involved/you have shamed us, rhya.

[Andrew] The wolf came to the door then as well. His head ducked down, peeking around Lukas' legs as he peers into the room with golden brownish eyes. His ear laid back, twitching curiously. His nose twitches curiously.

[Milo]

[Milo] Milo turns toward his sister's words, a smile that is faint but persistent on his face, and he walks toward her to meet her halfway between the two other Garou now in the room. It's distinctly possessive, though not overly so, maybe even the kind of body language only another Garou would truly pick up on. He has learned that his sister is not entirely safe in this place, and it shows. He places the sides of his cheeks to each of hers, two kisses between family.

He does not take a sip of her drink, instead sitting at the nearby table in one of its wooden chairs, scooted out so that it won't be an obstacle, setting his mug of coffee before him.

It's from that vantage point he finally spots Andrew. The scowl is back, in all its unrelenting splendor, aimed at the other Fostern. Milo stands again, quickly, his drink forgotten on the table's surface. The movement is quick and sends the chair skittering back a foot or two on its legs. "You. Dances-on-Fire-yuf. We need to talk," his hand reaching out to take his sister by the arm after a few strides toward her, moving her to his side and behind him. The gesture tells her unmistakable this will be his situation to deal with, and that she should take a step away from it.

[Nessa] She eyes Lukas with some not-quite-inscrutable expression. "Do you see either of us enough to think we would not be?"
Her eyes hold certain shadows as she regards the Circle's beta, which the chocolate, now set aside by her brother, does nothing to really dispel. Or maybe that's the unease Andrew's sudden presence inspires. Her position at Milo's left side is moved, and she allows this, stays where he put her-- for now. IN fact, she doesnt even reach for any of hte blades on her person, not in the top of her leather boots, the tops of which disappear under her skirt, not the ones fastened to her arms under the jacket, not the one hiding at her back under the silk blouse.

However, she does shift her weight, for springing as needed.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Such is the way of most packs and almost always with this pack, that the moment you come upon one of them you could almost safely place money on the fact that another will appear as if by magic alone. So it comes to pass on this occasion that quite literally minutes after Lukas emerges from the bathroom, toothbrush in hand the downstairs doors opened and closed; and the sound drifts upwards of someone scuffing snow off their shoes on the mat.

And then ascending to the stairs and upward.

"C'est merveilleux," commends the familiar voice of Katherine Bellamonte from the top of the stairs proper, leaning her weight with one shoulder against the wall, a pale lavender scarf still around her neck, her fingers slipped against one pocket of her jeans. The Silver Fang's blue eyes are merry tonight, it would seem. Her mood genial enough to draw her from the Loft's spacious rooms.

[Armstrong] "It's too red. There should be more green in that red," as though this would make sense to Lukas.

It was hard to tell which packmate she's had the color conversation with. Who has seen her sit for hours mixing something to then, seemingly unexpectedly, call the pigment rather nasty, unpleasant names, and then stalk away for an hour. That was, however, what happened when you were around Mrena long enough. Occasionally, she said unkind things to inanimate objects and then stalked away.

She picked up her painting, looking at Andrew then. From Andrew, to Milo, and back again. And White Eyes waited.

A pause, and then the sound of Katherine. You seem pleased, what's the occasion? She asked. Because she had to ask, and also, because Mrena was trying to listen to what was going on next.

[Wyrmbreaker] Andrew starts to peek around Lukas' legs, which causes Lukas to step aside. It could be seen as deference to a Fostern. It could also be that he doesn't like having a Garou that's neither packmate nor tribemate at his back.

The conversation changes at that point; Milo calls Andrew out. Lukas' eyebrows rise a notch. He keeps brushing his teeth, and when Katherine crests the top of the stairs, the corners of his mouth twitch a little.

Well, if the Virgin Queen isn't in a fine mood tonight.

[Andrew] He blinks a rather innocent and slow blink over at Milo. His furry brows lift in a very human 'who me?' way. His ears lift up curiously. Swivelling on his broad furry skull. Then it tilts, cocking to one side, and studying the other Fostern curiously.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Oh so? Her fair brows rise. I am not allow to be cheerful without some due cause?

Toward Milo and Nessa, the elder Bellamonte sister raises her hand in brief greeting; a corner of her mouth lifting in polite greeting. "Good evening to you both," she calls, her voice most entirely too sweet and honeyed to be simply caused by a light-hearted mood. The newly appointed Alpha drifts toward the nearest sofa and drapes herself onto it, crossing one long leg over the other and proceeding to fuss idly with strands of her hair.

[Nessa] For a plain-faced kinfolk, one who can or at least used to seem so unassuming, Nessa has been involved in directly or on the edge of perhaps more challenges in the last years since she had come to Chicago, than possibly any other kin she knows.
Wierd.
Then again, there is that to her which sets her aside, apart just enough, the sense that she isn't quite as tame as she might seem, a little wilder, a little more unpredictable than most. Her breeding, the hint of shadows to stand her out further, to suggest danger and mystery and more, Secrets and what it might be, to learn them.

Rather deliberately, the Shadowlord kinfolk woman turns her back on Andrew, moves towards Mrena with sure steps. Her brother will handle things.
"Privyet, Katherine. Mrena, did you wish to resume our ahh discussion, now, or later, perhaps?" Given there might be a fight, after all, or at least heated discussion in the common room. The kin offers Armstrong a drink of the potentially wyrm-or-at-least-flavor-tainted hot chocolate, a daring offer.

[Wyrmbreaker] Amused, the glance Wyrmbreaker casts across the room to Katherine. You're more than welcome to. It's just -- you're not. Usually.

With that he straightens up off the wall. All this time he's been brushing his teeth, a steady scritch-scritch-scritch of bristles over his pearly whites. Now he heads back into the bathroom to spit and rinse and all that.

[Nessa] (power makes katherine happy!)

[Milo] He takes in Katherine's new stance, the tilt of her head that denotes an Alpha, and he responds with a nod of greeting, his attention quickly back upon the lupus.

That look from Andrew seems to give him pause, even as it comes to his scarred face. Some Garou were unflinching in their action. Milo takes new stimuli into account. He is not the static ball of fury some of his kind could be. The Shadow Lord's voice certainly does not tremble with anger, but instead seems to cause things around him to tremble. Not Garou. Simple words often couldn't do that. But it is rolling thunder, these words coming off his tongue. And they might've been worse before Andrew's reaction is processed. If he was looking for a fight, he apparently isn't any longer.

"You have been told that the kin of Grandfather Thunder's brood are under the protection of his tribe, and off limits unless those chief amongst their protectors are consulted- on multiple occasions, if I understand correctly. I am not one of the Garou that smirks and makes jokes, and I will not make threats. These things are cheap and petty. I show respect, not only where it is due, but where it is inalienable to our people. And I offer the same to their kin," a gesture of his shoulder to show what he is getting at, toward where his own sister stands.

"You have violated what weren't requests, but rulings on my tribe's territory. At the moot you stood to speak for one of your kin, demanding payment. I have heard your thoughts on violence toward kin to keep them in line. I have heard my sister's views on you. You will not touch her, you will not stalk her, you will not take her possessions from her, and you will not menace her. Is that understood, Dances-on-Fire-yuf?"

[Zeke] Hunting. Searching. Seeking. Found.

The Chauffeur is dressed in differing shades of black this evening. The white shirt is gone, replaced by charcoal, while the tie is an off-grey better suited to ash then to dress apparel. Buttoned to the neck, the collar is a little higher then would be acceptable, touching the base of his adam's apple. His gaze is shadowed by a comfortable pair of eyeglasses, black rimmed and shaped like a circle, fitting snugly inside the eye sockets. His goatee is trim and his shoes are expensive. The jacket around his shoulders is short for a long coat, ending just before the knees.

...And the first thing he sees is Milo, half a word on his lips, then the remainder of the company and that word dies. Finally, he spies Nessa and then 'round swiftly to Milo's attentions. All this in a few seconds, leaving him to make a decision...

...Made, in the adjustment of his jacket and the casual footsteps made in the 'Lord kin's direction, an easy smile on his face and a somewhat protective stance (body between Agnessa and her brother, marching to confrontation).

"Evening." A nod toward Mrena and a glance up at Katherine. "Ladies."

[Andrew] His head tilts the other direction. He seems confused for a moment. His eyes drift lazily back and forth between Milo and Nessa. He recognizes the stance. The protectiveness. Maybe the other man has claimed her. They kissed afterall. He turns, chuffs, and shakes himself, questioning the reaction. And his hackles slowly rise up, bristly. "Your mate?"

[Nessa] She'd been about to say sometin to Zeke but--
Sudden, complete outrage takes her.
Andrew implies that.. she is FUCKING HER BROTHER and Nessa's breath is hissed inwards in fury, because
SHE IS NOT A FUCKING SILVER FANG!!!

[Armstrong] "Well, that depends on several factors," she said. "Does this discussion involve running? I think that, barring that, I see no reason not to continue."

She managed to get that out when, seemingly well-timed insertion, and then Milo said what he had to.

Which made all conversations, for the time being, cease for the time being. Mrena put the painting down and leaned it against her body. She listened, and all conversations seemed to continue onward in silence. Posture was too comfortable, and she was just... a little too observant. Mrena heard things. It was beneficial.

No, no you may not Katherine, it makes me nervous. She said. And, judging by the tone and the grin that she was desperately trying to keep of her face that she could not have been serious.

But she was searched for. saught. and found. And Zeke was up the stairs, around the corner, up the stairs, and there. He got a bit of a nod, silvery grey eyes flashing with a sense of familiarity. She owed him some shot gun shells. She hadn't forgotten. The theurge rolled her shoulders and adopted a comfortable posture.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lukas' retort is responded to with the faintest of frowns, the barest of lines appearing across the Philodox's brow for a moment as he ducked back into the bathroom proper to rinse his mouth. Milo's acknowledgement of her coaxes the smile back somewhat, as if it were attached to strings puppeteered by the reaction of her peers and betters to her newly appointed rise in pack station.

More arrivals; it seemed a universal truth then, where one pack member appeared, more were prone to follow. Mrena's response has the Silver Fang issuing the briefest of huffs through her lips and Katherine rises; her eyes briefly between the Shadow Lord and Andrew before she slips into the bathroom after her Beta and leans against the doorframe; her arms across her chest.

"May we talk a moment?"

Oh, the small social niceties of an aristocrat.

[Zeke] Zeke watches Katherine wander away, the smile on his face somewhat falsified and meager, coming to rest on Milo and Andrew and their unfolding confrontation, when...

"So" The gaze returns to Mrena, hands vanishing behind a well-tailored back "I don't suppose you've given anymore thought to my proposal?"

[Milo] "My sister," the word leaving his mouth for the second time, for further clarification's sake. "My kin. Claimed and under the protection of my tribe, at our Sept's past moot and before," and as the other Garou gives a lupine show of aggression, he returns it without a moment's hesitation, shoulders rolled and straight, his fingers curling half into fists at his side, his jaw set once the words leave his mouth as he faces down Andrew's mangled muzzle.

His eyes are still narrow, twin tempests of cobalt blue, cast in the deep shadow of his scowled forehead, going from the Lupus' scars and back across his form, examining and gauging the other Fostern.

[ Gift: Fatal Flaw. Perception + Empathy. ]

[Armstrong] "I've thought over parts of it," she said. Her posture was relaxed, as usual. Just watching the events unfold in front of her.

She looked at Zeke again for a moment, then pushed some of her hair back out of her face with a paint-flecked hand. Mrena was comfortable, but if nothing else she was confident.

"I have something for you, by the way," she said. An off-hand statement. Like she had just remembered it, or her attention was somewhere else. Zeke knew that her attention was rarely in the here and now.

[Andrew] There's a crackling crunching popping sound as he rises up from lupus. His body elongating, becoming bulkier with rounded muscle, sweatpants and a sweatshirt appearing from his fur. He takes a step towards the Fostern. "And what, wordy homid? Accuse me or shut your hole." His scarred visage twisted into something that might be a smile, a smirk, or it might just be... what he looks like. It's hard to tell with a face like that. And honestly, do you want to look at it that long?

[Zeke] "I know."

Confidence seemed to be the order of the day, though Zeke's attention shifted from Mrena and Agnessa to the developing situation between his Alpha and the CoG. A flickering hand lifts to adjust the buttons of his suit, fixing both top and below, Andrew's slow shift forcing Zeke to turn a half-measure to divide between Mrena and the escalating moment.

[Milo] [ Okay, Thestral's argument is that one extra success will only reveal that he has a phobia, I say it would reveal the nature of the phobia or at least a little more about it. We agreed to leave it up to consensus.

Fatal Flaw-- The Shadow Lord can discern a target's weakness, granting an advantage in combat. A Stormcrow teaches this Gift. System: The Shadow Lord must concentrate for one full turn. The player rolls Perception + Empathy (difficulty of the target's Wits + Subterfuge). Success grants the Garou an extra die of damage during combat with the target. Additional successes grant knowledge of one further weakness (although no further damage bonus is gained). Five successes reveal all of the target's flaws.

Just for anyone without their corebook. ]

[Nessa] (I'd say just generally phobia is waaay too loose. An exploitable weakness and what it is, is really what the Fatal Flaw extra success is about. So either the nature of the phobia, because this is mystically obtained knowledge, or something else exploitable.)

[Armstrong] "... which may need to wait until later," she said.

She looked at the escalating situation, blinking once... then twice for good measure. Then the posture that she adopted was not relaxed, but it was distinctly interested. She looked at the two of them with marked interest, head tilted to the side... though, admittedly, the gesture was more avian than lupine.

[Zeke] (Mmmm, Two successes would warrant the initial attention of the most grievious (Fatal being the operative word) flaw on the individual, while a further success endears knowledge of a secondary flaw or further knowledge of the first)

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is bent over the sink when Katherine walks in behind him, free hand braced on the edge. When he catches sight of her in the mirror he grins suddenly, a private amusement that has nothing at all to do with who she is, and everything to do with the fact that she's blonde, and rather lovely, and the only thing he can think is (what is it with blondes and following me into the bathroom) -- which is an absurd thought, because twice, for wholly different reasons, and neither of them really sexual in the end, is hardly a trend.

Nonetheless. He spits into the sink, rinses, gargles, spits again, and then washes out his mug. When he pours the last of the water down the drain, Lukas twists the tap off and turns around.

"Sure." He's amicable about this; perhaps he doesn't mind skipping the faceoff in the common room. They don't have to pass through the common room again to get to his room, though Lukas does stop at the laundry room to toss his towel into the basket.

Then he unlocks the door, pushes it open, and holds it for Katherine. This time, he lets her walk in first.

Shutting it behind him, he doesn't lock it, but does let it latch. He hangs his key from the knob on its lanyard. He's not the type to carry his keys around like this, really, but it's just convenient for this key, one of his two room keys, because when he bums around the Brotherhood he's often in this exact getup: a pair of drawstring pants, with or without a t-shirt, and neither with a pocket.

He hasn't replaced his room chair since Katherine smashed it. The only place to sit is on the bed. Whether she sits or stands, Lukas goes to his dresser and opens the second drawer, pulling out the topmost shirt and pulling it on. It's plain white, fitted, an undershirt, and as he turns he tugs the sleeves into place under his arms, where they'd twisted.

"What's up?" he wants to know. Amused, "I'm pretty sure I haven't put your kinfolks' heads in toilets recently."

[Wyrmbreaker] (i think maybe a hint at what it is, broadly. like if he was phobic of spiders, it might be like "he has a phobia that's related to animals")

[Bat] (( I'd agree with Joey on this one. It says it reveals "One further weakness" Not part of a further weakness.))

[Milo] Milo takes his own step, leaving him face-to-face with the other Garou. "I am tribal elder of Thunder's brood. You violate my territory and that which has been claimed by my tribe, violating that claim after you have been reminded of it. That is my accusation. I can make it no plainer," his eyes still leveled on the Garou, and though they do not lock on his unless the other Garou should force it it, they still do not submit. Even wolves are known to snap at each other without a fully-fledged conflict breaking out.

[Andrew] He stares down his nose at the fellow Theurge. And Fostern. And his fingers slowly clench. Knuckles tightening into fists. His reeking breath (what's he been EATING?!) gushing out in a warm rush against Milo's face when Andrew grunts and rolls his eyes in their sockets. "More words. I not touch your kin. I not hit them. I know who you have claimed. Get out of my face."

[Katherine Bellamonte] At the very least, were the scene in the common area to escalate too far to be salvaged, they had their Mistress of Challenges under the very same roof, if not with her keen eye on the antics at play. Perhaps though, as they bypass the scene itself and can hear the words being spoken Katherine has a moment of true empathy for the Shadow Lord; sibling Kinfolk could be rather a handful, one she knew only too well.

This time she is first into his modest abode and makes the most of it; settling herself on the end of his bed and drawing one leg beneath the other; her small hands resting over her knee. For all that she is rather amiable this evening; her expressions and even clothing belying her good mood her expression is perhaps best described now as thoughtful, verging on pensive.

"For which I am eternally grateful," she deadpans, and quirks her lips before schooling them into an expression of deliberate nonchalance. "I know that you are... involved with Danicka." Katherine leans back, and steadies herself with one arm behind her back.

"We spoke not so many days ago and it became apparent that she and Martin have been living together for some time. I do not think it is anything," Katherine's eyes shifted away from her Beta's face, the betraying stain of heat beginning to flood her face. "Intimate between them but I was unhappy that they did not reveal this sooner."

Her eyes return to his face, studying it. "I thought you would want to know."

[Milo] "You asked for words. For my accusation," still watching the other Garou.

Some might balk at the smell, but his nostrils flare, committing whatever food was rotting in his teeth to memory before he continues. "This is neutral ground. Too many Garou have been assaulted and cut down here over petty disagreements. I don't consider this petty," a pause.

"If you wish to hit me, though, there is a time and place for that. You say you know who I've claimed? Only a moment ago you asked if she was my mate. My kin tells me Garou have seen you touching her. Leaning into her. She says you sniff her crotch. She brought chocolates here for another Garou, and you took them. Homid have tried to make accommodations for your breed. We ask for the same. Where I would not try to force a ring upon a wolf kin, you will not use blatant displays of lupus dominance on my human kin," his words forceful now, a demand set for toward the Child of Gaia.

[Andrew] His mouth spreads, teeth bared, it could be a human smile, but it could be some sort of twisted leer. It's hard to tell with him. But he seems to relaxe some. Even letting out a few gruff huffs of a chuckle. But the amusement passes eventually and he flicks his eyes up and down over the man infront of him. "Finally, you say why you're so angry. So many words. So simple."

He lets his gaze go past Milo. His body language moving a bit to one side. His eyes flicked up and down Nessa. Then he returned his focus to Milo. "How dead is your wolf?" Tilting his head. Continuing. "I leaned on the couch she was on. I greeted her. I tried to play. She sees those different..." He shrugs. "I haven't tried to claim her. I know you humans like words. I'd say so."

[Zeke] "...I can wait for ten minutes if you want to continue watching."

He murmurs, his eyes leaving the scene to begin to root around inside his jacket, right breast. The features are crushed together into a concern; for what has yet to be revealed just now. Both Fosterns have resorted to the particulars of their Breed but it has yet to go beyond conversation. This did not mean it wouldn't. Simply-

"...Fists haven't gone off yet" Murmured "I'm shocked."

[Milo] He seems to take five of those words very seriously, How dead is your wolf?, and when Milo bares his teeth it is much more noticeably not to grin.

And, as if in reaction to Zeke's words, as much as to Andrew's, Milo seems ready to press things to fists. "Other Garou see it as different. Maybe if you had true respect for kin, you would be off saving yours in Gaia's wilderness rather than in the city. Instead of chasing around a ball in here. If you hate words, maybe that's where you should go. But I don't give a shit if you go to Malfeas, as long as you stay away from my kin."

[Zeke] ...Zeke's hand stops it's rummaging as Milo speaks again, the Metis' eyes lifting up to stare at Nessa without really regarding her. The hand goes from searching to gripping something rather tightly within the confines of the jacket...

[Armstrong] "Only a matter of time," she said. It was to Zeke, more than anything.

Something about the statement spoke clearly of knowing, of observations. However, being who she was, seeing as how she was not as relaxed now, and not quite as comfortable in her own posture, one could tell that she was waiting for something.

Then? Across the totem link. Katherine, this might become something that the Mistress of the Challenge is required... or, at the very least, we may need an impartial Philodox. She didn't move at that point.

[Nessa] Her eyes meet Zeke's, and damned if he does't look like he's got hold of a gun in his pocket.
Her brow raises in dark question at the metis, as she takes a small step closer to Mrena. "Perhaps another time, is better for your work with me, Mrena? Since you have business with Zeke. I am easy to reach when you are free next."
Plus, she is getting really pissed, from the tightening of her lips, the clenching of her fists and the sensation of boiling anger as Andrew says what he has said, insults several Shadowlords, most of them present and all of them near.

[Wyrmbreaker] She knows he's involved with Danicka.

No; that's not the right way to put it. What she said was: I know you are involved with Danicka. With a deliberate little pause, and a tiny stress on the word. Lukas' turns to face Katherine, leaning against his desk. When he folds his arms across his chest, his biceps and his pectorals form a solid wall of strength, bunching under his plain cotton shirt.

His face is closed; if it betrays anything at all, it's a faint little smile, though his eyes are not laughing. "Oh, do you. I hadn't even realized I was 'involved'."

He says this, velvet-soft, perhaps dangerous, jealous of his privacy, his blue eyes glittering. He says this, and meanwhile, behind Katherine and beneath her, his sheets smell like the woman whose name neither of them have actually spoken yet. Because Danicka is not her name, and Danička is not a word that left Lukas' lips.

But it doesn't matter what he says or doesn't say, because then Katherine goes on, and his eyelids flicker once, not quite a blink; his face might as well be marble. That, if nothing else, tells her that he did not know this. He honestly had no idea, and didn't even suspect, though in retrospect: fuck, was he an idiot to not have added two and two together.

"Hm." That's all, in the end. "Interesting." Another beat, and the Ahroun's pale blue eyes track the spreading stain of red on the Silver Fang's face. "I know why you think it matters to me; why does it matter to you?"

[Hatchet] The door to Room 9 opens, closes, and soft footsteps pad around the corner and down the hall and around the other corner until Buried Hatchet arrives in the common room. He is in jeans, socked feet, and a black t-shirt that allows the scars on his arms to be seen. In his left hand is the neck of a guitar. Used. Acoustic. But cleaned up. The look on his face is one of good cheer and --

Oh.

The smile leaves Hatchet's lips, flick from Andrew to Zeke to Milo to Armstrong and then, briefly, over at Nessa. Copper-cold eyebrows hop up on his face, and he blinks.

[Andrew] He snorts again and bares his teeth in turn. A feral sounding growl rising from his throat. "More wasted words. You only try to provoke. At least the Fenrir fights. You just talk talk." He lets out a few heavy chuffs of laughter and shakes his head. "Challenge me, or..." A pause as he tilts his head head. Yes, those were the rights words. "Go fuck yourself."

[Armstrong] "There's no challenge here. You were warned, you didn't listen, and there are consequences," she said. Stated.

She folded her arms across her chest, glancing at Zeke briefly, and at first she didn't notice Hatchet. It took, however, all of two seconds to do so and look at him. His eyebrows raised, he blinked, and she gave a slight upward nod. Acknowledgment.

[Zeke] "...Milo."

He knew where this could potentially lead. Zeke turns to regard the Shadowlord Fostern's back, his voice half-caution and half-attention grabbing. Ragabash, composure in a tense situation, eroding under the pressures of the moment. Zeke walks the dozen or more paces it would take to reach his Alpha's side, without looking at Andrew, no instead, just staring off to one side while he spoke.

"Mrena's right. No challenge here and he doesn't have his ignorance to hide behind anymore. He does anything and we put him to the wall, on his renown and whatever else is necessary. That simple."

[Nessa] Nessa breathes out suddenly, a faint sound, harsh disbelief, disgust.
And she walks towards the door with no other word spoken, around Zeke, intending on going around Hatchet too.

Suddenly, she no longer wants to be anywhere near, and its not just the press of rage. The cold air of Chicago's winter is more welcome just now than the Brotherhood.

[Milo] "His actions are the challenge!" This is a different Garou now, shouting with rage, spit flying out with the human roar. And although it seem to answer his packmate's words, it's right into Andrew's face. "I do not provoke. You violate claimed kin, territory, honorless idiot. And now you try and act the innocent for it. You have been warned. Stay away from the kin of my pack and my tribe, dog, or it's your ass. Understood? If not, take it to the otherside and we see how it goes."

[Zeke] (I'm gonna need Initiative's folks)

[Katherine Bellamonte] She knows him well enough by this point to be capable of reading the tiny nuances of his varied non-expressions. Lukas had many and she was not unaware of his dislike of discussing anything remotely intimate with her -- or with any of them, both most definitely with her -- and, for almost as long as they had been packed together, this maintenance of non disclosure between them had worked without a flaw.

For the most part because they were both of such a nature that all they ever had to discuss (or disagree) upon was her elder brother's whereabouts, or what strategic move their pack needed to make next to best secure their forward momentum. Never sex, never romance -- if the latter even entered into play for either of the two Garou present.

He wasn't aware he was involved, he re-stresses at her and Katherine's gaze turns degrees cooler; much as her smile dries on her lips, becomes something wryer, far more jaded and knowledgeable. "Come, Lukas. Do you believe me entirely blind? Why do you think I invited Sam to stay at the Loft to recover? It was not all pure saintliness on my behalf." Her eyebrow twitches.

"Things are tense enough without him being forced to watch Danicka run and take cover in your bedroom." Her color is still high, and she grimaces only for an instant when he asks the reason for her own interest. "Ilari Martin is my own relation, is that not reason enough?"

To Mrena: ....has there been a challenge officially issued?

[Andrew] ((Init + 7))

[Zeke] Dex 3 + Wits 4 +...

[Milo] [ Init + 7 ]

[Zeke] (that is for anyone involved or wishing to be involved currently in the common room)

[Hatchet] Hatchet, standing in the doorway between hallways and common room, does not need to be passed for Nessa to leave. He wouldn't stop her. He has no clue what is going on, other than the fact that Shadow Lords are arguing with Andrew, which...isn't the most surprising thing he's seen lately.

"Ah, fuck," he mutters, at Milo's words.


[Init + 7]

[Armstrong] (might as well! dex2+stealing the totem bonus2+wits3=7 +1d10)

[Zeke] (Posting order for actions:

Mrena
Andrew
Zeke
Hatchet
Milo

Post your Actions/Declarations in reverse order please.)

[Zeke] (Though it should be noted? Zeke would be interrupting Milo before he finished speaking...)

[Milo] [ Holding Milo's action to see how Zeke is interrupting. ]

[Hatchet] [Walking back to his room.]

[Zeke] Milo gets out the first portion of his tirade out. His actions are the Challenge and it speaks volumes to Zeke, standing just off t his alpha's left. Milo's attention is written on Andrew, leaving Zeke to act, his head turning to regard the Lupus full in the eye and a hand emerging over Milo's shoulder, clutching one of his black driving gloves.

The garment flies outward, intent on snapping across Andrew's cheek with a re-sounding Thwap and a sharp, interrupting-

"Challenged."

(Initial Action: Glove slapping Andrew across the face)

[Andrew] Raising an arm to block the glove as he snarls and visibly restrains himself from attacking Zeke or Milo out of pure reaction to the glove. "Then call out the Mistress of Challenges." This part obviously to Mrena. Well, hopefully obvious.

[Armstrong] Has there been an official challenge issued?
There's not been an official challenge issued, she stated. Posture was straight and perfect and fine.

thwap.

I stand corrected. There has been an official challenge issued.

[Wyrmbreaker] A flare of anger, instantaneous: "No one forced him to watch anything, Kate. He's a grown Fenrir and --"

And then he snaps his mouth shut, the corner of his jaw flexing as he bears down for a second. Forces himself back to calm.

"Enough." Steady now. "I said I will not discuss my private affairs with the pack; I meant it.

"As for your private affairs -- well. I seriously doubt your concern with Ilari Martin is strictly familial, but it'd be the worst sort of hypocrisy for me to pry, wouldn't it?" His mouth slants on a hard, mirthless smile, almost a baring of teeth. "You know how I feel about him, but what you do with your kin is your business."

[Hatchet] Hatchet is whistling as he walks back to his room. Nothing in particular. Just an old theme song. Just some Mancini.

The door to Room +9 opens. And closes. Again.

[Nessa] (Ok good luck guys! night!)

[Milo] Milo watches the glove slap out at Andrew, whether it hits or not, and takes a step from Zeke and the other Garou he has just been berating to little effect for some time, folding his hands over his chest. His expression seems neutral until his eyes fall back onto Dances-on-Fire, then full of disgust.

[Zeke] Zeke let's his arm fall aside, the glove tucking itself back into the jacket pocket.

"You're in Human territory, four~leg. Time you understood about human custom." It's all he says as the call for the Rite mistress goes out, eyes failing to settle on Andrew and instead, lift to regard Milo, nodding.

"We call this a No Moon courtesy boss. Can't let you bludgeon your head and words against a rock that won't listen. Waste of your wisdom. Waste of our time."

[Zeke] (Rolling Persuasion: Cha (3) + Sub (2). Diff 6)

[Andrew] Smirking. "You challenge over nothing." His lips pulled back from his teeth on one side, refusing to step back, ready, apparently, to accept whatever challenge Zeke thinks there will be. "You insult humans, if this is their custom."

[Katherine Bellamonte] "You are not discussing your affairs with the pack, you're discussing them with me, Lukas." She overpowers the final words out of his mouth even before he is done speaking them; the Silver Fang's posture stiffening and all sense of her earlier mood vanishing from her face; her relaxed body language instantly replaced with a creature on edge; irritated.

And then, Katherine's back stiffens and her attention is drawn toward the door. She expels a breath and pushes herself to her feet; eyes on her second. "We are not finished with this discussion, but it will have to wait until they are done bloodying the floor again."

With this, Katherine crosses to the door and opens it; stepping into the midst of the proverbial fray. Her pale eyes search out first her pack-mate and then the other Garou present; a muscle in the regal Silver Fang's jaw flexes. "I was informed there has been a challenge issued here?"

[Zeke] "Don't use words you can't spell, Four-leg."

He lifts his gaze from Milo to glance at the standing presence of Katherine, her regal presence calling for a semblance of calm and silence to the area. It is a presence Zeke listens to, his words trailing away to a murmur meant for Andrew's ears, until Katherine speaks up.

"I did. To" A nod down at Andrew, keeping his eyes "Ugly, here."

[Zeke] keeping his eyes averted from the Theurge^

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas doesn't follow Katherine out. He stays in his room.

(post around me people!)

--

[Zeke] The scene disperses, leaving Zeke alone on the street for a few moments, as the lupus vanishes across the Gauntlet and Katherine begins to wander that way as well. It isn't until the audible pop of Andrew vanishing that Zeke's attention and features take on a new cast and his head lifts to orient on where his Alpha can be located, nodding a 'go ahead'.

"Katherine..." Zeke coughs, dislodging a chunk of mucus and blood the size of a ping-pong ball and hacking it up into the street. One hand rises, while he continues to cough as if to plead to bare with him for a moment.

[Meridian's Truth] (awesome! *lets him know, runs type!*)

[Meridian's Truth] Truth's Meridian was not walking particularly fast, her step was thoughtful at best. At the sound of her name, coughed out of the Ragabash's throat she paused and turned, one hand rising to brush aside strands of fair hair from her brow.

"Yes? Was there something else?"

Inquired, as the regal Fang observed his coughing and spluttering from a safe distance; she did not want blood on her shoes.

[Wyrmbreaker] The Brotherhood has not yet gained enough substantiality in the umbra to even have more than a vague shadow-presence there. When Wyrmbreaker crosses over in the downstairs bathroom, they can see him materializing, a hand first, an arm, a head, shoulders, the rest -- as though pushing across a thick and opaque membrane.

He walks directly toward them when he sees them, passing through the quasi-real walls with little more effort than a man wading through water. He looks at Zeke for a moment, eyebrows rising, and then silently takes his place beside the Fang.

[Fell Prayer] The clearing of Milo's own throat is much... Clearer? It's a more clear indicator that he wishes for her attention, should she think Zeke is just coughing up blood after the thrashing given by the other Garou, perhaps rendering his delivery of her name indecipherable.

He still wears his ape-skin, though he had seemed ready to take another form should the other Garou's brutality or the case of a frenzy make it necessary.

He seems ready to speak, but when he hears the pop-tear of the Gauntlet that heralds Lukas' arrival he takes a moment.

"Do you think that was the carriage of a wolf born to his Auspice? Of a balanced Wolf? That kind of uncontrollable battering, following an assertion of territory over kin? He plays innocent, but he's had his warnings," pointing to Lukas. "From your own pack mate. He is packless. His liberties cannot be tolerated."

He looks to Zeke, for whatever words he had planned to deliver.

[Zeke] More coughing. More mucus. The internal bleeding must have been a lot more severe then originally thought, as the Ragabash points at Milo and nods, as if to pass on the questions he's got to his Alpha. Then, Zeke is marching off down the street a small ways to have himself a coughing fit, more of the blood and pus vomited up and spat into the street. Dark men don't blush often but Zeke's got a healthy shade of rich red going at the moment.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is casually dressed, but his carriage is flawless. He folds his hands behind his back as he comes to a stop -- not flanking Kate but simply beside her, forming a clear phalanx of unity.

His eye lingers another moment on Zeke, beaten and battered. Then they come back to Fell Prayer.

"What exactly is it you want of Truth's Meridian, Fell Prayer-rhya?"

[Meridian's Truth] Katherine feels Lukas emerge and come to stand beside her, whatever thoughts or words are exchanged between the two must be silent, for aside from briefly turning to meet the pale eyes of her second the Philodox retains her silence as Fell Prayer speaks his piece.

The Royalist purses her lips.

Inclines her chin as her Beta voices her thoughts, and adds, after a pause: "The challenge itself was instigated not by Dances on Fire-Rhya, but by your own pack-mate, Fell Prayer-Rhya," Katherine's eyes skip between Milo and the spluttering, hunched figure of Zeke.

"As that stands it was a fair fight. As for the accusations regarding Dances on Fire-Rhya," she tilts her head. "I find I echo Wyrmbreaker when I ask why you seek my council on him."

[Fell Prayer] He's turned a scowl toward the state of his pack mate and Ragabash, harsh cobalt blues cast in deep shadows as his eyebrows furrow, before returning Lukas's gaze and then moving back to Katherine.

His words are slow and sure. He may not be eloquent, but he is convincing and can lay his hands on the reins of a conversation easily. He brings all of that to the table, along with what stud's mark of pure breed he carries, the features inherent of those spawn produced from half-heroes humping away to replenish Gaia and the Grandfather's numbers. All things a Silver Fang might appreciate. All tools he cannot afford not to use, now. That, and the silvered tongue of the spirits.

"We are thin on lawsayers and those who can preach the Litany with conviction and authority in this Sept. My questions are clear, though, Wyrmbreaker. I wish for the thoughts of your Philodox and Alpha on this matter, on the actions of Dances-on-Fire, not simply for her eyes to have set on the beating to referee it. This runs deeper than fists, claws, teeth. A challenge is often not only set forth to illustrate the hierarchy. Especially by a No Moon, as Host of Traitors has shown. They can draw fine lines where abstracts stood before, indicating the true character of a Garou. I think both of you can appreciate this," looking back and forth between the two, but his eyes fall back on Katherine, Mistress of the Challenge, and hold.

"Garou have witnessed his actions toward kin, and still he persists. He lacks both in control, a virtue of wisdom, and in honor. Yet at the moot he demands payment for his kin, enforcing such laws over them. Our own claims of protection are ignored. He stalks. He steals. He violates personal pace, and claims it is his right."

[ Gift: Persuasion. ]

[Zeke] "-He's a waiting Disaster."

Bellowed with the last of the upbringing, Zeke leaning on his knees with both hands, drool flecking his lips and a long string of it wiped from it's precarious perch on his lower lip. He flicks the excess into the street and stumbles his way back over, all deep breaths and wide eyed blinking.

"Won't listen. Can't listen. Not to anyone who ain't his Alpha, which he doesn't have. Not to an equal, several have tried, including Milo. Not to a Lesser" An eye at Lukas. "Time the Elders took some action. Balance~Without~Fault~rhya's gotta have some hefty punishment rites under his belt. If not him then some of the other Half-moon's of the Sept. One of them has to be appropriate for Dances~rhya."

He glances across at Milo, then, another deep breath drawn.

"...We're going before them at the next Moot to present a case. Need the backing of the Law to make it legitimate and not just about whining. If he won't listen to reason from an Alpha he doesn't have, an Equal in rank and Auspice or a Lesser with a grievance" An eye cast at Lukas "Then maybe he'll listen when they speak."

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker's teeth clench abruptly. He takes a step forward. It would be easy to read aggression in that, but he checks himself, plants his feet, speaks.

"Oh, poorly done, Rhya." Very soft, this. "You would use a Gift on your own tribesmate and on the Mistress of Challenges? You would stoop to these tactics with us, your allies, to try to force our assistance -- when you dare not protect your kin against a Child of Gaia Theurge yourself?

The words hangs in the air between them. Lukas is dead calm, dead cold.

"Now," softer still, "it is utterly true that Andrew is out of control. He has infringed upon the territory of the Shadow Lord Tribe. But it was your duty as the Elder of our Tribe to force him back where he overstepped the line. That is the burden you undertook the day I ceded eldership to you. Whether by rhetoric or by law or by force, it was your duty to protect the interests of our tribe.

"And quite frankly, Rhya, when I passed the torch, I had prepared us well for the day Andrew-rhya overstepped himself. Our case was unshakable. He had been warned, by myself. He had given his word to not harass or court my kin without express permission, from me. When I passed tribal leadership to you, Fell-Prayer-rhya, I passed all associated vows and claims on. He was bound by his word. All you needed to do was drag his sorry hide before the Grand Elder and demand a reckoning. Or, you could have called Mrena and I to your aid. You could have called the Tribe together and beat his face in for daring to break his word. At the very least, Rhya, you could have challenged him yourself.

"Instead, you talked at him -- not in the Caern, not at the moot, but informally. You let your Ragabash challenge him in your stead. You let your packmate get pounded into the dust by him."

If either Fell Prayer or Host of Traitors have ever doubted the Unbroken Circle's tight bonds, this alone would prove them true. Lukas had not seen an instant of the challenge, nor much of the conversation behind it. Yet he speaks of these things as if he had been there -- with utter clarity and confidence.

And quietly. All this, quietly, with a low, subtle intensity.

"And now it's too late. Whatever that fool's challenge was about, the entire Sept will see it as our inability to protect our own kin. Worse, by your own admission, this isn't even the first time you've lost a fight over kin. You have shamed us, Rhya. You have made us look weak."

"So you come to Meridian's-Truth, full of vim and vitriol, as if it's her duty to fight your battle for you. Now, what my Alpha decides is her business. But my counsel to her is this: let Fell Prayer-rhya fight his own damn battles for once. Let him protect his own kin himself, if he can."

[Fell Prayer] [ Small point: I have never seen it played Garou tell that gifts such as Persuasion are being used. If that's a site rule, then Milo would not have used the gift. But I've never seen that before. ]

[Wyrmbreaker] (not a site rule -- there's a bit in the book where it says gift activation is always noticeable)

[Wyrmbreaker] (if you wanna retroactively nix that, just take out the first paragraph of lukas' rant *LOL*)

[Fell Prayer] [ Alright, well I wasn't clear on that. I'm sure the rest of the post stands, but can we clear that part of it since:

First, Milo would not have used it, so sure it's nixed.

And second, the effects of the gift weren't played in your post, just him being pissed about its use, either way. ]

[Meridian's Truth] Lukas' temper is stirred; Katherine, pack-mate and closed to him can feel the strength of his reaction and yet, curiously, she does not prevent his words. She merely turns her head to one side; offering the other men present the profile of her finely crafted features as he speaks; deathly low and perfectly calm -- the quiet lash of recrimination.

Arms over her chest, the Philodox seems perfectly patient in waiting for the end of her second's words, when Lukas quiets it is Katherine's turn to offer her voice and so she does, hers far more enriched with polite candor than her Beta's; the same sweet honeyed poison of rhyme and reason retained, however.

"It is not the first occasion that I have seen Dances on Fire-Rhya brought to hand for over-stepping his bounds, yet what Lukas says is true. By all rights this should have been brought to the eyes and ears of the Council Elders; they would have been able to provide a fitting conclusion to this mess. Dances on Fire-Rhya is in violation of ignoring official requests to respect both claims of ownership to Kinfolk and of respecting the territory of another warrior. This would be my opinion now, and before the Grand Elder."

The female's pale eyes tick to read her Beta's tightly drawn expression, return to face Milo.

"If you want my views as a Half Moon at the Moot to call upon in this matter, you may have them. Though I stand beside what my pack-mate has said, what I believe I offered to you earlier this evening, Rhya. This challenge should have for-filled by your own fists, not that of Host of Traitors."

[Fell Prayer] "Next time you pass a torch, Wyrmbreaker, first be sure the recipient knows it's already on fire," speaking in response to the other Shadow Lord's words. "Or about to smolder too close to the grip. If you think his beating of a Ragabash Metis who did not raise his fists in defense, to illustrate his lack of control and his way of handling matters of honor, not questions of strength and glory, makes us look weak, you are mistaken. The challenge had to do with his handling of my calling him out, before other Garou. To his answer to rightful, by your and your Alpha's admission, questions of ettiquete and honor. I allowed my Ragabash his day to strengthen our case," this last part delivered between the two of the Unbroken Circle, his gaze drifting back and forth, giving both his tribemate and the Mistress of the Challenge equal time.

"If you think these options you enumerate are not still on the table, you are also mistaken," returning the Ahroun's gaze, just as firm in his own words and conviction he has delivered thus far and continues to now. "And understand, no words passed between Fostern, one a tribal elder, concerning kin, are informal. But if I cannot convince you otherwise, with words, which I don't expect to be able to, then I hope my further action in this matter will."

And now, square on Truth's Meridian, the next matter her two separate agreements states. "That is what I sought, and I do apologize if my reasoning was taken as 'vim and vitriol'. I thought instead it would speak to my confidence in your authority."

[Zeke] Lukas retort draws a reaction from Zeke, much more body language then Milo has in his reply. The Ragabash darts his head back a touch as Lukas' Rage plumes off of him in waves. His features fall into furrows that could resemble a frown and perhaps it is noticeable by some but of all those here, Zeke is the Metis. The Mud-blooded. With as much Pureblood that stands here, his expressions and reactions might well remain unnoticeable.

He keeps his eyes on Lukas, something hidden beneath the surface clicking into place or cementing itself over. Dismissed for later as he returns to the conversation, with Katherine's reply on the heels of Lukas' diatribe. He listens without interrupting and offers a nod at the end of her statement. Confirmation. Then Milo begins to speak and once again Zeke begins to listen. It isn't until Milo explains Zeke's reasons, that the Ragabash quips up with a low toned but audible interruption.

"There's no need to explain to him anything about our reasons or ways. Ahroun's reason as Ahroun's think. That's always been the way." Those eyes haven't left Lukas much, keeping him within the Periphery, until Zeke is finished speaking. Then he returns to his study of the Ahroun, thumbs sliding into his belt.

[Wyrmbreaker] (this is theoretically happening like.... over the wknd sometime, right?)

[Zeke] (Mmmm, No, tonight. The Entire scene would be like the moot. Happens when the Challenge is completed.)

[Fell Prayer] [ Can we wrap after this round? Need to crash, the significant other is very unhappy I'm playing the keyboard right now.]

[Zeke] (Mmmm, doable.)

[Wyrmbreaker] On the contrary, Lukas is far from fuming. There's an iron control over him: he reins his anger in so tightly it is barely there, barely visible. When Meridian's Truth agrees to testify, a muscle in his jaw flexes and relaxes; earlier, when Fell prayer had spoken, there was much the same.

Other than that -- a glacial stillness. And Lukas has no more to say on the subject of Andrew, Nessa -- the rest of it. It's settled. He's not pleased with it, and anyone can see that; but it's settled.

Instead, he listens to Fell Prayer, and then to Host-of-Traitors. He doesn't blink when Fell Prayer accuses him of passing on a -- for lack of better words -- shitstorm ready to break; he doesn't bother to address that accusation. Likewise, there's a flicker in his face when Zeke insults him, a hard, mirthless smile, there and then gone. He lets that pass, too.

When they are finished he says only one thing, and his to Fell-Prayer:

"When we met, I believed you an honorable Garou in whose mind the War is foremost. Thus far, in your choice of packmates and actions, I have been somewhat disappointed. But I know your path is not mine, and I have defended you on that point when others would accuse you. I am still reserving my final opinion until I have seen more.

"Still. Rhya, I formally ask for guardianship over the kinswoman Danička Musil." A pause. "I will challenge you if you like."

[Wyrmbreaker] (sorry man! i was thinking *LOL*)

[Meridian's Truth] Katherine smiles at Fell Prayer's words toward her, it is not a preening expression as some might expect from the noble Fang, but rather one mingled with wry humor and a touch of sarcasm. "You do not need to flatter to gain my assistance, Rhya, on that I assure you, Oui."

Lukas speaks out; Katherine's eyebrows rise as he asks for guardianship over Danicka and from the faint huff of air through her nose, it would appear his Alpha has definite thoughts on this matter. But she keeps them to herself -- for now.

[Fell Prayer] "This I considered a matter of Sept. Barring the moot, I see the Brotherhood a forum, but it is your pack's house and should they see my words as mistimed and misplaced I apologize," the words genuine, but with his tone and wording perhaps only because he's apologizing for their perception or misconceptions of the situation.

"Meet me tomorrow and we will discuss this matter of tribe," a nod and finality, "as I must tend to my pack mate. Until then the guardianship is split, as I said at the moot- whoever would rise to defend the virtue of our kin and the integrity of our stock. " and with that, he turns to Zeke, to see how he has healed thus far and walk off with the Ragabash.

[Zeke] He doesn't smile or seem to shift his stance much when Lukas turns that cold and humourless smile on. His reply is a scowl and a faint cluck of the tongue. When Katherine speaks,he turns to regard her.

"...I'll present the case at the moot. If you've got any questions or need-to-knows, then feel free to ask. Beyond that, appreciate your time and overseeing of the challenge, Truth~yuf."

And then he's back to setting eyes on Lukas. He was patient. Let them play out the formalities as necessary. When Milo finishes, Zeke turns to regard him and nods. He was ok. It isn't until Milo's ready to walk, that Zeke turns to regard Lukas again, a sharp intake of breath offered.

"You and I need to talk...at some point. I've got some questions..."

[Fell Prayer] [ Gotta run, thanks for the scene! Was fun! Night! ]

[Wyrmbreaker] The Ahroun's pale eyes turn on Zeke for a moment, considering. "You know where to find me," he says, with a certain cool formality.

The Lords of Goblin depart, leaving one Lord, one Fang.