singularity: sarita.

[-singularity-] Last time on As The Maelstrom Turns...

The Unbroken were sent to investigate an Umbral Realm once known as a site of wisdom and introspection, where Garou would go to gain insight into their own natures. Recently, this realm may have become corrupted. The pack was to attempt to unravel whatever mystery might lie within.

Upon entering, they found themselves in a white room where their thoughts appeared to conjure doors and pathways. One level down, they met a creature/emanation/something that gradually took on Sidewalk's End's features while mimicking his voice -- and possibly his thoughts. An unspoken voice also spoke directly to Sidewalk's mind, though the details of that conversation remain vague. At the end of the encounter, there was a brief darkness, after which the creature disappeared and Sidewalk's End remained behind ... only with a void beneath his skin where flesh and blood used to be. He does not seem to understand what's happened any more than the rest of the pack does.

Continuing onward, the Unbroken agreed to maintain more rigorous communication as they faced whatever comes next. As they descended, they came upon a door apparently conjured by Echoes of Laughter, which opened to her voice to reveal...

[-singularity-] ...a seven-sided room.

The walls are stark white. The ceiling, the floor. But it's different somehow; not the translucent, glowing color of the room above but a flatter, paler thing that brings to mind laboratory basements.

There is a figure, faceless and almost featureless, waiting in the middle of this room as well. It stands motionless, waiting for the packmates.

[Echoes of Laughter] She's tensed and ready, crouched into a power position. There's no doubt that, as she had intimated before, she's ready to make contact. First Contact? No, she's more of a Star Wars fan than Star Trek. Well fuck. You just missed out on a perfectly good Attack of the Clones joke. …god damn you. What? Would The Doppleganger Strikes Back be better? I hate you with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. I know. Thank you.

Anyway, she seems almost disappointed when it's just standing there. She sighs a bit and straightens, walking right up to it and looking it over. Her head cocks to the side, brow raising. "My ass isn't really this flat, is it?" A little smirk and she reaches out toward it.

[Midnight Sun] There is a ceiling. There is a floor. This feels sterile, glowing if only because the walls are so stark and the ceiling is so white like the floors. Her mind wanders... The wolf inhales, and promptly sneezes. Midnight Sun shakes her head, her body, down to her tail. She sniffs in the direction of the white thing. The formless thing. The figure.

[Brutal Revelation] Sinclair, in homid now, tenses when Sarita reaches out towards the faceless figure. "Maybe you shouldn't shake hands and be friends right away," she says, a note of worry in her voice.

But she doesn't move to stop the Ragabash, either. And she stands with her arms crossed, then slowly unfolding, ready to react regardless of what Sarita chooses. As though, even with this caution, she's prepared for the possibility that Sarita is going to try asking it to do to her what it already did to Maddox.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] The Theurge enters behind the others. Tall. Lanky. Devastatingly good look, or at least...better looking than that guy (Lukas, of course, no other guys in the joint).

The Gates of Moria open to reveal a seven sided room, and a figure already waiting for them. No, waiting for Sarita. Maddox doesn't have a clue what's going on, beyond the obvious. This place is corrupted, and there might not be a way to overcome their flaws as this realm sees them. Duh. God, he's surrounded by monkeys. And not the ones from that new movie trailer, either, super smart. Maddox's superior intellect is wasted on this rabble.

Never mind that he's just as clueless as the rest of them. Never mind that when Sarita steps right up to the thing in the room, he watches her with brow raised and thinks what Brutal Revelation says. Maybe that's not such a great idea.

He slips his hand into the pouch of his bag, desperately wishing for a cigarette right about now (don't think about the smoke swirling in the void inside, that's just weird), and withdraws the talen that guided them to this place. Wondering if it still points vaguely down. Down that spiral some more.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] [Devastatingly good lookING *facepalm*]

[Honor's Compass] Another room which, should the proper furnishings be added to it, Honor's Compass could easily envision as being another room of her own home, the Loft. They shuffle into it, and Sarita marches right up to her clone, or her soon to be clone or ... whatever, exactly it is these figures are.

The Silver Fang is not exactly at her ease about any of this, but she holds herself together quite well, like the lacing on a corset. Tightly pulled, she seems unconcerned; her frown merely a thing of concentrated pretending at such. She watches the No Moon, and for her part, follows quite closely after the Fianna.

He appears to be her elected Ward now.

"I should hope not," Katherine quips mildly, her pale eyes gleaming. "Or I'd also remark you're looking rather flat all around."

[-singularity-] As Sarita reaches out, that figure twitches. There's something inherently unnatural about it: a click of movement too fast for human muscle and bone to produce. The eyes come first this time, peeling open in the otherwise formless face.

It's not like looking into a mirror. These eyes are hers, but they're alive, searching her face, looking into hers. When she reaches toward it the lighting in the room falters and flickers, as though some electrical storm were passing through the circuits.

[-singularity-] They don't want you here.

Sarita understands now why Maddox didn't speak up for so long. The voice is so clear, so close in her ears it's hard to believe no one else hears it. No one does, though -- there's no sign that any of them so much as sense a whisper of the words spoken into her mind.

The voice is flat and alien, as though these sounds -- or perhaps the very act of speaking -- is foreign to it.

You don't need them anyway.
to Echoes of Laughter

[Honor's Compass] That happened last time, Katherine says as the light in the room flickers as if suffering beneath the onslaught of a thunder storm. Then, aloud: "Be careful, Sarita. The same thing occurred last time, the light vanished and this one was returned to us," Katherine's eyes flit to Maddox.

"Well, the way he is."

A beat, Katherine glances at Lukas. "If the light fails, perhaps my gift from Luna would offer some illumination regardless."

[Echoes of Laughter] She frowns and pulls her hand back, brow furrowing. "Wait...what?"

She looks at the thing, then back at the others. "Sorry...come again?" She looks at Sinclair, then Katherine. Her brow smooths out, and she shakes her head. "Oh, right. Relax. This was the point, right? Compare and contrast. Though apparently they're all hitting on the same damned cyilnders anyway." She looks over at Maddox a moment, then back to the figure, addressing it.

"Says you."

[Brutal Revelation] "Sarita," Sinclair says, level and sudden, "tell us what you're hearing."

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] [or THIS! wits + enigmas (Faerie Light (YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, MUHFUGGIN' FAERIE LIGHT))]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] The lights flicker, and this time, Maddox isn't the one with the voice talking crazy in his head. Katherine looks at Maddox, and Maddox looks back, brow quirked and unimpressed.

Shifting the talen from one hand to the other, Maddox holds out his hand, closes his eyes, and conjures up a small ball of light. And he looks back at Katherine, smug this time. We don't need to use your gifts, mine will do just fine

[Midnight Sun] she bridges a bit of the gap, and trots up so she has some space close to Sarita. She catches the little ball of flickering light. THe female snorts and her ears perk forward. She cocks her head to the side.

"We need light," she says. Its translated easily through chuffs and tail position, "lots."

[-singularity-] "Says me."

The alien figure speaks. It's Sarita's voice, of course. Light flares from Maddox's open palm, a tiny ball of glowing fire manifesting. The creature twists it face away as though displeased, then turns slowly back.

"Says you. No difference."

[Honor's Compass] The Silver Fang hmphs at the Fianna, her eyebrow arching. She turns her head, closes her eyes and focuses; after a moment the Half Moon shimmers into her Hispo form; chuffs and tosses her head.

[Luna's Armor go-go!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[-singularity-] Better off alone, the voice continues, dry, uninflected, reasonable. No one to disappoint when you fail to measure up.
to Echoes of Laughter

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] Maddox huffs in turn, his mouth curving in what is unmistakably a smirk. He steps closer, but not too close, and sends his glowing ball of light ahead of him. Toward the figure that looks so displeased by what is truly the most epic and useful of Fianna gifts.

[Echoes of Laughter] She looks at Sinclair and smiles with a shrug. "Like I said. Same shit Maddox was hearing with a bit of a twist, it seems. 'You don't need them' with a side of 'They don't want you' and 'You're better off alone.'" She looks back at the figure, circling around it. She's not...afraid, so to speak. The woman's always had a near-insane level of overconfidence in that respect. But there is curiosity, which can skin the Strider as well as it can the cat. There's also a bit of uncertainty, if you look hard enough below the humor that's about to come.

"No one to disappoint?" She grins. "If I wanna disappoint someone I'll just take on your fashion style, evil twin. Does the 'storefront mannequin' look really work for you?" She's making jokes, sure...but there's a testing quality to it. She wants to know how it will react to different styles of speech, if there's any variation. "Get me a Nordstrom's and I'll fix you up right."

[-singularity-] "Funny joke," says the 'evil twin'. That's what it's starting to look like: skin darkening to Sarita's caramel tone. Facial features evolving. Faster than before -- faster than Maddox's mannequin, as though it -- this spirit, this realm, whatever it is they're facing -- is learning quicker now. Or simply learning.

"I like jokes," it continues. "Hides the weakness and the fear. Keep them laughing and maybe they won't notice how pathetic I really am."

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] [*BSHING* renewing the light!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-singularity-] You can't fight, the voice points out. You can't sing. You can't rule and you can't judge. You can't even understand the puzzle put in front of you.

Do you know why your moon even exists?
to Echoes of Laughter

[Brutal Revelation] With a flick of her eyes over at Katherine and Maddox, Sinclair rolls her eyes semi-affectionately. It's hard for an emotion that soft to fit in a place like this, a time like this. The moment of comraderie doesn't last long, at least not for her, unless you count walking forward and standing at Sarita's side an expression of the same. Her arms are at her sides now, her eyes on the mannequin.

"It wasn't that funny," she says mildly. "I've seen her drunk and I've seen her really breaking down; personally, I think Sarita's far more witty when she actually is upset. And you, you scrawny, twitchy excuse for a nightmare, aren't even coming close to messing with her."

[Honor's Compass] Katherine moves closer.

In this form, with her fur beginning to ebb and fade like she's some over-sized (and rather more hairy) version of Tinkerbell, the Silver Fang is an eerie sight. Her eyes remain that particular brand of pale blue and she comes toward the not-Sarita with a padding of enormous paws over the white floor.

She snuffs at the evil twin.

Invades its space.

[Echoes of Laughter] It would take someone actively watching Sarita to notice the little twitch in her expression. Then Sinclair is there and she smiles. "C'mon, hon. That was at least kind of funny."

The figure is circled again, the Strider watching her form take shape on blank features with that intense curiosity. She glances as Katherine approaches, but then something draws her attention back. "Yeah, now it's questioning the whole damn Auspice. Which, honestly, makes sense, as that's part of what we do." She looks at the figure and shakes her head. "I spent several fairly exhausting hours not long ago more or less answering that question to somebody just a wee bit weightier than you, evil me. Barking up the wrong tree."

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] Maddox sends the ball of light toward the Thing, leaving it to float near to Sarita. It doesn't last terribly long. Blame distraction, or the emptiness that is literally inside of him, the light is weak. No sooner is it softly illuminating the doppelganger's darkening skin tone than it starts to flicker and fade.

Mouth twisting, brow furrowing, Maddox renews it. He does a better job of it this time around. With Katherine coming in closer to the creature, joining her packmates, Maddox continues to hang back, and he sends the faerie light skyward, toward the ceiling. Looking around, he heads back a bit more, and a bit more, until he's facing one of the seven walls. He looks at the talen in his hand. It's supposed to lead them where they're supposed to go. Either they're as close as it'll take them, or maybe it'll take them a bit further.

He runs his hand over the wall's surface, then draws up that talen-dagger, to experimentally drag its point along the surface.

[Brutal Revelation] [per/emp]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Midnight Sun] She observes, and to a canine eye the world is build for motion and change instead of color. She notices the change before she notices the color of the spirit's skin. How it digs and looks for something. She turns and finds herself looking the the opposite direction of the spirit. She's got her attention on whatever might come behind them. The Child of Gaia stands her sentry.

[-singularity-] Light flares from Maddox's palm, casting the room into a stark, eerie blue glow. As though in response, the ambient light of the realm flickers and dims, throbbing bright-dark in a slow, irregular cycle. The creature turns its newly-forming face away again, then back.

"I know why the no-moon exists," the simulacrum pipes up. "It's right there in the name. No moon. Nothing. That's why we exist. We're the category for the failures and the rejects. The ones that couldn't fit anywhere else. No skills of my own. No worth. They just call me a scout and send me ahead because if I die it's no big deal. And I can't do anything else, can't sing or judge or fight or decipher, so..."

The walls don't chip or scratch under Maddox's knife. The point continues to drag downward, down, down. The light flickers. Fitfully brighter for a second; then darker again, even as Maddox's gift leaves enough glow to see by.

"I question. I make up this little job for myself tearing down what stronger wolves have built. I laugh, but I'm laughing at myself. Because I'm good for nothing else."

It looks so much like Sarita now. Hairless, but otherwise -- could be her twin. It shakes its head once, too quick, too alien, and then it starts forward. Reaches for Sarita even as Sarita had reached for it, earlier.

"No point denying it. I'm honest, at least."

[Honor's Compass] It reaches for Sarita and finds a bristling wolf in its way. No Moon exist for good reason. Lies built on inconsistent truth. No Moons see in the dark. See truth even Half Moon cannot. Not bound by same code. But important. Needed.

Honor's Compass all but wedges herself between Sarita and not-Sarita.

Without wolves to question, we blind to ourselves. Our ways go untested. One must be there to question even judges. Even fighters and singers.

[Brutal Revelation] Sinclair is close enough, watching Sarita well enough, to notice that twitch and, moreover, to understand it. She keeps her eyes askance at the Ragabash a moment even as the doppleganger-to-be starts blathering on again. And keeps watching Sarita, more than the thing. Sarita, she knows. Sarita, she's attached to. It isn't that she doesn't care what happens to Maddox; if he does eventually choose and is chosen by the Unbroken, he'll learn that the Galliard of this pack was probably at her most affectionate with him when she had him pinned to the floor, when she was nipping his hand, when she was letting him get behind her while snarling at the thing that was coming for him.

That's not how it is with Sarita now, though. The thing starts saying I can't, I'm good for nothing, can't, can't and Sinclair reaches over, taking Sarita's hand in her own. It's not a gentle slide. She just wraps her hand around the Strider's, nice and firm, her hand warm. Kate isn't going anywhere, either, it seems. Sinclair looks at the thing that may be ignoring her. Doesn't seem to matter.

"No, you're not," Sinclair snaps, when it says it's honest. "You're not even a thing. You're not even a copy. You talking about anyone being 'nothing' is a little ridiculous."

[Midnight Sun] "If its honesty, then you accept it... yes?"

She stays behind, and comments. It's bristling, edgy, but she doesn't... intercede. Interject.

"If it's not truth, then why?"

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] Nothing spectacular happens with the knife, its point doesn't carve open a new doorway or even a window. Well, can't fault a guy for trying.

Looking up and up, Maddox turns. The words of the thing in the room are still echoing around them when he faces them. When Brutal Revelation and Honor's Compass speak up. He huffs a sort of a laugh.

"I hope you're not trying to convince it. It's not the thing that needs to understand."

[-singularity-] Brave words from your friends, comments the voice in her mind, infinitely alien, infinitely bored. But you don't really believe that... do you?
to Echoes of Laughter

[Brutal Revelation] "I could not give less of a shit about it, Maddox," says the Galliard tightly, refusing to look at the huffing, snarking Fianna. "But at least I'm over here with my packmate."

[Echoes of Laughter] She snorts, amused. It's barking up the wrong tree as far as attacking the Auspice as a whole, that's clear. The personal attacks are hitting the marks that they're aiming for, but when it starts going after the No-Moons as a whole, she's galvanized. Sinclair takes her hand and tension fades. And Kate gets between them--a good thing, as someone was about to bitch-slap themselves.

"Man, I ~wish~ I'd thought of making up the entire New Moon. That would be the best trick ever. Running up to Luna with a bunch of black paint every few weeks, going back in time and creating ages upon ages of people who thought they were doing one thing when they should have been doing something else..."

She grins and shakes her head. "You're giving me a lotta credit there, Evil Spock, for someone who keeps telling me I'm good for nothing."

I thought she wasn't a Star Trek person? Hey, everyone's seen "Mirror, Mirror." Or should, anyway. True.

[-singularity-] On Sarita's other side, Lukas steps up. Finds her hand with his and grips it -- the same ungentle, fierce grip the Galliard gave.

"Neither Kate nor Sinclair are in the habit of telling pretty lies, Sarita," he murmurs, eyes on the copy -- the shell.


And the shell pauses. It does not look at Kate, nor even acknowledge that the blazing Fang is in its way. It doesn't try to push past her either, though. It stares at Sarita for a very long time.

[GIVE ME YOUR SEKRITS! You can counter with a manip/subt roll if you want.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[-singularity-] [that was just a straight percep/empathy roll. most specifically: it's looking for whether Sarita believes what it's saying, or what her packmates are shoring her resolve up with.]
to Echoes of Laughter

[Echoes of Laughter] It's partially striking home on some things; they're valid to degrees. Exaggerated, and neither the Auspice thing or the idea that the pack doesn't want her are registering as hits. Her lack of confidence is entirely self-directed...whether she deals with her kinfolk the right way, whether she's really up to the Elder position that she took, those sort of things. Her humor-as-coping-and-covering also registers as a hit.

So in that way...she's buying into her packmate's argument, because her confidence issues aren't quite what the not-Sarita is hitting her with.
to -singularity-

[Honor's Compass] The Fianna's words are greeted with a low growl, but it's Sinclair that answers his flippancy, not the Silver Fang. She's rather more fixated on the not-Sarita thing trying to weasel its way into her sister's brain. Or stare into her soul, as appears to be happening right now.

Sarita can feel the heat of Katherine's furry form pressing against her; can see the soft light reflecting against her skin. Can sense Katherine's flat denial of the copy's attempts over the totemic link. Belief is key, what is your perception of yourself, this is how it functions. Burrows inside.

If were not corrupt, would be helpful, but now only seeking to discredit. Katherine's form frustrates her attempt at communication briefly. She stresses: Belief! What reflection could be but not.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] The Unbroken close ranks around their packmate, defending and bolstering her, lending Sarita strength in the way that packmates do. Maddox is back and out of the way, outsider. The drifter. Too cool for school, it would seem.

The figure starts toward Sarita. This was the part in the last room, when it came for Maddox, that the lights went out and his own imitation attacked him. Or took him. Looking up to the light he's left bobbing toward the ceiling, he wills it down, lowering it down into the face of the thing, perhaps too late to keep it searching Sarita's soul. Maybe not too late to offer distraction if it does attempt to reach for her.

"Now might be a good time to get her out of range," he suggests.

[Echoes of Laughter] She tilts her head, staring right back into that freaky-ass copy of her. Her brow furrows, looking it over. There's almost a moment where she lets a smile flitter over her face toward it, and then it's gone. Instead, the smile is for her packmates who surround her, tell her what she already knows. She's taken a couple hits, but she's far from down.

"Relax guys. We're good." A little nod, aimed at no one and directed to all of them. "Good tries, but wrong exhaust port to be shooting into."

And then Maddox warns them to get her away, and she shakes her head. "Naah, fuck it. In the words of the People's Champ...bring it."

[Midnight Sun] "What is the truth worth if you don't believe it?"

She does what she has been for some time- she looks away and finds herself noting the protection Sarita has. The Unbroken stands together and Maddox...

The Child of Gaia removes herself from her position at the back, wanders slow but purposeful to stand by the Fianna- the arrogant one. The snappish one, the one who bled nothing. And even though he doesn't need it (of course he doesn't need it- he's perfectly capable!) And... well... she fur bristles, and she takes a more defensive position. Something nags at her stomach. She ignores it.

[-singularity-] For a long time the creature that looks so much like Sarita now stares, stares, stares at her. Around them, the lights dim and flicker. Brighten and burn. Through it all, Maddox's faerie light glows steady and ethereal, casting light in the room even when all else goes dark.

In that eerie light, sometimes Sarita's simulacrum doesn't look like her at all. It looks empty and void, a vessel waiting to be filled.

At last, it leans back. No attack. No sudden lunge. "Disappointing," it says, and lowers its head. A moment later it has no features, no face, nothing: just an empty half-formed thing, dormant again.


They can see a doorway behind it. It wasn't there before. Through it they can see a corridor, spiraling downward. The walls are imperfectly white. There are stains now, smudges and streaks.

[Brutal Revelation] When they see the not-Sarita like that, a void that is, itself, not a possessor but a vessel, Sinclair tips her head to the side, staring at it. Thoughts flicker through her pale eyes, and then she looks at the hallway. They didn't summon this door, at least not as far as she knows. She tugs at Sarita's hand, says quietly: "Let's go."

Glances over her shoulder at Maddox and Margaret. "Don't dawdle, childrens," she says, a little too serious to be mocking, and heads for the door, hopefully with the rest of her pack and would-be pack coming along.

[Honor's Compass] The Half Moon relaxes, somewhat.

Moves away from the dormant shell and after a moment; Katherine, human shaped again but still with that faint glow to her skin; a luminescence that makes her more Silver Fang than ever steps back, smiling. She looks into Sarita's eyes much as her copy had a few moments ago.

"Bravo," she commends, and squeezes the other woman's arm gently; then looks to the new door.

There's a breath, she releases it and raises her eyebrows at Maddox and Margaret in a here we go again expression.

[Echoes of Laughter] She takes a breath as it stares, the tension in the Strider building. The lights flicker, and it seems like an attack is evident. And then, it falls back and goes blank, and she relaxes. She smiles at Katherine and Lukas, gets tugged along by Sinclair. She looks back and winks to Margaret and Maddox before moving along..

"Insert 'Smackdown' reference here, as well as a cooking odor joke. And possibly something about a candy ass." Blame Amy, she's the one who dragged Sarita out to all the wrestling shows.

[Midnight Sun] Her ears perk forward and she makes a high-pitched sound. It's short, goes from high to low and back up briefly. Her tail twitches from one side to the next, and she poked Maddox with her nose. Her tail perks up then and she trots towards the door. The next door. the Child of Gaia sniffs at the air and continues on.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] He glances down at the Child of Gaia, come to stand beside him. Solidarity maybe? Or maybe she thinks this would be the most opportune time for Maddox, or not-Maddox as they might suspect, to attack them all from behind.

He doesn't. A nose pokes against him, and he looks down at Margaret again, brows lifted. Sarita has somehow passed her challenge. The fake in the room is just a vessel. Maddox's room was left empty, nothing behind like this. The light stays where he left it until he comes abreast of it. There, the Theurge takes a moment to study the shell, wondering about himself. He feels fine. He feels normal, though he'll look back and spot about a zillion places where he was definitely not himself. He would stay and study the thing, try to puzzle out why it is that he's empty inside. Empty. Hollow. Fake.

But he's being called after like a child. There's a roll of his dark eyes, and he continues after the Unbroken, the gently glowing light staying near to his shoulder for a while.

[-singularity-] This time, Wyrmbreaker brings up the rear - taking his hispo form as he goes, as though the increasingly oppressive atmosphere of this place has him on edge. He herds the others ahead of him, nipping gently at Midnight Sun's heels when she pauses to sniff the air.

The pathway seems more like a tunnel now. It spirals downward. There are stains on the walls, places where the superficial layer of paint seems thin. Lighting is uncertain and flickering. The floor feels faintly tacky beneath their feet, or their paws. And they all feel fine, more or less.


A minute or so after they leave the seven-sided room, before they see the next door, Maddox abruptly bends double and begins to vomit. Black sludge pours out of his open mouth. Wracked by spasms, he can't speak. Behind him, Wyrmbreaker lets out a short, gruff bark of alarm.

[Brutal Revelation] Walking out of the room, Sinclair keeps Sarita's hand for awhile. Lets go only after they've taken a few steps through the corridor. She's more and more near the front, as though she and Lukas have some kind of unspoken agreement that they should do this: point and flank, flank and point, no matter who else is with them. They are so very strong, after all.

Sinclair drifts near Katherine. This place isn't clean. So she stays near the Silver Fang, knowing. She's looking for the next door. She's trying to keep her mind blank, which of course never works, and two doors keep flicking through her mind, and she doesn't know which one she'd dread seeing more. One she'd dread no matter where she was, no matter what she was doing. Dread. Heh -- hate.

One, she just doesn't want to see here.

Maddox vomits and Sinclair whips around, blinking. "Holy shit," she says, and moves over to the Fianna, putting her hand on his back. "Dude, are you okay?"

[Honor's Compass] Katherine turns, the retching has her taking an almost involuntary step down and away from the black sludge that pours from the Fianna's mouth. She makes a low noise of disgust in her throat, a hand rising to clasp at her own in a flutter of alarm and dislike. She does not dance about saying told you so! but rather watches.

Her face is a little paler.
Hard to ignore, given she's also glowing.

[Midnight Sun] It's awkward, because the Fianna can't speak and is vomiting up black sludge and all she can think of is the time that Jillian ate half a jar of Play-Dough and had a stomach virus and wouldn't stop throwing up and how much she despises the sound and smell and-

She sniffs the air again. It's thick and she knows that there should be a scent with this. It's one of the things that has her shifting back into her breed form- damned near as white as Kate is, and Kate is glowing for god's sake.

"C'mon-" she says "-it'll be fine soon."

She assures the Fianna which, you know, is easy for her to say. She's not the one throwing up her guts (or lack thereof) here.

"You'll be okay," she assures him, and her voice is softer than it'd been before. Some sort of assertion that, if she keeps saying it, things really will be okay. or, rather, some promise that she was going to make things better. Maybe it was solidarity that had her at the Fianna's side before, because that's where she is now.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] Yes, totally fine. Completely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary here. One moment Maddox is walking along, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, his gait not quite jaunty. The next he's doubled over, retching.

He can't even quip about someone holding back his hair. He can't even make a remark to Sinclair. Yes, I'm fine, I just enjoyed my favorite sludge for lunch and for some reason it's not agreeing with me today. Can someone get me some Pepto?

[Brutal Revelation] [The two doors that Sinclair is adamantly trying to not think about are, chronologically, the door to the cell she was kept in at the GW Sept in San Diego for her 'first 48 hours'. Only in her case it was longer than 48 hours because she kept frenzying. Heavily reinforced titanium, the same metal of almost all of her piercings. A slide near the bottom that they could lift up and push food through, a small pane of one-way mirrored glass where the interior of the cell could be observed without letting her see out. She really hates that door.

The other door she doesn't want to keep imagining is the door to her apartment with Alex, but it keeps shifting between the one-bedroom place in Chicago he had and the one in San Diego now.]
to -singularity-

[Echoes of Laughter] "Ho, Jesus." She turns and walks over to Maddox, mirroring Sinclair's move. Her hand goes on his shoulder, as opposed to his back. It's brief though, then removes as she frowns, dropping to a crouch and looking over the black sludge.

"Okay, who's got any guesses here? Is this the bad shit from the alter ego?"

[-singularity-] Maddox can't answer them. He wants to, he wants to snark off something witty, but he can't. It's like a fist clenched on his insides like he was one giant tube of toothpaste, and now the blackness is pouring out and out endlessly, emptying him out.

Soon he's on all fours. The blackness is ice cold, splattering down on the off-white floors, splashing back on his pants, his hands, his face. The lights dim and pulse, flicker, die for a moment. In the faerie light of his Gift, Maddox can see that the substance he's vomiting up has no highlights at all -- no color, no hue, nothing but limitless light-drinking black.

Slowly the sickness subsides. He stops vomiting, though now and then something inside him lurches like it wants to come out. He feels weak. He feels ... fainter than before, not physically but emotionally, mentally, his thoughts a little harder to string together.

When he gets up, there are dark circles under his eyes. And there's blackness leaking through his clothes. At first the others might think it's simply splashback from the violence of his vomiting -- but no. It's seeping out from beneath.

[sinclair and midnight, roll wits + alert/investigation/primal urge for me, whichever is highest. diff 8.]

[Midnight Sun] [Eep! Wits+primal urge]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]

[-singularity-] [you're going to behave a little differently now -- the negative aspects of your personality are even more emphasized, while all other aspects are somewhat flattened/detached/remote. also, you've taken 1A unsoakable and unhealable damage.]
to Where the Sidewalk Ends

[-singularity-] [You recognize that some of the seeping fluid is coming from the exact place where you bit the fake-Maddox back in the eight-sided room.]
to Midnight Sun

[Brutal Revelation] [wits + primal urge]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[-singularity-] [You recognize that some of the seeping fluid is coming from the exact place where you bit the fake-Maddox back in the eight-sided room.]
to Brutal Revelation

[Brutal Revelation] Thoughts of doors have left Sinclair's mind. Strangely, she's rubbing Maddox's back even as he wants to snark or glare or whatever is in his head. She's not asking if he's okay expecting an answer. She's just waiting it out with him, whether black sludge gets on her shoes or what.

Blackness seeps, too, out from his clothes. She frowns at it, and then reaches down and lifts his hand. Sludge gets on her hand. "That's where I bit you," she says, though he might know this. Shockingly, it's not said solely for his benefit.

[Midnight Sun] "Hold still-" she says. Margaret changes her position and gets a closer look at the Fianna. "I bit it there."

She even indicates where it is. She frowns and looks at Sinclair. Her eyebrows knit together and she cocks her head to the side,"I think we should try to do some kind of cleansing or something. I don't like this and I don't know if that's the body trying to expel something bad or a symptom of something a lot worse."

[-singularity-] Wyrmbreaker thinks only a moment. Then he nods at Midnight Sun.

"Do it."

[Honor's Compass] The Silver Fang stays back; her eyes betray her concern, her consideration of what is taking place, has taken place with Maddox but her feet seem quite determined to stay rooted where they are, a nice safe distance from any of that sludge he's been coughing up from touching her shoes; her jeans.

Clean.

If she remains clean, she will be quite fine.
Katherine rubs away the cold sweat on her palms against the legs of her pants; clears her throat and turns to study where they are yet to tread.

[Echoes of Laughter] She only scoots back a little, to her credit. The last thing she needs is to get covered in goo and then not be able to get anywhere near Kate for the next thousand years. She looks at Maddox, concerned, then turns her attention to the sludge again, examining it.

No, don't worry Kate, she doesn't touch it. She's just looking closely while Margaret begins her cleansing.

[Midnight Sun] [Come on, someone had to have learned this rite once upon a time! Ancestors]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Midnight Sun] [Oh yeah, I totally know this ritual...]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 7) [WP]

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] Eventually, the vomiting subsides. Maddox coughs, and his stomach spasms. His body jerks with it, but when nothing more comes out he wipes the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his mouth and pulls himself to his feet.

They wait with him. On any other night, Maddox would be grateful. He'd feel connected, even if it's not by the boon of a totem. His snark and swagger would be much less pronounced, probably more affectionate. Like the way he handled Fiona's damaged book, or Wendy's fright.

Tonight, he thinks of them as lesser. Or himself as better. When he's upright, he stares at Margaret, his expression flat and underscored by those dark rings beneath his dark eyes.

They're going to try and cleanse him. How nice for them.

[-singularity-] As soon as Midnight Sun begins to ritual, Sidewalk's End begins to vomit again -- wretchedly, violently, innard-tearing heaves and belches, cold black sludge splattering on the floor. Blackness coming not only from his mouth but from the wounds as well -- the seeping, bleeding wounds where Midnight Sun and Sinclair had torn into the simulacrum two rooms above.

Spreading on the floor, a black stain in this already stained realm.

[Maddox has taken 1 unsoakable agg from the first vomiting bout. He is taking 1 unsoakable agg for each turn Midnight Sun is cleansing.]

[Brutal Revelation] It's got to mean something. That she'd rub the back of a goddamn stranger like this because he's retching. That she'd let goo get on her so that he's not totally on his own right now, even if it means she can't go near her other packmate, her real packmate, her sister, the first who knew anything at all about Sinclair's internal shattering, the only one with whom she'd completely let herself break down.

But Maddox doesn't know that, and right now, Maddox wouldn't care.

She jerks back briefly when he starts to vomit again, and -- doesn't yell for Margaret to stop.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] [percept + alert, diff 8 for HOARK!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-singularity-] [you notice kate's like EECH *inches delicately away*]
to Where the Sidewalk Ends

[Midnight Sun] She looks distant for the longest moment. She closes her eyes tightly and inhales slowly, she takes the air, the texture of it, the slightly sticky paint and the feeling of quiet filth on her fingertips and the wearing away at her will and the fact that she never learned this-

["It's unclean," Winter Dirge replies, and her voice is strong and the reason is unhindered. The ritual continues, and the Philodox goes through the motions. There's a quiet hint at a southern drawl. Or perhaps it's New Orleans- there is no arguing with her. "This is necessary, it'll be okay," Winter Dirge assures her counterpart.

Margaret isn't so sure.]

The ritual continues, and the motions are more fluid than precise, she's not all there. She's guided, close, continues on with her ritual because she doesn't know she should stop yet. Her attention flickers during the rite-

["I don't like this," Winter Dirge says.
"It's necessary," Winter Dirge replies.
"I'm not sure."
"You're young, it's alright to doubt."]

[Echoes of Laughter] She squawks when Maddox starts vomiting again, since...you know...she was crouching next to the first pile, and rolls out of the way so that she doesn't get puked on. "Jesus Christ!" She gets to her feet, looking at Maddox now with concern. That cannot be good...all that seeping and shit.

"Uh...guys?"

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] It pours from him like a faucet, that black sludge. It seeps out from the wounds inflicted on him upstairs. It pools and gathers on the floor, and it spreads. Maddox is aware of the Unbroken, how could he not be? He's aware of Margaret performing a cleansing. And he's aware that Katherine is glowing like a pale ghost, ethereal and...that's about as far as thought goes for the vomiting Fianna. There's some small, tiny, almost insignificant instinct that tugs at him.

If he weren't vomiting, if he actually were normal he'd make a show. He'd be snarky and sarcastic as he dropped to his knees on the floor. Then to all fours. Maddox drops down onto his side, collapses they might think. Worn out by it all. Whatever the reason, the Theurge falls because falling is about all he's up to doing right now. He lands facing away from the sickened Silver Fang, at least.

[-singularity-] Midnight Sun, also called Winter's Dirge as so many other Garou before her have been called that name, doesn't stop.

She doesn't stop. She continues on, circling, scattering water, chanting to the spirits -- whatever spirits of purity there might be in a realm like this. She has to raise her voice after a while because Maddox is retching, is moaning and choking and coughing between retchings, because the black tide coming out of him goes on and on and on

until he collapses on his side, emptied out, feeling like a pale, dark shadow of himself. He looks emaciated. Hollowed out. Skin drawn taut over bones, the shape of his skull visible beneath. Blackness seeping from his wounds, bleeding from his mouth and ears and nose and eyes.

Midnight Sun finishes the rite. There's blackness everywhere, a messy wet explosion of it all around the unfortunate Ragabash. He shivers now and then. His eyes look sunken. It's questionable whether he's 'cured' now or not. When he moves, it's feeble -- and blackness continues to seep fresh through his clothes.

Wyrmbreaker looks stunned, shocked. Then he comes forward, pulling a gourd from his fur, crushing it in his jaws over Maddox. His spirit curls into it, releases the power locked within the talen. They all see talen-dust sprinkle onto Maddox.

But nothing happens.

[total of 5 unsoakable agg on Maddox now -- apparently unhealable.]

[Brutal Revelation] Blackness everywhere, and Midnight Sun has all but destroyed Maddox, and Wyrmbreaker can't heal him. Sinclair removes her hand from the Fianna, taking a breath. She checks on Katherine, flicks her eyes over Sarita, and is quiet a moment. Looks at Lukas, then. "Maybe you should carry him," she says, steady. "But we need to keep going. He's either cleansed or he's not; if we can't heal him, we take him with us and protect him, right? But I think we should keep going."

[Midnight Sun] "... it shouldn't work like this," she insists. Her voice is a lot quieter than she realizes. It doesn't want to project anything, and whatever insight she has from her previous ancestors has left her. And she's left to make her own calls and her own decisions and... and the cliath is lost.

"It shouldn't work like this," she says again, and she is unsure if he's cured ir if the ritual did what it's supposed to do. Her hands are stained. Her hair is stained. She reaches to offer the Theurge some kind of assistance but... it doesn't seem to have done any good. The Child of Gaia's hands are shaking- "I didn't-"

She runs a hand through her hair. She streaks black through it. She closes her eyes tightly and nods. Sinclair has a point. They need to keep moving.

[Honor's Compass] Katherine is white as her fur in another form; her hair a pale halo around her ashen face. She has been slowly retreating away from the scene of the attempted cleansing. Her niggling doubt turning into a retching, choking, coughing tidal wave of reality. She closes her eyes at one point and allows a fine shiver to dance over her skin.

"It does no good," she says, her voice feels feeble to her own ears; dulled by the violence of Maddox's fit. By the black sludge. "Whatever is within him can't be forced out by our hands. Or healing. It was Sarita herself who seemed to defeat her own version."

A beat, the logic of a Half Moon cutting through Gaian's protests, her horror.

"I think Maddox must find his own way to conquer what's inside him." She is the first to turn and move, when moving on is suggested.

[Echoes of Laughter] "Okay...what the fuck?" She looks ill herself now. The Strider doesn't know the Rite herself, but she's seen it her share of times. Gotten the guided tour, so to speak. This is like taking the guided tour and ending up in the creepy, nasty basement that the guides don't like people to see because there are no neat historical anecdotes about pioneers or pie-eating contests.

Great, now she's thinking about the pie-eating contest from Stand By Me. Which is oddly appropriate. Except a Rite of Cleansing isn't Castor Oil.

She looks at Katherine, giving the Philodox a sympathetic look, and nods at her words. "That sounds about right. It's the best guess we've got, at any rate."

[-singularity-] Wyrmbreaker's eyes meet Sinclair's for a moment; then Midnight Sun's. They are level. Despite the horror all around them, his growls in the Garou tongue are low and steady.

"i know," he says. "You offered to help. I made the call. It's not your fault."

He crouches down beside Sidewalk's End, then. Whuffs to Sinclair, a more primitive, feral sort of language now -- "Help put on back. We go."

[-singularity-] [same deal as before, only more so: very flat affect now. pretty much the only flickers of personality remaining are spurts of nastiness and dark-side-ness.]
to Where the Sidewalk Ends

[Brutal Revelation] "We helped her," Sinclair says quietly, to Katherine. "We didn't really help him when he was up against his little... shiny... asshole no-face thing. Not til it had already worked its way in a bit." She shrugs. There's only faint self-recrimination in that, but she shakes her head. The past is the past. You remember it; you can't change it.

She crouches to help lift Maddox, who, while conscious, doesn't seem to be much into moving himself. "Come on, buddy," she mutters. "Don't worry, as far as I know, he's never dropped anyone yet."

[Midnight Sun] She inhales again, and that's catharsis. She nods again and continues on her way. It's not her fault, Wyrmbreaker assures her. They're going, and the stained snow drift continues on with her possibly pack.

[Where the Sidewalk Ends] There wasn't much to Maddox Cartwright to begin with. He's tallish, but skinny. He's not very strong, not terribly athletic at all, really. When he dropped to his side, creating a dam against the flood of his own torrential vomit, he hollowed out. Got smaller. Got weaker and weaker until he's more skeleton than man. His movements are small. Weak. Feeble.

The others move around him, discussing his fate and what they should do from here. They should go on. Someone should carry him.

Then Sinclair is there, crouched to lift him, disgusting mess that he is. The blackness has seeped into his clothing, soaking it. It stains his bag with his few talens. It thickens in his hair and clings to his pale flesh. He looks at her, because that's just about all he can do. He moves as much as he can, which is practically nothing at all.

"I'll be...first..." he barks, or tries to, his voice weak and hoarse and broken.

[Echoes of Laughter] She moves to help Sinclair pick him up, as carefully as possible, to get him onto Lukas. "You're gonna be fine, chico. Might need about seventeen Brillo showers when we're done, but you'll be fine."

[-singularity-] Wyrmbreaker whuffs again. Strange that even here, even in this spiraling hellhole, there's something like affection and humor between these wolves. Sinclair is oddly gentle with poor ravaged Maddox. You wouldn't believe her capable of it if you didn't see it, and yet she wears that mantle as easily as she wears the mantle of the brutal killer. Wyrmbreaker waits for her and Sarita to drape Maddox on his back, and then rises to all fours -- his fur thick and warm, musky with his scent. Then he rises, shaking his head gently, moving to settle Maddox's slight weight a little better.

He nips gently at Sarita's pants-leg as she passes. Sinclair takes up the lead position again, most likely, and Wyrmbreaker -- bearing his brutalized burden -- takes up the rear.

They go. Downward, and downward again. The walls are no longer white; closer to grey, stained with brown and yellow and black, as though pipes leaked here long ago. The lighting is inconstant, flickering, migraine-inducing. They spiral down another turn or two, and then

they see their next door. Sinclair recognizes it immediately, and it's the door -- the doors -- she did not want to see.

Titanium. Indestructible. Hinges as big as a crinos's fists. A narrow slot at the bottom that can be slid open to pass food and drink into. A cell door, a prison door -- a door that held her for the first 48 hours of her Garou life.

Worse than that, though. The door that held her all those years ago was unmarked. This one has a number on it.

318. Sinclair recognizes it -- the numbers, even the lettering. The exact shape and color of those tarnished brass digits. It's straight off the door of her current home, after all.