eyes that wax and wane.

[apotheosis] Without any link to open his mind to the pack and their communications -- and knowing that the more intimate bond shared through Crow will still be held secret from him -- the silence behind Lukas as he leaves the trailer may mean nothing. He got only nods to his orders, indication that the items would be gathered and the spirit called. And then there's Eyes that Wax and Wane, following him out the door and down the little creaking metal steps with her light feet. She's not a large Garou, not a strong one -- no wonder Stormstrike, Starfall always had Threnody watching over her during battle.

Nothing like Kate, really. But then, once upon a time Kate could barely hold her own in combat against any but the most blundering foes. Now she can pin down a berserk Galliard and tear her throat out with tidy, delicate control guiding the sheer power of the bite. On the other hand, Kate was never socially distant, inept, and half-blind.

Not surprising that Wane walks with him in silence for a little while. For being blind, she knows this area better than him. She knows him as well as he once did, a cub and fresh Cliath in its borders. Time has made him forget some of the pathways in the dark. Time has changed where things are, the smells that once guided him. Wane doesn't lead, but walks at pace with him. After a bit, though, she speaks up.

"I've met Promised-Rain-rhya before," she says carefully, as though he must not know this.

[Wyrmbreaker] This Sept, its lands, are no longer familiar to him. He comes here often enough -- every time a moonbridge might possibly pass it by, and far more often than he goes home -- by this has not been his home for a very long time now. Seven, eight years. The better part of a decade. Longer, perhaps, than he was expected to live when he left its borders as a newly minted Cliath.

Those borders have shifted since he was a cub here. Grown in places; shrunk in others. Mostly shrunk, perhaps. The caernlands are different, too, tended by a different Keeper now. The smells are different. The pathways have shifted, like tracks in desert sand.

Still, it's not Wane that leads. They rely on Lukas's instincts and his general bearings, mostly, looking for the den where Promised Rain lives with his small, rather insular pack. No kin there. Reputedly Promised Rain has a mate back home in Hungary, whom he visits on rare occasion. Lukas has never met her. If they have children, they're all being raised with their mother, by their mother's kin. As far as anyone knows, there are no cubs.


Wane speaks first. Lukas is somewhat surprised. He glances at her briefly, his eyes a dim gleam in the dark. There's a bit of a silence; he considers what to do. In end, he does what he does best, and far better than he lies: he tells the truth.

"That's not why I asked you to come along," he says. "I wanted to talk to you."

[apotheosis] The moon reflects off of the cloudy white of Wane's useless eye. The same light causes only a tiny glimmer in her pearl-black one, just as the moon's face creates a faint shadow on the white. There's a shifting characteristic to her gaze outside of artificial lights, not because she's looking around herself constantly, but because somehow it seems like her thoughts and their movements can be seen if you look at her just right, even if those movements can't be interpreted.

Like the dartings of fish hither and yon, meaning nothing to poor landwalkers who can't feel the currents or any other sensations that might be guiding entire schools.

There's no chiding from the young Philodox for concealing his true motive in the trailer, only: "Okay," and a seemingly simple conclusion after that, something that would seem obvious to some but appears to come with a struggle from Wane: "You wanted to talk to me but not to my brothers."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Yeah. Or more precisely, I wanted to talk to you without you instinctively looking to Key of Heaven's lead. I want -- "

a break there; something of a hesitation.

"I want to know what's going on. I've been assigned as your Alpha, but this pack is still a closed book to me. I'm recognized as the elder and as the outsider. It's still Key that you all defer to and follow, and Key's the one calling the shots on what I'm told or not told. I need more than that."

-- and another. This time, Wyrmbreaker stops; turns to face the Philodox.

"I need to know the truth. If there's anything I should know that I haven't been told, I need you to tell me. Not because I expect you to be loyal to me, a wolf you met ten minutes ago, but because I expect you to be loyal to your true Alpha, and to your auspice."

[apotheosis] Her rage is a low, simmering thing. It may grow. But right now she doesn't get her hackles up when he tells her she looks instinctively to Key's lead, and she listens well. She's thoughtful. She takes a few steps after he stops, actually, before she realizes that he's not walking anymore. She backtracks, turns, and faces him as he finishes.

"We submitted to you as Alpha," she says after awhile, her words slow. "So we will be loyal to you. Susan is our Alpha, but she is not leading us. Key helps me when I can not find the words on my own. He helps all of us when we might stray from our purpose. He does not tell us to lie. Or disobey.

"Threnody is honest," Wane goes on. "He would tell you that sometimes he disagrees with Key of Heaven. He blames himself for Susan being taken, even though it is not his fault. He would not hide that because you are an outsider. He has submitted to you as Alpha.

"Sunthief is a Ragabash, but a good one. He wants to find our sister. He blames himself for taking us into the hills alone. We should have taken another pack with us, and he should have gotten that information for us. But he would not hide that from you. He has submitted to you as Alpha."

Wane, hesitant as her words are, slow as they come, seems to have faith in them. Has faith that the words will come, if she goes slow. If she takes her time. It is not easy to listen to, though. "Key is closer to Stormstrike than anyone. He has failed his Alpha, his pack, and his sept. He is embarrassed. And he has submitted." There's a pause, but she just sniffs moisture out of her nostrils. It's cold out here. "I think you already know all these things. You separate me from my pack to get 'the truth'. You have already decided you can not trust us together. You conceal your reason for asking me to come with you. But we are trusting you. With everything."

She watches him, her dark eye searching and her white one empty, blank, unreadable. "Are we going to see Promised-Rain-rhya now?"

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[apotheosis] [Wane is slightly perturbed, but not 'angry' or 'upset'. She's trying to be respectful while still doing her duty as a Philodox, and one gets the impression respect has been very well drilled into her. She is not intimidated by him. Maybe actually a little disappointed.]

[Wyrmbreaker] Perhaps this would all be easier if he hadn't come to a shadow lord sept; been given a shadow lord pack. Lukas is not in and of himself a creature prone to deceit or duplicity, but he is, in the end, quite mistrustful of most his tribemates. Their tendencies for plots and schemes, for kingmaking, for backstabbing. His relationship with his own tribe is a difficult, contradictory one. He is proud of his heritage, proud of the strength of the storm, proud of his allegiance to Thunder, but it's hard to say he likes his tribemates as a whole. He's met as many Shadow Lords he's despised as he has those he's respected. Maybe more. It's left him quick to suspicion, slow to trust.

Even now, Wane -- or perhaps someone a little more aware, a little more grounded than Wane -- can feel him staring at her, trying to read her. When she says, we are trusting you. When she says, with everything. Trying to sift truth from lie; trying to determine if he can trust these young Shadow Lords. If he can believe what they say. Even this one: the one whose auspice marks her for truth, whose personal handicaps make it so apparently difficult for her to lie.

When she's finished, Lukas considers a moment, looking aside. There's a dim glimmer through the trees. A small cluster of cottages and houses ahead: an area where some Garou have made their homes. When he looks back, his brow is furrowed.

"I think I owe you and your pack an apology," he says, quiet in the still night. "You'll have it when we get back from Promised-Rain-rhya's den."

Then he begins to walk again.


Lukas does not, in the end, speak long to Promised Rain. He is aware that this is his challenge. He does not seek direction, or even much advice. It would not be given, at any rate.

He introduces Wane to Istok. A few questions, then, simple enough: has Promised Rain or his packmates ever heard of such creatures? Is there anything about this pack, or this Sept, or this Caern, that might set it apart from any other in the vicinity?

Then it's an armclasp, a thank-you, and a goodnight. A brief visit, before the short walk back to Threnody's trailer.

[apotheosis] "That's good," Wane says simply, and forthrightly. "They know what you've said, and what I said back to you. So an apology would be good."

He begins to walk, and a moment later she turns and follows him, catching up after a few steps. When they reach Promised Rain's den they're welcomed in, and she's as quiet and as sedately respectful as she was in the camper and on the walk over. And when Lukas asks his former mentor about the creatures, he gets the expected answer -- no. They've all been on the lookout, but no. He knows Wane, only nods at the formalities, the etiquette of it all.

There's a flicker in his once-mentor's eyes when he asks if there's anything that might set this pack apart. This sept, this caern. He shakes his head, though. Lukas asks for no advice or direction. This is a challenge, and Istok is not one of the resources given to him by Iceriver. Still, just before they turn to go, he asks Wane to wait outside.

He far outranks Lukas. She merely inclines her head and leaves, obediently taking herself away. It may not help the issue of trust, but perhaps it will be alright -- this is Promised Rain's decision, not Lukas's. He tells her to leave his den, and she leaves.

When the door is closed again, Istok turns to Lukas.

"I have spoken to Iceriver-yuf," he says, his voice low. His voice always seems low, as though it is rooted in the earth beneath them. Once the words sounded to his ears like they came from the caverns and depths of Gaia's own wisdom.

Even now, there isn't much change in that.

"The Blackwings will not tell you this, and Iceriver herself could not tell you before the whole sept, but for your life you must know." He speaks quickly, but without a rush or hurry in his voice. "Stormstrike was one of her students, and Iceriver knew her well. She was acting strangely for weeks before she was taken -- she and Key of Heaven both. There is tension in that pack, Wyrmbreaker. Crow makes them loyal to a fault, and Crow makes them talented liars. Watch the Beta you have been given. Watch him closely.

"Iceriver-yuf wants you to find the truth, as much as she has challenged you to find Stormstrike," Istok concludes, his faded accent thick on certain syllables, rumbling through them. "We do not know what was between Key of Heaven and his Alpha. We know only that now she is gone, and he is still strange."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is as surprised as Wane -- perhaps more surprised, given the other's detachment and apparent befuddlement with all the world -- when Istok asks him to stay a moment while the Philodox waits outside.

He stays, though. He looks a little odd in the lamplight, in his mentor's spartan lodge: his clothes modern, quality, durable, but bisected by a wide leather sword-belt across his chest. The weapon itself over his shoulder is literally from another century. He looks like he's dressed for Halloween early and incompletely. He looks time-lost.

His eyes are sharp, though, and his brow flickers tighter as his once-mentor advises him. It's unexpected. It reseeds doubts: what happened, who knows what, how much Key of Heaven knows, how much more he must be keeping to himself if he has such a tight hold over what his packmates reveal.

There was a moment, earlier, when irritation flashed across his face before he could subsume it: when Wane blithely informs him that she's already told the rest of the pack what they spoke of. You see, he wanted to bark, that's exactly what I mean. I'm the outsider, even if you have submitted. You're still a collective, an unbreakable unit, and I'm on the outside.

There was no point, though. It would be as futile as telling the stone to crack itself; and anyway, it would only be relayed right back to the others; those who were sharper than Wane, and less honest.

Here, standing in Promised-Rain's living room, the young Ahroun -- because Lukas is still young; because almost all Ahrouns are young, and then dead -- frowns and rubs the side of his face and then offers his hand to his elder, squaring his shoulders. "I understand," he says. "Thank you, Rhya."

[apotheosis] Perhaps it's because he knows the young Philodox who just left them alone that Istok tells him all this. Honest, loyal, forthright... but simple. What is said to her will be said to those she calls her brothers. Her pack is good. They are good Garou. She can trust them; why can't Lukas? She'll tell him as stark a truth as she'll tell them, but still:

they are sharper than her. And less honest. And even Promised Rain, far removed from the politicking and vagaries of sept life, knows this. Something is going on with the Blackwings. Iceriver knows it; that's why Iceriver set him to this challenge.

Istok just nods, and takes his hand. He does not tell him good luck. Does not tell him to come back if he needs anything. Doesn't tell him to watch his back, doesn't offer him anything else. He's given all he can. All he will.

The door closes quietly behind him, kept oiled on its hinges. Istok's mate may be back in Hungary, raising his children, but his packmate's husband is a handy sort of man. A bit too jovial for Istok's sensibilities, a total opposite to Horizon's Tremor. Hard to imagine how those two got together, but oh well. He does things in secret when he can, like making sure Istok's front door never creaks. Duty. A distant affection. But no matter, really, in Lukas's own life, in his challenge. The door closes almost soundlessly behind him, and there is Wane, waiting for him with that blithe, benign expression on her face that marks her for being as simple as she is.

"Key says the spirit is ready. Sunthief has the things you asked for. Threnody has talens. We are prepared."

[Wyrmbreaker] Behind him, there's only the sound of a door shutting and latching. No squeal of hinges. No creak of failing wood. Wane is there to greet him, and Lukas falls in step beside her easily. "Good," he says.


The walk back is brisk, and largely silent. When he pulls the trailer door open, he steps in first, his weight depressing the shocks slightly but noticeably. Lukas doesn't waste time with lead-ups.

"You already know what Wane and I spoke of," he says, "and why I wanted to speak to her alone. You should know that I was the Beta of my pack once, and I helped to overthrow our Alpha when he showed himself to be weak. Perhaps now I see my own shadows in others. I owe you all an apology for my unkind assumptions, and I owe you all the trust you've given me."

A pause. Then he looks at the prepared items, the rope and the flashlights, the matches -- survival goods, mostly, as though Lukas fully expected to head into some unknown wilderness. He adds to the pile of talens they have accrued his own; piles of gaia's breaths, soak talens and damage talens, arrow killers.

"Let's prepare," he says. "Then let's bind to the wind spirit Key of Heaven has found us and set out."