adren, night's reprieve, laxity.

[Wyrmbreaker] As he so often seems to, Lukas is here to swim tonight. His swim robe is discarded on one of the loungers by the poolside. The Ahroun himself is plowing through hard, athletic laps in the pool, one end to the other, tucking into a turn, coming back. It's part training, part catharsis. There's something soothing about trusting one's body to know how to move.

At the end of a set of two or four or six laps, the Shadow Lord slows, glides to the middle off the pool, and puts elbows up along the tiled side, floating in the cerulean water. This is when Kate comes in, to which Lukas responds by instantly splashing water over his shoulder at his packmate. He doesn't even have to look to know where she is.

"Hi," he says. His grin is utterly unrepentant.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Luckily for Lukas, Katherine was in a white sarong and swimsuit, her fair hair pulled high out of her way in a ponytail. She had, it would seem for once, been meaning to make use of her own swimming pool.

Would wonders never cease.

Hi, is greeted with the slash of her mouth into a crooked interpretation of a smile; with the arch retort of her eyebrow rising upward. She dips a toe into the water, and flicks droplets of water back at her Alpha. "Wretch, hello yourself." Setting her towel over the back of a lounger, the Silver Fang unknots the white cloth tied to her mid-section and rises; deliberately diving so she barely cleared the Ahroun's personal space and bursting out of the water with her own unrepentant grin; pushing strands of hair from her face.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she begins, idly floating on her back in the water; listening to the birdsong looping from speakers hidden by ferns and other false plant life. Her hair is all but translucent in the water.

[Wyrmbreaker] Katherine's brand of blonde-and-fair is different from, say, Danicka's. Whereas Wyrmbreaker's mate is decidedly golden, particularly in the spring and summer months to which she seems all but made for, Katherine Bellamonte's beauty is a more wintry brand. Which is fitting, considering the vast white wastelands from which her tribe's oldest bloodlines hail, and to which every last Silver Fang can eventually trace their ancestry. Even now, just past the end of summer, she's hardly tanned at all. She seems alabaster-white compared to her larger, darker, huskier alpha, whose black eyebrows go up.

"Oh? What a coincidence; I was hoping to talk to you, too." A pause. He dips the lower half of his face underwater, and then -- predictably enough -- smacks the sides of his puffed-up cheeks to squirt water at Kate. "You first."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Being that they were the two longest-standing members of the Unbroken, Katherine and Lukas did not spend a vast amount of time together of recent times. It did not, as present playful water-splashing and so on displayed, appear to have drastically altered the bond between them. It was in large part the exact way a sibling treats another which was no bad likeness to draw really, when you were discussing wolves, and Werewolves and how their worlds operated.

In many ways, definitely in the ones that counted, Lukas was her brother.

She raises a dropping palm to deflect most of the water spat at her; her expression scrunching into disgust at the recycled water being anywhere near her and drops back so she is floating across from him; her eyes a mirror of his own in pallor; her expression schooling at once to something near hesitation which was not a common sight in Katherine, at least, not when she was addressing him.

"I mean to challenge for Adren." She studies his face or a moment before her eyes slide away to peer at the distorted, rippling sight of her legs beneath the water. "I plan to return to the Sept where my father served to do so." A beat, she wipes a hand over her cheek, drops of water scattering across the surface of the pool as she does.

"I know you have been ... hesitant to challenge yourself, for some time. I was not going to tell you until the time arrived, but now it has and I cannot hold off." Her eyes tick back. "I will not."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas huffs a laugh.

"That was pretty much what I wanted to tell you, too. It's been a ... long time since I gathered the renown. I think to put it off any longer will be a dereliction of duty on my part." A wry twist of his mouth, "Just a couple weeks ago, Sinclair basically smacked me upside the head about it."

Humor fades then. He drifts back, hooks his elbows back on the side of the pool, floats. This pack has always been close. They strategize casually: in the common room at the brotherhood; over sandwiches in the kitchen; while floating in the pool.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Sinclair smacked him upside the head about it.
Dereliction of duty.

Yes, most people didn't speak of such things when floating around in an indoor pool, but then, since when were they anything resembling normal, anyway. Katherine could play the part of the rational, thoughtful Philodox but it did not erase the simple fact that she also believed with all her heart that she was only still alive because Gaia had a special purpose for her.

Because she was chosen.

She watches her Alpha for several moments; then swims over and mirrors his position across the width of the pool, which was far enough, given its sheer size. "I don't honestly know. It's been -- a very long time since I set foot inside that Sept. I'm hoping that one of their Philodoxes will accept my challenge." Her eyes lower, lashes washing against her cheek; frowning.

"One of the few pack-mates that was not slaughtered alongside my father was a Philodox. Perhaps I will find him there." She smiles, her head lifting then canting to one side. "It feels fitting, to return there for the rank that he never got to achieve. Perhaps I am overly sentimental, but I like to believe he would approve."

She floats her legs out before her, idly scrutinizing her painted toenails.

"What about you, where shall you go to challenge?"

[Wyrmbreaker] "Stark Falls," Lukas answers without hesitation. The choice was made a long time ago. "I've got my own sentimental reasons. It's where I was fostered. It's the Sept my mentor still calls home. He's an Adren too, close to Athro now. I thought it would be nice for him to see -- well." His smile is a touch self-deprecating. "How far I've come. What I've done with everything he's taught me.

"Anyway, I asked because I didn't want to time it so that both you and I were gone at the same time. I know Sinclair and Asha can take care of themselves, but even so ... well." The Ahroun's shoulders move in a shrug; he paws a wet hand down his wet face. There's no mention of the what-ifs, the dangers, the possibility of a lethal failure, but it hangs in the air between them. "Dani&+269;ka's coming with me," he says instead, "and she has a break at the end of the month. So we'll probably go then.

"Do you think maybe you could be back by then?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] There is no mention of them, but they are very real possibilities, laid out before them both.

Katherine had no idealistic visions of what her Rank challenge would be like, of how it would play out. For all she knew she would be turned away, failed on some slight, or some major affront. Perhaps there would be some physical altercation, or maybe she would simply talk her voice away as she had with her Fostern Challenge. To imagine what would happen was foolhardy however, as it accomplished nothing but unease, but hesitation about pursuing such a goal.

"Unless all goes terribly wrong, I should think I'd be back well before then." When Lukas mentions that he's taking his mate with him; there's a strange expression that seeps over Katherine's face. Call it surprise, call it concern.

"Are you sure..." Her brows knit together, she slides down a way, so her shoulders are beneath the water; so her chin is barely above it before she pushes herself back up once again. All the way, now. She sits herself on the edge of the pool, her legs submerged up to her knees. Her hair a thin streak over one shoulder. It stood out against the stark black of her swimsuit.

"Lukas are you sure that's wise? To take her with you? I know your strength, and your determination can cut through most every obstacle but," her eyes hold his.

"What if something goes wrong?"

[Sinclair] This might be a private conversation. Sinclair's already talked to Lukas about this whole 'Adren' thing. She's probably more aware than any save Katherine herself of the Philodox's renown. The leadup to Kate's challenge is on record. It's filed. It's backed up. There are descriptions of Sinclair's own nonverbal (though sometimes quite vocal) interactions with spirits of honor, spirits of wisdom, trying to record without interpretation what they have to share about Katherine Bellamonte, Truth's Meridian, etc etc.

Sinclair knows. If she weren't what she is -- the Galliard of the Unbroken -- it would be creepy how much she knows about her packmates, particularly these two.

When she comes downstairs, it's fresh from a couple of hours of sitting on her laptop writing. Chatting with a few people on GW.Net. Doing her thing. She's the only one not in a bathing suit when she enters the pool room, but she's wearing a pair of khaki shorts that reveal her toned legs and all the ink adorning them. Her shirt is a shortsleeved raglan, white and red. Her feet are bare, her toenails and fingernails painted gold. Her hair is up in a ponytail, hanging straight down, swinging against the back of her neck.

She comes in right as Kate is asking --something goes wrong? and her eyes flick between the two near-Adrens. Taking a seat on a lounger, Sinclair doesn't interrupt.

[Wyrmbreaker] "I think the possibility that I might die," Lukas says, never one to euphemize his way out of a stark outcome, "is why she wants to be there. So she'll know. So she'll be close.

"And if I do die," he adds, "I still want someone to tell my mate as soon as possible, to make a point of telling her so she knows. Don't make her wait and wonder. I want you to tell her. Sinclair already knows the rest of my last wishes," he nods faintly in the direction of the Galliard, whose entrance couldn't possibly have gone unnoticed by either of her packmates, "which is her duty and burden as the Galliard. But this is one thing I want you to handle personally. Because I think you understand loss more personally and viscerally than most of us.

"Anyway." The corners of Lukas's mouth turn up. "That's just a precaution. Mainly, I just want to make sure we aren't both away and challenging at once."

[Sinclair] "I would personally make sure you both lost renown if you let that happen," Sinclair jokes dryly from her lounger, her legs spread to either side of it, feet planted on the tiled floor.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine knows Sinclair is approaching.

In truth, she's known she's been around for some time upstairs, typing away at her computer. Every hour or so, she had sent up Lucille with the offer of fruit, or nuts, or hot tea. She did not pretend to believe Sinclair wanted most of those things, but Katherine offered them none the less. Playing hostess was something she did, most of the time, without much thought.

She attended to things.
She sent clothing out for dry-cleaning.
She had Christian's room cleared of dirty laundry once a week (though she herself often did not delve far into that teenage haven).

It was not strictly her duty to do any of these things; that's in part why she had hired staff. A chef. A maid. A repairman on call to come and fine-tune her car every so often. But she enjoyed them, it helped Katherine feel human, she had told her pack-mates more than once: it reminds me of life outside of War.

Sinclair pushes into the pool room with its tropical temperature and its Rage-fueled guests (though none are at their peaks right this minute) and Katherine turns her face toward her sister and smiles. It's a brief thing: there and gone, her face settling back into the range of concerned, and not certain, about what she was hearing from their Alpha. "Of course," she attests without hesitation.

"I would tell her of your passing."

Sinclair would kick both their asses if they were both away challenging at once; the Half Moon's mood lightens considerably; she leans over, and scoops a handful of water, splashing it toward the Galliard with lazy focus. "Tsh! I am almost sure I would return to find my home had become the headquarters of Sinclair's bid for global domination."

[Wyrmbreaker] "No, that's just you," Lukas replies, and -- when Kate starts the water-war again -- ducks under for another mouthful of pool-water.

Which gets squirted at the Fang the same way: his cheeks puffed up, then smacked to release a jet of recycled water.

"Provided we both pass, though, we should totally celebrate when we get back. Didn't you and I pass our Fostern challenges within weeks of each other too? What the hell, Kate."

[Sinclair] Young Miss Warcry lifts an eyebrow at that. She blinks a droplet of water off her eyelash; she's the least likely of all of them to mind getting pool water on her, really. Now she has a wet spot on her shirt, droplets on her shorts. She rubs a hand over her knee. "Global domination is your thi--" and Lukas is saying almost the same thing, and Sinclair laughs. "HA. See?"

She gets up, heading around to try and find the controls that manage the fake birdsong playing in the pool room. "By the way, Kate, tell Lucille to stop coming up and asking me if I want some tea. It makes me feel like I'm a guest or something." She leans over, peering at the display, and starts toying with it. The birdsong shuts off. She's still peering, fiddling with knobs, buttons. Whatever. "Also, if she catches me at the wrong time of month and I'm trying to write I'm liable to throw a baseball at her or something if she makes me lose my train of thought."

At first it's hard to hear what Sinclair has switched the speakers to, until she turns the volume up:

-- you see, I'm callin'
a guy like you
should wear a warnin'
it's dangerous
I'm fallin'

[Asha Singh] So, right. Some scientist discovered the seventh planet from the sun of a reddwarf with half of its face to the sun, half eternally dark like the moon. This matters not at all to the Garou, who may not even believe that a world exists independent of this one, outside the umbra. Maybe the homelands are out there, somewhere among the stars.

They found it by measuring the minute displacement of the sun's orbit by the planet's gravity. They extrapolated measurements. They made assumptions.

Just now, the volume of water in the pool expands.

The pool is huge. Steaming up the glass enclosure where the warm humid air meets the cool, dry glass exposed to the October night. There are dry leaves in the air, and though it was warm today - one of the indian summer sorts of days - the night cools rapidly. The pool is huge, and it is almost impossible to see the shift in the water in the 2.3 seconds before Asha erupts from the surface, her dark hair like wet snakes around her in the warm blue waters, sputtering and cursing in some godsforsaken language the rest of them have only heard from her mouth.

Trust me. These curses could peel paint from the walls.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas makes a face. "Seriously, Sinclair? Britney? What are you, a blood elf?"

Someone's been sneaking onto Danicka's World of Warcraft account again.

[Sinclair] Lukas gets a flat look to that. A long, flat look. "You're a fucking dork," she finally says

and bursts into dance. She's lip syncing as she does so, and it's clear within a couple of seconds that not only does Sinclair have a long history of matching movement to rhythm,

she is also aware of what Lukas's joke meant.

"Hey, Asha," she says in greeting, though it might be drowned by the Silver Fang's cursing. She doesn't stop dancing, her ponytail swinging. And her rump shaking.

[Katherine Bellamonte] She has only a smirk for him, and shakes off the water, kicking her foot out toward him. "I cannot simply let you coast through life, Lukas. I must bring the competition. Besides," she narrows her eyes at him, with faux-indignation. "What kind of Silver Fang would I be if I allowed a Shadow Lord to hold rank above me for long?"

Sinclair is telling her to stop sending Lucille up; is discovering the not-so-well-masked location of Katherine's speakers. "What are you doing in there?" The hawk-eyed Half Moon demands instantly before -- her face drops. She seems almost let down.

"But that birdsong is authentic." She's protesting, as curses in Indian erupt from the water, along with Asha. Katherine had half raised her feet from the water as if fearing a sudden appearance by a shark.

[Asha Singh] Also, Asha is wearing a dress.

It is silver.

And strapless, but mosty it just scintillates through the water. "Sinclair's an elf?" Asha narrows her eyes are Sinclair's ears, looking for pointy ends, then goes - "Oh hi." and starts swimming for the nearest ladder.

[Asha Singh] ...and, like a silverfish slicing through the water, quite literally, the slight Ahroun climbs up the ladder, water streaming down her body, gleaming against fabric.

Dripdripdripdripdripdripdripdr along the pool deck, all the way up the stairs. She needs a shower.

[Wyrmbreaker] "I thought it was my job to hound your heels, not the other way around," Lukas replies to Kate, smirking. Then he plants the heels of his hands on the edge of the pool and hauls himself out, dripping, to sit on its edge.

"She's dancing like one," Lukas responds. "Hey, Kate, let's install a mailbox in here. Maybe Sinclair'll dance on that."

[Sinclair] "Britney is hella authentic," Sinclair retorts, her spine moving almost like liquid for a moment as Asha's hauling herself out of the pool, drenched. The Galliard pauses as the second Ahroun passes by in a soaking wet, silver, strapless dress. Her dancing hitches, but as Asha passes right through and onward, Sinclair shrugs one shoulder and goes back to dancing. "Come on," she says, back to Kate again. "You should just get up and dance, you'll feel better about the whole thing. And I'll turn the birdsong back on before I go."

Lukas's comment about the mailbox does not get dignified with a reply. If he were a Cliath Bone Gnawer Theurge, not her packbrother or her elder or important at all, she probably would have kicked him in the throat for saying it.

[Katherine Bellamonte] There is no questioning of why Asha appeared in a dress in the middle of the pool and then exited, dripping her way toward the showers. Katherine, for once, seems to take it in her stead and rather only frowns at the wet footprints that will no doubt be left in Asha's wake.

Let's install a mailbox in here, he says and his Half Moon raises an eyebrow at him, wordlessly shooting down thatconcept with little else. "Actually," she says as Britney sings about things being Toxic and Sinclair twirls about to the chorus, "there was something else I wished to raise with you. Or, more over, mention. We have been somewhat lacking for a Theurge with Theron and Caleb both preoccupied with this and that."

A hand dismisses the Garou together as some collective entity.

"I wondered if perhaps we shouldn't examine the possibility of bringing in another." She leans back, tilting her chin up as if she were sun-baking. "Have you met Night's Reprieve? He's a Fenrir, but for what it's worth, I've only witnessed competency from him in battle. Plus," she ticks marks off on one hand. "He holds positions in the Sept, it could not but help strengthen us again, to have the Keeper of the Land among us."

She lifts a slender shoulder.

"Food for thought, perhaps."

[Wyrmbreaker] "The first thing I remember of Night's Reprieve was that he snarked it up about Christian having no impulse control," Lukas says, matter of fact. "But then the second thing I remember is that he apologized, explained what he actually meant, and attempted to give our angry young Ahroun some decent -- if vague -- advice.

"So, yeah. I don't see a reason not to give him a shot if he's willing. But Night's Reprieve was an Alpha in his own right, last I heard. Did that change?

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine seems thoughtful as she replies, musing on the reasoning herself, most likely.

"From what I understand, he was packed with a Cousin of his who has since left the city and the pack was disbanded." Katherine cranes her head back, peering at the Galliard. "What are your thoughts, Sinclair?"

[Sinclair] 'Toxic' is still playing when Kate brings up Night's Reprieve. Sinclair pauses again, her dancing slowing. She ends up stopping completely by the time Katherine finishes speaking, and her eyes flick to Lukas when he gives his opinion of the Godi.

Walking over to her lounger, she sits down again on the edge, one leg down and one crossed, ankle to knee.

"He's not exactly the Worst Asshole Ever," she says, "but I also haven't been that impressed, either. The decency of his advice is inconsistent, whereas the snark in his attitude seems a pretty regular thing. Kate's right, though -- tell 'round the campfire is that his cousin rolled through town for about ten minutes, but now he's a lone wolf again."

She gives a single shrug of one shoulder. "I don't know. To be honest, I think we should have a Theurge in our ranks, but it would be nice if we had one who, for once, didn't need to be smacked upside the head in order to do his damn job. Competency in battle is great, but if he's snide and arrogant otherwise, he's not going to be too helpful. There's something to be said for taking on younger Garou for their betterment, but ..."

Sinclair shakes her head. "Yeah. What Lukas said is right, too. There's not much reason to deny him if he's willing. But if he acts the same way in this pack as I've seen him act while outside of it, he's going to get his ass beat."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Let's give him a shot, then," Lukas says, and on that note, slides back into the water. "So, which one of you wants to give him the official we're-interested recruitment spiel? Because I totally recruited the last one, so I say that means it's not my turn."

He's pulling his goggles down as he speaks, his face working as he seals them tight over his eyes. It's quite obvious he's about to swim some more.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine digests her pack mate's thoughts on the matter silently, her fingers absently squeezing drops of water out of her ponytail. Its left with the imprints of her fingers after she's done; strands wisping from her brow as they dry out of the pool, giving her a slightly ruffled appearance so usually foreign outside of the battlefield.

"Very well," she says eventually with diplomatic aplomb, "I shall raise the idea with him that he come along on a hunt with us next we venture out. See how he goes with keeping his snide remarks to a minimum."

She grins, suddenly, revealing the dimples in her cheeks. "You never know, perhaps he'll even keep his hands to himself and I won't have to threaten to beat him with his own arm as I did Theron." It speaks of the healing properties of time that the Silver Fang speaks so casually of the occurrence that nearly resulted in violence in the streets of Lake View.

[Sinclair] It's obvious enough that Sinclair does not share Katherine's interest in adding Night's Reprieve to the pack. That may simply be her role: she had no faith in finding a good packmate in Katherine, either, even when Kate was already a part of the pack Sinclair was being invited to. She had little patience with both Theron and Edward. Since Caleb has been around roughly twice since she joined the Unbroken, Sinclair makes no secret of the fact that she barely even considers him her packmate.

Given what Sinclair herself has been through, what she has done, maybe it's unfair that she has so little patience for weakness, that she makes no pretenses of bonds that aren't there, that she doesn't hesitate to react with violent anger and even outright dismissal when she sees the barest hint of incompetence. Controlling that -- which is not to say she suppresses it, merely expresses it with less bloodshed and swearing -- is a recent development, and one she is still in the process of practicing. It is hardly second nature.

The reputation of the pack is her concern, more than it is anyone else's. They're a pack of War, first and foremost. The battle is what matters, not ego. It's not about ego, though. As she told Lukas, sometimes what others see when they look at you is about the effect it has on their own future, not on how much power they grant you.

The safety of the pack is her concern, too, as it is all of theirs. The competence or lack thereof of each member may very well be the hinge on the door between life and death for any one of them. The Godi that does not heal in the midst of combat, who does not hold back on his or her rage in order to be able to do so, has no place at her side. The packmate who is never around has no business claiming a bond of friendship and intimacy that he or she never puts effort into maintaining. The Ragabash who is completely self-involved, then uses his auspice as an excuse to undermine his own pack, is lucky he got out of the Unbroken with his throat.

Leave it to Lukas and Katherine to be forgiving, to give second and third chances, to judge the fitness of a wolf for the pack or the fitness of the wolf, period. Sinclair accepts it. Lukas, though clearly ambivalent about Night's Reprieve, has given leave to extend the invitation. Sinclair huffs a breath through her nostrils at the words we're interested, and -- obviously -- she doesn't raise her hand to offer. But neither does she argue. They will, as Kate says, see how the Godi does with keeping his attitude in check, and his hands to himself.

If he's even interested.

She's quiet for a bit, as Lukas is adjusting his goggles and preparing to go underwater again -- or in fact going underwater completely. She watches Katherine as the Britney Spears song fades, leaving only silence from the speakers. "Is that what you really think?" she asks after awhile, more quietly. "That if someone holds a sept position, adding them to the pack will strengthen us?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine turns to return Sinclair's regard once she feels her sister's focus is on her. She is patient, her silence telling that she is waiting for Warcry to get whatever thoughts are circling her head out of her mouth. When she does, Katherine at first cocks her head to one side as if she does not quite understand the question.

When she explains, Katherine's brow smooths, and she answers her quite without hesitation, with only honesty: "Yes. In most cases, that is what I believe."

She lets that hang for a moment, then recommences in a gentler voice. "I am not saying that we aren't already strong in ourselves as a pack, for we are. But it is also important never to close the door on the possibility of strengthening us further. It is my job to weigh the options of any decision we make as a unit. But I am not saying I am always right or that my belief is the right one to hold.

It is simply what I think.
Politically, we are one of, if not the strongest pack in the Sept right now.

I do not want us to lose that stronghold, Sinclair. We have worked hard to be a voice that is heard, and listened to. Both individually and as one. If Night's Reprieve can bring us further voice, and hold, then I do not see the harm in it."

[Sinclair] As Katherine speaks, Sinclair's eyebrows draw closer together. There's no telling what causes it. The words themselves, the tone, the meaning, some implication, or thoughts of Sinclair's own.

When the Philodox is done, though, Sinclair just nods -- an acknowledgement, nothing more -- and rises to her feet. She goes to the control hidden behind some plants, presses some buttons, and a few seconds later the birdsong comes back on. Too loud, at first. Warcry adjusts the volume down back to where it was, before Britney, stepping back away afterward.

She glances over at Lukas's form cutting through the water below the surface, then returns her gaze to Kate. "When Lukas first spoke to me about joining the Unbroken, I asked him what direction you were going in. His answer was just: War. I remember what he said because I wrote it down, and I read it over and over between that conversation and the night I joined. War. Everything else secondary: power struggles, territorial disputes. He called it all bullshit, said it was unimportant. He said that if we were to lead, it was by example. If others had worthy causes, we would put down our own egos and fall in line."

A breath. She exhales it slowly, quietly audible. "So when I hear you talk about adding someone Lukas is ambivalent at best about and someone I'm decidedly unimpressed by to the pack because he's competent in battle and holds an office in the sept, it makes me hesitate. It isn't about thinking 'oh, boo hoo, Kate doesn't think we're strong enough'. That has nothing to do with it. I know how strong we are. I don't think even adding a dipshit can damage or debilitate the core strength of this pack.

"My point is, as soon as you started talking about how strong we are politically, and how we want to hold onto that stronghold, you lost me. Everything else you said didn't matter as much because suddenly I was asking myself if this was the pack I joined." She pauses a moment. "I'm not disagreeing that we should be open to worthy potential packmates. I'm not disagreeing that we should always be seeking to maintain and increase our strength. But what's making me look at you with this face, this who-are-you-and-what-is-this-bullshit face?" she says, wagging her finger at her own expression. Then her hand drops. "Is that now I'm wondering what kind of strength you really want us to have."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine draws her legs out of the water and folds them beneath her, her upper body is mostly dry now, though she will have to shower to properly rid her skin of the traces of the chlorine. She could argue many finer points of this discussion with Sinclair. She could point out the world that she grew up as a part of; of the glorious Courts and Kings and Queens she was taught to admire and revere.

She could tell Sinclair about Lucien, and about the 'lessons' he administered to her that included such things as isolation, sense deprivation and constant reminding about who she was and her obligations to her family and the name of Bellamonte. But there are some parts of her upbringing, especially the years at her Uncle's hands that she does not see quite the way the outside world might. Katherine, for example, still does not comprehend that it was abusive of her Uncle to lock her in her bedroom for trying to defend the rights of other tribes.

For trying to help the maid fold the linen.

Rule by authority, never by an act of kindness. Authority is respected, kindness is taken as a weakness, was her doctrine. Even now, years on and almost an Adren, there are times when she speaks and it seems as if another were the puppeteer behind her words. Sometimes, it seemed to be the curse of her tribe, and others, like now, it seemed to be the repeated exposure of another mindset.

Still, there were stark differences between how Lucien would approach an opponent like Sinclair. His would be deception, the manipulation of fact. Katherine's is thoughtful consideration and then a weighed reply. Not angered, but full of belief. "I agree that not every strength is the same. That there must be lines drawn." She pauses, her eyes lowering to consider the water lapping at the sides of the pool.

"I cannot answer you simply, Sinclair, and tell you that I do not want political strength for the Unbroken. The drive to govern is within me, and always has been. It is a part of who I am, but it does not define me. I suppose I would say that I am who you know me as, but I have ambitions, too.

Can I not look to the strength of our pack in another way other than that which we all hold in common? Our purpose is War, I know that better than any. But I would be a liar, and a poor Philodox to hide that I do sometimes consider what image we project to others."

[Sinclair] And Sinclair would deal with Lucien the way Sinclair deals with most opponents: head-on. He would manipulate. She would put her foot on his throat. She would tell him, with the brutal eloquence that has earned her her names, about weakness.

It's probably for the best that Sinclair never meet Lucien. She doesn't know a thing about him. She's aware of the particulars: Kate has an uncle blah blah deals with company X blah blah. She does not know details of his hand in bringing up the Bellamonte siblings, particularly Katherine. And that might be for the best, too. But it also leaves her in the dark.

She listens to Kate, as she did before, with a slight furrow to her brow. She's attentive, but the difference is clear: when Sinclair is listening to remember, her face is calm. Serene. Almost blank. She is so intently focused on recording as she listens that she does not have the room in her mind to formulate a response either emotional or otherwise. The way she looks now, however, is a different sort of listening. This is a conversation, not the passage of memory from one to another.

Even so, she takes her time before she responds. The sound in the pool room is water lapping at concrete and tile as Lukas swims. The sound is droplets on shoulders. And birdsong. Because it's authentic.

"He leads. He protects," she says quietly, nodding in Lukas's direction. "You judge. You advise. I remember. But the reputation of our pack -- the 'image' we project -- is my job, Kate." Her eyes are on the Philodox. "And it can seem like a paltry thing. Even I have to remind myself sometimes why things like renown and rumors both matter. I'm glad that you consider it when you make decisions that could affect our standing in the sept.

"Look," Sinclair goes on, just as gentle as before, "I'll be blunt about what my concern is. It isn't Night's Reprieve. I don't think much of him, but I didn't think much of you at the beginning, either. I'll decide what I think of him based on him, though. What worries me is the reasoning behind you bringing him up was so politically motivated -- or sounded like it, from the way you put it."

She heads over to Kate, lowering herself to a crouch to be eye to eye with her sister. She's a more feral version of the Silver Fang: lean, athletic, fairhaired, pale-eyed. But Sinclair has the tanned skin, the freckles, the tattoos, the piercings, the pure savagery in her bearing that she cannot conceal no matter how much rage she burns, no matter how complete her self-control.

"You and Lukas may both fail your challenges. He might die. If you both come back, you could come back defeated. You and Lukas could be challenged and defeated as elders of your auspices and tribes. We could lose every foothold of political power we have in this sept, and we would still be the strongest. Fucking. Pack. They have."

A beat. "That's the strength I want to see added to. All the rest is secondary at best, and total bullshit at worst. Having a strong Ahroun elder and warmaster is vital to the sept, but I only care if it's Lukas if he's the best for the position. The same goes for your office, Kate. If there were someone better out there -- and right now I don't think there is -- then I'd tell you both to put your egos and the political gains of this pack aside and step down. It's all just... secondary. It's nice to have, but it's not who we are as a pack."

She frowns a little. "I just need to know that you're still on the same page as the one Lukas was reading off of when he recruited me last year."

[Katherine Bellamonte] There are similarities between the two blonds when they are as they appear now; at eye-level, looking into the others eye. There is little romantic about it, however. It is the consideration of two equal members of a unit. They have been exchanging their thoughts and at least on Warcry's side of things, offering up their concerns.

Honor's Compass studies her sister intently, much the way that she did during a challenge she was overseeing.

It was a thoughtful expression as equally as it was considering; open to opinions that differed from her own. She does not interrupt the flow of the Galliard's words until she is finished and even then her response is at first a physical representation rather than a spoken one. She reaches over and touches the other female's face, gifting her words then with the tactile emphasis displayed by her hand.

"In that," she smiles, and gently tugs at a stray strand of hair behind Sinclair's ear. "You need never worry. I am with you, always."

[Sinclair] Sinclair catches Katherine's hand before it makes it to tucking that strand of hair back. "I mean it," she says, without matching her sister's smile, without softening to the gentleness of the Philodox's tone. She holds her hand, though.

"I'm not talking about being close or getting along. Lukas told me at the start that it takes constant effort for you to deliberately give up power." There's a pause here, an expression that's almost a wince, as though a part of her would like to apologize. "I need to know you haven't gotten lax on that."

[Katherine Bellamonte] The smile fades, and Katherine's pale eyes lose their easy warmth; it is replaced with something infinitely more guarded. That sense is present in her voice, too. In the manner she gently pulls her hand free and excuses the motion with using it to adjust her stance.

"Of course not. I enjoy having power, but I am not lost to the need for it." When she returns her eyes to Sinclair, there's something challenging there, as if she were daring her to contradict her. "Should the day come I believe the effort is outweighed by the cost, I will take myself away with that shame."

[Sinclair] There's no need now for Sinclair to meet Katherine's eyes with a challenge of her own, or even rise to the challenge, the dare, she sees in Kate's. The challenge was already in her words.

I need to know you haven't gotten lax

I need to know you haven't gotten weak

It would take someone even more obtuse that Sinclair is when it comes to other people's feelings to miss the fact that Katherine is offended, maybe even hurt. But all the same, she meets her sister's eyes levelly, silently. Katherine's pulled herself away, her gaze becoming guarded rather than open and warm.

Sinclair just nods. "Okay," she says, and leans forward, rubbing her face against the side of Kate's. It's not a gentle caress of her hand across the other woman's cheek. It's not the sisterly tucking of a few strands of hair back behind her ear. It's a rough, animal nuzzling, heavy and open. When she pulls away, whether Kate is still stiffened or not, Sinclair says nothing more on the matter.

The challenge was laid out. The concern. The questioning that is done bluntly, inexpertly by a Fostern Galliard because they have yet to find a Ragabash who is able to do their goddamn job effectively.

Rising to her feet, Sinclair says formally, "If you'll excuse me."

Then turns, runs, and -- fully clothed -- does a cannonball into the pool roughly six inches from where Lukas is swimming around. "BONZAAAI!"

SPLASH.