follow Lukas, the Shadow Lord will likely pick up a train as Mama follows after Sinclair, bringing up the end like a little caboose. She breaks away when they reached Victor and Iona, sidling up to brush against Victor's side and gently nudging him. "It's... in...." she sticks her tongue out trying to think, "Somewhere across an ocean, Mama thinks."
[Iona McNevin] She glanced to Sinclair when she is bumped. The slowly, her calmness grows into coldness. She murmurs a farewell to Victor and slips back into Room 1 where she now resides. Her door is slammed shut, the sound resounding through the halls.
[Iona McNevin] I'm nah jokin'. I dinnah joke aroun'. Et just slipped mah mind is all. An' I am doin' mah best tah 'member everah thing right again. There was anger in her tone. Not directed at anyone really. More because this happened at all.
to Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker
[Sinclair] Sitting down on the sectional couch now, bowl of stew on the coffee table in front of her, she glances up as Iona's mood suddenly -- instantly -- darkens and sends her quickly back to her room. The Galliard neither sighs nor rolls eyes. She just glances at the space where Iona was a moment ago, then looks at Lukas with a slow blink, then turns her attention on Mama and Victor.
"No, what's the black hole of Calcutta?" she asks, either of them really, as she breaks off a bite of bread. "It's... well I mean it's obviously not an astronomical phenomenon. Is it like Maelstrom, some kind of whirlpool spirit?"
[Victor Oseragighte] Something had happened. What, he did not know, but nothing good there. He watched Iona retreat, frowning a little, then smiles down at Mama and places a hand on her shoulder. "Calcutta?" It was a suggestion, faintly amused, and he was a bit lost in thought himself really as he mulled over Iona's predicament.
[Sinclair] The sigh she doesn't let out in truth comes across their link, like the breeze presaging the gale of a storm. Iona, you do so joke around. Plenty of times. Don't throw a tantrum over it. Jesus. But I meant what I said: if you're genuinely that lost, you need to get it fixed. What do you think it does to your reputation -- to our reputation as a pack -- if you put your weakness on display like that?
to Iona McNevin, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] "Yeah. You guys were short a Philodox, and I thought he ... "
Lukas trails off for a moment, frowning. Iona storms off nearly without a word. Her door slams. There's a silence. Then Lukas looks at Mama again.
"I thought he fit," he finishes. And, "Excuse me a moment."
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Her eyes followed the path that Iona takes, reading the girl's body language without much effort. She wrinkles up her nose, noting the displeasure in Fianna No Moon. She nudges Victor again, shaking her head at him, as if to not worry. She swings her attention towards the Galliard.
Lukas speaks up before Mama was about to explain what Calcutta was, she nods her head as he excused himself. To Sinclair - "S'room in some fort over in that one place with the big elephants and brown-skins with dots on their foreheads. Read up on it in a book-thing when Mama was cruising the big bookstore that let's ya read free books and clicking on them picture boxes with the mechanical mice."
She shrugs, "Held prisoners of war."
[Wyrmbreaker] Iona, the mind-voice of the Shadow Lord comes even and stony over the totemlink, the last one of us to choose to storm off rather than speak to his packmates was Edward Bellamonte. Eventually, he chose to leave us altogether. Now he's packless, and no one knows what the hell he's doing, or if he's even alive.
That's where ignoring those who care for you will get you. You may not like what Sinclair said, but she has a point. She's saying it for your own good. In case you've forgotten, Sinclair probably understands what you've been through more than anyone else in this Sept.
If you think she's wrong, that you're not weak, then come back and prove it to her. But standing from my perspective, I see only a wolf who let the Wyrm best her, who had to be rescued, and who all but revels now in the whole miserable experience and the attention it's garnered her.
to Iona McNevin, Sinclair
[Victor Oseragighte] "Oubliette." It comes out of nowhere, Mama's explanation to Sinclair sparking something. He looks down to her and nods, but cannot hide that he feels he should be investigating. He is happy at least, though, that her Alpha is here.
[Sinclair] Sinclair stares at the two Moonrunners as they explain. Then blinks.
"Ah," she says after a moment, and gestures with her bread. "There's stew downstairs. Jenny's pushing bowls on people, I think they need to make room in the fridge."
[Iona McNevin] She leaned on her dresser, staring into the mirror. I feel like I am bein' punished fo' doin' whah I was born tah do, Sinclair. I felt like I was trapped fo' years, bein' tortured, mind fucked til everah thing I knew was either destroyed o' changed. I'm just tryin' tae figure out how tae fix et is ahl.
Then she listened to Lukas and closed her eyes as she did. I nah weak She sent over the totem quickly An' I would nevah willingly leave the pack, leave mah family.
to Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker
[Iona McNevin] Quietly, the door to room 1 opens and Iona steps out.
[Sinclair] Bewilderment: How are you being punished for being Garou?
to Iona McNevin, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] "It's good stew," Lukas calls -- he sounds like he's heading downstairs himself. "Best thing on their menu, next to the rack of lamb."
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is quiet now, listening to his packmates.
to Iona McNevin, Sinclair
[Wyrmbreaker] As Katherine nears the proximity of her packmates, their totem conversation, previously just a low background buzz that's easily ignored unless she pays careful attention, becomes prominent:
Sinclair: Iona, if you're joking around about forgetting things like your tribe and your packmates, it isn't funny. And if it isn't a joke, you should ...well, obey your Alpha and tend to your own sickness. You're a daughter of Perun, for fuck's sake, stop wandering around like you've got alzheimer's.
Iona: a flare of anger. I'm nah jokin'. I dinnah joke aroun'. Et just slipped mah mind is all. An' I am doin' mah best tah 'member everah thing right again.
Sinclair: a mental sigh. Iona, you do so joke around. Plenty of times. Don't throw a tantrum over it. Jesus. But I meant what I said: if you're genuinely that lost, you need to get it fixed. What do you think it does to your reputation -- to our reputation as a pack -- if you put your weakness on display like that?
Lukas, stony: Iona, the last one of us to choose to storm off rather than speak to his packmates was Edward Bellamonte. Eventually, he chose to leave us altogether. Now he's packless, and no one knows what the hell he's doing, or if he's even alive.
That's where ignoring those who care for you will get you. You may not like what Sinclair said, but she has a point. She's saying it for your own good. In case you've forgotten, Sinclair probably understands what you've been through more than anyone else in this Sept.
If you think she's wrong, that you're not weak, then come back and prove it to her. But standing from my perspective, I see only a wolf who let the Wyrm best her, who had to be rescued, and who all but revels now in the whole miserable experience and the attention it's garnered her.
Iona again: I feel like I am bein' punished fo' doin' whah I was born tah do, Sinclair. I felt like I was trapped fo' years, bein' tortured, mind fucked til everah thing I knew was either destroyed o' changed. I'm just tryin' tae figure out how tae fix et is ahl.
I nah weak She sent over the totem quickly An' I would nevah willingly leave the pack, leave mah family.
Sinclair: How are you being punished for being Garou?
to Iona McNevin, Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair
[Iona McNevin] It took awhile for her to answer. But the emotions they feel, they knew where they came from. Confusion, anger, rage, then a sudden calmness. I....tha kinfetch. I 'member a kinfetch calling tae ahl the garou nearby. I answered the call. I fought hard. By tooth and claw.
She looked at her hands a moment. I dinnah feel the wound. Buh then I just 'member pain, and rage, and torture. Now I have tae figure out what is fact o' fiction. An' I seem nah tae be one who keeps many momentos.
to Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker
[Victor Oseragighte] He was certain it was great stew, and as certain it wasn't for him, sadly. He nods to them both, though, and nudges Mama as he spots Iona way down the hall where she's emerged once more.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] "Stew."
It takes her a moment to think on this, a hand dropping down to rub across her tummy, feeling it flip as it starts to growl loudly, announcing how hungry the Gnawer must have been. She looks up at Victor, tilting her head to the side and grins, "Ya hungry, Vicki? Can call ya Vicki or is that not right?"
She blinks at the nudge, eyebrows lifting upward in a curious tilt as she follows his eyes to where Iona came out of her room. Her tongue runs across the inside of her cheek, before clucking against the roof of her mouth.
[Katherine Bellamonte] By the time Katherine Bellamonte steps foot inside the Brotherhood of Thieves, she has been privy to an entire conversation that has the Half Moon frowning, already, as she closes the door in her wake and silently folds a cardigan over her arm. There's a hint of varnish cloying to her as she moves, her fingernails freshly painted in a softer pink pastel shade to suit the warming days.
The Silver Fang's dress whispered against her legs as she mounted the stairwell, an unspoken addition in Rage to the already overwhelming stronghold of it within these walls.
[Victor Oseragighte] "Vic. Sure. Don't like stew, though." Not entirely true, but then she knew that. He'd find something. The way he'd answered her question about his name, she was not the first person to try shortening it on him like that. He looked down to Mama; he might not be linked fully through their Totem yet, but he could say a lot with just gestures. Like now, asking her silently if they should stick around or give the Unbroken some room.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Iona, Katherine's even, considering words intervene abruptly, do you need to talk?
to Iona McNevin, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker
[Iona McNevin] Her voice was soft, barely even heard. "Maybe."
to Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker
[Sinclair] There's a snap of frustration across their link. It wouldn't be there, and they wouldn't all feel it, if Sinclair weren't making the decision to put it out there. No words accompany it. She has that much restraint.
to Iona McNevin, Katherine Bellamonte, Wyrmbreaker
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Perceptive to the ways of emotions, Ankle-Biter starts to frown up at Victor. She lifts up her hands rubbing them together. Her features set in place, as she finally sucks in a deep breath and then exhales out with a shake of her head to Victor. Iona was not her pack mate, though a distressed Garou, she wasn't about to step in where this matter was concerned.
She stretches up, linking her arm through Victor's and tucks him along gently, "Let's go down to the kitchen see if'n we ain't gone find ourselves something dead and bleeding, might possibly still be mooing. Got a hunger for something a bit raw right now."
[Sinclair] "Why don't you like stew?" Sinclair asks, piping up suddenly.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Iona's retort was, of course, felt as much as heard, as was the sense of Sinclair's frustration. Honor's Compass passes by Victor and Mama on her path to the room where her pack-mates were and each got a small nod, the flick of her pale eyes over their features before she moved to the doorway of Room 1, leaning a small shoulder against the door-frame and folding her arms beneath the cardigan, neatly held over both.
Her head canted.
"So, let us speak, then. What is on your mind."
[Victor Oseragighte] He finds himself being tugged along and allows it, amusement spreading across his face in a small smile. Looking back, he tossed Sinclair an answer. "Not enough meat." I was basically the truth, after all. Then they are moving past Katherine and he grows curious, another new face here, so many people to meet. But they're headed down, she focuses on that. "Raw, you say?"
[Sinclair] She laughs. "Oh, I so get that," she says. A beat passes. She nods a goodbye to Victor and Mama as they leave the common room to walk downstairs, and she sits alone on the couch, taking the rest of her meal as a way to not go add another person to the list of packmates she's bloodied the floor with.
She's getting older. A little wiser. More controlled. So instead of picking a fight, she sits. And eats her roll. And chews her stew, because god knows Jenny doesn't make thin shit.
[Iona McNevin] ona was standing outside her room. She watched as Kate came up and leaned on the doorframe. She gestured for Kate to enter, if she wished. Iona though, turned to walk inside, and stood in front of the dresser, staring into the mirror.
"I feel...impotent. In a matter o' minutes, me life was torn apart by a tainted spirit. Ahl I want is me life back how et was. Nah this crap o' tryin' tae figure out everahthing. I want tae be meself now. Nah later." She sighed. She pulled a picture off the mirror. It was the night Kate helped dress her up for her big date with Ray. Both Iona and Ray seem so happy in the picture.
"I dinnah even know who this man is. Buh I have a memory o' him. So why would I keep a picture o' a man who me mind tells me that rape me?"
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama keeps a hold on Victor's arm, tucking him along down the stairs. She squishes up against him briefly to allow Katherine to pass by, her head turning to watch all of them as they disappear back down into the kitchens. When they were out of ear shot, she sighs softly, looking back up at him once they hit the kitchen.
"As trouble as that gal might've been, Victor, didn't think it was proper to interfere in another pack's personal issues. Best to leave it up to them. Now let's see what we can scrounge up that's got some blood on it."
[Victor Oseragighte] "I suppose. I think, though, a small suggestion to bring her to places that are important to her might not go... amiss. Don't you? I was there. Could have been me. Couldn't stop it from happening. Don't like just turning a blind eye." He shook his head and followed her in back, the weight of that sitting on him; he's that sort, that feels responsible for the rest of the world.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The small Gnawer skirts around tables, tilting her head up as she sniffs at the air, casting a long look around the kitchen. She tries to be mindful of the sanitation that has to be kept, furrowing her eyebrows slightly, she turns to stare at Victor, focusing on something he says.
"True, but!" holding up her index finger in the air, "It's still getting into another's business, which Mama ain't gone do in front of them others. If'n ya feel the need to counsel her, take out and get'er a beer or something, talk to her all private like, best way to handle it without stepping on toes."
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine reaches out as she passes, and slides a palm over Sinclair's shoulder. It's a brief deviation in her original course, but needed; wanted. The tactile reassurance that yes, her pack-mate was returned to her. That she was physical. Then, Katherine's heels daintily clip after Iona, and she steps into Room 1, discreetly closing the door behind her.
One did not air one's dirty laundry for the world to hear, in her opinion.
The Ragabash stares at her reflection in the mirror, perhaps searching for some sign, some gleam of the answer within it. Instead, what she sees is Katherine; she moves up behind her and sets her belongings down; her pink fingertips finding the other woman's hair and sliding through it as she watched her reflection, listening to her words. When she plucks the picture of Ray from the mirror and holds it up, the Philodox's pale eyes follow the motion.
She hmms, a considering noise, worked from her throat.
"Iona, let me tell you something. Not so long ago, when my fellow tribes-mate was killed and I carried the body back, I was never more terrified, and I have faced terrifying things. I was facing down not only his father but the King of one House of my tribe. Of my blood. I knew that the chances were substantial that I went to my death and yet, I had no choice. I too, was impotent to stop the mechanisms at work.
Sometimes, we do not get asked for what life deals us.
We are simply forced to endure it.
You have suffered a great loss," Katherine's fingertips rose to caress the Ragabash's brow, to tender aside falls of hair as she met the other woman's eyes in the mirror. "Your mind and body were violated by the Enemy, but you were returned to us. You did not fall. Now, what you face is the uncertainty of the aftermath. You say, I wish to be how I was, but why? You are a changed Warrior. A stronger Warrior.
You have endured, and survived. Do not look to rush the recuperation your mind needs, Banshee."
[Victor Oseragighte] He smiled to this response and simply nodded, recognizing both the truth and the wisdom in her words. He moved then to find the storage freezer where they probably kept the bulk of their meat. Thawing it out he did not mind. Hell, a few ice crystals were not that bad either, in his book.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Victor was better at finding the meat than Mama was with her duller senses. She wrinkles up her nose, scrubbing a hand across her face and sighs. She smirks up at him as he goes through the storage freezer.
"What'cha find in there?"
[Sinclair] It wasn't much, the night Sinclair returned, to have her show up at the Loft and essentially crash face-first into the first empty bed she found to sleep for nearly twice as long as she'd been driving. Which is to say: Sinclair slept for a solid eighteen hours before she so much as twitched, much less dragged herself up and showered, brushed her teeth, ate half the contents of the kitchen, and then brushed her teeth again. By that time the Loft was mostly empty, the others who come and go asleep or on their own errands.
She's been in and out since then, herself. Back to the way it was before she left Chicago. Now that she's back she's using words most of them aren't used to: she says y'all, and she says 'skidaddle', and next time she tries to say 'shit', what comes out might be 'shoot'. Every time she takes the Lord's name in vain it seems like she has a bit of a thrill of defiance to it. She's letting what remains of her old accent to slip into her speech here and there.
She cocks a half-smile when Kate walks by, winking at the Philodox before nodding her away to Room 1. The door closes again, not slammed this time. Sinclair shakes her head, and finishes her dinner. Maybe Lukas sees Victor and Mama downstairs. Maybe he's on his way back. Sinclair just eats her dinner, and when the bowl is empty and the bread is gone, carries her dishes downstairs to wash them out.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is, indeed, downstairs when Mama and Victor show up to root around the freezer. He's plowing another bowlful of stew into his face, in fact, and as he's washing the bowl out, he turns to look at them over his shoulder.
"Here's a better idea," he suggests. "If you're concerned for my packmate, Victor, say so to our faces. We appreciated what you two did for her the night she was tainted. We appreciate what you might do in your patience and your good intent.
"All I ask is this: don't coddle her. She's feeling weak right now, maybe in need of pity. Don't pity her, and don't encourage her weakness. She's a Garou of the Nation. And if you have uncertainties, ask us first."
celebration.
9 years ago