a liability.

[Sam Modine] Earlier today it had been almost comical to watch the giant Glabro from of Sam Modine hopping on one good leg and dragging the other behind him to the bathroom grumbling something about Katerina taking the good crutches. With the tendons in his arms mostly healed though he's at least got the use of both hands and has been able to wrap his immense form with bandages and balms over the healing flesh. He'd showered finally, as well and even managed to catch an hour or so of sleep in his own bed.

After meditation he'd reemerged, this time though it was late evening and he wasn't wearing the almost permanent scowl he'd had on since two nights prior. Instead he's been almost serene, stretched out in a pair of jeans and no shirt on the sectional. This isn't to say he isn't covered up, he's got said bandages criss crossing all about his chest and arms, large lumps of gauze making uneven spots around him.

Currently he's back in charge of the television, after having passed it off to each person who'd joined him throughout the day and he seems to be fairly engrossed in SportsCenter.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas hasn't been around the Brotherhood much since the other night. He took his shower; he fixed himself up; he left. He spent some time at the Caern, more time on the streets, came back in the early morning to shower and eat and sleep all day. Come nightfall he was gone again.

Rinse and repeat. Only now, downstairs, the back door of the Brotherhood opens. It's cool enough outside, and windy enough, to justify long coats. Lukas's falls to the knee, dark, but it's a lighter material than his winter coat, the lining not so heavy. It doesn't impede his stride when he comes up the stairs two at a time, sifting through his mail as he comes.

Catalog. Catalog. Credit card bill. Junk mail ... and a letter from his parents, which makes a tiny smile lift the corner of his mouth. He tucks it into the inside pocket of his overcoat, and then his head breaches into the second story, and he sees Sam Modine on the couch.

The smile drops off his face. He frowns at the Modi; his greeting is a rather grudging "Sam." Then he's walking out of the common room, undoing his overcoat as he goes, heading for his room.

[Sam Modine] His eyebrows go up and his head cranes absently as his eyes flick back and forth from the glow of the day's box scores and highlights of hockey playoffs and April baseball to identify who it is coming up the stairs. Knowing it's a packmate is one thing but their bond is weaker of late with all of those bonded so far apart and so which one isn't something he deduces before Lukas actually appears on the landing. "Hey." He responds as his right hand reaches off the couch to grab the remote and flick his wrist in the direction of the television, hitting the power button.

"Hey, wait..." He's rolling onto the floor in a position simililar to a pushup at first, then getting to the one good knee and balancing himself on the coffee table to stand and hobble-chase the Shadow Lord toward his room.

"C'mon," He's just slightly out of breath when he approaches the door, even though he hasn't really gone all that far. "I'm not exactly moving so well." The voice is deep, booming by virtue of the sheer size of him in this form.

"Can we talk?"

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Got room for another? *hopeful*)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (yup, but i gotta go to bed in an hour or so!)

[Mrena Armstrong] She had not yet forgotten that she was, in fact, still in the middle of a challenge.

And she had no clue when aforementioned challenge was going to end [Bullshit. She knew exactly when it was going to end. It was going to end when she gave up (unlikely) or when she proved herself worthy of leading. This was going to last as long as it takes] Which, of course, sparked the thought and philosophical debate in her head as to what, precisely, a leader did.

There were papers written over this. Dissertations and scholarships given and much musing done over the amorphous concept of good leadership. She thought over definitions, she thought over what she had seen succeed and what she had seen fail. More importantly, Mrena thought of why some strategies failed for some while the same strategies succeeded for others.

Mrena Armstrong had done all of this thinking, however, while she was washing her hair. And she thought until the water ran cold.

Which was, of course, when something hit her that was almost unrelated. "Well, sonofabitch."

She turned the water off .

---

White Eyes headed out of the bathroom with a towel on. Through the common room, off to her room. "Hey, Sam." she said

And then? There was Lukas, and he was headed to his room. And there was that thought again, reminded by ice cold water. "Hey Lukas, I need to talk to you."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "We have nothing left to talk about, Sam." Lukas doesn't turn; he continues out of the room, though if Sam pursues him as far as the hall the Shadow Lord turns to face him.

As if he didn't trust Sam at his back anymore.

The cool blue eyes flick past the Modi; they go to Mrena. He considers the Theurge a moment, and then he lifts his chin.

"Come on in," he says. Unlocks his door, waits for Mrena to catch up.

[Sam Modine] Sam goes into his room.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] A blast of chill night air was all that heralded the Silver Fang as he stepped through the front door of the Brotherhood before making his way up the stairs deep in thought. The cajun had a great many things to reflect upon, forefront in this the fact that many if not all of his new-found packmates thought him to be possessing a higher opinion of himself than he truly was. That he carried a sort of... arrogance about himself that had been mentioned previously by others, but not as a fault. More, that it was because he was who he was.

Sampson had mentioned that Caleb considered himself Mrena's better, that he lorded himself over her. Thinking back on this, he never considered such. He had leant the woman some of his wife's clothing, had given her a birthday gift worth a king's ransom, and more often than not did his level best to answer whatever question she had to ask.

Lukas, his newfound beta, also agreed that he carried a sort of hubris about him. It was a puzzlement to be sure, but... It is said that many do not know the way they act unless told of it.

The stairs were climbed until he reached the commons: Mrena and Lukas had ventured into the ahroun's room, and the Fenrir had likewise done so. Not wishing to intrude, the Silver Fang slipped his coat off and hung it over an arm until he found a suitable place to sit down. Finding that his bottle of cognac and wine glass hadn't vanished, he poured himself another drink and instead of partaking right at that moment, he merely swirled the contents and stared into the dark reddish liquid.

[Mrena Armstrong] He waited for her to catch up; this was fortunate, as that she had to make a pit stop to her room to put clothes on. This, of course, was fairly important for her. Getting dressed, however, only took a few moments... Mrena wasn't too incredibly concerned with matching. Besides, it was hard to make jeans-and-a-tee-shirt not match.

Come on in, he said.

And so? She did. The theurge pushed some of her hair back out of her face, the not-so-dry ends leaving marks where it hit her shirt. Today, the shirt of choice was grey. Anyrate. Next thought. "I've got two things I want to talk to you about... which do you want to hear first, an explanation or the next moot?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Whichever." He starts to push his room door open; then, after a beat of consideration, raises his voice.

"Hey, Caleb. Why don't you come in here too."

Pack business, and all.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb brightened somewhat about being included, and grabbed the bottle as well as his glass before throwing the coat over his shoulder to step along a bit quickly to join the two Shadow Lords.

It was rapidly becoming clear to Caleb that not all of Grandfather Thunder's ilk were out to see him fail. Perhaps not outright cause it, but perhaps wouldn't take it amiss in any case. These two were pack - he had to trust them to a certain degree.

[Mrena Armstrong] So where did she choose to start? Well, she started with the easiest to... well, no, neither was really easy to explain per se. But.. well, here goes.

"I'm starting with the explaination you had asked for," she said. Stated. Because, as she had said a night before, wisdom was nothing without clarity.

"I didn't tell you, or anyone in the pack for that matter, that I was courted for another pack because I did not see reason to burden you with something I hadn't considered detrimental. When asked about it, I answered you honestly. I thought of the entire incident with Zeke as..."

a pause, then?

"When he asked, or made intent known I was genuinely caught offguard because I had no idea that another pack wanted me. And I declined, and let them know that I wasn't going to voluntarily abandon my pack."

Another pause.

"Though, this doesn't change the fact that I have violated your trust. And it brings up a larger issue in that I don't communicate with you, or any of my packmates, or anyone for that matter, very easily or very openly... but I don't have anything to hide from you, so.." she said. Okay, there it was... and she continued. Big leap. "If you have anything you want me to say or wish I would say or questions you have, I'll answer them. And that doesn't mean right now, and that doesn't mean for a period indefinite, it's a standing statement."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Once in his room, Lukas shuts the door -- doesn't lock it. Mrena takes a seat on the desk chair, or the desk itself; Lukas throws himself onto his bed perpendicular to its axis: his back to the wall, his knees hooked over the edge. He leans over to snatch up his pillows and stuff them behind his back.

Caleb can either sit on the floor or lean against a wall, the window; sit on the desk, sit beside Lukas. There isn't a lot of seating in the room, but Lukas gives no indication whatsoever that Caleb isn't welcome to choose what he likes.

The Ahroun's attention is mostly on his tribesmate, though. And for the first part, he mostly frowns: it sounds a lot of like excuses to him, though perhaps that was unfair to Mrena.

Then Mrena gets to this doesn't change the fact that I violated your trust, and Lukas's face changes. His eyebrows relax. His brow opens up. By the end, when she says standing statement, Lukas is smiling: unadulteratedly pleased.

"Thanks, Mrena." He means it utterly. "It means a lot for me to hear you say that. All that."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] On the desk went the bottle of cognac, the glass left in his hand. For Caleb's part, the Silver Fang remained standing with his back and hip leaned against the doorframe. One hand was slipped into a hip-pocket while he listened quietly, watching and waiting.

When the time came, he opened his mouth and spoke as though between friends, and not as though he were addressing many. Private, more intimate. "Mrena," he said her name. "Have I ever disrespected you?" His eyes went from the cognac in the glass, to his counterpart's.

[Mrena Armstrong] "Yes," she said. "When we first met, you weren't exactly amiable. To be fair, I wasn't exactly the nicest to you either. Familiarity changes things."

She nodded some. Lukas seemed genuinely pleased with what she had said, and she sat, perched on his desk and feet not-yet-touching the ground. The younger theurge seemed relieved, in a way. His reaction had been important- no, vital. And a smile was acceptance enough to warrant relief. There was a nod, but then she was moving on.

"So... Katherine was Mistress of the Challenge," as though this was a conversation opener. "we'd established that Master or Mistress of Challenges was a vital position for us to maintain... as that Katherine is no longer here, we no longer hold this position. Do we wish to maintain this position in her absense?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's smile fades at that. He pushes the heels of his hands into the mattress, pulls himself back until he's leaning solidly against the wall and his heels at propped on the sidebar of his bedframe, his knees drawn up.

"Absolutely. But I think it'll be very difficult for us to hold the position. Hatchet-rhya has far and away the best claim to the position now." He pinches his nose between thumb and the side of his forefinger for a moment, then drops his wrists atop his knees and exhales.

"Truth be told, when I was considering who would next lead our pack, I thought about talking to Hatchet about some sort of ... pack merger. I thought about Kemp-rhya, too, but I'm hesitant to hand the pack over to someone we're not even bonded to. Since you're stepping up, Mrena, I'd rather wait and see how you do first."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Mm." Caleb made a noise in his throat, but let it go. It was in the past, and neither here nor there.

"Indeed," the theurge said. "It would be nigh impossible to have any of our own claim the title. None of us are Philodox. Like you say, Lukas, I would be more concerned with seeing who our next alpha will be." It was do-able for someone of another auspice to take over that role, but generally speaking a Half-Moon was better suited for the role; hence why Balance-Without-Fault held it for so long. A sip of the cognac was taken before he shifted his weight on booted feet.

"I have talked to Kemp about forming a pack of our own a time or two," Caleb said. "I've fought alongside the man many times in the past and shared a meal or two with him, but as far as him joining another pack? I don't think it would happen any time soon. He seems to be a bit... bitter, or burnt-out from his last ordeal with a pack."

A slow shake of his head about the merging of Hatchet's folk and theirs - it could mean anything, really, that head-shake, but Caleb said naught on it.

[Mrena Armstrong] "I'd think you'd be a good bet for it, though admittedly Hatchet-rhya is very qualified. I'd prepare to challenge for it anyway, gain a more-than-passable knwoledge of the litany... the knowledge gained from the attempt alone would be worthwhile," she stated. "We have no guarentee that he would challenge for the position, though."

She paused, then nodded. He spoke of who would be alpha had no one stepped up, and for her part she listened. And, for her part, she seemed to hold the same opinions that he did. A merge wtih weasel, or possibly being led by Kemp... she ran a hand through her drying hair, then exhaled.

"I can understand the sentiment," she said. "Though, right now, we might want to consider evaluating our current roles, what we have, what we don't... and, well... figure out where we're going to need to make up the slack to function effectively."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas gives a faint, ironic whuff. "I'll challenge for it only if no philodox claims the position at the next moot. At least for now. The last time we stood together at a moot, we embarrassed ourselves thoroughly when Sam tried to claim the office of Truthcatcher. It's not the same ... but it may look the same to outsiders: an Ahroun of the Circle overreaching himself."

Mrena goes on. Lukas adds, bluntly: "And we need to figure out what the fuck to do about Sam. Tell me, Mrena. Is there any reason you can think of for us to keep him in the pack at this point?"

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb remainted quiet, alternating between swirling his cognac and listening to the two. He was too new to have any sort of opinion on much.

[Mrena Armstrong] "If you point him at something, he'll deal with it. He... he just has a very large issue with thinking before he does things. And he lets a great deal of his emotions and knee-jerk reactions govern what he does... But if you point him at something, he'll deal with it. I told him yesterday that he needed to make amends with you."

She nodded, but then continued. "What drew us to him in the first place and what ideals are redeemable. There's a chance that he's just lost himself and needs to be reminded of it."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Needs to be reminded, Mrena says.

Lukas snorts aloud. He doesn't sit up; in fact, he stretches out a little more, lowering one foot back to the floor and slouching a little lower on his bed.

"No. Don't try to excuse his actions as ignorance and good intentions. I heard you trying to remind him on totemphone last night. The whole pack heard his answers. If we accused Caleb of hubris, Sam's is tenfold. He has no shame for what he's done. In his mind, he was not wrong, and has never been wrong.

"The bottom line is, Mjollnir is entirely out of control. He's been spinning out of control since before Katherine took the Alphaship. Kate thought she could control him; then he went and fucked her sister under her roof. To this day I don't think he's worked that out with the Bell's. Worse, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong.

"It's the same with every mistake he makes. He doesn't make them out of inexperience and lack of brains, Mrena. He's forgotten his place. He does what he wants and fuck everything else. Sure, if you point him at something, he'll deal with it ... if he wants to, and if he thinks it'll make him look good. If you tell him not to do something, he won't ... if he never wanted to in the first place. Otherwise, he shits on you and then pretends ignorance to avoid the consequences.

"Can he be fixed? Possibly. But after everything I've done to cover his ass with Andrew, with the Truthcatcher challenge, with Hatchet, with Dani&+269;ka, even -- he turns around and tells me he'll see me dead before him. So why should I bother? Why should I carry the weight of his flaws?"

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Skip me for this round! )

[Mrena Armstrong] "You shouldn't. It's up to you whether or not you want to listen to him, just like it's up to him whether or not he's going to attempt to make amends. Until he gets his act together, his only purpose here is to be a meat shield. And until he grows up that's all he will be... and until he proves otherwise, he's a liability."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( So I'm back afore I thought. If you finish before me, Damon, go for it!)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "If you both won't mind my saying so given my limited time in knowing Monsieur Modine," Caleb began tenatively, "a packmate that does as he sees fit regardless of the orders he is given from his alpha or beta, or indeed any Garou ranked higher than him? He is indeed, as Mrena says, a liability. His refusal to follow orders can jeopardize himself as well as the whole pack, resulting in one or all of us killed.

"If he slept with my cousin's sister, making Gabriella arguably my cousin," the cajun went on, "without the permission of Edward and Katherine... Well, I do not know among the Bellamontes, but among the Alden de Morres family there would be dire consequences." Both the Shadow Lords knew that Silver Fangs held on to their Kinfolk with rigid, iron-grips lest they be ripped away by other tribes.

"There are few Get of Fenris full-moons that think with anything other than their claws, as I see it. Efficient, deadly, honorable? Of course. They are not known for their ability to think, and think deeply." The same as, say, Silver Fangs are known to be racist elitists. "Suffice to say that if Mjolnir's Heart continues to disobey orders and show insubordination, now or later, it could be disaster. I do not presume to know the man as well as you two, but this is how I see it. Otherwise his blood would not of been shed."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "If he genuinely wants to make amends, I'll listen to him. But I suspect it'll be another thinly veiled barrage of reasons why he was ignorant, innocent, or right all along. And I have no patience left for that."

A pause.

"Was there anything else we needed to speak of?"

[Mrena Armstrong] "... the other issue raised against me is my failure to claim Keeper of the Land, correct?"

Confirmation, that she is remembering the terms of the challenge correctly.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A wry, half-apologetic glance at Caleb -- and then a nod at Mrena, mute.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb's shoulders twitched in a shrug. With the way the Circle had been sweeping in to collect the sept positions, it held no little surprise that his counterpart had been after his position.

[Mrena Armstrong] "I failed to step up and claim the position because I was weak. I had been focusing my attention on apprenticing myself to the Ritesmistress because, for some time, that was what I had been instructed to do. However, when Katerina left, I made the attempt to ready myself for the challenge," she inhaled.

He'd asked, so she kept going.

"When the time came, Caleb stepped up. And I would have claimed it, but given our previous interactions I was aware that he had the experience and knowledge of the caern to do it well. Having an unacceptable Keeper of the Land would offend the spirits, and it would bring shame upon our pack and could injur the sept that we are trying to strengthen. That being said, I should have challenged for it anyway. It would have been an opportunity to improve myself, and who knows I might have won."

A pause.

"I made a mistake. I should have kept you all informed and I should have stepped up and given results instead of excuses. I didn't make well on my end of a plan, and it won't happen again. I said that I wouldn't make that mistake twice the night of the moot, and I hold firm with that."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Again, Lukas listens carefully, saying little. At one point -- having an unacceptable Keeper of the Land would offend the spirits -- he nods his agreement; other than that, he's remarkably pokerfaced, giving nothing away.

At the end of it he nods again, this time in acceptance.

"I do look forward to what you'll be showing us in the upcoming weeks, Mrena. I hope you prove yourself worthy in the eyes of your packmates."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (i should reeeally head toward bed!)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "As it stands, I wouldn't mind another set of hands with my duties," he said with a look to Mrena and a half-smile. It was really a position for one person, but if the woman felt she was lacking enough experience what better way to learn that which she needed than to be side-by-side with him in the field?

Another shrug. "So, just how many Wyrmlings have you killed with your new blade?" he asked her.

[Mrena Armstrong] "I don't intend on dissapointing any of you," she said. She nodded.

Then, she hopped herself off of Lukas' desk. her hair was drying out by then, to the point that it wasn't quite straight, but rather, slightly wavy. The younger theurge gave a quick look at the desk to make sure she hadn't left any water marks.

"A couple," she said, then grinned a little. The younger lady started to head on out of her way. "And I wouldn't mind observing for a few days... not at the crack of dawn."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the RP, guys!)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( No prob! )

[Mrena Armstrong] (thanks for the scene, damon! Had a blast!)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "I have taught you all that I can of the sword, at any rate," Caleb said with a nod to Lukas, following behind Mrena to return home to his wife.

"I will see you all later."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (yar, night!)