The moon bridge stops, throwing the Unbroken into Chicago's past. Lukas, landing on all fours, burns with rage, grief, concern. Sinclair lands on two legs, arms wheeling to keep her balance. Kate lands, picks herself up, dusts herself off. Maddox sprawls face first into the grass. They're all thinking, and trying not to think, of the same thing. About their present, the friends and families, the kin they left behind, the septmates that died in a surprising final battle against the Hive. In their own each, each pushes these thoughts aside to concentrate on the present.
While Lukas picks himself up, Sinclair details what Bleeding Heart sent them here to do. They have until moonrise of the third day to change history, and with it their sept's fate, and reopen the moon bridge or they'll be trapped here in the past. Lukas gives them their marching orders. He'll go find them clothes. Kate and Sinclair are sent to scout for territorial markers. Maddox is to scout history's umbralscape.
=====
They break into action, Lukas toward the house, Kate and Sinclair to scout. Before they go, Maddox gives them a grin. It's meant to be bolstering. Although it's serious business afoot, there's no reason not to try and ease some of that tension. He winks at Sinclair before she and Kate take off, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Here in the past, the veil between worlds is considerably thinner than it was in their time, but he's drained from the battle, and from enlisting the aid of powerful spirits.
Taking a step forward, Maddox pushes his way across the Gauntlet, glad that he remembered to sing to the sunset before leaving for the moot for just that little extra oomph to get him over. It stretches, begins to tear, and pop!
And he's over, into the Umbra of the past.
Brutal RevelationThey all look a total mess. Even where they've been healed there are stains of blood, ripped clothing. Sinclair would get arrested or worse in this time period, wearing cutoffs and a tank top, a bra strap embroidered with daisies slipping past the bump of her collarbone. Maddox is covered in flaking woad, Lukas's pants are torn, and Katherine -- well, other than being covered in blood and her hair mussed, she probably looks better than most of them. Sinclair nods to the mention of clothes, if only so they don't get chased out of town by people with pitchforks. When Lukas starts to move, she starts to move as well. They all do, as one, the pack wheeling in familiar proximity to each other.
Don't forget shoes! Sinclair hollers after him mentally, knowing if she raises her voice every damn door in this place is going to open. Also knowing that Lukas, in his infinite wisdom, might forget that they'd look weird in period garb and Nikes. She aches over the separation of the four of them, is angered by it on some level, but accepts it. No one can blame her any more than they can deny sensing it. Not after what they just endured in their own time, the city and the caern that don't exist yet.
Maddox gives her a wink. Sinclair gives him a wry, small half-grin in response. Yeah, yeah, says the look, I know.
With a jerk of her head, she and Katherine head off again, dropping into lupus together. A slender white wolf, a stronger iron-colored one. They can scent out lines of territory better this way, but they stay out of sight as much as they can, low to the ground and quiet. Even they split up after awhile, quick forms rustling through the grass.
-retelling-Umbra:
In the long run, two hundred years is nothing. And yet what a difference they can make. The Umbra Maddox emerges into is a world away from the one he left behind. Just as man's touch has barely begun to alter the landscape, the Umbra is virtually free of human influence. Houses and buildings are barely even a shadow here. The prairies stretch open and endless under a vast, vast moon.
The spirits of the city, so familiar to him now, are nowhere to be seen. Instead, grass-spirits whisper and bow. The spirits of the night wind sweep over the lake, which is in and of itself an entity, a being. Far away on the horizon, an enormous herd of buffalo rests, their real-world brethren still half a century away from decimation.
Everything smells clean. The air is sweet. If there is Wyrm taint here, at the mouth of the river, it is still faint. But then, they're nowhere near where the Hive will rise.
Realm:
In 1833, wolves still roamed the whole of the north american continent. That's the first thing that strikes Sinclair when she slips into lupus. She smells wolves, but they aren't Garou. They're just wolves.
Eventually, though, she begins to pick up the more complex, threatening scents of her own kind. There's at least a dozen individual scents; quite a few of them seem to gather at the tavern, though if she follows them out they go their separate ways, home to their separate family-packs. Sometimes two or three seem to band together more often than not. Small packs, perhaps, or friends. Even here, even now, the humans far outnumber them - two hundred or so within the borders of this tiny town, perhaps another fifty or a hundred scattered over the prairielands nearby.
Sidewalk's EndThe Umbra that Maddox is used to, especially in Chicago, is mostly barren. There are spirits of corruption and pain and despair. Perhaps a few epiphlings here and there, thoughts and ideas of these harsh economic times in which they live. Sometimes there's more, mostly there are just signs of the Weaver's influence. He's been to places where the spirit life is more diverse, but even in those places, with the apocalypse rumored to be so close, spirits are sparse.
Here, though. Here is an altogether different landscape.
The Umbra here is still alive with spirit life. Spirits of grass move beneath Maddox' sneakers. The water glints and glistens differently. The moon is full and brilliant and blinding white. And there are
“Fucking buffalo!” the Unbroken hear Maddox all but squeal across their minds. With it comes a rush of excitement and a rush of unbridled joy. In an instant the Theurge drops to all fours, a lanky red wolf, and he tears across that landscape. His claws dig into the earth, his tongue lolls, and for a moment his mission here is put aside. “It's like...it's like...” he tries, and stops trying, utterly at a loss for words for once.
At this point, one of them reminds him he's got work to do, and Maddox, loping along with the night wind rushing ahead and around him, slows his pace and comes to a stop. He shakes himself out, and he settles down. Lowering his nose to the ground, he summons the Earth up to him.
Brutal RevelationSinclair's tail gives a single wag at the scent of wolves – real wolves, a scent absent from the landscape she knows in her own time. She smells prey everywhere, living underground, wandering miles away, and it takes effort for her to settle her mind, to remember she is not a wolf herself. To remember, though her body tells her otherwise, she is not here to hunt meat to fatten her pack for the coming autumn, the brittle winter.
She keeps sniffing, her mind and Katherine's trading information in nonverbal passings of smells and sights, sounds that make their ears twitch. What she finds is confirmed by her sister: there are Garou, or have been Garou.
Sinclair thinks to her pack: There are Garou here. Known to each other. Not living together. I know there was a Child of Gaia living in this time. The Garou that couldn't or wouldn't join the sept in Moraine Hills ralled together with him.
There's a pause.
His name is Difficult-Current, a Galliard. He and those with him – the Garou we're smelling here – raise the Caern of the Two-Soul Tree a year from now. That's the Caern that stood before Maelstrom, the one they called the Giving Tree.
There's a mental snort from Sinclair, and an audible one that only Kate is aware of.
I think we should regroup, get dressed, and either go to the tavern to see what we can find out about Billy Bourne and his friends... or track them to the nearest den and introduce ourselvse properly.
-retelling-
Agreed, comes the mental voice of their brother, deep and black and - even now - a warm presence, a solidity in the night. I've got clothes. They aren't haute couture, Kate, but they'll have to do. Let's meet by the pier and get changed. Maddox - you need more time?
He probably does. It takes a long, long,
loooong time just for Earth to pull itself up out of the soil. A small gaffling, no larger than a beach ball, crumbly and largely amorphous. There are twigs and roots sticking out of it. A small shoot of grass erupts from the top of what a humanoid might perceive to be its head. It regards Maddox as it is in turn regarded: infinitely patient, not very curious at all.
Meanwhile, the rest of the pack gather by the riverfront pier. It's tiny - one of Chicago's yacht club piers is about four times the size of this rickety wooden structure - but there's room beneath it to change in relative shelter. Lukas is still in homid when he reunites with his packmates, passing them clothes stolen off the drying lines. Sinclair and Katherine get dresses - Sinclair's a faded gingham, Katherine's slightly more fashionable with a closer bodice, drop shoulders. Both are puffy-sleeved. Out on the east coast, in New York and Paris and London, this style is already going out of date. They're not here to look fashionable, though.
Lukas, meanwhile, is stripping out of his jeans, his nice sleek shirt. He's pulling out baggy farmer's trousers, hot and itchy but tough as nails; buttoning up a roughspun shirt and tucking it in. Then there's a vest, which he buttons up as well.
"I wish I had a sickle to go with this getup," he says, wry. And, We should come up with some sort of story. Strangers don't just show up in this day and age.
-retelling-Also: boots. Lukas drops them at their feet. Kate likely blanches: they're dirty, smelly, and muddy.
Brutal RevelationIt takes very little time at all for Katherine and Sinclair to get to the pier, and they're the first there. Then Lukas, carrying bundles of dried clothes that are stiff from -- well. From the lack of fabric softener. From the fabric quality itself. From being line-dried. Still. They shuck their clothes with little to no embarrassment or shyness, though Katherine does insist on turning her back. Sinclair, however, strips out of tank top and shorts. Since Lukas couldn't exactly get a hold of period-appropriate undergarments, she keeps her bra and tries to keep its newfangled apparatus underneath the lines of the dress.
"God, I am so Kansas right now," she mutters as she's helping Kate lace up her bodice, before turning around for the same. It takes them all a little longer to get dressed than it would otherwise. Sinclair quickly arranges her hair to cover her ears, to cover the back of her neck, while Katherine finger-combs hers. She shoves her feet into a pair of boots -- ill-fitting, but so are the ones Lukas got for he and Maddox, having to grab what was there and guess. She double-checks: her piercings and tattoos are all covered. Even for summer, this far east and this far away from the rest of civilization, the sleeves on her dress are long, covering her arms from shoulder to wrist. She thinks they should probably be wearing hats.
She thinks they will probably pass for very poor, and hopes to Gaia that nobody recognizes that they're wearing, say, that dress that Susie Mickens spent a week making and that gown that Missus Higginbotham had shipped all the way from New York City. Inwardly she groans, and exhales.
"I don't think we're going to avoid attracting attention no matter what we do," she says, helping Katherine. "But which plan are we going with -- hit the tavern and eavesdrop, or track down some of these Garou?"
Sidewalk's End“Yeah, I'll catch up,” Maddox sends while he sits and waits for Earth to pull itself up. It takes a long long time, but not as long as it would for another Theurge. In Maddox's experience, elemental spirits have always been the slutty groupies of the spirit world, eager to get a piece of him, no matter how unattractive or unappealing women with taste of self esteem might think he is. Earth is slow and steady and patient, and while Maddox waits, he is too. His brushy tail twitches, and he dips his nose to sniff at the ground, ears pricked and alert, before sitting up again. A crack and crumble, and Earth is finally free of the ground.
It watches him, and Maddox tilts his head, bobs it once as he lets out a rumbling greeting and rises to all fours. “Gratitude, wise Earth,” he whuffs, feet braced and tail lowered respectfully. “I have few questions about land to north and west. There Garou there, yes? Stag's children, angry, chase all others out?”
[Earlier, Sinclair explained to the pack that based on the weather, the appearance of the 'town', and what Bleeding Heart told them about where they were going, she was guessing it was summer of 1833, sometime between Chicago's official incorporation (early August) and the corruption of the Moraine Hills/Great Water Lynx caern at the end of that same summer. According to her, the Moraine Hills sept is just a couple of packs, mostly violent, territorial Fianna.
Just now she's also passed along the remembrance that there was a Child of Gaia Galliard named Billy Bourne/Difficult Current at this time, around whom other Garou -- those who could not or would not join the Fianna at Moraine Hills -- have rallied. She knows that come next year, he and his allies raise the Caern of the Two-Souled Tree, which in latter days becomes the Caern of the 'Giving Tree' (gag). She's guessing that the Garou she and Kate have been sniffing out in this town are Billy and those who have gathered around him.]
-retelling-"We look for Garou first," Lukas replies, stuffing his feet into the boots. His fit poorly, too, but perhaps not the way Sinclair's fits poorly. His are too small. His clothes are a little too small, too. Six-four isn't a common height back in the 1830s. "Our best bet is finding Billy Bourne and getting the story on the Great Water Lynx Caern, as well as whatever Wyrm activity might be brewing. Then we need to get out there to stop what's coming before it comes.
"If there's a reason for us to hit the tavern later, we will. Come on." Maddox, we're going to move. We'll let you know where we are when you're done with Earth.
-retelling-Umbra:
Earth shifts, sifting bits of dirt down to the ground where it melds seamlessly with the landscape. A vague sense of puzzlement. Stag-wolves in wood-land, yes. Smell like you, but not you. Other-you. Other-yous in wood-land, chase away water-wolves. But stag-wolves not angry to earth-down-firm-ground-spirits. We like stag-wolves. They praise us, feed us, keep us strong. They even bring us distant-brothers, green-brothers-from-over-salt-water, handfuls of brothers we have not seen since the great divide so long long long ago. Stag-wolves are good, we like stag-wolves. Say they will breed green-things from us. Water-wolves did not do this. They loved water-wet-slippery-soft-spirits more. Stag-wolves are better. We like stag-wolves. We like.
-retelling-[ For the record, these are the notes I began with:
Timeline
Spring 1833: the last of the Potawatomi tribe, native to the western shore of Lake Michigan, are forced from their land by the Treaty of Chicago and death-marched to surrounding states. At the same time, a group of Fianna 'Wyrmbringers' defeat the native Uktena of the Sept and Caern of the Mishibizhiw (the Great Water Lynx) and drive them from the Caern. The Garou population becomes almost wholly Fianna in the aftermath; many move on, while two packs stay behind. When the dust settles, there are perhaps 10 or 12 Garou in the area at this point - two packs under Tighearnán Ó Séaghdha, Throat-Cutter, near-Athro Ahroun and new Sept Alpha, and Lorccán Bloody Smiles, Adren Ragabash and his staunch ally - an unpleasant, brutal lot that defends their unfairly won land with extreme territoriality.
As a result, new Garou in the area - mostly Fianna, Fenrir, Iron Riders and Shadow Lords - are reluctant to venture out to the Caern, leaving it underdefended. The non-Sept Garou begin setting about forging their own Sept. They begin to rally around Senachewine ("Difficult Current"), aka Billy Bourne, a young Potawatomi-American who pledged to the Children of Gaia instead of his ancestral Uktena, and who successfully evaded the eviction by passing as white.
Note: The Great Lynx once had a sort of sister spirit in Volo Bog, the Moon Water Woman, which was similarly worshiped by the Uktena. However, when the Uktena were evicted, that bond was severed, etc etc - this was actually Liz's storyline for the Eagles way back in the day, and it was an awesome one, but it probably won't affect this SL terribly much.
August 12th, 1833: Town of Chicago is officially incorporated. Population: 200
Late Summer, 1833: smelling weakness, Black Spiral Dancers descend on the Caern of the Great Lynx and rapidly subjugate its defenders. The Caern is corrupted, becoming the future Hive of Moraine Hills (NOTE: Moraine Hills, IRL, is pretty far from Elk Grove. The Ned Brown Preserve is way closer. However, Hive of Moraine Hills sounds about a billion times better, so we're stick with it).
Autumn, 1834: Senachewine and his allies raise the Caern of the Two-Soul Tree in the name of tolerance, forgiveness and sacrifice -- this eventually gets bastardized to the Caern of the Giving Tree.
1834 - 2004: Within ten years Chicago grows to thousands of people; by the time the railroad comes around, it becomes the preeminent city in the Midwest. The original Garou population of Chicago is heavily Fianna and Fenrir, following their kin, with the Iron Riders (future Glass Walkers) and the Shadow Lords a close step behind. As the city matures, other Tribes - notably the Silver Fangs and the Bone Gnawers - also move in. Eventually, as an uneasy peace is struck between the Native American Garou and their European counterparts, the Wendigo and Uktena begin to return to the area as well. Over the course of 170 years, Chicago becomes the city we know and love.
January 2004: the Caern of the Giving Tree is found to be irreversibly corrupted, a Wyrmhole at its heart. With Garou help, the Caern totem sacrifices itself, destroying both the Caern and the Wyrmhole.
March 2004: the Caern of the Maelstrom is raised and stands for seven years against the Wyrm threat from the Hive.
August 2011: a surprise attack by Hive Dancers devastates the Caern and effectively ends resistance; it seems likely the Caern will now be destroyed or corrupted.
Some NPCs:
- Senachewine ("Difficult Current"), aka Billy Bourne, half-American half-Potawatomi. Fostern Child of Gaia Galliard. Stays behind by passing as white; speaks of raising a mixed Caern in the new town of Chicago. Eventually a founding member and first Grand Elder of the Caern of the Two-Soul Tree (Ash for sacrifice, Beech for tolerance and forgiveness), later known as Caern of the Giving Tree.
- Tighearnán Ó Séaghdha (Tiernan O'Shea), Throat-Cutter, Adren (almost-Athro) Fianna Ahroun. Arrived in America a few years ago, leading his pack and two others plus assorted kin - came here fleeing the oppression of Silver Fang lords and worsening conditions at home. Now the Grand Elder and Warmaster of the Caern of the Great Lynx. Brutal, racist, but fiercely protective of his people.
- Lorccán Bloody Smiles, Adren Fianna Ragabash. Tiernan's Beta and worst influence -- a true sadist.
- Maunagur the White, Athro Black Spiral Dancer Ahroun (Fallen Fenrir Modi). Warmaster of the Hive. A cunning foe in his brief moments of lucidity, Maunagur is unfortunately deep in the grasp of the Beast of War and prone to utterly berserk rages. Time-travels back with the PCs; the main villain of the storyline. Will do his best to prevent the characters from succeeding in changing the past and thwarting his conquest in the future; for the most part, this means trying to tear their entrails out with absolutely no subtlety.
Potential Choices and Possible Outcomes:
- Characters can abandon the Fianna to their fate --> Hive is raised, Giving Tree Caern raised and falls, Maelstrom raised and falls in 2011.
- Characters can choose to aid the Fianna --> existence of older, bigoted, very traditionalistic Fianna Caern in the Ned Brown Preserve near Elk Grove --> Giving Tree Caern still raised and falls, Maelstrom Caern still raised, but is very small and overshadowed by the Fianna Caern due to political tensions.
- Characters can kill Lorccán --> after initial brutality, Tighearnán settles down to be a decent, albeit ironfisted Grand Elder. Fianna Caern remains strong and traditionalistic, though somewhat less racist --> Giving Tree Caern still raised and falls, Maelstrom Caern still raised, remains small but somewhat more influential.
- Characters can depose Fianna Elder with Coggie Elder --> Mishibizhiw Caern develops along Giving Tree lines --> eventually corrupted in 2004; Maelstrom rises and thrives, but is smaller due to undisputed dominance.
- Characters can release the Great Lynx --> Mishibizhiw Caern goes into quiescence, Hive is never raised, Magi may be able to raise a Node from remnants of Caern. Great Lynx may accompany characters back to present to form another (very small) Caern and/or be returned to the descendants of the Potawatomi people. Maelstrom caern rises and thrives, but is ironically smaller due largely to its undisputed dominance of the area (no need for extra Garou).]
-retelling-[ It should be noted that Earth is friendly to the Fianna because it obviously doesn't figure good/bad by the same standard. History shows us that the Potawatomis, unlike many other tribes of the Great Lakes area, were not particularly agricultural, whereas Scottish- and Irish-Americans moving into the area primarily came for land. Thus Fianna would have most likely cared more about farming and land cultivation than the deposed Uktena, resulting in a friendly disposition from an earth-spirit.
That said, the Fianna are definitely meant to be despicable in this SL -- although not completely. Ex: Tiernan, Grand Elder of the Water Lynx Caern, is largely a vicious brute, but he has redeeming qualities. Lorcan's pretty awful. Senachewine is a nicer guy -- but he sort of turned his back on his own people to follow ideals of tolerance etc etc. In the end, my goal was really to create a situation where the characters would have to choose between several options, some better than others, but none fully ideal (see above post on setup and potential outcomes).]
Sidewalk's EndOn the other side of the Gauntlet, his packmates are getting into stolen plain country clothing, and some part of Maddox really wishes he could be there to see it. Especially Lukas, who when not wandering around the loft in his swim trunks is dressed in high quality, well tailored clothing. And Kate. God, he wishes he could see Kate wearing something roughspun. She'd probably still look regal, and Maddox would be torn between admiration and amusement. Soon. First
Earth. Who likes the Stag-wolves to the north and east, who have promised to grow green things instead of honoring the watery spirits. That's as it should be, though. As vicious as the Garou at Great Water Lynx may be to other Garou, their duty is still to Gaia. Their Caern is still a place to honor and respect the spirits. It's the Spirals who will eventually come and clear them out that Maddox wants to know about.
“Excellent,” he says, nodding his head. “And what about others? The twisted ones, Spirals. I hear they're coming at the end of summer. Are they close yet? Or are they here?” Which if it isn't now, is close. It's almost the harvest season already.
-retelling-[Due to ridiculous jove issues, we lost a bunch of posts early on, but Kai had an awesome one that alluded to the pattern of Gaian caerns getting corrupted by this one Hive - first in 1833, when the Hive rose; then again in 2004, and finally in 2011. I actually really like that there's a pattern you can see when you zoom out and look over 200 years!]
Brutal RevelationSinclair gives a short, sharp little nod of agreement with Lukas. As she said -- there's no way they're going to avoid attracting attention out here. Lukas is too big. Sinclair is too inhuman. All of them have fine white teeth. Katherine is a bit too refined for this sort of place. They're wearing the clothes of people who live in this town, people who will be upset about the thefts come morning. Who might be upset as soon as their owners leave the tavern. Who even knows?
She starts to climb back up the bank from under the pier with Katherine. She speaks aloud, though quietly, and speaks in their minds as well so that Maddox can hear it along with them. "The Fianna alphas who hold the caern to the northwest are -- right now -- an Ahroun called Throat-Cutter and a Ragabash named Bloody-Smiles, if that tells you anything. They were Athro -- no, he was Athro posthumously -- and Adren when the caern fell. Most commentary on all of it suggests that because of their harsh ways, other Garou didn't want to go out there. So with only a dozen or so werewolves to defend Great Water Lynx, they didn't stand a chance against the Spirals when they came in force."
Reaching the flat of the land again, she brushes herself off, and thinks alone, rather than says: What I'm wondering is if we should lead with 'so man, we're from the future, and like, if you don't help those fuckers out, that hive is gonna kill all the Gaian Garou left in Chicago in about a hundred and seventy years'. He'd buy that, right?
-retelling-[i]Nnnn.[/i] Earth seems to shrink on itself, compacting into a smaller, harder, self-protective lump. [i]We not like other-black-filthy-wolves, nonono, we do not. They take us and ... do things ... we return not ourselves, we lose ourselves, we not like, no. They are there, they are there. We feel them burrowing through us. They are there. We not like. We not want talk about. No.[/i]
-retelling-More on Throat-Cutter and Bloody-Smile:
Accounts on Throat-Cutter are mixed. The majority of modern sources consider him a brute, a tyrant and a racist, but it's also noted that he warded his kin and led his Sept well during his brief and bloody reign. And though his Caern eventually fell to the Wyrm, Throat-Cutter died a hero's death. There's very little information on what happened to the rest of his Sept; it's possible everyone was slaughtered. It's also possible some of the other Garou bent the knee to the Wyrm to save their own necks. If that happened, though, no one talks about it.
-retelling-You're the Galliard, Lukas returns. As he emerges from the shadow of the pier, he grows another notch - towering now, hulking, about to burst out of his stolen clothes, and I think you're the better judge of what to say and what not to say than I. But if you want my opinion, I think maybe we should keep our origins secret as much as possible. We'll call it a prophecy if we have to, but outright time travel ... I don't want this to turn into some sort of butterfly effect.
The Ahroun pauses. He lifts his head and sniffs at the air, utterly feral in the moonlight. Then he nods toward one of the more distant houses.
Let's try over there.
Sidewalk's EndAnd just like that, Maddox is no longer four-legged and furry, but a tall lanky Briton with arms to wrap around the shrinking clod of Earth. He holds the spirit close, as a father would his frightened child. There are no coos, no comforting susurrations, just thin protective arms. At the same time he passes the information along to his pack. “The Spirals are already here and tainting the land.”
Stepping back, he places his hand atop the clod, as if it really were a head, with a blade of grass to ruffle. “My friends and I are here to see that doesn't happen, luv.” He doesn't know yet how they're going to do that, but stopping the Spirals here is supposed to stop them in the future. This at least he can say. “Can you tell me where they are at least?”
Brutal RevelationWhat, you think we might cause a hurricane in New York? Oh waaait...
Sinclair uses humor. She thinks about anything other than the images burned into her memory because that is what she is. That is who she is. Because she's the Galliard. Because even if it doesn't come to pass, the way that Balance Without Fault died will be remembered, as will Evens-the-Odds' last sacrifice and Bleeding Heart's last chance at heroism. To do what she does, to be able to call to mind the history of 1833 and the caerns and hives that keep cycling from defiant creation to destruction and corruption, she has to be able to remember. And that means it is hard, very hard, for her to forget.
Though there is some comfort in that. She remembers the way Alex smelled just before she got up to leave him. She also remembers the look in his eyes, and that is harder. That is less comforting. She swallows and glances at Lukas as he shifts to glabro. She nods, recalling the directions some of the tracks went. We might not find Billy right away, she says, heading that direction. I think we should try to find him, since history says he was a leader for the Garou here, but who knows. The farther back history goes, the more shadows there are in it. There could be a lot of things hiding in those shadows. A lot of wolves we don't remember, but maybe should.
As she goes quiet, the pack hears Maddox in their mind, telling them what the gaffling of Earth passed on to him: the Spirals are already here. A chill runs down Sinclair's spine, and would be followed by a shudder if she weren't of such a strong will. They reach the first house, and Sinclair glances back to Lukas and Kate, then lifts her hand and knocks. That she is female does not make a difference to her, even in this day and age. That she is younger than the two Adrens, lower-ranked, does not matter. Tradition matters more, perhaps. She is the Galliard of the Unbroken.
She is their herald. So she knocks.
-retelling-Needless to say, Maddox is now quite dirty. Earth rolls back and forth a few times, indecisive. Then it abruptly dissipates in a puff of dirt; reappears to glop up Maddox's leg, reforms on his shoulder. Chip-on-shoulder jokes come to mind.
We go. We go we go we go. Go fast, leave fast. We not want stay. Too dangerous. Dangerous. And it hunkers down on Maddox's shoulder, a compact, heavy lump. Looks like Maddox is going on an unplanned field trip.
Sidewalk's EndMaddox is dirty because of a spirit, and the amount of fucks he couldn't give about it could fill the lake glimmering in the moonlight to the east. Fill it to overflowing, even. When Earth disappears from beneath his hand and reforms on his leg, Maddox can't help but smile at the suddenness. But when it reforms on his shoulder, says, We go we go we go, he's startled. It comes across when he contacts the others.
“Earth wants to take me to the Spirals, I think,” he says, not liking the prospect in the slightest. He's as much a scout as he is a fighter, which is to say he's not one in the slightest. He's lucky he can make it down the street without tripping over his own feet, knocking over dumpsters and inadvertently pushing passersby into traffic. The thought of going to the Spirals, alone...
-retelling-The truth is, it's late by 19th century reckoning. A good three, four hours after a summer sundown, and farm life begins at dawn. The tavern is still lively - even from here, they can hear distant music, smell the smoke - but now and then townsfolk dissipate in singlets or pairs or small groups.
When Sinclair knocks on the door, there's no response. She has to knock again before she hears footsteps, quick and timid. When the door opens, it's just a crack. A girl even younger than Sinclair edges the door open, balancing a baby on her hip. The infant is already beginning to fuss. Mother and child both have the look of the northern wolves; not quite enough to manifest as true Fenrir purebreeding, but it's there.
"I don't recognize you and it's an awful strange time to come callin'," she warns them, "so you oughta know I got a flintlock behind this here door and I can knock your hat off at a hundred yards. So don't try nothin' funny." Caveat in place, she lifts her chin. "What do you folks want from us? There's an inn in town if you're lookin' for lodging."
Brutal RevelationOne of the reasons Sinclair wasn't keen on hitting the tavern is that this is still an agricultural place. It's long after moonrise, long past the hour when people should have left the tavern and gone home to bed. The people there wouldn't be very useful to their needs. The people there will be getting shuffled out soon enough anyway.
Sinclair waits only a few moments before she knocks again, louder. More insistent. The door cracks and she looks into the crack, then down. Her eyes meet the younger woman's eyes, and Sinclair's head cants sharply to one side. Her eyes are curious and sharp at the baby, recognizing it instantly and curiously as cub. Tiny thing. To be defended. To be killed for. Sinclair looks back to the young woman, blonde-haired and blue-eyed like herself, hints of gray in the iris.
"This is your den and you have every right to defend it by force," Sinclair says levelly. "Even so, you have nothing to fear from us. On my honor, we mean no harm to you and your kin." She pauses, keeping her eyes straight on the girl but withholding the viciousness of challenge from her gaze and her tone. "There are none of our kind at the inn or tavern, and it is our kind that we seek. We're looking for Billy Bourne -- named 'Difficult Current' in the tongue of his tribe -- and his friends."
-retelling-"God damn it!" the girl explodes, making Lukas blink in surprise. It's blistering language for this day and age. It's a blistering tone for any day and age. Then again, out here in the middle of nowhere, there's hardly anyone to hear it. "You people again! Every time strangers just show up on the porch, it's always Joseph's 'friends'. Well, if his friends want to visit so much, maybe he can come home once in a blue moon and entertain them himself. Lord knows I've got my hands full.
"Well, you might as well come on in. I'm just gonna put the baby down before he starts bawlin' at the sight'a you." And she kicks the door open, stepping back to let them in. She wasn't bluffing - as the door creaks open, they can see she did, in fact, have a Baker rifle pointed at them through the door. "There's lemon water on the table, if you're thirstin'."
We're visiting a Fenrir farmwife right now, Lukas sends over the totemlink. Tell Earth to sit tight for a while and we'll come with you. Or you can come over. She doesn't seem a stranger to Garou business.
On Maddox's shoulder, Earth is setting up an monotonous chant, about as impatient as a clod of earth could be:
We go we go we go we go we go we go we come back soon we go.
Sidewalk's EndTell Earth to sit tight, Lukas says, and Maddox lets out a short laugh. He has no doubt that the elemental could sit tight until the sun explodes and devours the planet, despite its current chant and level of impatience. Maddox reaches up to pat it gently.
"I can't go without my friends, luv." There's a moment of hesitation while he decides what to do with himself while his packmates visit a farmwife. He could stay and play with Earth and run amok in the Umbra, maybe go investigate the buffalo, or splash in the lake, or talk to the moon. Or. Or!
He could go help out his pack, maybe take up some sort of advisory role despite being a Cliath in a pack of Adrens and one near-Adren.
Decisions decisions.
In the end he decides it's safer to be with the others, especially if the Spirals are already close enough to be a threat. "Where are you?" he asks, "And do I have to try my American?"
To Earth he says, "I'm going to see them now. You can come with if you like." Because a clod of dirt riding his shoulder won't be unwelcome in a farmhouse at all.
Brutal RevelationI like her, Sinclair thinks, when the girl flashes out the profanity. She's like my mom, only with swear words and like forty years younger.
Aloud she tells the 'Fenrir farmwife', as Lukas so charmingly puts it: "We appreciate the hospitality," she says, quite seriously, and walks in, looking for a place to shuck the muddy boots as soon as she does. "Do you know when Joseph will be back, or where he is?"
Maddox, she says mentally, maybe you should go. At least to get a look at what Earth wants to show you. I don't think it would lead you knowingly into danger. It wouldn't hurt to have a scout go ahead. I'd go myself, but --
Katherine breaks in then, her voice arch, even as they are entering the threshhold of the house. I will go with our brother, she says. I, too, wish to see what those vermin to the north are up to.
Sinclair gives a mental shrug, looking to Lukas in person for a final decision.
-retelling-The farmhouse is small and exceedingly plain. The entire ground floor is one large room. A scullery takes up most of the back wall, a cooking fireplace looming in the corner. Nice in the long cold winters, but awfully hot in the summers, one suspects. A large, sturdy table dominates the rest of the room. A flight of stairs leads to the second floor, where presumably the bedrooms are, but the girl goes to lay the baby in a small crib beside the table where she can keep an eye on him while... 'entertaining'.
The baby's not her first child either. As Lukas and Sinclair file in - tall, athletic strangers that look out of place whether or not they're wearing borrowed clothing - a little girl peers through the banisters at them. Her eyes are big and solemn and fearless. There's just a hint of challenge in the way she stares at the interlopers in her home.
If Kate's going with you, we might as well split up. Besides, Elk Grove is -- will be -- a good twenty miles away, and Moraine Hills is even farther. You'll be going on foot anyway. I suspect by the time you're even close, we'll be right behind you.
"I haven't the faintest idea exactly where Joseph is or when he's comin' back," the girl answers. She sounds quite displeased about this. "All I know is he's out with that Billy Bourne character. Again. Mister Bourne thinks it's ever so important for all of us to try and make peace with the Irishmen up north. We'll need each other soon, he keeps on sayin'. He said it two months ago when he set up a meetin' in my parlor and he talked so pretty he got Joseph all turned around, and Joe's been followin' him around ever since, him and most the other fool Garou in this town. I bet if you found him he'll say it to you too, for all the good talkin's doin'. I'm just not seein' any progress on the makin' peace part. And Lord only knows why Mister Bourne's tryin' so hard, when those same Irishmen drove his mama out the state when he was but a boy."
"Daddy says Mister Bourne's tryin' to make peace so's nobody else gets driven out by nobody," the little girl on the steps puts in. "Daddy says there's a lot worse things than drunken Irishmen out there, and we're gonna find out just what they are if we don't do somethin' about it."
"Gracie, get back in bed."
The little girl keeps staring. "Are those people like Daddy?"
"Yes they are, Gracie, now get back in bed." She turns back to Lukas and Sinclair. "I suppose if you wanna find Billy Bourne, you can just find my husband. He'll be with him. You want that I should getcha a shirt or somethin' to sniff?"
Brutal Revelation"All turned around?" Sinclair echoes, as she watches the woman cross the room to put her baby in a crib. She notices the other girl. She does that other child the favor of not making eye contact, and does what most adults likely do: ignores her. Lets her listen. Lets her learn. "Did Joseph disagre ewith him at first?"
Brutal Revelation[DLP]
Brutal Revelation"All turned around?" Sinclair echoes, as she watches the woman cross the room to put her baby in a crib. She notices the other girl. She does that other child the favor of not making eye contact, and does what most adults likely do: ignores her. Lets her listen. Lets her learn. "Did Joseph disagree with him at first?"
But the girl speaks up. Gracie speaks up, and when Sinclair hears that name she gets a flicker of a half-smile, one that warms and aches at the same time. She looks at the girl, then back at the girl's mother, and she knows better than to tell the little girl it's okay if she stays up, because she knows damn well better than to undermine a momma in her own home, especially one with a rifle. But she looks at the girl.
"Fetch one of your daddy's work shirts for us before you get in bed, would you, Gracie? One from the wash pile. Nice and stinky from sweat." She wrinkles her nose, and then her teeth flash in a grin. Her head swivels back to The Momma as Katherine excuses herself outdoors to cross the Gauntlet and reach Maddox.
Sidewalk's EndThat Kate's going with him on this scouting mission fills Maddox with relief and the faintest touch of disappointment. It's weird, wanting to be close to his pack now. In their own time he's perfectly happy wandering off to do his own thing, more cat than wolf. Having a pack to ground him in Chicago hasn't completely quelled the wanderlust in him. But here in the past they're all he's got, and he'd like a moment to bump a shoulder and see their faces. It's a childish impulse. Besides, Kate's coming at least, so he won't be going off alone to the north, a lone skinny Theurge to investigate those faster and stronger than he is.
"It's not going into danger that worries me, luv, it's danger finding me." They can almost feel his grin.
To the elemental he says, "Never mind, luv, they're comin' to us. When my sister gets here we'll be on our way, alright?"
-retelling-Gracie giggles, a sudden peal of bright laughter. "Ew!" she yells, and then runs pitter-patter up the stairs.
Her mother shakes her head. "No, no, it weren't nothing like that just, Joseph didn't used to be the type to care so much about that sort of thing. He's a good Godi and he does his part, don't mistake me now, but he weren't like this before. He used to want to just come home and spend time with me and the kids whenever he weren't out there doing Garou things. And now he's all -- "
She breaks off suddenly, heaves a sigh, frowns sharply. Seems for a moment as young as she is. Eighteen, nineteen, with two kids and a gun.
"I don't mean to make out like Mister Bourne is some sort of warlock," she says. "I think he's a good man and he's got his heart in the right place. I just wish he didn't have to go and recruit my mate for his crusade."
--
Meanwhile, out in the field, the elemental -- mollified by the promise that they were going now so they can get back soonsoonsoon -- settles down.
We not get too close, it mutters. We not get too close, be seen, be changed-made-dirty-bad.
Sidewalk's EndWhile they wait for Kate to arrive, Maddox reaches up to pat the earth clinging to his shoulder. "I won't let them change you," he says with more confidence than he feels. And he ponders the tainting of the spirits by the Spirals, turning over ideas and thoughts and solutions to that problem in case it becomes more immediate.
He senses Kate's nearness and turns to watch the approach of the regal wolf, white fur made silvery in the full moonlight. Before she reaches them, he shifts down as well, giving Earth time to adjust itself onto his lupine back, matting into his reddish brown fur. Stepping toward Kate he circles around her once, brushing her shoulder as he comes alongside.
"Which way?" he asks their earthy guide.
Brutal RevelationTo say that Sinclair's Kansas accent is coming out at this point goes without saying. To say that it's not quite the sort of accent people in this place, this time have is something worth noting. Whether or not Lukas is mocking her in her thoughts or not, however, is entirely up to his mood at the moment. She feels a pang from Maddox and quites internally. There's a bump in his mind, a reminder of their closeness. Even if he's really, really far away. They'll be there. And Kate won't let anything happen to him. After all, Sinclair thinks, she taught the Philodox to fight herself.
In the realm, Sinclair bumps her shoulder against Lukas, that need for closeness and familiarity in all this bleeding over into her own attitudes. She brushes against him, and then away, a simple sway of her body close to her packmate's for a second.
"No disrespect, ma'am, but Garou need a crusade as much as they need mate and den and cubs. From the sound of it, Bourne didn't recruit him s'much as he gave 'im somethin' that was missin'." She pauses. "Much as that stings, it's the truth as I know it. Yer better off findin' a way to do what the Curse keeps 'im from doin' aroun' normal folk so's you can help 'im an' be near 'im, even when he ain't here."
She pauses there, realizing how much she's spoken, and backtracks: "No disr'spect. Jus' mean it as comfort, what there is to be had of it. I'll be shuttin' my mouth now, ma'am."
-retelling-They're two and two. It's hard for them to be apart right now, the memory of what happened -- what will happen, if they can't change the future in the three short days they have -- still so fresh on their minds. But that's exactly why they're splitting up like this. Time is so short. And they can cover more ground apart than together.
Honor's Compass comes alongside her scrawnier, plainer brother, their sides brushing for a moment. Then Maddox lets Earth back down. The gaffling turns in place for a slow moment, the tuft of grass on its head waving gently in the breeze. Then it burrows - tunneling through unawakened earth with startling speed, leaving a trail of overturned dirt for the Garou to follow.
They've a long way to go.
-retelling-"Nah, you don't need to do that," the girls says. "There's no rule against truthspeakin' in this house. It might not be an easy truth to hear, but it's still the truth."
A faint, wistful smile crosses Lukas's face at that. It's his turn to bump Sinclair back: nudging her with his shoulder as though to say, see? your name.
There's a brief thunder of feet over their head. Then the little cub-girl is coming back down the stairs, bounding down two terrifying steps at a time, and Lukas finds Klarinka, zpomalte! leaping to his tongue. He holds it back. The mother doesn't seem particularly alarmed, anyway - likely the girl tears up and down the stairs fifty times a day. When she gets to the last four, she jumps, landing with an enormous THUMP. She looks proud of herself. "Here!" she yells, running over, holding her daddy's shirt up at them. It's not unlike the one Lukas wears, roughspun and homemade. There's a tiny scrap-fabric flower sewn into the collar as a token of affection from his wife.
"All right, very good, Gracie," her mother says, all weary fondness. "Now go back to bed."
The girl rocks on her heels for a second, peering at the strangers. Then she turns and bolts back up the stairs, yelling "G'night!" over her shoulder as she goes.
"So are you folks stayin' the night? We got an extra room up there if you want, and you're welcome to share breakfast with me and the kids. We're not 'drunken Irishmen' here, as my husband so charmingly puts it, but we know about hospitality."
Sidewalk's EndTwenty-five miles and more is a long way to go, and that's if that's even where the Spirals are. For all they know, they could be closer than that, or farther. They could be anywhere.
It might be faster if they could go by horse, but no such animal would bear the weight of these two. So they make their way on four feet, following in the wake of that mound of upturned earth. What Maddox lacks in agility and athleticism he makes up for in a tenacious determination and stamina. Still, there will be stops to catch his breath, and he has no shame in asking for those breaks, despite Earth's insistence that they go they go they go.
He doesn't have the breath for idle chit chat aloud with Kate. He'd share his thoughts across the totemlink so that the others could hear and share and weigh in, anyway.
"If the Spirals are already close, do you think we should try to stop them? Or try to make peace between Great Water Lynx and the people here so they can fend for themselves?"
Brutal RevelationSinclair smirks wryly at Lukas, and she nods in gratitude and understanding to the wife, the mother, the mate. Her eyes flick upward at the thunder, then over to the baby, who isn't sleeping but fussing, kicking, making little whiny noises that never quite amount to any big screaming. She sighs, and when the shirt is brought over, hands it to Lukas to get the scent -- or at least hold til they get back outside. She'll get it herself soon enough.
"G'night, girl," Sinclair says to Gracie, politely. To her mother, her eyebrows hop up a little. "We'd be much obliged to know there's shelter waitin' if needs be, ma'am, but we best be headin' out to find Billy Bourne an' yer man." She straightens, glancing at Lukas, listening to Maddox in her thoughts.
We only have three days. If the fight comes in that time, we fight. In the meantime, we need the lay of the land. It sounds like Billy Bourne and his lot want to ally and make peace with the Fianna, at least according to this Fenrir Kin, whose mate runs with Bourne. We're about to get on our way to find them. My bet is that they're gathered somewhere under the full moon -- maybe even trying, this very night, to meet with the Fianna at their caern. After we know what's really going on, maybe we can start to help.
Out loud, she nods to the woman in front of her. "Keep yer babies close, ma'am. And thanks s'very much for everything."
-retelling-"That's about what I thought you'd say," the Fenrir kin says wryly. "And quit it with the ma'am. My name's Maryanne, and you already met Gracie. The baby's Dickie. Might as well get introduced before you go gallivantin' off again.
"You folks have yourselves a good night. And if you find Joseph, you tell him to quit callin' people drunken Irishmen if he wants to make friends with 'em."
She lets them back out on the porch. Lukas bids her goodnight quietly, then turns to smile at Sinclair. "If you twang any harder," he teases gently, "you'll turn into a banjo."
Then he raises Joseph's shirt to his face, unselfconsciously getting a good whiff of the other Garou's scent. When he has it down, he passes it to Sinclair.
Brutal RevelationSinclair's mouth cocks in a wry grin. She looks ridiculous right now, her long hair still disheleved from -- well, from time travel -- and her body clad in a long, heavy, too-baggy gingham dress that she knows Lukas got solely because he was so very tickled when he found out she was from Kansas and her name wasn't Sinclair it was Heather Jane and so on and so forth. But she's still herself, ridiculous-looking or not, smiling at Maryanne. "It's good to meet you, Maryanne. I'm Jane, and this here is Lou. That other one you saw us with is Kitty, and we've got a fourth, Max, but he's off doin' business like what your Joseph does, spirits 'n' whatnot."
She gives a nod. "I'll be right sure to tell Joseph what you said, Maryanne, and you sleep tight tonight, hear?"
They depart, bidding a goodnight to the Fenrir farmwife, and pass the shirt back and forth, sniffing for Joseph. At the comment about twanging, Sinclair shoots Lukas a stare. "Boy, I will wallop you, don't you think for a sec'nd I won't," the words all coming in a single breath. She sniffs at the shirt again, then hangs it on the doorknob behind them where hopefully the wind won't take it and Maryanne won't have any trouble finding it. She looks at her clothes, then at Lukas.
Seems like what she decides is this: someone worked hard on that dress. So she shucks it, gets down to her panties and bra that don't belong in this time period, all covered in tattoos and piercings that make her look like a savage and a witch, and drops into lupus, taking off after the scent of Joe the Godi.
