sharing strength.

[Wyrmbreaker] Since the night Christian was recruited into the Unbroken -- in name, anyway, since the totem bond was yet to be forged -- Lukas has been all but absent. Sometimes the younger Ahroun will scent his packmate in the Loft, or at the Brotherhood. Sometimes his presence will linger in the area like a smell, like rage, as though they'd only just missed one another. Sometimes they'd seen each other in passing at the changing of the guards at the Caern -- but always, always, these encounters are rare and brief.

Perhaps Christian feels a little abandoned. A little tricked, even. Wasn't Lukas supposed to be his mentor? His Alpha?

Well; tonight, he's at the Loft. He's in the living room, laid out on Katherine's couch. He's reading. The book is called The Book of Revelation: A Novel, and it must not be a very good one because Lukas is frowning. He's apparently also waiting for Christian, though, because as soon as the Fang Ahroun appears Lukas sets his book aside and sits up.

"Hey," he calls quietly. "Can we talk?"

[Christian] When Christian gets back he's not bloody or injured...which is a nice change of pace seeing as he's died and come back three times since the 16th. He's sweaty. It's hot out and he's been throwing a rugby ball around. But he kept his shirt on to walk back from the park. It doesn't hide the scars on his throat and arms. He hasn't shaved since they brought Greg back to the Caern. That doesn't really hide the scar on his throat either but it's a distraction. His Rage is not as high as it usually is...but he still feels like a guitar string pulled too tight.

He stops dead when Lukas calls to him. He hasn't seen his alpha in weeks. He stares for a few seconds. It isn't the thousand yard stare his sisters had found him with last week. Still. His eyes do nothing to calm any fears about his mental stability. Christian clears his throat. Tries to smile. It turns into a grimace. "Ok," he says.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas gestures Christian into the couch opposite him. A few feet of space between. A coffee table, on which Lukas has a glass. Water, not wine. He sets the book down beside it, whatever page he was on unmarked, and leans his elbows on his knees, fingers folded loosely together.

"I haven't been around for you much," he says. "I know I promised I would be, and I'm sorry."

That, first and foremost. A quiet apology; genuine. Delivered with a faint grimace. Blue to blue, the Shadow Lord's eyes search the Fang's for a moment. Then he says, "You want to tell me what's going on with you?"

For what it's worth: it sounds more like an invitation than an order.

[Christian] He doesn't sit down right away. He's reluctant. Either he knows what's coming...or he just doesn't want Katherine to catch him on her furniture when he's covered in filth. The teenager looks between Lukas and the couch a few times. Takes a breath and sits down. As close to the edge as he can get. He holds the rugby ball between his hands. He has a death grip on it. He's not agitated. He's nervous.

Lukas apologises. Christian doesn't know what to do with it. Nobody ever apologises to him for anything. Especially not when he isn't in their face telling them what they did wrong. He swallows. "Um..." Frowns. "It's okay."

He looks back when the Fostern looks at him. Not forever. Just long enough to realise that Lukas is looking for something. Then he drops his gaze. He's still looking at the ball when the question comes. It wasn't an order. If it were an order he might have lied. He doesn't lie. "Not really."

[Wyrmbreaker] There's just a quiet to that; a pause. Then: "Why not?"

[Christian] His pause is longer. He turns the ball in his hands a few times. Picks at the stitching. "Because..." Christian grits his teeth. He still looks at the ball. "Because you're not supposed to make your people deal with you when there's something wrong with you." Now he looks up. His head flies up is more like it. "I'm not saying there's something wrong with me! I just...people think there is."

[Wyrmbreaker] "The Litany says Do Not Suffer Thy People to Tend Thy Sickness," Lukas quotes. He sounds like a Philodox when he does that. There's a reason for that: his own mentor was a goddamn Philodox. A hint of wry humor, then, "I'll let you know if I start suffering.

"I'm your packmate," he continues. "I'm your Alpha. I don't know you very well yet, Christian, but I know this much.

"I know I saw enough potential in you to want you in this pack. I know you carried one scar when you joined us, and now you've got... what, two more? three? in the space of a few weeks. I know that sort of thing doesn't happen by accident. You have to look for danger to run into that much. And I know that if you throw yourself recklessly into battle after battle until you die, which is what you seem to be doing right now for no reason I can understand, that's going to be a real shame and a hell of a waste of potential.

"So." His hands come apart, spread palms-up. "Come on. Talk to me, Christian. What's going on? Why do people think there's something wrong with you? Why are you out there playing chicken with death?"

[Christian] Christian tries to smile again when Lukas says he'll let him know if he starts suffering. At least it's less effort this time. He still looks uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable than he looked at the Silver Fang moot. Lukas might have seen him before he and Katherine left for the Signature Room. Maybe he heard the teenager griping - as good natured as he ever gets - about how tight Katherine tied his tie. That was the last time anyone saw Christian in a good mood. His suicidal rampage started after he escorted Hilary Durante to her cab.

...what, two more? three?

"Three," he says. Quietly. Not to interrupt. He drops his gaze again. It stays down until Lukas implores him. It comes back up slower than it did when he tried to assert that there was nothing wrong with him. Christian doesn't want to talk about it. The older Garou can see that. Or maybe he just doesn't know how to talk about it. Or how to say that he doesn't know how to talk about it. He isn't exactly in touch with his feelings. He expresses anger by breaking things and frustration by swallowing tears and -then- breaking things.

He keeps squeezing the rugby ball. He's breathing heavy. Christian looks away with his jaws clenched. When he gets himself together he looks down again. It's easier to confess when you don't have to look at the other person. He's used to confessing through a wall with a slat in it. "I did something I shouldn't have. Like...I could have not? But it was really hard not to and I just...I did it. And I hurt someone. And I felt guilty. I mean...I am guilty but I couldn't deal with feeling that way so I just...I got into a lot of fights. And I didn't care what happened when I would fight like...Wyrmlings." He makes himself look up. "I know it would hurt Cordelia and I know it would suck for you guys but I just didn't care, -rhya. And then I wasn't even looking for a fight...I was just standing in the park talking to Greg and I..." He looks back down. "I did it again. Frenzied so bad the Wyrm got in. And Greg got hurt because of me."

[Wyrmbreaker] Greg got hurt, Christian says, and a frown skates across Lukas's brow.

He's heard that story already. He heard it from Katherine first. He heard about Greg; he heard about what really happened to Greg. Where his body lies now. Who was left to mourn him. Who was left to avenge him. What Christian thinks happened, or what he simply blocked out completely.

He doesn't correct Christian right away. Not yet, anyway. It's filed away; he goes back further. Down to the basics.

"Everyone screws up, Christian," he says. "Me, Sinclair, Kate. All of us. When I met my mate, I was so afraid of becoming weak and vulnerable that I wouldn't let myself love her. After months of my idiotic behavior, I tried to walk away from her. And that fucked me up so bad that I just fell off the radar and went on a week-long tailspin. I was the Beta of this pack then. During that week, I was totally useless to my packmates. During that week, my Alpha got ambushed by a pack of fomori. She died. Alone. While I was passed out in some dive motel on the other side of town.

"I am an Ahroun, and I was a Beta. It was my job to keep my Alpha safe or to die by her side. I wasn't even there. Whatever you've done, Christian, it can't possibly be worse than that.

"And even if it is worse than that -- even if you've danced the goddamn Spiral -- it's not over unless you refuse to come back from it. Everyone screws up, Christian. The difference is not everyone takes responsibility for it. Not everyone tries to make things right and move on from it."

Another pause, here. There's a sense that Lukas wants to speak carefully; that he doesn't want to crush his young packmate with the weight of guilt, or responsibility, or What He Should Have Done. There's a sense that he wants to be righteous and just, to not pull a punch he shouldn't, but at the same time --

to be merciful. Maybe that's the best way to put it.

"Throwing yourself headlong into deadly conflicts," he says gently, "is not the way to make things right. You're a part of a pack now. You have friends in this Sept. If you died senselessly, we would mourn you. It would hurt us. You don't have the luxury of not caring what happens to you anymore, because you don't have the luxury of living and dying alone."

[Christian] Men don't stare at rugby balls when they're trying to talk. Christian's in that strange place between childhood and adulthood. It only gets worse when you figure that his childhood ended when he first changed. And that even if he lives to be 50 he's never going to really be a man. He's Garou. There's a difference. So when Lukas answers him he makes himself look at him. Even though he's ashamed of himself. Even though he doesn't really believe him when he says they've all screwed up. Sinclair told him her story. And Christian looks dubious when Lukas tells him his. Like yeah...what he did was definitely worse than that. But he doesn't say what he did. He keeps squeezing the rugby ball.

"I know." It isn't an empty answer. Christian doesn't usually talk unless he has something to say. Or you're questioning him. He looks down for a second. It's hard meeting Lukas' gaze. It's harder to meet Christian's. His eyes don't look human when he's like this. "It's just...I feel like my skin's on fire all the time. And...the stupidest stuff pisses me off. But I'm trying. I...don't want to be that kid who dies and all people can talk about is how he was controlled by his Rage. You know?"

[Wyrmbreaker] "Yeah," Lukas says, the corner of his mouth tugging faintly up. It's more sad than amused. "I know.

"Just ... stick with us, okay? It's not weakness to share your pack's strength. Call us up if you're going on a hunt. Or even if trouble finds you. And for god's sake, Christian, make your appeal to Perun already so you're not going into combat unarmed."

[Christian] He looks like he wants to laugh. He also looks like he wants to throw that ball through the window as hard as he can. He does neither. He takes a breath. It shudders. It's like his body won't stop making adrenaline when his Rage is this high. Like he's got to be ready for a fight always whether he wants to be or not. Christian taps the ball on his thigh a few times. Then he nods.

"Okay." He takes another loud breath. Frowns. Like what he's about to do is more difficult than throwing himself at a war wolf or a Black Spiral Dancer. "Um...will you help me with that? I don't really know what I'm doing."

[Wyrmbreaker] This time when Lukas smiles, it's genuine. He looks oddly pleased. And surprised. It might be the first time he's seen Christian reach out at all to his packmates. It might be the first time he's heard him say, will you help me?

"Yeah," he says. "Go grab a shower and let's head down to his shrine at the Caern. I'll call him for you tonight."

[Christian] There are times Christian seems like a normal 18 year old. He can be cocky and funny. He can say what he's thinking because he can actually -think-. Most of the time he's like this though. He seems lost. He looks crazy. He's angry. He has no idea how to say what he's thinking. He doesn't want to admit he needs help. All he wants to do is lash out but he manages to say as much - he doesn't know how to appeal to Perun. Will Lukas help him.

When Lukas smiles he almost deflates. Like he's relieved. Like he didn't expect that. He doesn't have the words to really tell Lukas what just happened. And he isn't the hugging type. So he bites his lip. Loosens his grip on the ball. Stands up.

"Okay," he says. A pause. That's where words would be if he has them. Instead he just nods, says "Okay" again, and hurries upstairs to take a shower.