it was not a possibility.

[Mrena Armstrong] There were things that she needed to do, and there were things that she had to get done, and there were questions that needed answers, burning in the back of her mind that needed to be answered. That would not go away, that was not allowing itself to be written off.

It was getting closer to a full moon, and in the back of her mind she knew that this was not a good line of questions to be asking an ahroun so close to the full moon. She knew that she was about to ask a potentially dangerous question. Because she knew, she knew what day it was. What she didn't know was what kind of day he's had, what was on his mind, what he had planned, etc.

All things considered, White Eyes wasn't tiptoeing or walking on eggshells in the hall.

And, with that, she knocked on Lukas' door. Cha-cha rhythm.
knockknockknock. [rest. rest]

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] He read it and yet another bit of surprise.

"I spent much of a day with Kemp-rhya, and he did not speak of be wyrmfoe. A great honor for one who seems as old as I. For the one Silence, though he did not speak, I could see he has seen much in his life."

He offered to share his fries and sandwich with AM.

"You have been here for a time. Please, has any of my tribe been in this concrete forest before?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The walls are thin here, and the doors have a hollow feel to them, as though they were pieces of plywood glued together. Lukas's voice is clearly intelligible from the inside, not merely the bass fundamentals but the higher harmonics as well, penetrating right through the door though he doesn't bother to shout. Or even call out.

"It's open."

And it is. When Mrena opens the door she finds Lukas on his bed, back to the headboard, legs crossed lazily at the ankle, a laptop on his thighs. He finishes typing his sentence, whatever it might be, and then looks up.

Mrena looks like she has something on her mind. He studies her for a moment, and then nods at the door over her shoulder. "Close it behind you, will you?"

[AnneMarie Hoch] That is perhaps the most poetic way to describe Decker Rohl, though it is also one that is accurate. Of course, it could be said that with their first change, the Garou has seen much - too much - though it quickly becomes a way of life. The only way. You wake, you fight, if you are lucky, you fuck, and then you sleep only to do it all again.

To his question though, she replies I have just recently returned to the city. I have seen no other Wendigo since I have been home.

[Mrena Armstrong] She walked on into the room, looking around briefly. It seemed that there was nothing changed about the location. Lukas' room was usually quite spartan. The only flavor she remembered was the coffee maker, and the coffee cups that occasionally came out.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asked.

True to the request, she shut the door behind her. Also, true to form, she didn't sit down unless she was given permission to do so. After all, this wasn't her room. It was his. He didn't even share it with anyone, so there really was no reason to touch things. Attire was comfortable. Jeans, pullover shirt. Though, admittedly, it was a shirt that she had stolen from Edward. Something with a high thread count, nice fabric, and was distinctly too big for her. Not the point.

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] He nodded.

"I wish to ..undo some of rumors of my tribe. Not all of us were taught to hate others. I come from a small .. village that was isolated deep in Canada's north. We avoided all human society. But when we were called, we came to help those that need. No matter tribe. Other villages I had seen were taught the hatred. It is the only old way I was not taught. But I have felt the distrust from others when I mention my tribe. It is not something I like."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "No." The answer is firm, and he's not just being polite. If he'd been busy, he wouldn't have answered his door -- she can count on that much.

"You want to sit?" He nods at his desk chair. The surface of his desk is just as she might expect: pristine, devoid of anything except a small 4-cup coffee maker. The mugs are nowhere to be seen. "What's on your mind?"

[Mrena Armstrong] She nodded, then took a seat at the end of the bed and relaxed. Mrena had good posture; she always had good posture, but it was part of the appearance. She didn't present herself as anything other than a creature beyond contempt. Also, that being said, Mrena had to find some way to combat the fact that she barely over five feet tall.

"Would you have left the pack if Katherine hadn't challenged Edward?"

And there it was, question that was out there on her mind. To be discussed and answered and so on.

[Serafine] Her family was worried. She didn't call enough. They wanted to visit. That...would likely not have been a good idea. Thankfully, Serafine had managed to convince them otherwise, for the time being. Family issues settled, she was on her way back into the Brotherhood, green messenger bag still slung over one shoulder as she pocketed her cell phone into the left pocket on her jeans.

She headed back up the stairs, agile feet making barely a sound as she ascended into the common room. A quick glance with blue-green eyes told her that Evan had left, but AnneMarie and the unknown wolf were over at the little table. Her gaze alighted upon both figures for a moment, watching in curiosity as she made her way in and settled herself back on the sofa where she had previously been. The bag was dropped to the floor with a light *thunk*, and she leaned back into the cushions, stretching her arms up for a moment and giving a quiet yawn.

She took her time in turning around, folding her arms across the back of the sectional and resting her chin upon them as she watched the other two garou interact.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] (( places?
to AnneMarie Hoch, Chanlyeya Greyeyes, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Mrena Armstrong, Serafine

[AnneMarie Hoch] She arches a brow slightly. Trust is earned or lost by the individual. If you had been burned by one of my tribe, I would hope that you would not hold myself accountable for their actions, but for my own. I could do no less for another.

Despite the fact that many think her nothing but claw and fang, nothing but mindless rage, AnneMarie can be surprisingly articulate. Too bad few see it.

Serafine's entrance is not missed. In fact, after she passes the board to Chanlyeya, she turns to watch her take her place on the couch. She meets her gaze briefly, and nods hello once more, barely a movement of her chin, truth be told, but it is there.

[Serafine] ((Everyone's upstairs. Sera's on the sofa in the common room.))

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] A greeting nod is given to Serafine as he takes the board from AM and reads.

"I do not believe I have insulted or been insulted by any of Fenrir's children. For that, I am thanking. For your actions, I am thanking as well. You have given kindness to me. But you speak true, and I feel same. I think one should account for own actions not that of a tribe. I thank you for seeing as I do. And I hope this might lead to some sort of ...Milo call it alliance. Is that right?"

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Another ascends the stairs into the common room. Pausing at the top. He wasn't an overly large man. Nor was he tiny. About 5'9" slender build, athletic. Tonight he was dressed in hiking boots, well worn jeans and a belt. A dark brown button up shirt under a rather normal looking leather jacket. His skin was sun kissed bronze, hair and eyes were dark. With him came an interesting mix of serenity and rage. Though not high as some, or even most. he was still born one of the true. It showed in his motion and his scent. The touch of pure blood was there to detect*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There are three lights on in the room right now. There's the lamp on his desk, the one clipped to his headboard, and the ceiling light. None of them are particularly high quality; all of them shed distorted spectra that are little like the light of day.

Despite that, Lukas's eyes are as ferociously blue as they ever are, clear and glittering. His eyes narrow when she asks the question, though it's not anger, quite, but consideration. And, yes, some measure of distaste for the subject.

"Why do you want to know?"

[Adam Swift-Arrow] (( good to see ya back))
to AnneMarie Hoch

[AnneMarie Hoch] (thanks)
to Adam Swift-Arrow

[Mrena Armstrong] "Because it didn't make sense to me at the time... and... I guess I'm trying to figure out why you said it now. Because if you would have, I'm wondering why you didn't just challenge him yourself. And if you would have... I... I want to know why you chose that as the means of pushing her."

For her part, she wasn't angry. She wasn't accusatory, and she wasn't even upset, she was just... curious. Mrena was almost always curious. And though she was not an empathetic creature, she was an observant one. And she caught the slight degree of distate in his voice.

"I'm trying to understand how you work through the actions and choices you have made and make... because, admittedly, I don't understand you sometimes," she said.

[Serafine] She nodded her own head slightly in response to Chanlyeya. "Another face I do not know. I see I have many introductions to give yet." The sounds of Paris danced across her words when she spoke.

Just then, they were joined by a fourth, and she couldn't help but quirk a smile at the truth of her own words moments before. "Two faces I do not know."

Well, here we go again, then. She was off the sofa and on her feet, so that her gaze might direct itself back and forth between the two men. "Serafine Marceau, Cliath Galliard of the Black Furies. L'Ange Noire... Black Angel." A nod to Adam, then Chanlyeya in turn as she waited for them to return with their own names.

[AnneMarie Hoch] Alliance is one way to put it, yes. An understanding, certainly. Subject to change of course, if necessary.

She does not place her loyalties lightly - if ever - to any save her Pack, or those who she has learned to trust. As she mentioned, such things are earned.

Her gaze flicks toward the man who enters, and she settles back in her chair, slender fingers lifting her beer to her lips for a long swallow, before pale blue eyes find Serafine once more as she gives her introduction again.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Adam gave the woman a smile, with out showing teeth and nodded to her greeting. How pleasant. A hand came out of the coat pockets and he motioned that Chanlyeya could go first if he so wished.

Stepping further into the room he cleared the top of the stairs in case people chose to come or go*

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] "Waachiyaa. I am Chanlyeya Greyeyes, theurge of tribe Wendigo. Known also by Walks in Sokhta's Light given after meeting the great Sokhta."

He takes the board once more, reads and hands it back to AM. "I am thanking for the chance to prove it, child of Fenrir."

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Nodding he then spoke. His voice was soft, not a whisper. Just a voice that was naturally not loud. Peaceful one might say. Strange to hear on one that was born with rage* Adam Swift-Arrow. Known as Nightcrawler to the nation. New moon, of the Uktena.

Nice to meet you child of Peagasus, and Little Brother. *A bit of a nod, Chanlyeya had indicated AM was fenrir* And Child of Fenris.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Mrena answers. Lukas watches her, silent, withholding all expression.

So Mrena goes on. And Lukas listens, and listens, and when she's done his eyes flicker away from her just long enough for him to lower the lid on his laptop and set it aside.

He plants one hand on his mattress and draws himself back, crosses his legs indian-style, sits against the headboard of his twin-sized bed. They could be friends visiting one another in some student dormitory somewhere, Joe and Jane College making plans for the next weekend, or swapping notes from Economics 129, or --

They're not. They're werewolves, and nothing close to human. And the masks are off in here. There's something in Lukas's eyes that's utterly hard, utterly ruthless.

"No," he says, "you don't understand me.

"I said it to push her. Kate never had Ed's vision, but at least she had determination and ambition, which, at that point, was far more than could be said of Ed. Her flaw is that she cannot bear to seem anything but perfect. That's why she can't bear the sight of blood or filth; that's why she would have never, ever challenged her own brother unless her hand was forced. So I forced her hand. I took on whatever burden of guilt she might have had in betraying her brother, and freed of it, she challenged.

"You ask me what I would have done if she'd refused. Let me tell you, Mrena, I never once considered it. It was not a possibility.

"That whole ... display may have seemed reckless and out of the blue to you, but it had been building in the air for weeks by that point. Kate and I had spoken several times; the plans were laid. She wanted Alphahood more than she ever showed. She just needed the appearance of spontaneity, of desperation, of being forced to extremes, do you understand?"

[Serafine] She listened to the introduce themselves in turn, storing the information away in her mind. "Uktena and Wendigo. I have not had the opportunity to meet with any of the Pure Ones before now. It is a welcome experience."

Her status as European was clear, of course, in both that accent of hers and her name. (She rather *looked* French as well, for that matter.) After affording the two men with a warm and pretty smile, she lowered herself back onto the couch, sitting with one leg bent beneath her and one bare arm draped across the back, so that she might be able to look comfortably in all directions. The black tank top she wore left exposed a portion of the tattoo on her back...the tips of two large black wings by her shoulders. Which came first...the name or the tattoo? Who knows.

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] "And you would be first daughter of Pegasus I have met. So I welcome experience myself." Nodding to Serafine.

[AnneMarie Hoch] She takes her whiteboard, and slides it across her thigh. The darkened denim declares it something that happens often, a mar in what otherwise is a well put together, clean and fashionable look.

Speaking of looks - there's a tip of that tattoo again. Lips curl into something of a smirk beforeshe turns her attention to the now pristine board, to write. AnneMarie Hoch. Ruhiger to the nation. Cliath Modi. Eagle.

Eagle. And thus? Not a part of the sept as a whole.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *A nod and the man smiled a bit* Always a blessing to meet others of Gaia's children.

*In motion again the ragabash glided over and sat on the far end of the couch. Tilting his head to watch the trio of others. Breathing in the air here. The place charged. So many garou living here it's lucky the roof hadn't blown off yet. Danger death, and the smell of ozone on the air.

Adam's dark eyes flicker over to the board (( assuming she shows it?)) and he smiled a nod offered to her* Ahh the Eagles. I've heard tale of them.

[Serafine] "My home Sept was about half Fenrir," she mused as she gazed at AnneMarie once more. Her teasingly rueful expression indicated that she had a great deal of experience with the tribe, for both good and ill.

Then, on a whim, she leaned over and reached into her bag, unclipping it and pulling out the notebook once more, along with a pencil. She set the notebook against the back of the sofa as she re-settled herself, graphite tip making little scratches against the surface of the paper. It was a casual bit of sketching...doodling, even. Not the practiced and focused marks of a real artist. But Serafine was the type of person who needed something to keep her busy.

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] "Mine was only Wendigo and Wendigo kin. It kept our traditions unsoiled that way." He closed the foam container holding his food.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Adam smiled a bit at Chanlyeya's words. He'd heard such before* Very honorable of your people, Grayeyes.

*leaning forward a bit on the couch to look at Serafine's art*

[AnneMarie Hoch] She watches Seraphine as she starts to sketch, her eyes following the slide of graphite on paper before she catches herself and glances at Adam and Chan. The latter's comment brings a smirk to her lips, as she settles back in her chair, lifting her beer for another swallow.

There are things she could say to that, there are things she might have said another night, another time. However, for now, she just keeps silent. Shock, hm?

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] Slowly he stood, a slight bow given to each garou in the room. "My time here is done for the night. I must return to my territory in Tekawitha. I have a spirit I must speak with very soon. Thanking you all for this meet. I hope to meet soon. Waachiyaa." Much like other native greetings, it means hello and goodbye. He paused a moment, looking to each, remembering faces to names, before he moved to the stairs to leave.

[Mrena Armstrong] No, he says, you don't understand me.

He talked, and so she listened. She listened like he was giving her some great lesson. Not passive, not receiving a lecture, but actively engaged. They couldn't be talking about Economics 124, because Mrena would have never been so interested in that... despite the fact that, aparently, she had been reading far too many books on corporate culture. [Ed was La s'aise faire, Lukas and Katherine were authoritarian, and there was no place in a pack for democracy.]

He continued, adn she listened, nodded when appropriate, and he could imagine that she was making notes. Taking tally of something or logging it away for reference purposes. Because, if nothing, she was a clever creature. She was an observant creature, and hearing all of this?

Well, now, it made her realize she was not quite as clever or observant as she deigned herself to be.

And, while she should be amazed. or others would be distraught or apalled, she seemed almost pleased at this, impressed, but not riding the border of awe. Just acceptance. This was what it was, and moved on.

"Again," she said, "When explained I can follow your logic."

Katherine needed to look like a victim. She needed to keep her hands clean, she needed to make it look forced so she could live with herself and not compromise whatever wall of morality she built. Leave it to a Shadow Lord to make someone do what was necessary.

There was a pause in her thought process.

"I think saying that I understand you, however, after your explaination is hasty," said rather plainly.

a pause.

"So," a change of thought. "What's wrong with me?"

What an odd question to ask.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas quirks an eyebrow.

"You mean why haven't I accepted you as Alpha already?"

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Adam waved as the other departed* Take it easy man.

[Mrena Armstrong] "No," she said. "I want to know what's wrong with me. I mean that on a tact-based level. Where else are my weak points, not as a leader, but as a packmate in general. Physical weaknesses, emotional flaws, mental quirks, anything and everything."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Immediately: "You doubt yourself too much."

It might take her a moment to realize it's an answer, not a dismissal.

[Chanlyeya Greyeyes] A nod "You as well, ustaasimaaw." Then was down the stairs and gone.

((Night all, thank you for the RP. See you tomorrow.))

[AnneMarie Hoch] (night!)

[Serafine] She nodded a polite goodbye to the Wendigo as he departed. "Good evening, Greyeyes."

After watching him go, she glanced back at Adam with a little smirk. "Hardly a Picasso, I'm afraid. Drawing is not a strong talent of mine."

So far the rough sketch was only just starting to take form. But it looked...like she might have been drawing AnneMarie. It wasn't as bad as she claimed, either. Just..simple.

[AnneMarie Hoch] There was a lift of her bottle in something of a goodbye for Chanlyeya, though she remains silent then. She doesn't have a good view of what Serafine is drawing, though she has a good view of the artist herself, and she seems content with that, with watching her draw - though she had no idea she is her subject.

She sets her whiteboard on the table, the pen on top of it, and now it is her turn to watch the interaction of the other garou in the room.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *he looked back to the page and smiles* Talented hand and a complex subject... should add up to a nice peice.

*He looked over to AnneMarie* Did you loose your voice in battle? *not being rude, just curious*

[Mrena Armstrong] And, for a moment, she almost did count it as a dismissal. And she did until there was a silent sort of realization that came over her. She doubted herself too much. And he wasn't the first person to tell her that.

"... doubt's a powerful thing," she said. Mrena exhaled, and then nodded. Acknowledgment, unspoken thanks.

"I've got talens for you, by the way."

[Serafine] "Ah, you are too easy with the compliments, sir. On the artist's behalf, at least. The subject, I am certain you are correct about."

Well, that was a perfectionist for you. Never approving of their own work. She did, however, toss Adam a knowing smile. They were in on something that AnneMarie was not.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Well," a ghost of a smile lifts the corner of Lukas's mouth, "get over it."

She has talens. His eyebrows go up. "Oh? Stuff I can't make myself?"

[AnneMarie Hoch] She arches a brow, slightly, at Seraphine's comment about the subject, perhaps curious, though she does not presume to get up and spy on what the Fury is doing. If and when she wishes AnneMarie to know, she'll will show it to her.

At Adam's question, she simply shakes her head. She did not lose her voice in battle.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *A gentle laugh at Sera's words and a nod in agreement. then he looked to AM and tilted his head. The curiosity written there plain as day but perhaps asking more than once might fringe on being impolite so he withholds his question. Even as his dark eyes seak an answer* Quite an exciting town. Has there been any word on the radioactive stuff since the first meeting?

[Mrena Armstrong] "It's stuff you can make yourself, but I figured that, seeing as how you're the only ahroun in the pack now it couldn't hurt to give you a couple in the for emergencies only capacity. You're going to be in the line of fire a lot more now, and admittedly, not being able to feel whatever hit you for a little while might be handy."

There was a shrug, and then? "With two theurges, a ragabash, and you we're not really afforded the luxury of a head on assault anymore."

[AnneMarie Hoch] She reaches for her pen and answers his curiosity. It is nothing that she has not been asked before. I was born without vocal cords.

As for the rest, she has no idea what he is speaking of, so does not address it. Merely waits until they have read the board she shows them, than wipes it clean once more.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] Oh! *he nodded, answering his question. Then his brows knit and anyone with any sort of interaction with any sort of Uktena can figure out he's deeply pondering that. What if he'd been born with out. The applications.... That was heavy*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A faint wince at the corners of his eyes. "I appreciate the sentiment, Mrena, but I learned the gift from Kate. Keep the talens. Give them to Sampson and Caleb." A pause. "I seem to remember the warpaint being useful, though."

[Mrena Armstrong] She looked at him, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw her go white.

"Oh, please tell me she didn't teach it to you and just found the spirit to do it for you."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas has a history of mistimed laughter. He manages not to burst out into it this time, though -- if only by a narrow margin -- and escapes with a twitch of a grin at the edges of his mouth.

"Why? Afraid we've upset the spirits?"

[Mrena Armstrong] "Upset is a good word."

[Serafine] She had expected as much...in regards to AnneMarie. Which meant that the woman was possibly metis... but this was not a possibility that seemed to bother her. Her tribe, and Serafine in particular, had better things to do than foster prejudices. (Well, of that variety, anyway.)

Her pencil danced lazily across the page as she glanced between AnneMarie and Adam. In response to the latter's question, her eyebrows went up slightly. "I would not know, I'm afraid. I'm quite new to town yet."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (let's mess with mrena's head!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Adam Swift-Arrow] (( brb bio))

[Mrena Armstrong] (O rly? Ya rly!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The grin dies a slow, pale death.

He's serious now. Apparently, anyway. "Shit. Do you think it's serious? What should we do?"

[Mrena Armstrong] (Yer screwed, Lukas.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (ORLY.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wahya] A third visit. Three times the charm, they say. He is getting better at routing directions to the places he wants to visit, though, his ability to comprehend street signs is still severely lacking. Wahya has found the back door entrance, meant for creatures like him, to stealth their way up to the commons. He is here for one reason or another, the knowledge that others like him dwell in this habit intrigues Wahya.

He is a much cleaner vagrant this time around. Clothes are not covered in grime and stink as before. The lesson in turning on broken waterfalls has come in handy, so one would pray. Still though, there is a lack of grooming that Wahya doesn’t participate in. The scruffy visage of his matted mane of tiny braids, molding into some fashion of dreads, slithers about his lean shoulders, curtain much of his bronzed, weathered face.

He can hear voices, or perhaps thinks he does. The slow climb up the back stairs is met with low clomps of his feet dragging across the floor, his head turning left and then right, up and down, to drink in the details of the room with his dark hidden eyes.

[AnneMarie Hoch] Possibly metis, though being born without vocal cords for a Fenrir could quite possibly be considered the worst deformity ever. It is nothing to be proud of, it is nothing obvious, it is nothing that lives up to the ideal of the Fenrir Sense of Grandiose Proportions that they give to everything they do, all that they are. She, however, neither confirms no denies anything, until she is asked.

Seraphine knows nothing of this meeting or the radioactive business either, and she gestures with a hand that agrees with what she said. She looks up as Wahya enters, and lifts her chin toward him in hello, before returning to watch Seraphine sketch with pale gaze.

[Mrena Armstrong] The color didn't come back to her cheeks, her expression didn't do anything but stay the way it was. And the theurge inhaled slowly and sighed. One would think that Mrena was just holding it back, that she was trying to find the right words to say or how to let him down gently- because that was what she did. Mrena sugar coated, she beat around the bush, and she was indirect.

"Well," she said. "I... Yeah, this is kind of serious. Unless you perform some kind of chiminage to them, those particular spirits might hold that slight against you any time you try to learn from them again. If it's been awhile the damage might already be done."

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Reclining on one end of the couch, Adam's dark eyes came up from his ponderings as Wahya came in. A gentle smile crossing his face* Well. Good evening my wolven brother. How does it find you?

And we seriously have to talk about the sweet gifts you've been leaving my sister... and the manner in which it's been done.

*His tone was slightly amused. Slightly not.*

[Wahya] Wahya’s eyes light up with mirth, a moment of clarity sparking in his features as he recognizes the voice and hand gestures that call out to him in greeting. He gravitates instantly to the grouping of AnneMarie and Adam: people, no Garou, which Wahya is familiar with.

Adam spoke of the ‘gifts’. “No find rabbit.” He responds in kind, the rumbling growl of his voice coming out in a gravelly tone. The corners of his mouth spread wide and up, a reflection of his birth moon, flashing perfect white sharp teeth at all of them. He saunters his way over, quick to join the company that he knows. A hand steals itself from out of his pocket, raised up in a small gesture in the air to greet AnneMarie.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Adam laughed* ok two things.. I like cats.. so no more cats ok? And No peigons. They have lots of desiease that could totally Kill Sage. Like KILL KILL. Dead.

She appreciates the gifts and the intent with which they were given but yeah.. Maybe flowers? Instead of flesh? She likes flowers. She's an herbalist.

*looking to AM and Sera* Have you both met my brother? This is Wahya, wolf born of my people

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Well then," and Lukas is the very picture of careful contemplation, frowning with his arms folded across his chest and his hands tucked under his biceps, "it's probably a good thing that ... "

-- still totally deadpan, this --

" ... I learned it from a Bear spirit." A beat. Then the Ahroun grins, a sudden breaking of the expression across his face. One thinks of shafts of sunlight through stormclouds; one thinks of sunlight flashing off knives. He reaches behind himself to grab his pillow, chucks it rather unmercifully at Mrena's face.

"Nice try trying to scare me though," said the pot to the kettle. "Ass."

[Serafine] Finally, the pencil stopped. She applied the eraser to a few places, cleaning up some of the stray lines. She wasn't exactly satisfied. Serafine was never satisfied with anything. But it would do.

She looked up from the sketch as Wahya was introduced to her, and she offered a polite nod in the Lupus' direction. "I have not. It is a pleasure to meet you, Wayha. I am Serafine. Black Angel. Cliath Galliard of the Black Furies." She'd shortened the list of identifiers for the lupus, partly because she understood that too many names and translations of names could get to be a bit much for some of the Wolf born. Partly because she's introduced herself more than a few times today as it was.

Then she stood up, tearing the page from her notebook and walking over to AnneMarie. She handed it to the Modi calmly. "I hope you do not mind."

The picture was, as she had said, not of professional quality. Just a simple sketch. But it had character, and an elegant stroke that indicated a distinct style which was all...Serafine. "I like to draw things that I find interesting."

[AnneMarie Hoch] She lifts her hands and signs a quick hello to Wahya. ~I trust no more broken waterfalls?~ before Sera stands and moves toward her with the notebook. She arches a brow, slightly, and reaches to take the notebook, and sets it in her lap. She sets her beer bottle on the table, and studies the quick sketch for a long moment, silently.

It's always slightly disconcerting to see how others see oneself, and this is no different. She traces the lines with her fingers, without marring them, as if exploring her face for the first time, so that she later can compare them in some mirror or another.

Serafine says she draws things she finds interesting, and the smirk softens slightly into the slightest of smiles - there, than gone again, but if she is watching for it, she will see it. She reaches for her whiteboard, and writes quickly, but leaves it in her lap, where only Seraphine can read it.

[AnneMarie Hoch] I do not think I am as interesting as your picture, but it is beautifully done, for all the plainness of your subject.
to Serafine

[Wahya] Cats? Wahya blinks, stunned by Adam’s revelation, he shakes his head violently from side to side, sending the vines of hair into frenzy away from his shoulders. He stops on the floor, a few feet away, lowering his body into a crouch, hunching forward with his arms drawing up to drape over bent knees.

“No like cat.” He snorts, a cuff of air rushed out of his nose. Nostrils flaring, he drags a hand out to point at Adam, “Wolf big, cat food like rabbit, yes. Wolf-brother see. Little Sister learn make good cat, yes.”

His eyes wander over to Serafine as she addressed him. He brings up a hand to wave to her, remaining crouched on the floor as he was, it was hard to tell how big or small a man he was. Though, Wahya was a bit on the short side, his borrowed clothes, garments stolen from Adam’s closet were a bit baggy on him. His gaze swings in AnneMarie’s direction, watching the exchange between Fury and Fenrir; the jagged arches of his thick eyebrows lifting high to almost disappear into the wrinkling of his brow.

"Wah-yah Many Tongues," He replies back to Serafine, thumping a hand to his chest. "Grinning moon born." There is an accent to the way he pronounces his name, the rest of his speech a jumble of broken English. His eyes dart back to catch the hand gestures as AnneMarie signs to him, he nods his head to her grinning even more.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *Adam ran a hand over his eyes* Um... cats could be peoples pets. We have a cat. it's... a bit touched. It actually likes me.. No eat cats. Eat squirrels or some shit.

*Laughing he stood* And the pigeons could kill her. So none of those.

*he pointed* and no sneaking' into my house. If I tripped over you in the dark one night slipping a mouse into her shoe I might freak out fur out and kill ya. *He laughed* Door step!

[Mrena Armstrong] Hi, pot! I'm Kettle!
Hi, pillow! I'm face!

And, with that, she took the pillow to the face, and instead of throwing it back just yet, all it did was make Mrena erupt into almost giggles born of semi-sadistic glee.

"Oh, I'm an ass. I'm an ass-" she said as she threw the pillow back. Admittedly, her aim wasn't half as good as Lukas' "-and you're the one who tried to convince me that you'd learned it from Katherine."

She was somewhere between giggles and mild irritation.

"God, you-you- buttface. What the Hell? If you're gonna trick me, don't make it so easy to catch you!"

[Serafine] "You flatter me, and give yourself not enough credit. You are a Modi. That is hardly...plain." Leave it to a Galliard to remind a warrior just why they were supposed to be proud.

"Keep it."

She said this as she retrieved the notebook, separating the page with her picture on it and leaving this on the table. "Or you can throw it away when I'm not looking, if you don't like it. I promise I won't be offended." Her wink was a knowing one, as she turned and paced back to pick up her bag and replace the notebook and pencil inside of it. Then she slung the thing back onto her shoulder and gave one last look to the room at large. "I bid you all a good evening."

Then she was off down the stairs, and out into the night.

[Wahya] Adam points a finger at the hunched man, who blinks ever-so-innocently up at his tribal brother. Wahya cocks his head to the side, tilting so far to the left that he’s almost looking up at Adam from an upside down angle. His eyebrows twitch up and down, knitting forward until their corners touch. He makes some gargled sound, which could be passing for a chuckle. His body shook with small tremors of quiet laughter. “Wolf-brother does same to prank Little Sister.”

[Adam Swift-Arrow] *He nods* It's very funny but yeah. keep that in mind.. *he grinned* I gotta be getting home. You cool here by your self?

*Raising his brows and looking to Wahya.*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas fends the pillow off with a careless arm. It bounces off his forearm, skids off the side of the bed, lands on the floor. There's no confusion on his part: Lukas is just laughing, uninhibitedly, hard enough that he can't answer for a while.

"I just -- I just couldn't resist--" and he's off again, laughing harder.

When that bout lets him go, Lukas is wiping his eyes with a pinch of his thumb and forefinger. He leans back against his headboard with a sigh, something between exhaustion and satisfaction. "My stomach hurts," he says; guffaws; calms. "And I couldn't resist. It's your own fault for seeing through it. I was hoping to get some cellphone pics of your 'I'm Outraged!' face."

[AnneMarie Hoch] She wipes the board clean on her thigh once Serafine has read it, and then takes the picture, as it is offered, with a look up at the Fury. She certainly will not throw it away at the first moment she is gone. Instead, she folds it carefully. She pulls her coat off the back of her chair, and slips the picture into the inside pocket, where it will remain until she can place it with her things, where it will not be lost.

And then she is gone, and AnneMarie just remains sitting there, very calmly reaching for her beer to take several long swallows. Loud laughter comes from one of the rooms, and she glances that direction, and then returns her attention to the rooms other occupants.

[Wahya] “Yes.” He says to Adam, straightening himself up as he sits higher on his heels, watching him for a brief moment. His head cants to the side at some muffled sound of laughter in the distance, trailing off from one of the rooms. He swings his eyes back in the direction of AnneMarie, where Serafine has left her. He waves to Adam, slowly rising up, stretching his arms back over his shoulders and waits for his tribal brother to leave.

[Adam Swift-Arrow] If you need something to eat, just come by our place. Knock.... and we'll feed ya up man.

*nodding he smiled and headed for the steps. Waving good by to the ladies as well* Nice meeting you ladies.

*Then he glided down the stairs and out*

[Mrena Armstrong] it stopped being giggling and evolved into laughter. The kind of laughter that made her body shake, that made her fall to one side of the bed and curl into something fairly close to the fetal position. Instead of making a ruckus, she turned her head to try and not make so much noise.

She started to calm down. Mrena stopped, uncurling just enough to look at Lukas... just in time for him to say that his stomach hurt.

Which was all it took for her to keep laughing, and laugh harder. Which, eventually, turned into quiet gasps of air and half owws.

"Oh, god, which pics do you have? I admit, my 'I'm outraged' is amazing. I'll trade you two of my embarrassing shots for a few of your unflattering I inhaled my lamb shots."

[AnneMarie Hoch] She lifts a chin toward Adam as he leaves, and absently rolls the beer bottle between her fingers before she sets it on the table again with a dull clunk.

People come and go quickly here in the common room of the brotherhood, while others stick around and stay a long time. One can learn a lot through simply watching the interactions - and lack there-of. Finally, she signs at Wahya, arching a brow slightly. ~You have been well since we last spoke?~

[Wahya] Tongue in cheek, they bubble out filled with air, nostril flare up as he slowly breathes out, appearing indecisive. Wahya kept his eyes on Adam’s back until the other Uktena had become far out of sight, down the stairs.

The motion of hand gestures, silent words as he likes to call them, route his attention back to the Fenrir woman sitting in her chair. He doesn’t answer her just yet, walking over to her instead. Wahya finds a chair nearest AnneMarie dragging/pushing it over to her. He hops up on the seat, feet planting a space apart as he crouched down, looking up at her as his arms cradle against his chest, and resting hands atop bent knees.

He begins to sign to her, Good yes. pointing at her, indicating after herself, You?

[AnneMarie Hoch] She watches him watch Adam, silently, until he comes to join her at the table. She is sitting easier tonight, normally even, where as last time they met she was stiff, and the scent of dried blood hung about her, sharp and familiar. If she was injured, it is clear that has since healed. - that's healed, not been healed. She is Fenrir. She did not seek healing, but rather let her body mend itself as is fitting for a Modi. The difference is important.

She nods slightly at the question, and then asks another. ~You leave cats and pigeons for your tribemate?~

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] She descends back into laughter. Which of course drags him down with her. He's laughing again; she wants i inhaled my lamb shots; he leans sideways, nearly falls out of bed, grabs his pillow up, wallops her again.

"No, but I'll give you the pics I have of Kate in a car wreck." This, when he's got himself under control again. "I think my angle was way better than yours; you could totally see her glaring." And another laugh bubbles out of him, escaping before he can call it back.

A little later: "I miss her." The laughter dies a natural death; subsides to a smile. The smile shifts, becomes quieter. "I miss them all. Sometimes I wonder -- "

He breaks off there.

[Wahya] She can see the look of bemusement creeping over his face. He flashes a quick grin, rolling up his shoulders and shrugs them, doing his best to feign an expression of innocence.

Little Sister and Wolf-brother good to Wolf, so leave presents. Little Sister no like cat. he lets out a sigh, Rabbit scarce, make do with what there is to hunt. Hunt cat. Can eat cat.

[AnneMarie Hoch] Her lips quirk at the feigned innocence, though not quite into smirk nor smile as she nods her understanding. ~In Scab, rabbits are difficult to find. Cats are plentiful - I understand the choice.

You asked me to teach - here is another lesson. Little sister may be better pleased with flowers. Pretty ones from the forest, that smell nice, and have vivid color. They cannot be eaten, but result in less screaming. Seem silly to you, but in the City, things are different. Like Making Rain to wash under in the Cave of Shiny Stones.

Unless, of course, her screams are for amusement? Then, try Sewer Rats. they get almost as big as cat.

[Mrena Armstrong] "Oh God you have to send me yours, Lukas, I am so serious-" she said. Mrena finally managed to come down from her laugher, managed to uncurl from the fetal position and back into something more natural.

Or, at the very least, more upright.

A little bit later, he said that he missed Katherine. That he missed all of them, and stops himself mid thought. And Mrena sat there in silence, in Edward's shirt, and for a moment didn't quite know what to say. The thought of them made her smile.

"I miss them, too," she said. Quietly, but not too quiet.

And, for a moment, she didn't explore that last part where Lukas had broken off. There were things that they knew and things that they didn't; it went unsaid that they missed their packmates. It was hard to articulate how much. Mrena didn't touch Dylan's half of the room. It looked clean, and it was as pristine as it had been since Dylan was last there.

But Mrena never so much as considered touching it. She never ventured to that side, as though that half of the room was sacred. Maybe it was because, on some level, the theurge was delusional. On some level, she was convinced that Dylan was coming back. And, on some level, Mrena thought of this as a weakness.

"You wonder what?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] In the silence, Lukas had looked away -- toward his desk, his closed closet door, as though taking inventory of his room.

Her question brings his regard swinging back. He looks at her for a moment.

Then: "I wonder if we should've stayed in New York. Or Boston." A shrug. "Sometimes it just seems like we were more of a pack there. Closer. Not so strained. I thought we should come out here to toughen ourselves up, to ... grow up, but -- "

A shrug ends it.

[Wahya] He grins for a moment when she mentions about making rain to wash in. He is still smug with himself at having discovered the secret to fixing the broken waterfalls. His body is relaxed, continuing to perch in a crouched position on the chair. Wahya is pretty still, except for his head movements, which always seem to turn or tilt in a certain manner or direction. Shifting to follow the paths of light that might gleam off an object that could catch his eyes for a second or two, before returning back to focus once again on AnneMarie.

The talk of Little Sister seems to make his eyebrows furrow deeply. She can see him shake his head, tossing that matted mane of braids back over his shoulders away from his face. The glossy, puckered line of scar tissue runs in a slant down his right temple, caressing over part of his cheekbone, ending just at the flat curve of his nostril; it twitches and pulls as he works the muscles in his jaw.

He signs back to her, Sewer rat? Little Sister cannot live on flowers. Will starve to death, rat good?

[AnneMarie Hoch] Her pack might be surprised to see her like this - almost relaxed, though they certainly have often seen her calm. Despite the press of the growing moon sharpening the edge of her rage, she still remains still, with any tension coiled deep within, ready to call upon at a moment's notice, for any reason - despite that, she has the visage of one who is relaxed, and speaking with a friend.

...does she truly have any? No one knows.

She signs after a moment's consideration. ~In the city, one does not need to hunt as you do in the Forests, to survive. Here, we trade money for food, at the store or like the floor below. You walked through the kitchen, where food is prepared here often. It is much the same for your Little sister. She will not starve. The flowers are not for her to eat, but rather something pretty to look at - in the scab, it is sometimes hard to find natural beauty. Flowers remind us of that beauty. ~

[Mrena Armstrong] "I think.. maybe, it's because we have grown up here. It's harder because what's familiar has changed. Roles have shifted, people have grown and we're all going in different places."

She was quiet for a minute. "You know, before I joined this pack I'd never been out of Boston? And, even after that, this was the first place I'd ever really been?"

A mark of how young they all were, really. Lukas has seen her grow up, almost literally. She's been in this pack for almost a quarter of her life. In a way, it was almost more potent than going through some sort of life-changing event. It was uncertainty.

But she would adapt, or she wouldn't. And if Mrena didn't adapt, well then...

"I don't know how to fix things, Lukas. I can't until people get it into their heads that things aren't the way they were, and that today isn't yesterday and that we aren't who we were. And even, I can't keep us together unless packmates are willing to try."

there was silence.

More silence.

"It's actually easier, for me at least, to talk to you now than it has been in the past."

[Wahya] Wahya’s jaw relaxes; mouth opens a bit in a slack jawed expression. He blinks at AnneMarie as she can begin to read the markers of confusion stirring up. His arms slide away from his chest, hands drift up in front of his chest to sign back to her; long fingers curling and uncurling, moving in quick fluid movements that seem to express some sort of agitation, thumping against his chest a few times.

Have seen this money you speak of, fills the cups of my coats. People take pity on me and give on the street, while others are scared to come close. What is purpose of these frog-skins? If I can hunt in forest to survive, why can’t I hunt in Scab?

Wahya drops his hands across his lap, smoothing his palms over the denim fabric of his jeans until it creates a warming sensation that draws his eyes downward, examining the dark blue material between his brown fingers. “Flowers.” He mutters in a gravelly bass, perhaps more to himself, just to hear his own voice. Wahya shakes his head, looking up at AnneMarie and signs to her. What flowers do other than die to look pretty? Why suggest giving them to Little Sister, when food better.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Silence answers her, though there's every sense that Lukas is listening. He just doesn't have anything to say.

There's nothing to say to most of that.

But at the end, when she says it's easier to talk to him now, the edges of his mouth turn up in a faint, wan smile. "Well," he says, wry, "at least there's that."

It's a sort of knee-jerk irony. A moment passes before he adds, sincere: "I'm glad of that."

[Mrena Armstrong] "Yeah," she said. And it was all that she said. Mrena then rolled off the bed and started to straighten herself out. Her hair was a bit of a mess now that she had taken a pillow to the face and endured all sorts of mess-your-hair-up endeavors.

"If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay?"

[AnneMarie Hoch] She watches the confusion grow, and runs her hand back through her hair, considering how she might answer his questions. It is more difficult than one would think, to explain such things to those who have not grown up with them.

~Monkeys, and the rest of us in the cities, use money to buy food, to purchase lodging, to use for the daily needs to live in the city - even the water for the Waterfalls is paid for with this money. Suggested flowers because Little Sister may not need food, not in the traditional hunting way. Flowers to die to be pretty isn't a need, but enjoyed for the time they live. Sometimes in the scab, wants mean more than needs. Bottom line, hunting in Scab could attract attention of those who would not be so understanding of you and your ways, and cannot know of us in general. When in Scab, have to do as those in the Scab do.~

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas nods. Mrena gets up, straightens herself out. He picks his laptop up and flips it open, returning to ... whatever the hell he was working on before she came in here.

"Back atcha," he says -- flippant words; sincerity just under the surface.

[Wahya] Wahya watches her hands rather intently; he swallows the lump forming in the base of his throat. A taste forms in his mouth that feels bitter and causes him to swallow again as he tells him about what one does to live the Scab’s way. His nostrils flare out, breathing in deeply, he wants to spit out the bad taste in his mouth at the notion of having to abandon his hunting tactics.

It brings about his next question of her; Do all Scab wolves do this? Does it make you lose sight of your wolf nature? he had considered the lengths of time he might have to spend in this city, the notion of losing touch of his self did not sit well with him. It makes Wahya curl back his upper lip in a mock snarl and grit his teeth.

[Mrena Armstrong] And with that? She was out the door. Mrena shut it behind her.