reflecting on theron.

[Gina McClaren] *Gina stands outside Lukas's door, back straight with resolve. Bells and Jingling no longer announce the curvy strider's approach, and she may well have been there for several minutes in silence, considering. Resolve was intent to act. Action - that took a good deal more in the way of minerals. Why was she hesitant to rap knuckles against worn wood? Was she frightened of the ahroun? Perhaps a dash more than was reasonable and still a fair shake less than was probably healthy.

The tawny kin's mouth pulls soft features into a tight self-intended scowl. Small fist cracking a beat on Lukas's door, for better or worse.*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas keeps strange hours. When the knock comes, door opens almost instantly, as though he'd been standing right behind it.

And he has. He's in an plain white tee-style undershirt and comfortable old lounge pants, his jaw white with shaving foam. There's a towel around his neck, damp at one end, and a straight razor in his hand. Apparently the bathroom was too far to trek for a 'morning' shave tonight.

He looks mildly surprised to see Gina standing there. "Hello. Are you looking for Sarita?"

[Gina McClaren] Pff. nae.

*It comes unbidden. The strider kin's immediate reaction to anything even remotely tribe related was a clear and resounding negative. A cough in her throat, Gina beginning the conversation anew.*

Nae. Lookin fer ye.

*Her hands fall to wide hips, settling there on a rumpled cotton skirt so as not to flit about like moths as she spoke. A toss of unfashionably long hair, and she continues, neck tilted at an uncomfortable angle to look at the impossibly tall ahroun.*

Heard frem yer theurge lately?

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "We haven't had a Theurge in our ranks for a very long time." Lukas motions Gina in, kicks the door back into place -- not closed, but tongue tapping jamb -- and goes back to shaving. "Do you mean Theron? If so, no. Last I heard he was going into the Umbra, and then back home, to sort some things out.

"Why?"

[Gina McClaren] *Gina comes into the room, leaning against the wall near the door. She'd had many a relation with shadowlords of far worse reputation, yet it was Lukas she was uncertain of. A shoulder bobs, thin strap of her tanktop slipping down burnished skin as she makes her home in the Ahroun's room.*

Course ah mean Theron.

..

Jes checkin ee's alive stell, aye? Ye kain...

*He was supposed to be coming back. The pikey doesn't say it, but it was obvious enough. She didn't inquire after Caleb or Sam or any of the other members of Unbroken Circle who'd reportedly went back home or disappeared in the Umbra or been swallowed by Maelstrom.*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The fact that Lukas was currently wielding a straight razor with bonechilling expertise likely doesn't help Gina's sense of safety. There was a time when they were friendlier with each other -- when they saw each other more often; when he came across her on the beach or frowned disapprovingly after she picked some rich sap's pocket clean. That was a long time ago, though. A lot has happened since then, and whatever nascent bond between them has been left neglected.

Silent and efficient, the razor follows the line of his jaw, leaving behind a perfect sweep of smooth skin. Lukas frowns faintly into the mirror, his eyes catching Gina's in reflection. He finishes razoring one half of his face before speaking.

"Let me be frank, Gina." His tone is low; not angry, perhaps a little somber. Perhaps a little sad. "I've seen a lot of packmates come and go over the years. Some die. Others leave. Most who leave don't return. A few of them make it clear when they depart that they won't. Something draws them away inexorably, or they weren't happy here, or they were plainly kicked out. A few of them make it clear that they'd be back someday if there's even a sliver of possibility for them to come this way again. Those are the ones whose memories hurt most as they fade, because I know every day they stay away increases the chance that they've fallen somehow, somewhere."

He wipes the blade clean on the damp end of his towel -- foam residue and whiskers catching amongst the tiny cotton loops of the terrycloth. Tilting his head the other way now, he continues as he shaves.

"But the majority of those who leave and do not return -- they leave with a promise to come back on their lips and a different promise in their eyes. I don't know why they don't speak it outright; perhaps it's some misplaced sense of shame, some erroneous idea that they've failed. I'll not deny it: Perun's a harsh master, and I can be a hard Alpha. Some wolves thrive under this sort of leadership; others just aren't really cut out for it. But there are plenty of totems out there, plenty of packs in which these wolves will do very well. Better than they ever would in the Unbroken.

"To be honest, I think Theron falls amongst that number. He wasn't ... happy running with us, I think. I think he very much wanted to be, but we weren't cut out for each other. If he comes back and wants to rejoin us, I'll still welcome him. A brother is a brother. But if he goes to another pack, I won't hold it against him. And I wouldn't be too surprised."

Reflected, Lukas's eyes lower as he wipes the blade clean again. Then he towels his face off, first with damp, then with dry, and turns around. For a creature so large, he moves smoothly and well, crossing the room with silent, but palpable footsteps. The razor is set atop an open jar of shaving cream, balanced beside a shaving brush.

"The reason I'm telling you all this," he says, "is because I haven't heard from Theron since he left. And I wanted you to understand that this doesn't necessarily mean he's dead or lost or any of that. Simply that I think our association may have ended when he left us.

"For what it's worth, though, I know he intended to challenge for you. As his mate."

[Gina McClaren] *Kohl rimmed eyes follow the trek of the metal blade along the shadowlord's throat, watching it peel scruff from skin with smooth efficiency. How long had it been since she'd seen a man shave? Something about it strikes her as fatherly, and that has her frowning deeply. She doesn't like that, for reasons she will have to pick apart another day. What she does this evening is shift position, hands pressed flat against the wall, holding it up.

Lukas speaks on Perun and pack. On those that die and those that leave. He needn't keep an eye on the thieving gypo her to know where she was in the room. The spiced scent of her skin, and the whisper of foreign breeding was more than enough. Gina had no such luxury. Gina watches him, her head tilting forward defensively, fingers flickering away from the wall, palm up as he moves towards her too fluidly for a human. Garou, they had their little ways to unsettle, even when you knew them for what they were. Their nature alarming enough by itself. The pikey tongues her teeth, nodding, before singsonging flippantly.*

Och aye, well. Effen "wanta" was "hadda" than beggars would ride.

*Another nod. Accompanied by a huff.*

Jes wanted tae kain whether ye'd hear o em. S'aul. Been countin' em as dead n' gawn, meself.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "He's been gone a long time," Lukas observes. He picks up his shaving implements -- along with a toothbrush and tumbler and toothpaste -- and nods her with him, opening the door of his room now, heading for the bathroom. "Can I ask why you're asking after him right now?"

[Gina McClaren] Was recht fookin angry when ee' blundered aft. Reckon ah've sence cooled aft enough tae wonder.

*The pikey who mixes lies with truths as naturally as breathing is candid. Padding barefoot through the hall to hitch a hip against the bathroom doorway, unwilling to follow the Ahroun from room to room like a puppy yapping at his heels for attention. Stubborn as ever she was, if somewhat more subtle in it than many of the kin around, that seemed to wear mule-headedness like a merit badge on their sleeve.*

Reckon ye've tauld me aul ah needed. Thank ye loves.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Since Gina doesn't follow him into the bathroom, Lukas turns a few feet inside that cavernous, tiled space.

"Glad to help," he says. And, before she quite turns to go, "Is Sarita looking after you these days?"

[Gina McClaren] Nae certain. Reckon she says she es, fer aul tha's worth, aye?

*Brown hand catching the doorjamb to halt her progress. A sardonic quirk of lips far better suited to raucous grinning, as Gina tosses her hair back.*

Never can tell wi' a Strider, though effen ye've a concern wi' me ah'm sure et'd stroke her ego plenty effen ye came tae her wi' et.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "She means well," Lukas says. "She's just got her hands full with her own sister these days, I think.

"But you should know in case you haven't heard yet -- there's some concern about kin kidnappings lately. You live just down the hall, so you're about as safe as you're likely to be while you're within these walls. But have a care when you're out and about."

[Gina McClaren] Aye. M'on et aulready. Tauld the lass next door ah'll dial her digits every necht tae check en.

*As to meaning well - Gina makes no comment. A wave of her hand all the response she has as to the Strider's intentions.*

Ah'll see ye aboot. Try nae tae die.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A faint huff of a laugh as the Shadow Lord turns back to his morning rituals. "Same to you, Gina McClaren."