Sunday, February 28, 2010

painted in blood.

[Wyrmbreaker] Rewind.

Morning after the moot. Pale light through overcast skies; grey bitter winter, ice frozen at the shore. Garou are returning home -- to their packs, to their mates, to sleep it off.

Wyrmbreaker finds War-Handed amongst the Garou. The Shadow Lord's presence is odd; stripped of rage, charged with spirit. His eyes are fierce and steady, but sleep deprivation and exhaustion casts a pallor under his swarthy skin.

"Still want that fight, War-Handed?"

[Joe War-Handed] In lupus, Joe waits near the challenge circle.. his attention mostly on the silvery ring itself, shining under the full moon.

Occasionally, the snap of a twig, the rustle of a pile of junk.. it jerks his attention expectantly toward the surrounding darkness.

When Joe rises, its to Homid. The formidable lines of his body curved in exhaustion, though he stands straight, and a strange hunger burns in his face. The eyes of a warrior would note that while tired, the way he moves, in the twitching of fingers..

he's not entirely given over to fatigue. Breathing is too even. The spark remains in his eyes.

Oddly muted, Joe locks his attention against Wyrmbreaker and nods.

"Gotta dew it right."

[Joe War-Handed] (er.. morning. No full moon)

[Wyrmbreaker] A nod.

"You tell me how you want it. Where, when, how, with what. What kind of battle will make you respect me?"

[Joe War-Handed] Joe scowls as he pieces together a sort of explanation.

"Heah. Now woyks. It don' gotta be anytin' particular. It just gotta happen. It goes boff ways. I paint yew so da trade weah makin' stands in blood. Yew paint me because da leader gives da most, like."

He waves a hand and snorts. Look at him, trying to make a Shadow Lord get the way things ought to be. hmph.

"Anyhow. Now."

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker nods again, gravely.

"Now, then."

And he comes at Joe, the last bloody curl of his rage given to the shift to direwolf.

[and off we go! Lukas is starting this in Hispo with 0 Rage (unless Joe is slow-shifting, upon which he'll wait til Joe is shifted)]

[Joe War-Handed] Its another sort of leadership, leading a cliath in a battle against you. A welcoming thing. Come and see my strength. Joe comes in hard, fast, and low. The torc around his direwolf neck gleams fitfully. Anticipation and a want for blood writ in the flickering.

(Both Hispo and 0 rage works for me, as long as we keep a couple wp back for mojo)

[Wyrmbreaker] [init+20]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] (+9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Joe War-Handed] 1a: leaping rake
1b: dodge

[Joe War-Handed] (resist pain)

[Joe War-Handed] (also! Joe is in Crinos! and I wonder how many grace points I just burned through! weeeeee!)

[Wyrmbreaker] 1WP - Resist Pain
1a. bite
b. bite
[Joe's actions go here]
c. turn and follow!
d. bite

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. -4 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] Damage +6
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. -5!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Joe War-Handed] (next bite gets the dodge)

[Joe War-Handed] dodge: pool
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Succ -1! Dam +2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] bite: brawl/dex9-3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] (leap rake roll dex+ath)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 6 at target 3)

[Joe War-Handed] (its late. I blame that- it wasn't a bite, it was a claw)

[Joe War-Handed] damage: str8+1claws+3sux
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] c. turn, follow.
d. bite! -7 dice, +WP.
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]

[Wyrmbreaker] [damage +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] soak pool actually 8 not 7
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] (no- soak is 7! 5 sux)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Next round!]

[Joe War-Handed] 1a:bite
1b:bite
1c:bite

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a/b/c/d: biting!

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. -4.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [whoops -- reroll on the 10's]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [damage +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Joe War-Handed] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. -5!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

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

[Joe War-Handed] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] It's a short, brutish, vicious fight.

Wyrmbreaker has a reputation for being careful. For being prepared. For going into battle all but dripping with talens and toys and strategies and gifts. And yet, when he fights Joe... it's on a level with the Fenrir. Same form. Same gifts. Minimal tactics. Just close-quarter, no-quarter-given destruction.

For a while the Cliath has the upper hand. Bite after bite glances off the Fenrir's thick hide, while his own claws draw first blood. Black and grey, the direwolves snarl, snap, tangle, whirl. Teeth flash. Eyes flash. Blood flashes, soaks hot and red through the hoarfrosted ground.

When it's over,
it's over in a flash.

That's how it always is for Garou.

--

When War-Handed comes to, only seconds have elapsed. Wyrmbreaker's blood is in his teeth. Wyrmbreaker's blood is literally in his bones: he's been healed by a bloody bandage, exclusive privilege amongst Full Moons. Call a gesture of unity.

The Fostern is not crouched over him. He's sitting a ways off on a rock, and he's wiping Joe's blood off his mouth, onto the palm of his hand.

There's a ring of ritual about this: "Will you follow me, War-Handed?"

[Joe War-Handed] He wakes up with a spasmodic jerk- a ripping growl.. then stillness. As though unaware the fight had even ended. Homid fingers remind him he was in a furred form before, and he looks around.

Fatigue soaks his bones in concrete, but Joe rumbles to his haunches with a groan.

It takes him a second to find Lukas' form. When he does, he pushes to his feet and faces the Shadow Lord. Words do not convey garou respect half so well as the pulse of motion and posture. In a Fenrir, it looks defiant. 'Hit me again!' But one ignores the weak. Tramples them. Respect is written in wounds and blood, and the respectful ask for more of each.

"Yes. I'll follow yew. Gib me enemies, an' I'll gib yew victories. Jus' like I said."

[Wyrmbreaker] [oops -- bloody bandage would've healed for +5, btw]

[Wyrmbreaker] Painted in blood, War-Handed said. Sanctified in blood, Wyrmbreaker said -- earlier.

As the vicious young Fenrir rises to his haunches, the Shadow Lord comes off the rock. Wyrmbreaker is tall. He knows how to dress. See him on the street, catch him passing by, and he cuts an impressive figure: sharp, charismatic. A predator in the eyes. See him here, though, now, after the moot and the revel and the bloody, bloody fight, and he's a savage, his outerwear lost somewhere, his white undershirt slowly soaking red from the blood on his skin.

He stands over War-Handed only for a beat. Then he crouches as well, eye to eye. He wipes his thumb in Joe's blood on his palm. Swipes it across the wound on his side, where Joe's claws had cut. And with that mingled blood, he paints a line down Joe's face, a heavy, straight slash down from center of brow to nose. The same line is drawn down his own face.

Maybe he's seen Joe do it before. Maybe he simply guesses that such things have meaning for a hardline Modi like this one.

"The Full Moons of each pack will meet in a few weeks' time," he says quietly. Ugly voice, still. Ripped and raw as a wound. "We'll talk defense of the Caern. And we'll talk war on the Hive. I'll see you there, War-Handed."

[Joe War-Handed] Its a strange moment. Joe's mouth tilts open, broad jaw slack- one might be reminded of doing a card trick before the eye of some rapt youngster. The Modi neither moves nor speaks. His eyes follow Lukas' fingers as though they were repainting the world. Brow furrowed, its clear this will take digestion.

As Lukas' broken voice pearls the air between them, a corner of Joe's upper lip twitches in response, but the Jackal Voice is forgotten for a moment as Lukas gives what every Ahroun must have. Targets. Enemies. Something to focus on. Marching orders and a direction. They seek from instinct nothing so much as a place to put the claws Gaia gave them.

His face and eyes don't move until Lukas gets to 'Handed'. Then his mouth slams shut, and Joe's brow furrows as though beginning to digest it all now. He saw no tricks there. Just... direction.

[Joe War-Handed] Maybe Lukas wouldn't understand his silence.

Joe's attention focuses on Lukas' eyes and finally he speaks. The words are jammed together. Quick. Almost furtive.

"When-an-wheah?!"

[Wyrmbreaker] "Night of the crescent moon. Here in the Caern."

[Joe War-Handed] "Awright." He nods dimly. The word seems redundant. Unnecessary. But he gives it like doing so will speed the face of Luna toward the appointed time.

polite conversation.

[Wyrmbreaker] After the revel, a cold grey morning. A night's worth of dark-compensation has left their eyes unused to the light. Everything looks brilliant, washed-out, lit with the sort of stark clarity a night without sleep gives.

Wyrmbreaker has returned to the assembly area, idly sifting a handful of cold, sandy earth from one hand to the other. When he catches sight of Covered Sky, he calls out to her. His stripped, raw creak of a voice is unmistakable. Only one wolf currently holds that punishment.

"Philodox." Dirt spills from his hands; he dusts them on his thighs as he rises. "A word with you?"

[Covered Sky] The congregation disperses quickly after the revel has finished. The earth doesn't seem to cry out with the press of Rage coming from so many bodies packed in so small a space, doesn't bristle with the electricity of it anymore. Even the dawn seems to breathe a sigh of relief now that the tricksters and the lawgivers and the warriors have decided to call an end to their gathering and go home to their Kinfolk, to their territory.

One Garou, in her thin homid form, remains at the assembly area. She is not wearing a coat, and her dedicated white thermal is stained from the Run, various streaks of melted snow and frozen earth on her jeans. Her arms are holding her elbows, and she's watching the east, in the direction of the rising sun, her breath leaving her body in visible white plumes.

A creaking cry carries her name on the wind, and the Half Moon looks over sharply, her unrestrained hair whipping off of her shoulders. She is not surprised. By now she has to be used to that voice, to having to strain to make out the phonemes as they rise and fall on the waves of Wyrmbreaker's punishment.

He's taller than her by almost an entire foot, yet she carries herself as though she does not have to tilt her neck to meet his gaze when they come to stand beside each other. Her eyes leave the foggy horizon, and she turns towards the Ahroun Elder.

"Of course," she says.

[Wyrmbreaker] "It's about your packmate," he says -- no attempt to sidestep or deny this. He remains standing until she is near enough that it is polite to sit. "You heard what I said earlier, at the second challenge for Master of the Challenge?"

If she has not, he repeats it, paraphrased, for her benefit.

"The bottom line is," he finishes, "I think your packmate has forgotten his place, or is deliberately trying to rise above it. Put even more bluntly: I think Zeke is the type of 'beta' wolf who will not hesitate to seize what power he can. I think if you're not careful, you'll find that his influence will soon exceed yours. And Host of Traitors is the sort of Shadow Lord who probably shouldn't be allowed too much free rein.

"I mean no disrespect by bringing this before you. Rather, I mean to respect your position as Host of Traitor's alpha. I will keep him in his place if I need to as alpha of the tribe, but he's your responsibility first."

[Covered Sky] When Wyrmbreaker sits in the sand, Covered Sky hefts a breath and drops into a light-footed crouch beside him, balancing on the balls of her feet for now, arms draped across her horizontal thighs rather than tucked in against her body despite the chill.

"I heard," she confirms.

Slim fingers that hardly seem to belong to a warrior of Gaia link together where they hang over the edge of her knees, and her shoulders are back and her neck is straight as she listens to the forecast: her metis packmate is trying to rise above his station in more than one arena.

Anyone looking at Covered Sky during the Cracking of the Bone whereby the Ragabashes were calling upon the newly-named Master of the Challenge or during the actual challenge itself would have noticed that she didn't seem to be paying attention to what was being said beyond ensuring that there was a bone in the hand of the person speaking and that no one around them was whispering amongst themselves. When she was paying attention to the proceedings there was a look of measured patience on her face, a lack of familiarity in her eyes; Host of Traitors' standing up to challenge a Fostern Fiann for his position had come as a surprise to her, but only those with keen senses would have been able to tell.

"He is my responsibility," she says, supinating her forearms as if to feel the dawn's air on her flesh. She isn't shivering. "Wyrmbreaker-rhya, I will speak with him... remind him of his place. We don't have the ability to do so using Ares as a conduit yet, or things might have gone differently tonight."

[Wyrmbreaker] There's a moment when Wyrmbreaker's keen, pale eyes are on the Philodox, searching her face. She might recognize this look. It's a look she herself has worn before, perhaps when she was a cub -- learning to smell deceit or uncertainty before she had the help of gifts.

A moment later, apparently satisfied, the Ahroun nods. "Thank you," he says. "For what it's worth, I think Zeke is doing what he feels is best for the Sept and the war. It's his methods I disagree with. Tradition and law exist for a reason."

The morning is overcast and frigid, but there's still enough light sheening off the lake to make him squint when he looks eastward. When he turns back, his face relaxes suddenly; smiles.

"I guess I don't have to tell a Philodox that."

He coughs, then, a distracted, reflexive attempt to fix a voice that won't right itself for another week yet. A moment of hesitation; then he adds, "One more thing. A beta can be invaluable, but don't make the mistake of thinking they'll be loyal to you above all. A beta is always loyal to the pack first. His idea of the pack. If he senses weakness -- or if he simply senses you straying from his ideals -- he will not follow you for long.

"You already know this, I'm sure. But it's not something you should forget. I was the beta of my pack once. Edward was the Alpha. Look where we are now."

At the Howl, Edward stood dead last with his pack.

[Covered Sky] Were not for the fact that Wyrmbreaker is her tribal leader, that he already knows more about her than anything else in this city, this conversation would have been truncated at a very early stage. He knows that she used to be the Master of the Challenge at the Sept of the Red Rock, or at least, she's told him this; he knows, or at least was told, that she twice earned and lost the second rank, that she is a Cliath for the third time at an age that is advanced by their society's standards. She's well beyond young adulthood, is well beyond those tumultuous early twenties where one is attempting to find one's identity as a person and a creature of Gaia as well as fight one's way out of the heap to become a warrior of distinction with one's pack, one's tribe, one's Sept.

That said, even if she is not used to people telling her things that she already knows, she has the sense to recognize when someone is attempting to offer her advice, or guidance, or something resembling assistance. He seeks out her face for signs of subterfuge and finds only mild fatigue and wariness; she looks back at him and sees exhaustion, hears squawking reminders of punishment for a crime that her auspice leader believes was due to happen eventually.

Covered Sky releases her fingers to reach up and push a large shock of black hair back behind one small ear. When he smiles, so does she; but faintly.

"It's been some time since I was part of a Sept," she says, "let alone the Alpha of a pack. This pack is very small. In a way, I have to be more vigilant than I would be in a larger pack. We can't afford to be divided, or have conflicts of interest, or we won't have a pack for long."

The wind is tugging at the ends of her hair. In the pale dawning daylight, Wyrmbreaker can see more clearly the scar that was obscured by darkness and shadow at the Moot: her throat was torn out recently. She was killed, but she did not die.

"I appreciate your words, Wyrmbreaker-rhya, and I'll keep them in mind when I speak to Host of Traitors-yuf."

[Wyrmbreaker] The Shadow Lords are not beasts of etiquette like the Silver Fangs, but most of them a sense of decorum nonetheless. It's a more practical sort: an awareness of what to say and what not to say, and of the reactions of their listeners, designed not so much to keep to a thousand and one rules of complex ceremony and courtesy but to, very simply, be effective. Effective leaders, effective warriors, effective advisors.

Things are said which are not spoken. It means something that Covered Sky appreciates his words; it means something that her pack can't afford to be divided. The Ahroun, who looks perhaps a bit tired from the night and the challenge and the hunt, but mostly just seems ... eerily calm, emptied of rage and filled with spirit, mulls this over for a moment and then nods.

"Can I ask you something else?"

And if the answer is yes -- "Why didn't you challenge for Master of the Challenge?"

[Covered Sky] A brief silence passes over them, one sitting and the other lowering her weight onto the flats of her feet rather than continuing to balance on the balls, and then:

Can I ask you something else?

Thus far, the Philodox has answered nearly every question that the higher-ranked Ahroun has asked her. Her answers may have not been the absolute truth, and she may have omitted some details in the responses she has given him, but she has not darted away from the telling. Now, she looks up from where her eyes had rested on the sand and over to him, her eyes searching his face without boring into his eyes.

"Yes," she says.

She wraps her arms around her midsection, her Rage drained enough that she's feeling the cold even if she is not reacting to it; her will is just as strong as it was when she awoke this afternoon. There is a question as to why she didn't challenge for Master of the Challenge, and she folds her lips in on themselves as she considers the question.

"I thought I would be better suited as Truthcatcher," she says, after a moment. "I also didn't want to challenge a Fostern."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas considers this for a moment. "Fair enough," he says.

Then, standing, he dusts his hands off again; holds the right out. "I should let you get back to your packmate," he says. "Thanks for talking, Covered Sky."

[Covered Sky] Hands on her knees, Park propels herself standing when the Ahroun does likewise. She does not have to cleanse her hands before offering them; in Lukas's, her right is small yet warm despite the chill of the morning around them.

The female squints briefly as she turns into the sun, then bows her head and says, "Any time, Wyrmbreaker-rhya."

With that, she retrieves her coat from where it had been left slung over a crate, and treks not north towards the Brotherhood but south, towards the bus stop.

[Covered Sky] [Wrap!]

Saturday, February 27, 2010

double.

[Wyrmbreaker] Edge of the Maelstrom.

Here, the Gauntlet is thinnest -- so thin that you can almost see through it. If you squint your eyes, let them defocus, you can almost see the spirits on the other side; can almost see the rise of Maelstrom's seat, can almost see the great and unending twist of the totem itself.

And: the wolf lying at the edge of the Maelstrom, large and black, sprawled in the earth with his chin across a forepaw. Wyrmbreaker, lupusformed, watching the totem.

[Grace] By virtue of being Garou, there is something about Grace that people miss.

It is said that they are half flesh, which means presumably they are half spirit as well. Walking to the edge of Maelstrom, she is more apparition than female. When so close to the Gauntlet, those things on the other side treat her differently. Without note or much notice, but differently. Like one of us instead of them. In her breed form, she has long limbs, in her breedform, she is elegant. In her breedform, she doesn't look so underweight.

In her breed form her eyes are dark. Not green at all.

But the color of her eyes, the curve of her body, and even the countenance of the spirits meant nothing. Grace moved towards the edge of Maelstrom and didn't make a sound.

[Joey] [percept + alert: Lies, Grace! Lies!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Joey] If you could see through the Gauntlet, you might see the girl on the other side. It's odd that Joey's at the Caern, out anywhere, this late at night. She's a day wolf, and an early riser at that. Watching Maelstrom churn and swirl, watching the spirits move and dance, she's lost track of the time.

There is a Pop! And she's back on this side, realmside. She appears in her lupus form, grey-and-white furred, dark eyes inquisitive as ever.

She pricks her ears toward the black wolf lying near Maelstrom's edge, left foreleg poised for a step that she doesn't take. She does not hear or otherwise notice the approach of the lupus Garou known only as Grace.

[Grace] [shh, you saw NOTHING!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker's head rises silently off his paws. His fur is thick with winter, the broad fringe at his jowls and the heavy ruff differentiating him clearly from the lither female that approaches. In this form his eyes are stark and pale as ice. They narrow as he raises his muzzle, scenting the air.

A whuff of greeting, a thump or two of tail. He sets his chin back on his paws.

[Grace] She stays quiet.

The cub has gotten pretty good at hiding, it seems. Or, rather, she's always been passable and, some nights, she gets lucky. Some nights, she plays the Gauntlet to her advantage. There is a wolf watching them, but with no scent and no sounds and her presence already bordering ethereal on the wrong day, Grace could well be a shade on the other side.

No, in fact, she managed to do it quite well. She is silent, and watches the two ranked garou interact for now.

No sounds, just observation.

[Joey] [ha ha i'm a dumbass, pretend my first post puts Joey in the umbra! onward and upward!]

The lifted paw touches down on the earth, Joey's ears flick back and she stretches her head forward, letting out a low canine groan of greeting before pacing closer.

When she is still a respectful distance away, she settles down on her haunches. Her stretches open with a huge yawn, exposing wicked fangs and a long pink tongue. She turns her attention to their sept's totem, one ear trained on the foaming churn, the other twisted toward the Fostern.

[Wyrmbreaker] If it's possible, Wyrmbreaker's voice is worse in this form: a chorus of broken yelps and splintered barks like a poorly neutered dog's. "Come to pay your respects to the Totem, Laughs-at-Death?" ...which is not exactly her name, but a better approximation than Face-of-Death.

[Joey] [that should say "Her MOUTH stretches open" up there. Gah! typos!]

Wyrmbreaker speaks in yelps, his voice crackling, and Joey's head whips to the side to look at him. For a brief moment her ears swivel back and down, surprised and instantly trying to blot out the offending voice.

Face of Death, Laughs at Death, Laughs in the Face of Death...Joey answers to many names, and most of them are appropriate. Lukas calls her by another new name, and Joey's head cocks to the side, her ears swiveling back toward the lounging Shadow Lord.

"I come to watch and listen, Rhya. And you?"

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker lets his tongue loll out. "The Theurges say if you listen long and hard enough, Maelstrom speaks to you. I came to try."

He springs to his feet then. The moon is so close to full as to not matter. It's his moon and he blazes in it, his rage as incandescent as his fur is dark. There's a restlessness in him -- a good mood but an unstable one, too active, too bold, too hungry.

"But now I'm in the mood for something a little less contemplative. Want to hunt with me, Laughs?"

[Joey] Already seated with her head up and ears erect, there is no way for Joey to be more alert. And yet, at the promise of a hunt, something changes in the Fenrir female. Her eyes brighten, and her fur bristles in a tremor of excitement. It may be Lukas' moon that floats on the sky, but it affects them all. The restlessness exists in all Garou.

Joey rises to her four legs and she all but prances in place in anticipation. She shakes out her fur, shaking off sleepiness as easily as she would shake off water in this form.

"Sure," she says excitedly, which is of course merely formality. Her readiness, her eagerness for the hunt and for battle is written in every line of her lupus body. "Where to?"

[Wyrmbreaker] "Follow," Wyrmbreaker says simply. He turns -- an easy twist at the haunches -- and lopes down the shallow incline of Maelstrom's hill. He is not so fast as his packmate, who was once Joey's packsister under Twister, but there's an effortless athleticism about him, his stride long, his trot easy, loosejointed. And he's tireless.

As they leave the heart of the Caern behind, the Gauntlet thickens. The nearness of the Realm falls away from them. The dense spirit life of the Caern begins to dwindle, too. As they cross the edge of the Bawn, a Guardian turns her head curiously to watch them go

and then is abruptly lost from sight as they pass through the spirit-wards that disguise the Caern from outside eyes.

Onwards they go: past the shadow of the Brotherhood, past the memories of 19th century rowhouses superimposed upon the growing images of the warehouses and storerooms that have replaced them. As they leave the Caern further behind, Wyrmbreaker slides into a canter, and then an all-out run: the black wolf and the grey running for rage beneath the huge moon, running for joy, running for the sheer strength and power in their blood.

All of a sudden, Wyrmbreaker slams to a stop. They're in River North now, not quite to Cabrini-Green, but close. And the Ahroun is suddenly cautious, creeping forward on soft paws.

Ahead, an unusually present shadow of a building looms, so solid already despite its apparent newness that the walls are opaque. They cannot see what is within. They can see, though, radiating right through the walls -- like some form of radiation not in the electromagnetic spectrum, interpreted as light only because their brains have no other way of comprehending it -- a dull, beating red glow, like some foul heart.

[Wyrmbreaker] [repost!]

"Follow," Wyrmbreaker says simply. He turns -- an easy twist at the haunches -- and lopes down the shallow incline of Maelstrom's hill. He is not so fast as his packmate, who was once Joey's packsister under Twister, but there's an effortless athleticism about him, his stride long, his trot easy, loosejointed. And he's tireless.

As they leave the heart of the Caern behind, the Gauntlet thickens. The nearness of the Realm falls away from them. The dense spirit life of the Caern begins to dwindle, too. As they cross the edge of the Bawn, a Guardian turns her head curiously to watch them go

and then is abruptly lost from sight as they pass through the spirit-wards that disguise the Caern from outside eyes.

Onwards they go: past the shadow of the Brotherhood, past the memories of 19th century rowhouses superimposed upon the growing images of the warehouses and storerooms that have replaced them. As they leave the Caern further behind, Wyrmbreaker slides into a canter, and then an all-out run: the black wolf and the grey running for rage beneath the huge moon, running for joy, running for the sheer strength and power in their blood.

All of a sudden, Wyrmbreaker slams to a stop. They're in River North now, not quite to Cabrini-Green, but close. And the Ahroun is suddenly cautious, creeping forward on soft paws.

Ahead, an unusually present shadow of a building looms, so solid already despite its apparent newness that the walls are opaque. They cannot see what is within. They can see, though, radiating right through the walls -- like some form of radiation not in the electromagnetic spectrum, interpreted as light only because their brains have no other way of comprehending it -- a dull, beating red glow, like some foul heart.

[Joey] Wyrmbreaker croaks Follow and follow Joey does. She is not fast in the way Sinclair is fast, but her gait is easy and groundeating. And joyous. Joey loves to be in motion, to stretch and move her body in any of her forms, either in sports or in battle. She bounds beside and slightly behind the Ahroun as they pass through the umbral reflection of Chicago together.

She's alert to Lukas, and to their surroundings, slowing her pace when he does, moving more cautiously when they come upon the strangely solid building.

They are not packed together, and so they cannot communicate with thought as they might have if Joey had joined the Unbroken rather than the Sentinels. They must rely on gestures, looks, and soft barks to speak.

Joey comes along beside Lukas, then takes a cautious step forward. She turns to look over her shoulder at the Ahroun, ears flicked in the direction of the building. Another halting step forward, another questioning look over her shoulder. Should she go first?

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker chuffs an assent. The flick of his eyes, stance of his body, his feet planted firm: they all speak for him. She should go look: there, his eyes point. She should come back when she has seen. He will be waiting here.

As the Ragabash creeps forward, the building seems to grow disproportionately in size. Menacing and dark, it looms waiting. That steady red glow soon suffuses her every sense; even closing her eyes does not keep it away. There is a window low to the ground, a portal into the building's half-basement where the glow seems strongest.

[Joey] [Blur!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 6 (Failure at target 8)

[Joey] [LIES!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 9)

[Joey] Before Joey takes another step, she pulls on a Gift that makes her more difficult to track. Or tries to. At first, when she tries to call on it, nothing happens. Her fur bristles with her annoyance, and she tries again.

The edges of her figure fade, and she blends more easily into shadows.

Keeping low, moving quickly, she approaches the building, ears flattening against her skull as it seems to grow, as that glow fills her vision. She heads for the window first, slowly lifting her head to peer within.

[Wyrmbreaker] Something's staring right back at her.

[Joey] [wits + alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] It's herself.

[Joey] Joey dances back a few paces, startled.

[Wyrmbreaker] The staring Joey-wolf on the other side of the window stays where it is. It's not a reflection. It's not blurred, for one: it's crisp and clear, a perfect image of her that is decidedly not her.

It doesn't make any sense. It's a half-basement in there. For her doppleganger to be eye to eye with her, it would have to be suspended in midair.

Behind there, there's a faint sound: Wyrmbreaker shifting into Hispo and drawing on his Armor, reacting to her startle. A soft whuff of question.

[Joey] Joey dances back, her ears back and eyes narrowed, startled but wary. When the other-her doesn't move, she takes another step back, watching what should be her reflection.

At the whuff behind her, Joey backs further still, unwilling to show the thing her back. But, she can't back away that whole distance. When she's a few paces away from the building, she turns, ears flicked back to listen for the shattering of glass or pursuing paws.

When she stands before Wyrmbreaker, she shifts and grows into her dire wolf form. The scars on her throat are more apparent, the slash and the claws that rake across her neck and bite into her shoulder. Her ears are still back.

"My reflection not reflection," she says in a low growl. "Too high. Doesn't move."

[Wyrmbreaker] Not entirely accurate, that. It does move. Its head turns imperceptibly, eerily, to follow her retreat.

Even when she's back beside Wyrmbreaker, she can see it there. It definitely wasn't visible before. That window was empty.

"I see it also," Wyrmbreaker replies.

[Wyrmbreaker] [belated! luna's armor.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lukas.

Katherine's voice comes over the totem-link. She does not sound agitated, or out of breath, merely -- idle. Perhaps the Silver Fang has been patrolling, or out walking, or a myriad of other possible things. Perhaps she was simply seeking out her Alpha's location.

Where are you right now?

[Wyrmbreaker] There's a sense of startlement and wtf? over the totemphone. Then: Are you stalking me now?! And after that: a sense of his location.

Hunting with Joey, he adds. Building, red glow, doppleganger Joey. Very unusual circumstances.

[Joey] Joey turns back then, to look at her not-reflection as it watches her. One ear swivels toward Lukas.

"Orders?"

[Wyrmbreaker] The black hispo stares intently at the false Joey. Other than turning to watch her, her doppleganger does nothing. Gradually, Wyrmbreaker sits to a crouch, waiting.

"Packmate on the way. Let's watch and see what it does. Take this." Wyrmbreaker's eyes never leave the false Joey as he passes talens to the Sentinel between his teeth. "Use it."

Meanwhile, the false Joey simply stares at the true.

[Joey] Joey whuffs her gratitude. Unlike Lukas, she remains standing, alert.

[go go gadget soak talen!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Katherine Bellamonte] Yes, I am boiling a rabbit as we speak.

Dry, dry amusement from the other Fostern, and then: I am not too far from you, I shall come and assist.

In actuality, the Half Moon is already Umbral, her white fur all but glowing in the moonlight; her huge Hispo paws padding over the earth as she stretches and stirs herself from her current perch; drops to the ground and begins to dash across the cityscape; whizzing beneath spiders, knitting together webs in the shadowy aspects of reflected buildings, leaping over gaps and sliding through narrow spaces.

When she discovers the Sentinel and her Alpha, she slows to a trot, and whuffs mildly in greeting, her pale eyes turning on the strange building before them.

[doo de doo, activating Luna's Armor on the run!
Activating Resist Pain, too]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Kate gets a soak talen too! And some Gaia's Breaths in case she wants to play White Mage.

For the record: -1WP Resist Pain
-1Gn Luna's Armor (earlier)
-1Gn Soak Talen
-1Gn Bloody Bandage]

As Truth's Meridian joins them, Wyrmbreaker abruptly bolts to his feet.

The false Joey has begun to move, see. Her head swings left, then right. The motion is unnatural somehow: as though the skull were not properly connected to the vertebrae, and instead simply slid around the otherwise unshifting column of the neck. Her eyes remain fixed on Joey. They, too, turn farther than they should, staying pointed in Joey's direction even when her head has moved so far that her eyeballs roll inward in their sockets.

When the false Joey's head is once again pointed at the three Garou, she begins to move forward. Steps forward one pace at a time. Her muzzle approaches the glass. Her muzzle touches the glass now. She doesn't stop.

She moves through solid glass, solid wall, coming steadily toward the Garou. Though she pantomimes walking, they can see her paws are a good two inches off the penumbral earth.

"Get ready," growls Wyrmbreaker. "I don't like this. Let me take the brunt of the attacks if they come. Flank it and take it down."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Truth's Meridian takes one look at the faux-Face of Death and a low growl rumbles from her chest; her hackles rise and she is already digging her claws against the ground in preparation to strike. She shifts herself cautiously so that she stands on one side of her Alpha, the Fenrir on the opposing.

And she waits.

[Joey] Joey watches the doppleganger's odd and erratic movements. A shiver twitches through her fur, like an itch that she can't reach.

It's watching her, as well. As it moves through the glass, Joey's body tenses for action. Her ears lie flat against her skull, black lips peeling back from her teeth with a low growl. Keeping her gaze fixed on the other-her, Laughs in the Face of Death steps away from Wyrmbreak and his packmate, slowly stalking sideways to a better position to flank.

[-1WP activate Resist Pain]

[Wyrmbreaker] Thus far, the doppleganger has moved slowly, if at all. There's no indication of where it came from; how it formed; what the fuck it wants. If it even thinks.

It advances, though. Slowly, gait strange, step unnatural. And when it's perhaps ten, fifteen feet away

it suddenly moves so much faster, streaking forward directly at the Garou. It doesn't even bother to go through the motions of running now.

[inits time!]

[Joey] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Katherine Bellamonte] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas: +20]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Joey 2.0: +9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas
Joey
Kate
Joey 2.0!

Joey 2.0
1a. dash!
b. ram Wyrmbreaker
"rage" 1. ram him again
"rage" 2. ram joey!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Kate
1a. Flank 2.0
1b. Bite it!
R1. Again
R2. Again ]

[Joey] [1a: Flank!
1b: Chomp
1c: Get behind
R: Chomp!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas
1a. Spur Claws!
b.
R1.
R2. ...all bites!

[Wyrmbreaker] [small pause -- gonna switch back to main comp! :D]

[Wyrmbreaker] [back!]

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. spur claws -2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [WTF. kahseeno, what have i done to you?]

[Wyrmbreaker] b. LET'S TRY THAT AGAIN. +1diff.
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Kahseeno, you and I are through professionally. Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [oooor maybe we're not :D

2.0 soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joey] [1a: shuffle shuffle
[1b: Chomp -4]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Joey] [damage: +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 9 at target 6)

[Joey] [Joey: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!]

[Wyrmbreaker] They might've expected blood. Breaking bones. Tearing flesh.

Yet when Wyrmbreaker's claws strike, there's only a dull deformation of the doppleganger, as though he had struck rubber. Or jelly. Perturbed matter ripples outward from the site of impact. The doppleganger shows no pain whatsoever.

And when the true Joey's teeth sink in, she doesn't taste blood. She tastes -- a faint sourness that leaves her tongue vaguely numb.

[soak against Joey!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Her teeth tear away. The thing loses all cohesion. It deforms; it melts. It's a ghastly sight: watching your own face run liquid, like a wax sculpture exposed to heat. The features go slack, run off. What's beneath is not flesh and bone but simply a waxy red half-liquid.

The doppleganger melts to a seething puddle at their feet. For a moment all three Garou are simply staring at it.

Then: it bubbles. Convulses upward at the center. The mass rearranges itself. A different face now; Truth's Meridian's, reproduced down to the last strand of fur.

Mutely, doggedly, it comes at them again. This time, its jaws unhinge. For a moment its mouth is nothing but a raw red work in progress. Then teeth solidify; gleam.

[Declare of Kate 2.0!
1a. bite Lukas
b. bite Lukas
R1. bite Joey
R2. bite Kate]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [1a. Flank!
1b. Bite! -3 Split -1 diff (flanking)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Damage + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [bite lukas!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [fuck me sideways. damage +5!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [erp, i forgot to split its dice. taking extra 2 dice off this one. bite again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [damage +1!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [tank that shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, Rage chomp 1!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +6. I'M SPLITTING THE POOL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [>_< soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Joey] [R: Chompin' your ass! diff -2 (rear attack)]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 3)

[Joey] [damage: +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Joey] [fuck you, kahseeno!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [how dare you strike royalty!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [R1! I'M THE QUEEN, BITCH. -1 Flank!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 7 at target 4)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Damage + 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [eep, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] R1. chomp joey!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Joey] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, R2!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 11 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3

[Wyrmbreaker] [...so splitting damage pool.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [gak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] ...and just as before, the Garou descend on the doppleganger. Teeth snap into waxy substances; tear great bloodless chunk of the copy aside, fling it to the penumbral ground. With a merciless ferocity that's perhaps faintly disconcerting, the three tear the likeness of Katherine Bellamonte

literally to pieces.

Then they stand, sides heaving, as the thing again ... reforms. They must already know whose visage it'll wear now.

The false Wyrmbreaker is not even wholly formed when it lunges again.

[continue onward with Kate's R2!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [R2! same again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Damage + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas 2.0, R2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Round sumup:
Joey 5A
Kate OK
Lukas OK
Wyrmbreaker 2.0 OK]

Squaring off with the image of himself, Wyrmbreaker snarls orders:

"Meridian, heal Laughs! Laughs, strike where I fur gnarl!"

[Wyrmbreaker] [Wyrmbreaker 2.0 declare:
1. Chomp Lukas!
R1. Chomp Joey!
R2. Chomp Kate!
R3. Chomp Lukas!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Kate:
1. Gaia's Breath on Joey! [+4 HP!]
R1. Block Bite!
R2. Chomp!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Edit!
1a. GB on Joey!
1b. Chimp!... okay, that's a typo but it amuses me. Chomp!]

[Joey] [1a: Bite Gnarl
1b: Again!
R: Again!]

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. Fur Gnarl!
b. Fur Gnarl deeper!
c. bite fur gnarled spot!
R1. moar!
R2. moar!

[Wyrmbreaker] Fur gnarl: -3, +2 diff.
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. again! +1 add'l diff for targeting same spot
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] dam +3!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak the first, -3]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak the second, -5]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] c. fuck it, keep gnarling! +WP
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 9) [WP]

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak the third, -8!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Joey] [1a: Bite Gnarl, -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Joey] [damage: +0]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Again and again and again Wyrmbreaker tears into his doppleganger with his teeth, peeling away great swaths of superficial fur and hide --

or what looks like fur and hide, but tastes like nothing at all but the faintest tang of corruption

-- to reveal the amorphous red matter beneath. Despite the onslaught, his doppleganger neither snarls nor yelps, but simply persists.

And: watches.

[soak vs joey!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Joey] [1b: Again! -3]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Joey] [damage: +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 8, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [1a. Wap! Gaia's Breath on Joey! +4 HL
1b. Chomp! -3 Split]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Damage + 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] This time, when the doppleganger again loses definition, it does not reform.

It remains as it is: shapeless, faceless, monstrous. Here and there the fabric of its being stretches, convulses, bubbles, roils. A face appears momentarily, screams for a moment, is gone. An arm protrudes, falls apart.

Then, slowly but inexorably, it begins to creep toward them.

[Redeclare:
1. grapple Lukas
R1. grapple Kate
R2. grapple Joey
R3. SOMETHING AWFUL

soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] 1. grapple Lukas!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, R1 switched to resist grapple!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Joey] [R: Chomp gnarl!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] [no gnarl needed!]

[Joey] [damage: +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas, R2: chomp it!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] dam+4
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [ack! i want to liiiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [awww. it didn't get to do Something Awful. wrap-up post incoming!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [thank god, i bet it'd have sneezed all over kate and made her frenzy.]

[Wyrmbreaker] There's a difference, this time, when the Garou again set upon their foe.

This time when they tear it apart, the wounds are not bloodless. Great gouts and spurts of fluid splash across their muzzles, stinging their eyes, matting their fur. The whole of it shivers and shudders as the Shadow Lord, the Silver Fang and the Fenrir tear at it. At one point, an amoebic arm reaches to Wyrmbreaker, clings weakly to his neck -- and is promptly shaken off.

Then Joey, her strength renewed by the healing talen Katherine applies, rips into it. Then Lukas. The assault proves to be too much. The mass shudders all at once, quivers

and then blows apart every which way, splattering them all in cool, gelatinous substance.

The dull glow from the building has ceased.

[Wyrmbreaker] [final tally: everyone's remarkably unhurt! cept joey, she has 1A.]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Ack, I meant to post this generally.

Katherine Bellamonte
Sun 6:03 am
Roll valid
to Katherine Bellamonte
Phobia Check!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6).]

[Katherine Bellamonte] Truth's Meridian gets coated in a layer of cool gelatinous goop -- and shudders. A ripple of disgust runs the length of the great Hispo-beast's body before she gives a great shake every which way and whuff-growls her disgust at the entire affair. She examines the building that had been emitting a soft glow when she arrived on the scene and moves forward to examine it.

It seems to have stopped whatever it was doing. A beat, her horror resurfacing. What was it? It looked exactly like us down the last detail! She shakes it off, and moves to bump shoulders with the Shadow Lord, to acknowledge Face of Death with a little flick of her ears, turn of her head.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [ahem, that was aloud, not totem-phoned, cuz jacqui is lazylazy and didn't include any "".]

[Wyrmbreaker] "I don't know." Wyrmbreaker gives himself a shake, bits of doppleganger flying from his black fur. "Some new breed of bane meant to sow discord by imitating us, perhaps. Or, for all we know, simply a spirit of mimicry that was corrupted by the Scab.

"We'll take no chances. Let's cleanse the area before we move out. Laughs in the Face of Death, thanks for running with us.
"

[Joey] When the creature blows apart, Joey instantly shuts her eyes and folds back her ears to protect them. Like Truth's Meridian, she shakes from nose to tail like a dog fresh from a bath.

Kate surveys the building's insides, where the thing originated. Joey turns and dips her head to both Fosterns, deference and gratitude for being included in this odd hunt.

"It's always an honor, Rhya," she says, the formality offset by the open mouthed wolf's grin and the lolling tongue.

She'll carry an injury with her to the moot later, but for now, Joey moves to help with the cleansing and general clean up.

[Wyrmbreaker] [okay! i think we can wrap it there, cuz i am braindead *dies* thanks for the play!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Thanks for STing, D!]

[Joey] [thanks for running it! 'twas a challenge!]

Sunday, February 21, 2010

asha, bai, pack unity.

[Asha Singh] The black LS hybrid sedan pulls to a quiet stop outside a certain loft, where a certain pack of certain Garou – including, it seems, the current Silver Fang Elder of Chicago – make their home. The vehicle bears New York license plates, and has been recently washed. There’s new-fallen snow on the streets again, winter’s return about a brief, suggestive thaw, but Thomas drives with care and precision, well used to the winters of the upstate New York snowbelt.

The passenger does not wait for the driver to open the door for her; instead, her door swings open before the car has come to a full stop, before the driver has killed the engine and cut the lights. She climbs out – still a slight thing by the standards of their race, half-grown, half-growing - alive with energy, studying the building before them with a certain critical eye.

“Now, Asha,” says Thomas, in his perfectly posh British accent, a certain note of aggrieved caution entering his tone as he circles the car and rounds on her, his weapon of choice – a velvet lint brush! – held firmly in hand.

Now Asha - ” she throws back at him, in a perfect mimic of his accent. For all that, she thrusts out her arms dutifully and allows her butler – the only member of her entourage of Aunties and Uncles, et cetera, et cetera she has allowed to remain with her – to apply his lint brush to the sleeves and back of her coat with his usual efficient vigor. Then she changes gear, channeling one some old, always-shocked Aunty back home. “I am trying to figure what we are to be doing with you, you bad thing!

“Try not to disgrace yourself, my dear. That’s all.”

She lifts her chin at the loft laid out before her, frowning, thoughtful, at the structure. “At least it’s not as bad at the Veridian Fulgour.”

“My dear, you say that everyplace we go.”

“It’s true about everyplace we go.”

“Take off your sunglasses, dear - ” and before she lay claim to them, Thomas confiscates them neatly from her dark, shining head.


Knock knock knock!

Five minutes later, the pair are standing on the front stoop of the loft. Thomas, a tall man with well-coiffed blonde hair just graying at the temples, bears the faintest hint of Silver Fang breeding – hardly enough to draw approval of Falcon had he been born true, but enough, perhaps, to serve the tribe in at least this capacity. He is dressed in a crisp black suit, under a crisp wool coat, and stands with a certain – well, crisp-ness, as if he had had his soul starched and pressed, just this morning.

He stands a head taller than his charge: she is 5’6” in her boot heels, dressed in fitted black velvet jeans, a tailored menswear-style shirt, open at the collar and cuffs, beneath a dark burgundy blazer. No winter coat – not for her, just a pair of black leather gloves, and knee-high black leather boots, flatheeled, in deference to the weather. Her hair is loose, and even though Thomas has confiscated her sunglasses before allowing her to approach the pack’s den, she stands there with her face lifted up, held as if she was wearing, watching, waiting.

[Katherine Bellamonte] There are a handful of facts known already about the current Elder of the Silver Fang tribe in the city of Chicago. One is that she packs with Shadow Lords -- mercy save us -- and not only this, but follows a totem of theirs as well as if she intended to flout centuries of tradition and mistrust at every turn.

Another is that she recently ejected her own flesh and blood from their tribe -- imagine it! -- a highly bred calf such as that left to wander the streets, abandoned and forlorn. Most visiting Silver Fangs of Katherine Bellamonte's tribe are knowledgeable of the fact that her family is descended from Royalty [but whose wasn't, I mean really] not merely of the Garou Nation -- but of the mortal world as well. They are told that the House of Bellamonte is strong still, its roots pure and seeped in the mixed glory of two Houses -- that of Wyrmfoe and that of Gleaming Eye.

There are stories of her father's death, of the bravery of a pack that went in to battle and was sabotaged, of graves that now line a Sept left behind in another city. There are whispers of betrayal by her Uncle, of upheaval within the family sphere. There is all sorts of factual and unproven things spoken about Truth's Meridian, now Honor's Compass and her sibling.

Perhaps Asha knows of some, perhaps she knows of nothing but that this is the woman of whom she is to come offer greetings to.

--

When the door is opened, it is by a stout Hispanic maid of average height, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose and her greying hair [once a glorious mane of perfect black] twisted back in a severe bun. She wears no apron, Lucille Teresa Ramírez de Arroyo, but she does boast a small pedigree of breeding of their tribe. She is wiping off her fingers on a cloth and the aroma of baking clings to her fingers.

She looks from Thomas, to the young woman behind him.

"You are come to see Mistress Bellamonte." It is not a question, but a statement seeking confirmation of them. Behind the Hispanic woman, a corridor can be glimpsed, the polished wood of which is covered by a crimson red carpet, running right down the length of it. The walls are soft washed white and there seems a light, airy quality to the interior that is entirely concealed by the paler frontage to the property.

[Iona McNevin] Iona had a long day at work. Heading home, she found Room 10 quiet since Connor had moved out to his new pack house. So she decided to go over to Kate's with Lukas.

For once, the Ragabash had been quiet while there. Taking advantage of the heated swiming pool to relax after a day of pounding metal. Most found her to be the ultimate tomboy, always in jeans, t-shirts and flannels. And always, always in those steel toed boots.

But today, she was actually quiet fond to look upon, her perfect muscular body seen in the black bikini, her blonde hair wet and sleeked back from swimming. Her tattoos easily seen. One her right inner forearm was a stag, and around the left forearm was a celtic tribal band that hid the ragabash glyph neatly in the center. She even had a navel peircing hardly any ever saw. A small charm of a claddaugh dangling there. When se wasn't looking like a boy, she actually was a vision.

Feeling alittle hungry, she climbs out of the pool, wrapping in a towel, and heads for the kitchen. Only then hearing someone was at the door.

[Asha Singh] "Hello, Aunty!" Asha sings out before the ever-dignified Thomas can stop her. Instead, he somehow manages to reach back blinds, claps a hand on the girl's shoulder rather firmly - and offers Lucille his most apologetic smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, the title spoken as mum. "I have come to present my mistress to your own. And I trust you will forgive her familiarity, Aunty is a title of respect and honour, not used lightly by my mistress. I am given to understand that Mistress Bellemonte is expecting us. There was to have been a call made, though - in these days - one can never be sure."

[Asha Singh] ( - to reach back blind! no s.)

[Wyrmbreaker] Iona was not the only one enjoying the pool. For his part, Lukas is doing laps in Kate's enormous pool. The lane dividers have been unrolled across the right half of the pool. The Ahroun, previously only an adequate swimmer, powerful and tenacious but rather slow, is getting noticeably better. Faster.

He goes from one end to the other; tucks into a flip turn; strokes back across. He's been doing this for ... well. Since sometime before Iona came in.

The doorbell, however, rouses him from his rhythm. Lukas pops up at the far end of the pool, panting audibly, scrunches his face up to loosen his swim goggles, lets them snap back into place over his head. Then he reaches back and hauls himself out of the water with a great sluicing of water.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lucille spoke in broken English, her accent was, and would remain, strong until the end of her days on this earth. It was both pride and a stubborn refusal to conform that kept it thus despite Katherine's oft-repeated offers to finance English lessons for the woman who had witnessed all the Bellamonte children grow from young infants into what they were today.

I get by, we get by, was the constant answer the Half Moon's offers received -- Katherine had stopped asking now.

"Yes, I get phone call earlier, you are expected. Come," Lucille gestured them in, and stood to one side to accept and hang coats, scarves, bags. "She wait for you in sitting area. Come." The maid's flat-soled shoes squeaked effeciently down the corridor. The Loft opened up at which point into one enormous, con-joining room that renovations had sliced down into a kitchen, indoor pool, bedroom and garage. The area that Thomas and Asha are led through to however, is the open living room; at the center of which; seated on a black leather sofa with her legs crossed and a pile of papers beside her -- was Katherine Bellamonte.

The Fostern Philodox raised her eyes when Lucille returned, two arrivals in tow and smiled, setting her pen down and rising to her feet to greet them. In cream slacks and a long, delicate silk blouse, Truth's Meridian looked the picture of American beauty; she was fresh faced and pretty, with pale blue eyes and the long nose and full lips that heralded her Ancestry.

"You must be my evening appointment," she says, her voice hinting at a french upbringing, at least in part. "I am Katherine Bellamonte, Truth's Meridian, Honor's Compass, Fostern Philodox."

[Iona McNevin] The slim athletic form of the Fianna passes by the sitting room, waist wrapped in a towel, and a black bikini top. Her eyes glanced to the two in tow behind Lucille. Having that maid around let Iona feel better about her own accented fucked up English.

The girl, well, had to be another Fang. She seemed to ebb Fanginess like Kate did. The man with her? Cute, and probably kin, Fang kin.

She waited til Lukas came in close and muttered. "Pøísahám, že s tolika kin Fang, nebudu tady uspìt." That was said with a somewhat chuckle.

[Asha Singh] "I think -" Asha whispers to Thomas, sotto voce as they are led through the corridor, into the Elder's salon, " - that you should go with my personal pleasure this time." Thomas gives her a supercilious little glare; once it would have cowed her, but now she sees - always - the glint something else, humor perhaps - behind the ever-proper kinsman's cold blue eyes.

--

In the open living room, Thomas leads the approach. He offers Katherine a deep bow, bending so long that his head sinks below waist level before he straightens, standing tall and sure once more. "Truth's Meridian, Honor's Compass-rhya, it is my deep and abiding personal honour - " Thomas seems to pronounce even the silent u of proper SOWPODS spelling. How he does it, only Gaia may know. " - to present to you Her Exalted Highness Arundhati Sunyana Elevarisi Asha Priyamvada Natajaran Singh of Karpathula, Bundi, Maharawat - "

As always, Thomas leaves off the Rochester.

" - scion of House Wyrmfoe, daughter of Alexander Harrison, Vision-of-the-Fall, scion of House Blood Red Crest, the great granddaughter of Sri Padmanabha Dasa Vanchi Pala Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Dharma Raja Kulasekhara Natajaran Singh, Maharaja of Karpathula, Bundi, and Maharawat - svatantrya to the Nation -"

It does not end, though Thomas does take a breath here, a small one, before pushing onward. "descendant of the Maharajadhiraja Bahadur, Great Prince of Princes, Elder Philodox of the Silver Fangs, House Blood Red Crest."

The kinsman steps back, then, and Asha - a perfect contrast to Katherine's blonde beauty: black-haired, black-eyed, dark skinned and slender as a whip, limned with energy she can contain for the moment, only just. There's a wide smile on her full mouth, and a light in the girl's black eyes. She's practically a child, no more than seventeen, her body still growing into its promise - but the promise is there, in every line and every limb. She wears dark clothes, too - black and burgundy, the hint of her white shirt a crisp contrast against her dark skin. - steps forward, all feral grace.

"-rhya, I am Asha Priyamvada Singh," she says herself now, addressing Katherine directly. "kâlarâtri to the Nation, cliath ranked, born under the full moon." She pauses, glances sidelong, shoots a look directly at Iona, then back to Kate. "Hi!"

[Wyrmbreaker] Glass surrounds the vast pool, most of it frosted for privacy. Even so, Lukas can discern movements; people. He can hear, and he can smell, and like any werewolf,

he knows when strangers are in his den.

He sits on the edge of the pool for a moment, feet trailing into water. The swim goggles are tugged off altogether, tossed atop the nearby lawn table. Katherine clearly intended her pool room to be a place of leisure, somewhere where she could laze about on pool floats, soak in the jacuzzi, lounge on plastic chairs and sip margaritas. Lukas rarely does most of these things, but he sure as hell does swim.

The Ahroun gets to his feet, then. His body feels unexpectedly heavy after so long in the buoyancy of the pool. He gets a towel from the wardrobe, takes a quick cold shower beside the pool to rid his skin of chlorine, and then emerges into the sitting room.

In all this time, Thomas has been introducing his mistress. Lukas slides the glass door open just in time to hear ...Fangs, House Blood Red Crest.

Into the rather shellshocked silence that follows -- anyway, it seems shellshocked to Lukas -- the Shadow Lord interjects:

"Wow."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lucille, once she has done her duty by Katherine, stands discreetly to one side and listens to Thomas introduce his Mistress with no reaction but for a tiny quirking of her wrinkled lips and the vague suggestion of amusement in her dark eyes. She looks from the bowed figure, to Katherine, and then for a minute she's scowling at the wet footprints the Fianna leaves on her newly waxed floor.

Then: Katherine is laughing, albeit briefly, and coming around the table to greet both her Cousins more directly. There is pleasure in her eyes, in the merry way they seem to dance, despite the raw power of her Rage, mingling with Asha's and then, in another beat, with her Alpha's. "I am delighted to make the acquaintence of you both, and most pleased to be able to welcome you to the Sept of Maelstrom, please, make yourself at home.

Lucille, would you be so good as to bring out some refreshments."

Without missing a beat, Katherine invites her pack-mates into the introductions. "Also allow me to introduce some of my pack-mates, the young woman who passed by is Iona McNevin, child of Stag's, Cliath Ragabash known as Banchee, and this," nodding to the startled Lord. "This is the Alpha of the Unbroken, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, son of Thunder, Fostern Ahroun."

[Wyrmbreaker] Then Asha's introducing herself, and it's on this that Wyrmbreaker steps away from the door to the pool room and pads, barefoot, wetfooted, across the hardwood floor. He has a towel around his neck, and he's wearing square-leg swimsuits. Both are dark; the latter black with water. The Shadow Lord himself is dark as well: swarthy-skinned, black-haired, powerfully built, with eyes as pale and flashing as lightning.

"Hey. Lukáš." It's uncertain whether Asha pronounced her own name properly, or if she succumbed to anglicizations of the vowels and consonants. Regardless, Lukas pronounces his name as it is: with long vowels, aspirated sibilants.

He extends his hand, which is still beaded with poolwater, gripping Asha's forearm briefly; then shaking her kinsman's hand. His rank is in his posture, the levelness of his regard; in terms of demeanor, Lukas is perhaps surprisingly affable, and a little embarrassed at his outburst. "Sorry; no disrespect meant during your intro earlier."

Then Iona is muttering sidelong to him, and he's turning his head slightly to hear, and then frowning.

"Way T.M.I., Iona. When the hell did you learn Czech?"

[Bai Chou] Bai felt like Raphael. Not the painter. More in the case of Ninja Turtles. And not in the cool "I'm a ninja" aspect. Not even in the 'Turtle Power' aspect. No, Bai was feeling like Raph due to entirely different reason. As if doing a dress rehearsal of the movie...Bai was tumbling downwards to crash into the living room table that made up Katherine Bellamonte's home. It wasn't exactly the entrance once usually had...quite literally, the Uktena was crashing the party. The Theurge found himself evicted from the Umbra...pushed out by the horde of Falcon spirits who suddenly were not keen on the presence of the 'Rude One'.

He should have done his research on spirit hierarchy. He would have realized the PDA Pigeon spirits that annoyed the shit out of him were not even remotely part of Falcon's brood. Yes, they were birds. Yes, Falcon was King of Birds. Difference being...PDA Pigeons were Weaver esque and Falcon definitely didn't tow that line.

But right now, the only thought going through his mind as he sailed down was..

This is gonna...

He didn't even get to finish the sentence as gravity finished his thought for him as his body crunched through two layers of thick glass...but don't worry...the floor cushioned his fall. With underlying foundation and glass broken glass fragments to remind him what barriers he had gone through to get there. Bai was usually someone with very articulate words when he needed them. The man could speak over several different languages. And with that same eloquence, Bai groaned...

"....fuck."

[Iona McNevin] Iona smiled softly, and gave both the newcomers a nod. Her accent a deep Irish tone as she spoke. "Tráthnóna maith, tae ye both."

She then looked to Lukas and laughed. "Och, poor Lukáš. I guess I forget tae be tellin' ye. Viktor taught me when he was me mentor. I speak fluent English, Irish Gaelic, Welsh, Russian an' Czech." She shrugged. "I like tae learn. Wha' kin I say?"

[Iona McNevin] The sudden crash of glass made Iona jump up and her war hammer seemed to unravel from her tribal tattoo and into her hand to greet Bai Chou with.

[Asha Singh] "Oh, wait -!" Asha demands, lively, alert - terribly, terribly likely to give offense, except when the target is charmed, laughing as Katherine is, rising like a (tastefully clothed) nymph from the sea of her elegant couch. No: the metaphor is wrong. Rising - as Katherine does, the laughing charm rising bright over the deadly ocean of rage that clots and chokes the room. " - I'll have him do it again."

This, confidently to Lukas as the Shadow Lord grips her arm. "Lukáš - " Asha tongues the word, experimenting with the accents, tasting it fluidly before spitting it out again, as fine as you please. "Lukáš-rhya." The deference in her manner is natural, fluid - though perhaps not complete. She eyes Lukas openly for several long moments (It is entirely likely that she has never seen a Shadow Lord in his swim trunks before.) and then looks beyond him,

"Hello -yuf," to the soft-smiling Iona, doing that urrah thing, suffixes without attachments, titles without context before at last returning to Katherine. "I-am-very-pleased-to-meet-you," a singsong beginning, before Thomas kicks her, not discretely, "well, seriously. Thanks." Then: crash. And: "Is the guy who fell from the ceiling your pack, or should I go kill him?"

[Wyrmbreaker] The spirit life surrounding the Loft is unusual. A near-constant storm boils in the umbra, whipping wind and precipitation down against the shadowy reflection of Kate's abode. By winter, it's ice and snow; later in spring it'll be cool rain; and in summer, the drenching torrential downpour of a monsoon.

Darting amongst the lightning are falcon spirits, singly and in pairs, sometimes coalescing into a flock as true falcons never would. Clinging to the crevices and corners are small, metallic cockroaches, related perhaps to the weaver-spiders that are, day by day, spinning the Loft into reality in the penumbra.

Recently, now and again, a stag comes and goes.

--

Bai Chou would've seen all that, had he had time to observe. Instead, he finds himself rudely ejected from the Umbra, and crashing onto Kate's coffee table. Iona startles into battle-readiness. Asha volunteers to kill. Katherine -- is probably about to have a seizure.

Lukas: well, for an instant, almost before the Gauntlet began to rip, Lukas was suddenly and inexplicably tense. But by the time Bai crashes out of thin air, the Ahroun, Fostern, and faster to react now than most people can dream of ever being, has relaxed. After the dust settles he inspects the newcomer for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Neither. That's Bai Chou, called Godslayer, a Theurge of the Uktena and, apparently, an official partycrasher."

Because he wasn't crashing the party himself. In his swim trunks. Nosirree.

[Iona McNevin] Hearing Lukas, and seeing this was friend rather than foe, the war hammer seems to melt back into the band surrounding her left forearm. Iona throws her arms up in the air, and goes to the kitchen "Riamh mé ag dul a fháil atá leagtha!"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Truth's Meridian is almost crushed beneath Godslayer.

Had she not come around her coffee table to properly greet the new-come Silver Fangs, she would, most likely, be a bleeding, glass-covered mess on the floor between designer leather sofas. When the Uktena crashes through the glass he takes Katherine's papers with him, a few fluttering to join the Garou in the aftermath as Katherine goes quite pale, then quite red and all this in utter silence.

The invocation of her Rage is terrible -- it lashes at the air around her and for a moment it looks as if she is about to surge into her war-form and rip the interloper's head from his shoulders. The Half Moon's eyes whip around to find her maid's, and discover Lucille already returning with a broom, and a silver trash can, garbage bag in tow.

Right.
Back to the Destroyer.

"Explain yourself." She demands of Bai Chou, and from the cross of her arms over her chest, she is entirely unimpressed. "And do so well, for you just cost me a very expensive piece of furniture."

[Bai Chou] "...hookers are only $100."

He grunted in response to the retreating Gaelic speaker...wincing as slowly opened his eyes, collecting himself. His hand went to his side...he hissed at the feel of the glass...thankfully very few had actually gotten through the layers of clothing he had on. That still didn't put the wind back into his lungs fully or the pain his brain was telling him his back was suffering...even though he could hear it loud and clear. He didn't know why he responded to the Gaelic first.

He glanced up...at least he didn't have to worry about a Veil breach...just pride, furniture, and the current Philodox Elder ready to kick his ass up and down her loft if so needed.

"...turns out Falcon spirits don't particularly like the idea of being remotely associated to pigeons. Go figure."

[Asha Singh] Asha stands back, - out of the way - stands straight, stands as tall as she possibly can and cheats it another half-inch by rising - not onto her tip-toes - but on the balls of her booted feet. Her arms are crossed firmly over her lean torso. The fitted burgundy blazer that is apparently her idea of formalwear rivels the red flash of fury in her tribesmate's pale face.

The young thing, full-moon-born, offers all and sundry a smile that begins as he's-in-trouble-smug, but ends, instead, as a hungry slash, the full dark mouth, over the bright flash of (vicious, human) teeth.

[Wyrmbreaker] Relax, Kate. He would be amused when someone destroyed her thousand-dollar coffee table. I'm pretty sure it was an accident, not a slight to your honor. Attend to your guest before her butler starts trumpeting her thoughts to us.
to Iona McNevin, Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair

[Wyrmbreaker] For his part, Lukas laughs. And, skirting shattered glass, he drops his towel on the sofa and sits atop that.

The heavy frame of the coffeetable is still intact. He puts his feet up. Then, sounding a good deal less irate than Katherine, "What did you want of pigeon-spirits, Godslayer?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lucille begins to carefully sweep up the smaller shards of glass, and murmurs something in an aside to Katherine that sounds like can have replaced, is just glass, tea is ready or something similar. The Half Moon, still privately fuming at the destruction of her coffee table, and the utter lack of propriety being displayed by all stiffly inclines her head toward Lucille and leans down to collect together some of the more dangerous pieces left on the floor.

"I must apologize," she says with some forced sense of calm, of amusement. "I do not usually greet my new come Cousins with a floor-show to compliment the tea. Shall we allow Lucille to finish up and retreat upstairs to the rumpus room? It is not quite as grand, but it is free of glass shards."

[Iona McNevin] There was a call out from the kitchen as Iona was going through cabinets. "Lukáš! Kde se Kate držet whisky?"

[Sinclair] Warcry was upstairs when Asha showed up, and didn't bother to come down. She was upstairs when Bai crashed into the coffee table, and didn't bother to come down. She heard their voices over their totemic link, tensing briefly at the surge of anger from Katherine, and then simply went back to what she was doing before: that is, kicking ass at

MarioKart.

Which she is enjoying thoroughly, thankyouverymuch, snickering gleefully whenever she rams someone off the rainbow road. She's chewing on Twizzlers, lounging about in a pair of cutoff sweatpants that curl hemlessly at her knees, ankle socks, and a red ribbed tank top. Her hair is up in a ponytail, twisted up like that right after her earlier swim. Well. 'Swim'. Training session, where she left Wyrmbreaker in the pool with instructions on practicing his form.

Legs akimbo, Sinclair lets out a holler, yelling downstairs: "I AM UNDEFEATABLE!"

At MarioKart.

[Bai Chou] Bai finally rose...hissing as he reaches back...and yanks out a sliver that had embedded it into his ass cheek, eyes squinting before tossing it on top of the others. His arms loosed the peacoat, shedding it so he could inspect the damage, the eyes then looking to Lukas.

"Pigeons, especially PDAs -network-. Which means when one thinks I owe them, the whole lot thinks I owe them. So you can imagine my chiminage becomes like a debit card that's over drafted and they're all charging miscellaneous overdraft fees so they can all get a piece of the action. I only owe 'un of 'em and well...frankly...I'm not about to get screwed by a rat of the sky, spirit version or not. So...figured I could talk to Falcon. But I pulled two rookie mistakes. Mismatching spirit broods and second, I forgot to bring a present to mottle their feathers. So..."

He gestures doing a TA DA before he reaches to his shoulder and removes another sliver he just discovered.

[Wyrmbreaker] "I'll join you guys in a bit," Lukas replies to Kate. "Going to grab a shower and put some clothes on." It's a wise decision. The Shadow Lord is woefully underdressed, and his swimwear, hydrodynamic as it may be in the pool, is growing both constrictive and clammy once out of it.

Also: "Ask her yourself!" Lukas shouts back at Iona.

His head turns a little as he shouts, but his eyes stay on Bai, who thereafter tells a rather sorry tale of pigeons and falcons. The edges of Lukas's mouth curl up in not very well-disguised amusement. When he's finished, the Ahroun shakes his head.

"Well, at least they didn't drop you from a couple thousand feet up. Still," the smile fades, and now he's serious. "This is my packmate's home, and therefore the territory of my pack. So respect the territory, and respect the spirits in it. After all, they might not even draw much of a distinction between one Garou and another. And I don't want falcon-spirits tearing at me any more than they already do."

[Asha Singh] "Seriously?" says Asha, the shining paragon of her family, the hope of her failing line. Her dark eyes flash from Bai on the floor, bloodied, groaning, as the efficient Lucille sweeps up all around him. "This is - like, seriously - the best greeting I have ever had in my whole entire life - !" - that comes out before Asha's mind has caught up with her loose tongue, and before Thomas can jab her with the little pen he produces from some inner pocket of his crisp black suit for just such purpose.

"Truth's Meridian, Honor's Compass-rhya," Thomas says, stepping forward, a hand on his mistress's shoulder, restraining. "I assure you, we will take no offense. You can hardly be held responsible for the behavior of - " a glance at Bai Chou, not as supercilious as one might imagine, that " - so many others. We are infinitely pleased with our reception in your home, and will speak only of your generous greeting, and your gracious manner. The - " he can hardly bear to say the word. It sounds so common. " - ah, rumpus room will be most acceptable, I am certain.

"Come now, let me give you a hand, Ma'am," the last bit to Lucille, as the elegant butler crouches to offer his assistance to Katherine's long-suffering maid.

Asha then shoots a glance from Bai to Katherine, and back again, wrinkling her noble little nose. "Pigeons?" - she stage whispers, horrified as only a child of falcon could be at consorting with such things. "God, gross."

[Iona McNevin] There was a grumble from the kitchen. "Kate? Where do ye keep tha whiskey? I'm thirsty."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Sinclair yells from up the stairs that she is undefeatable, Iona hollers about whiskey from the kitchen, Lukas needs to put some pants on and Bai is pulling shards of glass from his rear-side while Asha's butler attempts to smooth things over with a feast of compliments.

All in all, Katherine is about as horrified as she knows to be.

But, she's a Silver Fang, and she's been brought up properly -- therefore, she takes a little calming, centering moment and breathes in deeply, slowly, and then out again before she plasters her big, irresistible smile over her lips and resumes her role as Hostess. "The liquors are kept in the last cupboard on the right, Iona, beside the refrigerator." To Bai Chou. "I understand that dealings with Spirits are never simple, Monsieur so I forgive the abruptness of your arrival, and offer the hospitality of my home to you." Then to Asha, a mild agreement: "Plague carriers, all of them."

Katherine begins to lead the way upstairs.

"Come, I hear the dulcet sounds of another pack-mate from above, I shall make introductions."

[Bai Chou] Bai shook his coat a little, getting some of the smaller particles of glass out before he folded it over his arm, mentally reminding himself to give it a good look over later as he nodded to Lukas.

"...trust me...I'll be by to smooth feathers over later. Never know when I have to talk to them again."

He glanced to Katherine and gave an incline of his head.

"Spasiba, rhya."

[Asha Singh] The flash of bloodlust has passed from Asha's eyes and mien as quickly as it came. She watches Kate with avid interest as the Fostern composes herself, finds - ever - a way to put order to the whirl of disorder around her, and then follows the remaining action like the spectator at a tennis match - zing, zing, zing - following the little yellow ball whereever it flies, not discretely, as would be mete and proper, but physically, with her eyes and face and head and body, black hair (well-dressed tonight, brushed and curled and perfumed, all in Kate's honor) swinging with every movement.

Light footed and sure, Asha flashes in Kate's wake, waiting long enough that she has to run for a half-dozen steps, then tucking her hands behind her back, discretely, demurely, as the catches up to the Fostern. The image, always, is shattered when the raptor-thing calls back over her left shoulder, "C'mon Jeeves," - to long-suffering Thomas, confiding in Katherine as they climb the stairs, in a whisper-that-isn't. "I need him for the introduction. It sounds so dumb when I say Her-Excellent-Highness myself."

[Iona McNevin] Figures, it was to be the next cabinet she was going to check when she heard the answer. She opened it and her eyes just went wide, and the totemphome rang with sounds like Hallelujah! and heavenly angels. She looked over each bottle "Yum..yum..yum..yuck..eh, so so....oooo, Jackpot" She found a whiskey and gathered it up as well as a glass. Can't be rude here. Then she followed suite and joined everyone upstairs soon after.

[Wyrmbreaker] "Good." Lukas distractedly flicks a speck of glass back to the floor, then stands. "Come on. Let's get out of the way."

He gestures Bai toward the stairs, and up. For his own part, Lukas ducks into the downstairs bathroom. The water runs for a while.

[Iona McNevin] Iona nods to the others after checking Sinclair's score and grinning. "If'n ye dinnah mind, Kate-rhya, I am going tae lie down in tha guest room." After saying good night to the others, she bowed out quietly.

((Sorry, I have to get up early for an appt. I will see you all later))

[Sinclair] Sinclair has been in quite the mood lately. She hasn't been spending as much time in her room with Theron, but more and more time at the Loft, though when she sleeps here it's usually on the couch. She doesn't claim a room, doesn't seem to want or need one. It's a little like living with a teenager, and not one remotely like Gabriella: she stays up late, sleeps long -- and deep, so deep that Lucille could vacuum right beside her head and Sinclair wouldn't wake up -- and has been moody as fuckall.

At times she is distracted, distractable, daydreaming. At others she's delighted, wandering about with a constant smile to herself. And then there are the times when she's cranky. Not quite morose, but there's a darker, more sullen cast to her mind's wandering. It has yet to affect her dealings with her packmates overmuch, but they're almost all close enough -- or around her enough -- to at least notice. Then again:

this is Sinclair. 'Moody as fuckall' isn't exactly saying much.

In any case: tonight's a night when her mood is up, is bright, is waxing with her birth moon overhead. Her skin is surprisingly tanned for winter, a light golden brown. There's color in her cheeks, brightness in her eyes, and even her hair seems softer and shinier than usual. Sinclair is not difficult to look at, no matter how much metal and ink she adorns herself with, but when the gibbous moon waxes in the sky, she's all but luminous, herself.

And dangerous.

She's in a good mood right now, though, undefeatable on the Wii, gnawing on Twizzlers when she is not singing her own praises in as loud a voice as possible throughout the loft. Her arms are bared, but the back of her neck is to the couch's edge. There's an industrial piercing and a small titanium hoop in one ear, four small titanium hoops in the other. Some of the hoops have a tiny bead on them, differently colored. There's a thin, round metal bar pierced twice through the skin of her left bicep, above three tattooed spikes. Her right bicep has four names written in script. That's what's visible. That is what makes her look so much less like the girl next door.

She glances up as the others enter, trickling in, her eyes zeroing in on the slight figure that carries the weight of so much breeding, so much rage. Those eyes are a pale, ethereal blue, lacking the vivid intensity of Lukas and Kate's but matching them, to some degree, in general color.

Sinclair glances at Kate, looks back at Asha, picks up her bag of candy and holds it up and out. "Wa'some?" since she's still chewing.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Asha's confidence, given to Katherine as they ascend the staircase draws a delicious little giggle from the lips of the blond Fostern -- a sound better suited to a playful child, rather than this Monster in Woman skin -- she bows her head close to the Cliath and they are for a moment as thick as thieves, conspiring in the night.

"I understand completely, I begin to wonder if I should not have Lucille do the same for myself." A glance over her shoulder at her long-suffering maid's dour expression has Katherine's blue eyes dancing with wicked delight, and she is still smiling as they reach the second floor. The so called Rumpus area of the Loft was in actuality the Guest Quarters. Several doors were lined up along the walls, forming a sort of 'L' shape. In the middle of these, was a Billiards Table and directly before them an assortment of bean bags, lounge chairs and sofas were arranged around a TV set and games system -- complete at present with a Galliard Glass Walker.

In a corner were the items comprising Katherine's gym.

She nodded, as Iona pardoned herself to make use of one of the bedrooms, then: Sinclair and her bag of offerings. Katherine waits for the dutiful Thomas, before saying: Sinclair, Warcry, Cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers, my pack-mate, Sinclair, this is Asha, she is a new arrival to my tribe in the city." Kate seems to know what's coming, but bites her tongue and allows it, anyway.

[Sinclair] Uhoh. One of Kate's tribe. Sinclair knows what's coming, too. She continues holding out the Twizzlers, but braces herself.

Which, considering who and what she is: only means that her attention focuses on Asha and the man with her, eyes intent, memory awakened.

[Bai Chou] Bai made his way upstairs...he hadn't shifted to heal the little bits of cuts and stabs of glass. A man had his dignity after all and Bai was scrambling to get most of his back after being booted from the Shadow. The pea coat folded over his arm, he almost reached to get his cigarettes but then remembered the whole -guest- thing. It was one thing to break a table by accident, it was another to give second hand smoke in another wolf's home.

He walks up behind them then his eyes lock on Sinclair. The blue orbs widen only a fraction...recognizing the one he got into a tussle with over a smart mouthed kin...he also remembered having a head butting contest between the two of them. It was hard to say who had the thicker skull.

[Asha Singh] "You totally should - " affirms Asha, quickening to Katherine's regard as the Fostern draws close. " - and you know what's even better? Get her, like, a big stick to rap against the floor. Like a sword-stick, but bigger." Thomas is following close, and she shoots him a frowning glance, waiting for him to supply the word she's missing. He does not rescue her, and so she crosses her eyes at him, in a flashpan fit of pique. " - well, I don't remember," Asha continues, giving Katherine her Most Bright Smile, the one she always gave to the Aunty in the kitchen when she wanted something sweet. " - exactly what it's called, but, you know, that stick-thing works really well."

They walk down the corridor, just before Katherine presents Asha to her packmate, Asha appends, considered. "Really gets their attention, I mean."

Then: everyone knows what's coming. Thomas bears it well. He stands straight, managing to straight his collars, bows to Sinclair this time - though not so deeply or formally as he did to Katherine. Really, it's more of a baby-bow, short and clipped as his perfect British accent.

"I have," he says. He takes a breath, does Thomas. He must has the lungs of a pearl-diver, that man. " - the deep and abiding personal honour of presenting to you, Her Most Exalted Highness Arundhati Sunyana Elevarisi Asha Priyamvada Natajaran Singh of Karpathula, Bundi, Maharawat."

"Scion of House Wyrmfoe, the beloved daughter of Vision-of-the-Fall, Adren Theurge of the Sept of Falling Waters.

"Scion of House Blood Red Crest, the true-born great grand-daughter of Sri Padmanabha Dasa Vanchi Pala Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Dharma Raja Kulasekhara Natajaran Singh, Adren Ahroun of the Sept of the Broken Sky at the base of Annapurna, the late-lamented Maharaja of Karpathula, Bundi, and Maharawat."

By now, one might reasonably expect that the recitation was finished. But wait: there's more!

"Descendant of the Maharajadhiraja Bahadur, Great Prince of Princes, Elder Philodox of the Silver Fangs, House Blood Red Crest, Cliath-ranked, full-moon-born, named kâlarâtri to the Nation, which means, in your human tongue, both night of death and death of night."

The girl standing there cannot possible wear so many names. She is slight by the standards of her tribe and her moon - growing still - whipthin, dark as night - black hair, black eyes, dark skin shining with health and energy. Then, Asha says: "Hi, -yuf Can I have a Twizzler?" Pause, considered - a wrinkle of her nose. "I only like the red ones."

[Edward Bellamonte] And . . . another of Katherine's tribe. Look, there, they feel it - one of theirs, the Unbroken, coming closer. Not here, not yet, but in their shadow, perhaps - he is not far, their sneaky Ragabash brother. Assessments are made, and then it's out, a bit away again, to shimmer in through the bathroom mirror as he had not so long ago - a few months, perhaps - but this time, not to sneak up on his sister. This time, he washes his hands and face, then disappears to his room to change, to make himself presentable before appearing . . . where everyone else is.

It is, of course, Young Mister Bellamonte (or That Bellamonte Boy, depending on who's talking, what they're saying, and the price of tea in China). He dresses well, tonight, in slacks and a button down shirt, sans the tie - his hair brushed, but not particularly neat regardless. He could use a shave, but hasn't taken the time. That there are two unknowns here, he already knows.

"Hello," he says, adjusting his cuffs before checking his nails to make sure they're clean.

[Sinclair] Sinclair looks at the open bag of red Twizzlers in her hand and looks back up at Asha. She did pay attention to the introduction, but truth be told, her eyes glazed once Thomas started in on her ancestors. She'll remember who Asha is. She won't remember the rest, and that is because she stopped listening to the rest. Thomas would be so disappointed. Or maybe just chalk it up to the fact that this is a Walker, cut off from her ancestors, cut off from any trace of breeding the tribe once had, low-born and low-mannered.

She looks back at Asha and gives a slow nod. "Then I think you'll be okay." She shakes the bag at her. "You like video games?"

Bai gets a glance. It lingers a moment, and then moves on.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Over the totem-link, as Thomas introduces Asha for not the first time comes a thoughtful: Perhaps I should invest in a herald, myself.
to Edward Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker

[Edward Bellamonte] Can we share, or shall I get my own? Your friend has the right idea, I agree.
to Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] Rather firmly: NO.
to Edward Bellamonte, Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair

[Asha Singh] "Hello," says Asha, taking two Twizzlers from the bag and offering one to Edward when he appears. The piece of candy flops over at the middle, nearly in two. Thomas most assuredly hopes that Edward heard his charge's introduction, as the well-mannered kinsman is still catching his breath. Then, a frown crests her brow. Asha takes a third Twizzler and offers it to Kate. Note: she does not bite into her prize until the two Fostern Silver Fangs have taken their own. That is unconscious, unconsidered.

Back to Sinclair, the creature's black eyes roam all over the pierced and inked Glass Walker, curiousity undisguised by native tact, papered over by a flash of spendthrift charm. "No," is what she says, first. Then, a twist of her shoulders, more broad than one might guess to look at her. "I mean," she amends, "I've never really played one."

[Wyrmbreaker] [shit. i totally forgot: lukas has been squeaking this whole time! voice of the jackal!]

After a while, Lukas jogs up the stairs to the rumpus room, all dechlorinated and clean and dressed-like. He's just in time to hear the tail end of the introduction -- again.

"Man," he complains, and with his voice as it is, this really does sound rather like whining, "I never get to hear the first part."

[Sinclair] The names on Sinclair's right arm are easy enough to read: Kenneth. Regina. Colfax. Arthur.

She breaks out into a grin at Asha's response and slaps her hand on the bean bag chair beside her. "Well sit your ass down, then, sugar, we have shit to do."
to Edward Bellamonte, Katherine Bellamonte, Wyrmbreaker

[Sinclair] The names on Sinclair's right arm are easy enough to read: Kenneth. Regina. Colfax. Arthur.

She breaks out into a grin at Asha's response and slaps her hand on the bean bag chair beside her. "Well sit your ass down, then, sugar, we have shit to do."

[Katherine Bellamonte] In comparison to Thomas' well planned and long winding list of Names and Ancestors and Importance™ comes Edward's introduction to the others of Hello. Oh dear, one can almost feel the sense of Katherine's momentary embarrassment resurfacing, and she scrambles, mentally to fix the error in tribal etiquette as only she can.

"Asha, Thomas, may I introduce my brother, Edward Christopher d'Albret Bellamonte, son of Christopher Adrien Grey Claws Bellamonte, Grand Son of Gerard 'Striker' Bellamonte, Heir to Bellamonte House, Fostern Ragabash of the House of Wyrmfoe and Gleaming Eye and pack-member also of the Unbroken."

Great Gaia, and she isn't even short of breath, she smiles at Thomas in particular as if to share this moment and accepts a Twizzler from Asha.

[Bai Chou] Bai glanced over as Lukas came up, his arms merely tucking under the pea coat, remaining quiet as titles are thrown back and forth. He thought hearing Fianna boasts were bad...they were nothing compared to having to sit through a well-established family line of Silver Fang.

He was glad they didn't start going into stories of a particular ancestor. He just gave Sinclair a nod...no threatening motions or the like...just a nod of greeting before returning to his silence.

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward smiles, amused, as his sister scrambles - some would call this uncharitable, and maybe it is, a bit. But mostly? It's because he would have gotten to it in a moment, and as his Kitty so often does, she took care of it for him. It's handy, really, having a sister like her. Especially when one is a brother like Edward.

"Merci," he says, quite polite, as he accepts the Twizzler from Asha, and gives her a smile. He is not the most attractive of young men, but there is a certain charm about him. It's in the slightly rounded cheeks, perhaps, in the face that still manages to look young despite the darkness in his eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. All of you, rather . . ." At the last, he glances Bai's way, an eyebrow raised, curious. He hasn't properly met this one before, either, though he's seen him - at moots and things, no doubt.

[Katherine Bellamonte] At some point, Lucille bustles onto the scene with a folded tray beneath one arm, juggling a tray of tea in the other. She unfolds the TV tray carefully, and plants an intricately woven doily atop it before settling the steaming teacup on it. Cups are turned over, and a small tray of sweet biscuits left beside it.

Then she sets about re-shaping the pillows with a brutal efficiency enough to impress the staunchest of observers.

--

Katherine notices the curious glances cast Godslayer's way, and says, without a trace of a smile: "Godslayer was so unfortunate as to be cast from the Umbra, he made quite an impression on the coffee table downstairs." The pale eyes regard him momentarily, a little furrow appearing in her brow. "I do hope you are not bleeding too badly."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Ed," Lukas looks faintly, pleasantly surprised. "Didn't know you were in." And he grabs a Twizzler.

[gonna try to speed posts up! getting late!]

[Asha Singh] It is extraordinarily rare to see a well-bred, well-trained, well-manicured, well-dressed Silver Fang butler break face. Still: Wyrmbreaker says: I never get to hear the first part, and poor Thomas sighs, deeply, thoroughly, as if someone had closed his lungs like a bellows.

Asha flashes a grin in response to Edward, then breaks out a patented curtsey - which is perfectly balanced, elegant, lovely, all the while twirls her Twizzler, then nips it between her teeth, shoots a guilty glance toward Thomas before at last - at last - flopping into the seat offered her Sinclair. She holds the controller, when offered, the way she would the hilt of a sword, for Gaia's sake. The flush of novelty is already starting to wear off. "There are so many buttons."

[Edward Bellamonte] "I do live here." Not, of course, that he spends much time here - he keeps himself busy, and occasionally presents useful information, as he gets it. And yes, that voice - even from his Alpha, from one of his oldest friends (or maybe especially), it induces an internal cringe. But Asha is curtseying and of course he bows, all etiquette classes and long ago balls.

"Some games require more of them than others. Do you like Tetris?"

Everyone knows - pack-wise - to never ever ever evereverever get into a game of Tetris with Edward. They will go on forever. Which, of course, explains the hint of mischief in his eyes as he asks.

[Bai Chou] "I'm fine but thank you for asking. Just a few nicks here and there. Gaia saw fit to give me plenty of blood, rhya."

Bai gave a slight grin, a hand reaching up to adjust the spectacles he wore...for those that had known him before...Bai had never needed glasses but he felt that it gave him a 'brain' look.

[Sinclair] "Fiddlesticks," Sinclair says to Asha, waving a hand. Her fingernails are a dark, metallic green. Starting to chip. She goes over a quick rundown of said buttons, pointing to them rather than saying 'A' or 'B' or the like, forcing Asha to search over the control to find 'A' and 'B'. She tells her what they do. And when to do those things.

"You'll pick it up quick," she says kindly, "promise. Mostly, just keep your eyes on the screen and glance down at the controls as little as possible. S'good for your hand-eye coordination. Or, really, if you HAVE good hand-eye coordination, you'll do fine."

She walks Asha through picking a character, telling her pros and cons of each one, before picking one of the easier tracks. She's a competitor. She's also not interested in playing solely to crush someone else. Not much fun if Asha throws the controller through the screen, anyway.

"Ready?" Sinclair and the screen both ask. "GO."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Yeah but," Lukas shrugs, "just don't see you around often, is all." A pause. Their eyes meet; Lukas's direct, steady. "I'm glad you're here. Really."

He means it. Then the moment's past, and he's saying, "Seriously, Tetris? She'll never play again." And then he's wading over the back of the sofa to drop down next to Sinclair and Asha. Ready? says Sinclair. Lukas is still looking for a controller. "Waitwaitwait--"

GO!

"Fuck!" Lukas scrambles for the third controller, managing to snap it into the steering wheel accessory just in time to watch their Karts zoom off the starting line. He gets his vehicle going. His little dude appears to be King Koopa.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine eats her Twizzler thoughtfully, watching the game in progress before Lucille comes up beside her and forces a cup of tea into her Mistress' hands with a look that suggests she will argue the point with her if she refuses. Edward receives the second cup and then one is offered to Bai Chou and finally Thomas, with a small nod of approval.

Protocol followed.

While her pack-mates are racing, Katherine seems quite content to stand back and sip from her tea, relishing the fragrance and apparently -- for the moment at least -- happy.

[Asha Singh] "Uhm - " Do you like Tetris? Edward asks; Asha shoots him a dark-eyed look, not blank, from wary. Never trust a Ragabash. Right. " - not-really?" Then, Sinclair takes over, walks Asha through the whole process, and Asha - screws up her face, frowning at the screen. Over and over, Sinclair shows her the buttons. Asha switches hands twice before she picks a comfortable one, at last, and frowns at the screen, intense.

"Why do they all look like muppets without their fur?" she asks, as the game begins, a flare of her competitive spirit rising to the fore.

Meanwhile: Thomas commiserates with Katherine, walks over to the tea set. "May I pour you another, ma'am?" mum, he pronounces it, thoroughly proper. "Milk? Sugar?" He shoots a despairing glance at Asha. "I am sorry for her behavior. Disgraceful, really."

[Sinclair] "Shut the fuck up, she's awesome," Sinclair mouths off to Thomas, a Twizzler hanging out of her mouth like a tiny red cigar as Yoshi whips past Princess Peach. "They're classic fucking characters, kâlarâtri."

Fuck the rest of the names, apparently. "So there was this console that came out of Japan," she says, dropping banana peels behind her for King Koopa, "called Nintendo. And they had this game, see?"

Thus begins the Epic of Mario and his brother. Asha might be distracted by the constant storytelling going on beside her while the game goes on, round after round. But by the end of it, she's been caught up to date on all things Mario-related, including the rather unfortunate existence of Wario. She has heard about Sorry, but your Princess is in another castle. And they've gone through several more Twizzlers. Sinclair has, at least.

[Bai Chou] Bai watched the video game...remembering how often he had used such distractions while in school. He took the tea, sipping it and actually taking it like proper Earl Grey rather then a heathen. He then finally set the cup down once he was finished and bowed his head to Katherine.

"...I think I'll leave the festivities for the evening, rhya. Get back to me in Chinatown about the table...I owe you a favor...or three."

He didn't say money....money meant nothing to the Uktena ultimately and likely by his own fashion sense, the man didn't really carry such materials.

[Wyrmbreaker] "So Bai," Lukas's eyes are glued on the screen. "I've been meaning to ask. What's the story behind your name? Godslayer, I mean."

On the screen, Bowser smashes into poor little Toad. Poor little Toad goes flying with a squeak. Lukas makes a satisfied grunt, then barely manages to swerve by the banana peels. "Cheap," he accuses in Sinclair's direction.

[Edward Bellamonte] Ed takes his tea when it's given to him, and he stands with his sister - close, and with the family resemblance clear even if he is the plainer of the two. Thomas' apology gets a snort of amusement (and pleasure, perhaps, to not be the one being apologized for). "She's -" awesome, "- fine."

Then there's this Godslayer fellow saying his goodbyes, and Edward nods, until Lukas asks his question. Maybe the guy will stay for a bit, and there's nothing wrong with hearing such a thing. There is, though, a murmur for his sister. "I would speak to you later, of something of ours. Remind me?" Goodness knows, he's prone to forgetting things lately. Not everything, but some of them get left by the wayside when he's distracted by something else.

[Sinclair] "Dude, that's the game," she says benignly to Lukas, with a tone of sympathetic exasperation that may or may not be feigned. "You don't like the rules of the game, go play Tetris with Ed."

A sudden burst of laughter. "Hahaha, fuckers. I got a star."

[Bai Chou] Bai paused some, glancing to Wyrmbreaker and then his eyes shift to Katherine before he speaks.

"Uktena deed names are often private things...but I feel I do owe the host recompensation...though this will hardly be all of it."

Bai massaged his neck a little as he cleared his throat.

"...how do you think you kill a God, Wyrmbreaker?"

[Asha Singh] "Yes ma'am," Thomas replies to Sinclair, with perfect equanimity. It would be impossible to find fault in his words or in his tone; his address is wholly respectful of the Glass Walker. And yet. That's all it is: and yet. "Farewell, sir." The kinsman-butler begins to address Godslayer, quickly swallowing the sentiment when the Shadow Lord addresses the guy who fell through the roof from the umbra. Briefly, Thomas wishes that he was in a house with servant's quarters. He could live on the story of the evening for weeks, possibly months.

"Nevermind him," Asha replies to Sinclair, frowning, leaning physically forward, swerving and bobbing light a prizefighter in time with the game on the screen. " - he went to butler-school, so he's like, required by the terms of his graduation to do stuff like that. I like him, though. I made everyone else stay home. The Aunties and Nuncles are like, seven hundred percent worse. And my cousin Naima, if she were here, she'd like - "

Oh, Naima and her foibles will await another day. "What's the star do?!" The young Fang demands.

[Asha Singh] "That is kind of you," Thomas appends, to Edward, when the latter says, she's - fine. "More tea, sir?" He holds the pot just so. It really is a pleasure to see him pour. He outdoes any Jane Austen heroine, to be sure.

[Katherine Bellamonte] But Katherine is smiling a touch indulgently at Thomas, the private amusement on her lips withstanding even Sinclair's moment of cheek toward him. She has finished her first cup, and allows him to fix her a second with milk before she leans in a little to speak to him. "You have done very well, and should be quite proud." Flattery, she offers it freely, and seemingly sincerely, her hand on his arm but briefly in a pat pat there there we all suffer together gesture before she lets it drop so as not to scald the man with her Rage.

Then, Godslayer.
Then, Edward.

His sister's eyes turn to regard him, mild surprise raises her brows before she nods, and murmurs: "Later, yes."

[Sinclair] "Disbelief!" she chimes in, just to be a shit, but she really isn't sure if that's the story behind Bai's name. She's focused mostly on the game, though truth be told it doesn't take a lot of concentration for her. She goes back to MarioKart, cackling as Asha demands to know what the star does. She neverminds Thomas, and she doesn't mock Asha for the rookie move of trying to get the controls to do her bidding by way of physical moment.

The Unbroken, at least, know this much about Sinclair: when on her laptop or in front of the television playing a game, it's one of the only times she seems peaceful. Then, it's like a baby with a pacifier. She's still, more or less. She lounges, and she doesn't fidget. She doesn't look for anything else to do. There's a reason she's as good as she is at so, so many of these games across platforms: practice. She can spend hours and hours doing this, and often does.

"I will show you what the star does," Sinclair intones.

And does. Laughing.

[Wyrmbreaker] "You're about to find out," Lukas says between gritted teeth. He just got shockwaved off the road by a goddamn NPC. It was Princess Peach, at that. "And, uh," distracted by MarioKart, "write a myth where he dies?"

[Bai Chou] "...the Walker wins a prize."

He nodded towards Sinclair before he looks back to Lukas.

"To kill a god, you destroy any trace of it existing. There was a false totem....a false spirit that claimed to be a forgotten totem of my tribe. I had found the records of it....all that was left of it for it to be known to my People. And...I destroyed it. Burned it away...for like a lie, there was no substance to it. It was an illusion preying on foolish Uktena who dared fall for its trap. With nothing to hold it to this world, it became no more...just another illusion lost to the dreams and the Shadow."

[Edward Bellamonte] "Thank you," he says to Thomas, holding out his cup for more - there's a glance at the butler, then at his sister, before his attention returns to the trio playing the game.

[Edward Bellamonte] No, seriously, we need one. Can we have one? Where's this butler school? I like him way better than Lucille.
to Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker

[Sinclair] Your loyalty both astounds and impresses me, Ed.
to Edward Bellamonte, Katherine Bellamonte, Wyrmbreaker

[Katherine Bellamonte] I'm going to tell her you said that, and watch: your shirts all magically develop singe marks in them.
to Edward Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker

[Edward Bellamonte] I'm sure. Wry!Edward is wry, and . . . laughing, for once. It's a good feeling, even for those who don't know him as well. Fine, fine. We'll keep her.
to Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker

[Asha Singh] "Thank you, ma'am. I will remember your hospitality, I assure you." That's not a promise a Silver Fang, even mere kin, of poor blood and few prospects, makes lightly.

Then: the star! At first, Asha doesn't quite get what's going on. She frowns, still leaning forward over the controllers, flailing her arms sidelong now and then, mashing the buttons at a furious pace. At some point, thoughtlessly, she jumps to her feet. When she finally figures it out, the Ahroun gives out a long, low string of curses in some foreign tongue so exotic it is unlikely to be spoken by any in the room and so virulent that poor Thomas blanches visibly, his pale skin going ashen underneath, as if he had been covered with paste gone gray from age.

[Sinclair] Asha's response makes Sinclair bite back laughter. She presses her lips hard together, eyes wide, trying not to burst out in amusement. "Shit," she says quietly, a half-squeak, but she doesn't stop playing.

She wins. Again.

[Wyrmbreaker] And off the track he goes again. This time, Lukas lets Bowser sit on his rumbling little dirtmobile, turning to listen to Bai's story for his name. He asked, after all. He'll listen.

When the Uktena is finished, Lukas gives him a longer, considering look. "That's a noble story," he says, "and an honorable name to have earned. Thanks for telling me."

He gets up off the sofa, then, facing their surprise guest as he's departing. "Do you know how to get back to Chinatown from here?"

[Bai Chou] "Yeah...I know Chicago pretty decently. Not my first time in Lake View. Maybe my first time being ejected out of the Shadow like that...but definitely not my first time here. Thanks though."

Bai gave a nod to him and the others, before he starts to make his way out. Normally, he would exit back through the Gauntlet but somehow he had a feeling going out the front door would be for the best. He tried not to focus on how his ass screamed in protest after being violated by glass shards earlier. He had a feeling he would hate stairwells today.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine nods at Godslayer as he finally prepares to leave: "Good night, Lucille will see you out." And, true to her word, the Hispanic maid is at the base of the stairs, waiting to lead the Uktena to the door. One thing that will be noted from the evening must be the efficiency of the Silver Fang's Kin servants.

it's almost enough to make one want one for themselves.

Thomas goes pale when Asha's passion for the game takes over her, and the Half Moon must work visibly -- nipping at her lower lip -- to prevent herself from laughing aloud. "The game is very involving," she confides in the pallid Butler, attempting to rouse his spirits once more.

[Asha Singh] "I draw my strength," Thomas says, " - from you ma'am, the backbone of the tribe."

The game is won; Asha stands, the controller in hands stiff still somehow elegant. It's the blood, underneath her skin. There's another little torrent, a waterfall of undifferentiated noise to those without the ear for it. Not surprisingly, Thomas replies in kind - rather sharply by his tone.

Asha flares a smoldering look over at her kinsman, raptor-quick - that - all bright black eyes and quick, hollow-bones. She breathes in, she breathes out, coal-black eyes banked but burning, then flashes a quick-flare look at Sinclair. "That was pretty good - " even her voice is hot, " - but I'll win, next time!" Unlikely, if her button-mashing skill tonight is any indication. By now, Thomas has his hand on her shoulder, and - settles under his touch, comes back to herself and looks up at him. There's a balance, there. He's necessary for her, somehow.

"My lady," Thomas says to Katherine. "My lord," he says to Edward. Then: to the rest, who do not deserve such high-toned titles, " - rhyas, all. We thank you for your hospitality, but I am afraid that Asha has a pressing family obligation to attend to, an important phone call that she cannot miss making. I hope you understand."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine nods, a mild concession that she notes Thomas' words but does not necessarily acknowledge them as true or false -- merely that they have been spoken -- a custom learned when she was in finishing school. Then: movement, Thomas to Asha, Edward by her side and Truth's Meridian is smiling, and setting her tea down to properly farewell those of her blood.

"You are most welcome to call on me again, whenever you have a need of my assistance, or simply my friendship. It is always a celebration for me to greet new brothers and sisters in blood to Maelstrom." Handshakes, then, and kisses to cheeks from Katherine if permitted in the french way.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's rather appalling voice joins the doubtless chorus of goodbyes that rise from the pack. He adds, "Drop by again. We should talk more."

Then he's picking up the Wiimote, stretching his leg out to nudge Kate with a toe. "Come on," he says. "In-house rematch."

[Sinclair] "Anything's possible," Sinclair says, unable to keep the grin off her face as Asha declares that she'll win. "I'll play drunk next time, maybe."

Bring it.

She flicks a salute to them both, still grinning, and twists around to look at Kate. "You're joining on us on the next round," she informs the Philodox, apparently meaning she and Lukas when she says 'us'.

[Sinclair] She and Lukas speak at the same time, but not the same words. Sinclair flicks a look at him, followed by a flashing smile, and throws a Twizzler at her Alpha.

[Wyrmbreaker] ...which he snaps out of the air, rather neatly, with his teeth. "Om nom," he says. The Twizzler dangling from his teeth as he picks .... Bowzer again. "You know, when I was a kid, I really wanted a Super Nintendo."

[Asha Singh] Asha submits prettily to the French kissing. (No! Not like that!) - the French cheek kissing, and the pair are off, down the stairs. Asha frowns up at Thomas, "What family appointment - " oh, she is an accomplished mimic, and knows his tone perfectly " - do I have?"

"My dear," says Thomas, who can be forgiven for sounding a big smug in this. " - you are going to call your mother."

Exeunt!

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lukas nudges her with his toe, and she frowns down a moment at the offending appendage, then she looks from Sinclair to Lukas as if to measure the strength of their resolve and sighs, as if resigned to being put through the trials of Hell, read: MarioKart.

"But I do not like this game," she complains without rancor, "I never win." Of course, to Katherine, that is the only factor worth considering.

[Asha Singh] (Thank you all! I will be dead tomorrow, but I had beaucoup fun. :) )

[Sinclair] "Did your folks not let you have one?" Sinclair asks Lukas, sounding curious. "Also, Kate: you never win because you never practice. Get your badonkadonk down here and pick up a fucking controller."

[Theron Locke] Theron had been keeping too himself over recent days. He wasn't sure that his challenge for Pack Alpha was particularly appreciated. Then there was the fiasco with Rosanna Kardos.

Using his own key, he enters the Loft and scouts around downstairs. Finding it vacant he follows faint sounds upstairs to the rumpus room where he finds his pack in a Mariokart Battle Royale. He shakes his head as he heads over to the couch and plonks himself down without much fuss and starts looking around for a spare controller.

"Evenin all.."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine sits her badonkadonk down on the sofa amongst her pack-mates and accepts a controller into her hands. She does not quite go the same route as Asha and physically toss her weight around to make things operate, but she studies the buttons with an amusing amount of care before declaring herself prepared to race.

She peers up when Theron approaches, and waves a hand toward the tea tray. "There is fresh tea and biscuits if you wish them, Theron. You just missed a rather eventful evening."

[Wyrmbreaker] "My folks," Lukas says without any apparent shame, "couldn't afford one. Or well. It would have been an unjustifiable expense."

Theron shows up. He's promptly greeted by a Twizzler flying at him. "You missed Kate's latest tribeswoman, Theron. She had a herald, I shit you not."

[Katherine Bellamonte] "I want a herald," Katherine notes dreamily from the sofa.

[Sinclair] For someone who technically lives with him, Sinclair doesn't see much of Theron. She's usually only in their bedroom to sleep, and when she sleeps, it's like living with a corpse. He could jump on her bed and she wouldn't wake. Though, if she did, she'd most likely break his ankles. Good enough reason not to risk it.

The two Fosterns and the Walker are playing MarioKart quite happily, Sinclair sprawled in a bean bag chair and Kate on the sofa, Lukas... wherever. There's an open bag of Twizzlers near the Galliard.

"I get that," Sinclair says, when Lukas explains why he never got the Super Nintendo he wanted as a child. "Well. I would've let you come to my house and play with mine if I'd known you then."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Daw," Lukas says, mock-touched, "thank you, Sinclair."

He tilts his head back, snaps the rest of the Twizzler into his mouth like a shark snapping at some unfortunate prey-fish. Except, then: "But really. Thanks. I would've liked that."

And that's genuine.

"Where'd you grow up, anyway? What sort of parents name their baby girl Sinclair?"

[Theron Locke] The twizzler comes flying at him and not expecting it , the strip of the red sweet hitting him in the forehead. Dropping it an awaiting hand, Theron gives Lukas a stern look "You realise this means war?" before giving him a wink and pops the end of the Twizzler into his mouth and bites down.

Theron eventually helps himself to a cup of tea, black, no milk and one sugar and finds himself a coaster to sit it on.

"Oh that's a shame" and then a puzzled look "Herald?". He turns to Kate "is that like a cabana boy with a large fan.. tending to your every whim?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Why are there buttons in obscure locations," the Half Moon is demanding of her controller before she lets it go in favor of answering the Shadow Lord Theurge. "Not precisely, no. In the Courts some grand Garou are preceded by a butler, or personal servant whose job, among other things is to ensure all the proper titles and honors for a Silver Fang are known when one is introduced to another for the first time."

Katherine looks thoughtfully at the stairs.

"It is an old custom, but one that can be very useful, especially if you have many great ancestors."

[Wyrmbreaker] "How is it that you have an Xbox, a PS3 and a Wii and yet don't know how to play any of them?" Lukas is baffled.

At Theron's declaration of 'war', Lukas merely laughs. He's watching the game. He's playing the game. In a few days time, when that declaration becomes briefly genuine, he'll find it a great deal less amusing.

But that's later. This is now.

"A herald," he explains, "is a fellow that stands up and recites your names and titles, and then the names and titles of all the glorious ancestors you have." And, to Kate, "Or you could be sensible and introduce yourself as Katherine Truth's-Meridian, who won the rank of Fostern and the positions of Tribal and Auspice Elder on the back of your own hard work."

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Because," she returns with instantly, practically, as if he should know: "I don't buy them for my own amusement. I buy them for Edward, or for Gab--," a second of quiet, before she runs on, smoothly. "Or for others, like yourselves. I've never had a need to really learn."

She hits the buttons experimentally and watches her Kart move; then makes a sound of satisfaction.

[Wyrmbreaker] "That's the truth for a lot of things you do, Katherine," Lukas says. Something a little sober about that declaration. "You go out of your way to act for others. Even claiming title and rank ends up being a way to bring more responsibility on yourself. I think the last thing you really had that was even remotely for you was that kinsman, and ... look how well that turned out."

[Theron Locke] Theron makes a face at Katherine's explanation "Oh ... how ...boring. I think my option is much more fitting for you Kate, you could be like Queen Cleopatra. Reclined back as you are fed peeled grapes" there is a sparkle in his eyes, a mirth. Perhaps Kate would take the joke well, perhaps she wouldn't. But it seemed that Theron had his way of dealing with the apparent...stuffiness.. of the Silver Fang tribe.

He reaches over and sneaks another of Sinclair's Twizzler's , popping it into his mouth. "Maybe we should make time Kate.. I'm sure Sinclair could teach us. I still need to seek revenge for that beating she gave me in Soul Calibur. I just hardly see you guys anymore...perhaps that's my own fault though."

[Wyrmbreaker] [ALLSTOP!]

[Sinclair] "Wichita, Kansas," answers the Galliard, their truth-giver, story-teller, memory-keeper. There's a twang to her voice, the sort of accent most of them would call 'southern' when there's actually some distinct differences between a southern accent and the swinging midwestern drawl that takes over Sinclair's voice for a moment, usurping the Californian speed and bounce that it usually has.

"And," she goes on, glancing a Lukas so Kate and he have so much as a snowball's chance of beating her on the track while she's looking away, still talking like a born-and-raised Kansas girl, which sounds strange at first since they've never heard it but sounds more and more natural to her the longer she goes on: "my daddy's a professor of mechanical engineerin' at Dubya-Ess-Yoo and my mama illustrates children's books. That's the kinda parents name their babygirl --" that really is one word, "-- Heather Jane Sinclair, ya smartmouth."

A small smile, then. "I woulda liked it too," she says, only barely dragging her voice away from the way it sounded for years before she went to college. "Even if ya did always lose."

She twists again, grinning at Kate. "Also: you can't say shit like 'buttons in obscure locations' and expect me to just let that go."

But she does. She lets it go, like the game. Kate or Lukas win this round, while her little avatar goes squealing off the track, while Lukas questions her on how she can own all these consoles and not know how to play them. The mention of Gabriella, truncated as it is -- actually gets no sympathetic glance from Sinclair, this time. She puts her controller down then, nudging it away with her foot, and clambers up onto the sofa to plant a messy smooch on Kate's cheek. "Goin' to bed," she says. An actual bed, it seems, rather than the sofa or a pile of bean bag chairs.

She's on her feet as Lukas is telling Kate about what she does for others, her weight of responsibility, 'that kinsman'. She's staring to walk away but glances back, looking from Lord to Fang. She decides not to ask, not right now at least. She reaches up, stretching out her back as she heads to one of the empty bedrooms, taking her hair down and tousling her fingers through it. She's humming to herself, some unknown tune.

[Sinclair] [THANK YOU. *L* And Sinclair's out. Thank you guys for the RP!]

[Wyrmbreaker] "Heather," Lukas muses. "I would've never expected that. It fits Wichita. It doesn't really fit you anymore."

The race ends. Sinclair goes to bed, and as she passes Lukas reaches up to her -- half a sliding high-five, half a warrior's handshake. Then it's just Fangs and Lords, and Lukas puts the Wiimote down, sprawling in his beanbag chair.

"Don't encourage her," he adds to Theron, regarding Cleopatra and grapes. "And as for you, Kate, before you get delusions of grandeur, remember Cleopatra ended up dead of a snakebite."

[Theron Locke] Theron was looking at where Sinclair had left the room, a thoroughly perplexed look upon his face. In the space of a few minutes he had learnt more about his packmate than he had in the last several months of them running together.

"I can't help it... it amuses me" he chuckles softly "That she did.....but I can assure as much of a snake as I am... my fangs are going nowhere near Kate" he then makes a face as if trying to rid a bad taste from his mouth "Ergh... it would be like kissing your sister."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Well," Lukas replies mildly, "one would hope you're not a snake when your own packmates are involved."

Earlier, Kate's maid had set out a tea platter for the guests. Lukas only now seems to notice it, and immediately sits up to partake. There are cucumber sandwiches; biscuits; pastries. Everything one might expect from formal tea at four, except of course it's now closer to four in the morning.

"Are you crashing here tonight, or heading back to the BroHo?"

[Theron Locke] Theron shrugs a little "Maybe you should think of yourself as a snake charmer then?" and then he puts down his cup and looks at Lukas "Seriously though... despite my obvious character flaws... and .. well my particular weakness for members of the fairer sex. I do believe I always have the packs best interests at heart. "

He ponders the last question a moment "Not sure, might be a chance to get a good nights sleep back at the Broho. Though I kinda want to hang out here and spend time with the pack. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to get here earlier."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas pauses in the middle of wolfing down a cucumber sandwich, frowning. "Theron, everyone has flaws and weaknesses. Recognizing them is the first step to overcoming them. And if I didn't believe you'd have the pack's best interests at heart, I would've never accepted you as a packmate.

"At any rate, I might crash here tonight. For a while this house was full of Fangs, but it seems most of them have since found their own homes."

[Theron Locke] Theron tilts his head as he listens to Lukas and then nods "That is good to know. Perhaps you could tell all of us that a little more frequently."

"Okay, don't let me keep you in you want to turn in. I might stay up and think on a few things. If I see the sun start to come up I might just find a spare bed here."

And then on the last comment, Theron's lips turn into a thin line.... and internal voice in his mind... yeah or found their way into a body bag.

"A question about this place then Lukas... why don't you, Sinclair and I stay here permanently. Make it a proper packhouse... it seems crazy to have us split. I'm sure the Sentinels can look over the Brotherhood. Or is it simply that you just want to be close too the caern?"

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is starting to get up when Theron asks what he does. This gives the Ahroun pause; makes him sit back again.

"I like being close to the Caern," he says. "I like being in contact with wolves not of our pack, and I like that they can find me there without encroaching on the territory of my pack. And above all else, I like having a place that's mine. A place that my packmate isn't paying for."

A shrug, then, and a wry smile. "If you and Sinclair want to move in, I'm sure Kate would be thrilled. And I'll try to stay here more often if it makes you feel more like a pack."

[Theron Locke] Theron listens and nods , thoughtful "So you pay your way at the Brotherhood? I just don't see the difference between that and living here, if you don't"

"Hmm... I guess I can understand those reasons. If your also successful in your challenge for Ahroun Elder.. people will want to approach you more readily too."

He then shrugs "I wouldn't want to speak for Sinclair." a small smile "she'd have my head on a stick before I could open my mouth. Although if Kate does upgrade the pool, then I'm sure it will be impossible to keep Sinclair away. I'm just not sure....I can see the benefits of both options, but also the option of having my own private place as well. I doubt Kate would be thrilled with my bringing a guest back here."

"Maybe all that's needed is more nights like tonight. Spend time together... eat together and share in each other's lives so can better understand each other. We have new packmates now... we have old packmates that have returned. " A sigh and a small shrug of frustration.

[Wyrmbreaker] "I do." Pay his own way at the Brotherhood, that is. "And it does make a difference. To me, anyway."

Lukas does get up now, grabbing a napkin from the tea tray and wiping his fingers. As Theron continues, finishing with a sigh, the Ahroun's eyebrow quirks.

"We have lots of nights like tonight, Theron." Lukas speaks bluntly. "You miss them because you're out chasing your latest girlfriend. I hope for your sake you either find a mate you can live with or realize you don't need one. Soon.

"Goodnight, Theron. Kate."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine stirs, she had been dosing.

"Goodnight, Lukas. Is that the hour?" She yawns, and stretches herself right off the sofa. "I believe I may retire myself, Theron, you are welcome to a bedroom. Iona is in that one, Sinclair in there, but there are another two to pick from."

Lukas takes another, she smiles, tired.

"Make that one."

[Theron Locke] Theron blinks a few times at his Alpha's comment "Or perhaps Lukas, you purely do not know enough about me to know the reasons behind why I do the things I do. Whether that is chasing my latest 'girlfriend' or not. It is fine for you to suggest that I do not need one...when you have one waiting for you at home."

A look to Kate briefly "Maybe I am so aware of my past indiscretion and what it cost this pack. That I now feel that I have to declare my intentions if I so much as look at a girl. If it wasn't for my night with Genevre....I doubt the pack would give two hoots, who I take to my bed as long as it did not dishonor the pack."

"If your telling me that I can sleep with whoever I wish as long as I am discrete then tell me that."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine goes preternaturally still.

"Genevre de Provence is dead, Theron. I gave two hoots when you slept with her without permission, I give more so now when you speak her name to me. She took her own life and penned me a note before she did it, that had her blood stained to it.

Sleep with who you will, but do not speak to me of indiscretions."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas turns sharply at that. "What the fuck, Theron. Did you just imply that you want a mate because I have one? Do you have any idea what it means to have a mate?

"Let me tell you something. I have a mate. I did not seek her out. I did not find her by bedding and 'loving' seven other women before her. I found her purely by chance, purely by happenstance, and I. Love her.

"I have only loved one woman in all my life, and that is Dani&+269;ka. She is mine. I am hers. If she were somehow lost to me, I would never take another mate. Never!" The word is a snarl, sharp, cracking on the ruin of his voice. "I'd certainly never dream of moving onto the next woman a week later.

"You, on the other hand. It's not just Genevre, Theron. It's Anežka, Genevre, and Lonna." He doesn't even know about Rosanna yet. "It's three girls in about as many months, and each one of them the love of your life, each of them your perfect mate, until she ... wasn't. And then you just move right on, and you know what that tells me, Theron? It tells me you never really loved any of them. Because if you did, you would know it. You would not give it up so easily.

"This isn't me telling you to be discreet. This is me telling you: accept that you are not in love. Have your fun if you have to, but don't let it rule you. Find a mate if you have to, but don't convince yourself you're in love when you're not. Don't chase love as if you could not live without it. That's not how it works, Theron."

[Theron Locke] Theron turns to Kate

"Yes she is dead.... a bright vibrant life has been ended. Do you think I don't care about that ? Do you think I cast her to the side after one night because that is all I wanted from her.....You are mistaken."

"Truth's Meridian-rhya , I offered you Contrition for my actions against you. I meant it then and I mean it now."

He then turns towards his Alpha "No Lukas you are putting words in my mouth that are not there. I am saying that I am searching for a mate for reasons that are personal to me. I'm asking you not to deny my seeking out what I think I need in my life."

"When you have been lucky enough to find what you need. You may not operate the same way I do Lukas... but I am not you ,,, and you are not me. You cannot expect me to be a mini-Lukas."

"Anezka....do you even really know what went on between us. It does not matter that I loved her when she flat out told me that the feeling was not shared. You cannot force someone to love you back, it does not work like that. So I chose to walk away.....I do not see that as giving up easily."

He shakes his head as Genevre is mentioned "Genevre and I were never to be.....could you really see a Cliath Shadow Lord taking on the entire Silver Fang tribe. If Kate did not order us to stop seeing each other. I am sure I wouldn't be standing here before you know."

"As for Lonna.....perhaps in that case you are right that I did not love her. It is something else altogether."

It is all Theron can do to say "Perhaps you are right in that regard....that I let it rule me. Perhaps I ...."

And then in the end it is Lukas' last comment that stings him the most, that causes the great gaping hole in his chest to tremble. Anger flashing in his eyes as it's all he can do to swallow it down to bury deep down inside him. The way he had learnt to do , so so many years before.

Theron runs his long fingers through his hair as he lets out a sigh "Perhaps tonight is not a night that I should stay here." and he begins to stand.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's eyes shift between Lukas and Theron as each speaks, then return more fixedly to Theron. "Nobody is suggesting you are not welcome here but yourself, Oncoming Storm. It is late, we are all tired, I suggest we all, yourself included, get some rest.

You are welcome under my roof." That seems important, to the Silver Fang, it seems important that she say it, and hold his gaze while she does, before she glances at the Ahroun, and makes her way down the stairs.

[Wyrmbreaker] Ultimately, it's the hurt beneath the anger that causes Lukas to turn his face away and grimace.

There's a long silence. Then he turns back.

"Forgive my harsh words, brother," he says, quiet. "It's just that I hate watching you chase after something that looks futile self-deceptive to me." A hand reaches up, rubs at the back of his own neck, drops. "I'm going to catch some sleep. We'll talk again when heads have cooled."

[Wyrmbreaker] [night!]

[Theron Locke]
Theron simply nods at both of them, sitting back down "Perhaps you are right, we will speak again soon"......as future would have it that soon would be Oncoming Storm's challenge for Alpha. Perhaps there would be good intentions, or maybe it would be purely out spite. But it seemed current circumstances would result in a reckoning. Whether it would be between Lukas and Theron who knew.....perhaps the reckoning would be inside Theron himself.

Turning to Kate "I will take you up on your offer then... but I think Wario severly needs his ass kicked. So I might just hang out here for awhile longer before turning in." as he reaches for the controller once more. "Night Kate, Lukas"
 
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