[Hatchet] The next few days are going to be brutal. Hatchet doesn't know yet about the battle on the twenty-sixth floor. He doesn't know about the door in the woods yet, but he will. As of now, Sarah is still sharing a room. And it helps. Her presence helps calm him down, as much as everything else agitates him. He is glad to have someone to play with again, but right now he's playing guitar alone, sitting in the common room trying to figure out a new song.
Since he has only his ears to help him in this endeavor, it's not going well. At first it's fine: his fingers flow, slowly but steadily, across the strings. And...then he misses a note. And then another one. And swears under his breath, and plays a chord a bit harder than necessary.
A string snaps.
"Motherfucker!" he snarls, and just barely stops himself from throwing the guitar across the room. Hatchet looks like he's about to, but then stops and gently lays it on top of the coffee table, flopping back on the sectional and slouching down, glaring at the broken string like it's its own fault for breaking.
[Hatchet] [THAT]
[Aidan Whelan] Oscar Taggart just wasn't having a terribly good evening. And he was about to run into someone who would either make it better or worse... depending entirely upon Taggart's view of running into said person.
And Aidan looked... really nice today. Like he had made the attempt to look nice, in fact. (Probably he had.) When he slipped in through the back door of the Brotherhood and into the kitchen, he was dressed in 3 parts of an Armani suit - black pants with thin white pinstripes, a matching, tight-fitted vest, and a buttoned shirt of the very palest pink. (It was, in fact, quite similar to the outfit he'd had on the night he'd gone up to Gabbie's room with her... but that was a lifetime ago.)
His steps took him up the stairs quietly, and when he got to the top of them he was greeted with a sight that was both welcome and... amusing. Oscar Taggart, not having a terribly good night. Not with his guitar, at least. Aidan leaned against the door-frame for a moment as he looked in, the faintest hint of a smile tracing his mouth. Then he closed the distance between them, hunkering down slowly onto the sectional next to the other man. Not too close, but familiar-close.
"Guitar not cooperating tonight?"
[Lonna Larson] There were all sorts of reasons for Lonna to want to come to the second floor. One of them could have been because she was looking for people. Anotherreason that she could have come up was because of morbid curiosity. The only Child of Gaia that she knew, how, didn't solely consist of Evan. And, while Evan is a nice, well-adjusted redhead and Andrew was... well... Andrew drooled on her boobs in ways that she had never had a male drool on her before.
It was disconcerting.
But, that said, she did feel like she owed it to him to say yes, we share a tribe. It's nice to meet you, and then leave it at that. Hopefully, sans shedding, sans slobber, and sans two other legs. Silly, two-legged blonde.
But, no, that was not why Lonna was here today. She was here today for completely selfish reasons. She was here today because the beer was good, the company was better, and she did not feel like driving at that moment. She wanted to talk to people, she wanted some semblance of normalcy, she wanted-
She wanted a damned pilsner.
So, she got her damned pilsner. She made her way up the stairs, and Lonna Larson decided that today was a lovely day to forget about.
She got almost to the top before she found herself staring at the back half of Aidan. In her jeans and long-sleeved shirt, Lonna felt in awe and distinctly under-dressed.
[Hatchet] When Aidan comes upstairs, he finds Hatchet exactly like that: scowling at a guitar, his hands at his sides. He's alone, at least for the time being, and he's disgruntled with an inanimate object. His Rage is like something damn near tangible, far worse than it was the last time Aidan saw him. It seethes around him, throbbing like a fresh wound...which, in a way, it is. It doesn't abate when Aidan walks up, but he at least stops glaring at the guitar. Which now needs new strings. That may be because he has worn out the ones he has already.
He looks away from the used acoustic and over at the kinsman, blinking once. The scowl fades even if his Rage doesn't, and then his pale gray eyes flick past Aidan to Lonna. His nostrils flare slightly when Aidan walks over and sits beside him. His eyes track the other male, he breathes in once, and then mutters:
"Fuckin' thing. The Beatles broke it."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Not long after Aidan and Lonna troop up into the common room, Lukas troops down into the common room. His footsteps are solid on the steps to the third floor, though he's not stomping.
It's the first of June, and still cool. It rained earlier. Lukas is taking off his newsboy cap as he comes down the stairs, smacking it against his thigh to knock droplets of water off. His other hand unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt, which is pale blue, short-sleeved. He wears it layered over a crew-necked grey undershirt; dark grey jeans.
When he can see into the common room, his eyebrows skip up a bit. Busy night; two strangers or near-enough-to-strangers-not-to-matter. Lukas looks at them curiously as he pauses by the coffee table to pick up the book he must've left there earlier.
Hunger, the title reads. The cover shows a stack of small rice bowls.
[Aidan Whelan] He'd been distracted by Taggart. Had heard the footsteps coming up behind him but not actually noticed who it was until just now. The moment his eyes settled on Lonna, however... they widened, just a little. He was genuinely surprised to see her here. The last (and only) time that the two of them had run into each other, it had been mostly sex, a little conversation... and all in the name of forgetting the person who he sat next to now.
They had not discussed the fact that they were both kin. Nor had they really discussed the reason why Aidan had been so upset. So...guilty. Lonna had known only the emotion. Not the motivation.
It had been a lovely evening though, morbid depression aside, and he offered the gaian a warm, pleasant smile. "Hey there. Didn't expect to run into you again."
One couldn't claim to ever really get used to Rage (the capitalized version.) When Aidan had sat down beside Taggart, he felt it instantly, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Still, he pretended he didn't notice. Stayed relaxed. Wary, but not nervous. Hang around with werewolves enough... sleep with them enough... and you can (almost) get used to the strangest things. Almost, but not quite.
"Wow, they broke it personally, huh? Must be jealous of you stealing their glory."
Sarcasm? Why yes, ladies and gentlemen. But it was a very gentle, friendly sort. The kind one used with friends. Briefly, Aidan's gaze flickered to Lukas as he walked in.
[Lonna Larson] Took a brief survey. One very intense male; she didn't quite know his name. She was pulling for details, studying Hatchet and trying to remember where she'd seen him before. Ironically, that week had been a flurry of bullets, bitemarks, and trauma. And one ruined shirt that she had grown to really... really like overtime. But we weren't talking about trauma or drama or things that happened that week, we were talking about Hatchet, and where Lonna couldn't place him.
She didn't stare though. A few seconds was long enough before she looked at the guitar. The Beatles broke it.
"Hey Jude is a cruel mistress," she said.
She then looked at Aidan again, a look of quiet surprise on her face, brows raised, eyes widened as though she had seen the Homecoming King from high school again. She'd barely known his name, much less why he was so upset. They didn't do much talking. She asked if it would help. Aparently, it did. Or, possibly, it didn't. She didn't muse over it for too long. One of the drawbacks of living her life was that, after an evening of enjoying someone's company in a more carnal sense, she was out like a light and didn't come back around until she was damned good and ready.
Made for a quick and easy exit.
"Hey! Yeah, no kidding, right? It's good to see you, how're things?" she asked.
You look great, she said without saying. In so many, many senses of the word.
And there she was, the girl next door, all blonde curls and Vargas girl curves, talking to anyone and everyone who came by- which happened to include the male who was just as intense as Hatchet but of a distinctly different colorscheme.
After awhile, she did find something to say.
"Hey," she said.
Oh, a woman of so many words.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (...i didn't mean to throw out a no-dialogue just-passing-through-unless-you-involve-me post! i just, uh, forgot.)
"Isn't your Tribe more known for their harps and flutes anyway, Rhya?" It's a friendly dig; Lukas smiles.
[Hatchet] There's never been a time in his life that Taggart hasn't known mortals -- and Kin -- to be thoroughly uneasy around him. Other Garou can, by and large, always cope with his Rage because it is as familiar to them as their own heartbeats. He's never known human beings to be comfortable around him, and almost no Kinfolk who have relaxed completely with him there. He notices Aidan's tension, but it doesn't upset him. It doesn't strike him as out of place...because it isn't.
He continues starting at his guitar again, this time thoughtfully, and muses aloud: "Norwegian Wood's a really good song." He hasn't looked at Lonna, but he hears her, and he responds to her: "I don't really like 'Hey Jude'."
When Lukas comes in and comments on harps and flutes, he lifts his eyes again and then a single pale brow. Hatchet's gotten darker of skin tone and lighter of hair color as spring has come on. He's spent more time outdoors, and the scars on his arms are all the more prominent because the skin around them is turning golden brown. This man is about as pure bred as a Heinz 57 mutt; Gaia only knows how many bloodlines, from how many tribes, he's actually carrying around in those veins.
"And fiddles and bagpies and bodhráns, as I hear it," he agrees mildly, with a sage nod of his head. He tips his noggin towards Aidan. "You met Aidan?"
He glances over at Lonna again. "And...I remember you, but I didn't get your name. You helped Lee."
[Aidan Whelan] ((Man+Sub))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 5 (Botch x 4 at target 6)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (wow.)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (epic.)
[Aidan Whelan] ((God damnit))
[Lonna Larson] (someone please take a screen shot)
[Hatchet] [*light applause*]
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas gives Aidan a glance as Hatchet tips his head that way. It sharpens into curiosity when he hears the name.
"No," he replies, "but I've heard of you." That can't be a good sign. Lukas shifts his cap to his left hand, holds his right hand out to shake. The Ahroun is a good hand taller than Aidan; powerful across the shoulders. His grip is solid, and unlike when he shook hands with Hatchet long, long ago, he grips the other man's palm, not his forearm.
There's no indication that he's trying to squeeze Aidan into submission. "Lukáš," he says; accent on the first syllable, a long soft vowel on the second, a gently aspirated consonant at the end. Up until now, there was no indication in his voice whatsoever that English may not have been his first, or at least only, language. Now there's no doubt. "Called Wyrmbreaker."
He lets go Aidan's hand, turns to Hatchet.
"When you've got a minute, Rhya, we should talk."
[Aidan Whelan] Aidan hadn't met Lukas officially, no. He had seen him once, briefly. Maybe even more than once, but if he had, he couldn't remember. It seemed that Aidan was often distracted when he was at the Brotherhood... for one reason or another. Emotional drama followed him around like a bad soap opera. (Maybe he even created some of it, but you'll never catch him admitting this.) Point in fact, right now he was looking back and forth between Taggart and Lonna and thinking that the combination of memories and subtext was just the tiniest bit awkward.
Lukas was able to distract him for a moment with his greeting, and he raised his eyebrows slightly as he returned the handshake. There was some...trepidation, perhaps. He couldn't imagine, if Lukas had heard of him, what it was he might have heard. Possibly not anything good. Still... Aidan was friendly enough, giving a little nod of his head and smiling politely. "Good to meet you."
Then there was Taggart. And then there was Lonna. And Taggart was being his usual self. And Lonna was being hers. When the latter addressed him again, he made an attempt to hide what he was thinking when he looked over at her. An attempt, that absolutely, miserably failed. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to it, really. He'd been pretty relaxed when he came in, and the situation really wasn't warranting of such an unbelievable lack of self-control. Maybe there was just some little voice in his head that had decided, quite against his better judgment, that Hatchet absolutely needed to know that Aidan and Lonna knew each other in the biblical sense.
If I stay, it doesn't mean I love you.
"Things are... interesting. You make them better though."
Did she really? Well, in a way. Lonna was warmth and easy comfort where Taggart was none of those things. And in that moment, he did something completely out of character and astonishingly impulsive: he reached out, snatched hold of Lonna's wrist and pulled her towards him to plant a deep, seductive kiss to her lips.
(We'll forget for a moment that Taggart was the one that he actually wanted to do that to.)
[Hatchet] [Manipulation + Subterfuge: But Doc, It Can't Be Broken, I Don't HAVE One...]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] No sudden movements. No unexpected gestures.
She took a drink of her beer, just enjoying for the time being and enjoying the life of a lightweight. She was looking for somewhere to sit, but eventually seemed to decide that standing was a much better option. [If your standing you can run (you can't run) and you can make it to your exits should (No, Lonna, you can't run.)] But we aren't here to think of Lonna's ability to make a hasty retreat. We were here to hink about her ability to stand around some very... very intense people.
For her part, she did well. The rabbit didn't run. Hatchet didn't get her name; she'd helped Lee, though.
"Lonna. Lonna Larson," she said. stated. Introduction for Hatchet while some other introductions went on around her and...
Then Aidan was talking, she just barely caught Lukas name. Brows raised, a memory that, yes, she needed to talk to him. But, well, she'd waited over a year, and it wasn't exactly like Isaac was going anywhere any time soon. Name rang of familiarity, but at that moment she wasn't paying attention to familiarity.
And Aidan kissed her. The gesture was something fluid, and for her part she was easily directed, and they kissed. And it was in her nature to be giving. It was in her nature to want to press as far as she could; he could have had no idea what sort of immense joy she took out of him saying that. [You make them better though] They weren't anything. They were acquaintances, yes, but for her part she saw no need to pull away or be anything other than receptive and downright pleased. The Child of Gaia let out a pleased sigh, but did not pull away just yet.
Her name was not Soledad.
Her name was not Oscar.
And just like each time before, that fact did not matter. And, unintentionally, Lonna Larson was a common denominator for a fair portion of that pack.
That was neither here nor there.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (reflexive counterroll! shadow lords don't reflexively look for eMoTIoNz. they look for LIEZ.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Hatchet] This time, both of Hatchet's eyebrows lift at Lukas. They're very expressive, active eyebrows. Always have been. Unlike the now-dead Theurge of Lukas's tribe, he and the Ahroun never silently flossed their teeth at the same time in the bathroom around the corner. What relationship they have, tenuous and tense as any understanding between two wolves must be, is at times both respectful and wary, sympathetic and frustrated. They have not spent much time in the same general space since Hatchet buried Ryan alone in the Caern, his Beta standing silently nearby.
Something's different about Hatchet. It's noticable, and it's violent, and it's on a knife's edge of lashing out. Lukas may even remember when his own Rage grew, when the War and life and everything took their toll. Hatchet has never been the calmest of Half-Moons. Looking at him right now it's nearly impossible to tell that he's supposed to be a Judge.
But he still slouches. He sprawls, he looks amicable, he even twitches a faint and wry smile. He just feels like he's about to destroy something. He opens his mouth to respond to Lukas's statement that they should talk, but then glances to the side...to Aidan. What he says to Lonna -- whose name he has in his memory banks now -- seems odd, and Hatchet's face quirks slightly, as though amused, as Aidan gets up to walk over to her.
Then Aidan kisses Lonna.
Then Lonna sighs.
And Taggart blinks slowly, then turns his head back around to look at Lukas, his eyes made of steel but his lips in a dry smirk. "Of course you've heard of him. As you can see, Aidan is very popular." He nods his head at the door between hallway and common room, leaning forward to pick up his guitar and standing in that same motion. "Now's good. You can tell me all the hot gossip while I re-string this piece of shit."
[Aidan Whelan] ((Perception+Empathy - you really don't care?))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (and noooow, empathy. deliberately!)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lonna Larson] (Per+empathy: WTF is going on here?!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Hatchet] [2 Suxx: Oh, he cares. He isn't happy. He's annoyed. With Aidan.]
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Aidan Whelan] ((Man+Sub oh why not let's botch again))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (shit. i had so much more but i decided i should wait for a reaction at this point *LOL*)
There's a lot Lukas could say to Aidan's popularity with female kin. He chooses to keep his mouth shut and focus on more important matters, which should surprise no one. Hatchet gets up and Lukas follows him out of the room, the two Garou and their rage a storm in miniature passing down the hall.
It's room 8 they go to now. The nice thing about being Garou, particularly one like Hatchet, rootless, is that it's never hard to pack up and move. This room's a little bigger than the last, carries two desks and three wolves' scents, but is otherwise vastly similar. As with the last time, Lukas raises his eyebrows for permission before taking a seat at one of the desks.
If Hatchet didn't close the door, Lukas would have. When they're both as comfortably situated as they're going to be, Lukas lets a few seconds pass in silence before he gets right into it.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for bringing this up so soon after Ryan-yuf's death." Hatchet can already tell this isn't going to be a fun conversation. "I would've put it off if I thought it could wait, but it can't.
"I think you and Ryan were lovers. Were you?"
[Aidan Whelan] What. The hell. Was he thinking?
As soon as he did it, Aidan knew he'd made a mistake. Knew it when his lips met Lonna's and they felt warm and soft and inviting but not... what he wanted. Well, in part they were, because she wanted him, and that felt good. Felt nice that someone would express this desire so easily and generously, and Gaia forbid, in public.
But that didn't really matter, because at this precise moment, he wasn't feeling particularly good about himself. In fact, he felt... guilty. So guilty that when he broke the kiss, his eyes went instantly to Taggart. It was unconscious. Reflexive. And he saw that mask of I don't care that the Fianna always seemed to wear, but he saw past it a little too. Enough to register that Taggart was most certainly annoyed with him. It was supposed to make him feel better, right?
Right?
Aidan just wasn't that petty.
And Taggart didn't care. Just like he'd said the other night. So he may as well go on kissing Lonna, who did care.
Except Taggart did care... a little. Enough to be annoyed. Aidan... didn't quite know what to make of that. He looked a little like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him, and when he walked back to the couch, he sat down slowly and a little...glassy-eyed. As if somehow he could just pretend he didn't feel anything either. It worked just barely, not that it mattered... because Taggart was gone and Lonna had already seen everything she needed to know.
[Lonna Larson] There were analogies that she could use if she wasn't trying considering drowning herself in pale ale. She thought about it, genuinely, but the thought faded away into nothingness. Left alone and pushed aside and discarded.
And that was something about the Child of Gaia, or this one in particular. At first, she hadn't hidden that she was confused, then surprised, then pleased and then finally? She didn't hide that she was almost injured. Though, admittedly, it was hard to tell if the lady's pain was hers or felt for someone else.
She looked at Hatchet- unmoving, content to restring his guitar and talk business with Lukas. She looked at Aidan- with his movement to kiss her, with his taste still lingering on her lips. And she just seemed to take them in for the time being. Hatchet moved more, and Lonna stayed where she was. The Child of Gaia looked on him with wounded understanding.
"You need to talk to him..."
More silence.
She looked at him move, and then she spoke quietly. If there were words shared, it was between the two kin and Gaia.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (IZ HATCHET TELLING TEH TR00TH?)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Hatchet] [Willpower +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Hatchet] [Willpower +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Hatchet] It's amazing how sometimes you can look at something and see double. There's one desk in Room 8, one chair. The guitar Hatchet carried from the common room goes on top of it; Sarah's, in its case, is sitting underneath her bed. She's been placed in the safest bed, the one in the corner, with Soledad and Hatchet between her and the door. Hatchet has his knapsack and two pairs of shoes, one disposable and one leather, under his bed. His bed is neatly made; Soledad's and Sarah's are not.
Hatchet just goes straight to the bed, digs around in his knapsack, and then goes about the business of replacing the broken string. He's annoyed. He's on edge. Lukas knows this. The moon is heavy and unforgiving, but not as merciless as Hatchet's birth moon when it's waning. Hatchet's Rage is stifling.
And then Lukas apologizes. Hatchet pauses, but it's smooth; he goes right back into working. He has a Leatherman in hand. Useful little thing. He remembers the name of the person who gave it to him in Arizona. He remembers when it happened. He remembers another person, who sharpened it for him in North Carolina. He goes on doing what he's doing.
And then Lukas asks if he and Ryan were lovers.
Hatchet pauses, less smooth, and does not go back to working immediately. He flicks his eyes up at Lukas for a spare second, then asks levelly: "Were you and Mrena?"
And goes back to work.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas sits with his back against the back of the chair, his feet shoulder width apart, one outstretched. His hands are relaxed on his thighs, though one closes now, briefly, before he reopens it.
"Look at me and answer me, Rhya." Pause. "I don't want to accuse you in front of a Philodox if I don't have to."
[Hatchet] [Willpower +3 Baby We're on a ROLL Tonight!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Hatchet] Every time Lukas speaks, Hatchet's control slides further down towards a point of dangerous termination. Lukas can feel it. Lukas has felt the same thing in himself over and over again, more than likely. This time, he gives the Fostern an order, and what sounds very much like a veiled threat, and Hatchet obeys at least the first part of it.
His hands still. He lifts his head enough to look across the empty space at Lukas, his eyes no longer just steely gray but almost silver. They're cold, and gleaming, and nothing else. There doesn't even seem to be anger there.
"Well, Wyrmbreaker, if you have to, then I shouldn't stop you, should I?"
He looks back down and starts fiddling with the strings again, but he's still speaking. "I'd like to see what kind of punishment they come up with, really. Let someone else be Truthcatcher. Maybe dock my Renown, take away my rank..." he says all this musingly, but the greatest level of detachment comes when he suddenly grins down at his guitar, a barking, huffing sort of laugh leaving his throat. "Oh, I know: the elders can demand that I stay away from Ryan!"
Chuckling, Hatchet twists the Leatherman, tightens a screw.
[Aidan Whelan] ((Man+Subterfuge - stop being all psychic lady!))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Ahroun is dead silent as Hatchet lashes out, grins like a dagger, laughs like a bark. There's a beat of silence after.
"I'll take that as a yes," Lukas replies quietly -- and evenly.
"Ryan-yuf died an honorable death. I won't be dragging his name through the mud if I can help it. I promise you that. I would've left you alone too, but the Ragabash of my pack brought up a point I had to consider. He thought your conduct violated the Litany. And he thought a Truthcatcher, above and beyond all others in the Sept, must adhere absolutely to the laws of the Nation.
"So I asked three Philodoxes for their interpretation of the Litany law that concerns Charaching. I haven't mentioned your name or Ryan-yuf's. One was uncertain; the other two believed relations with another Garou was forbidden by the Litany, regardless of gender.
"I think you stand in a grey area that can be argued, and perhaps successfully -- but I think as Truthcatcher, grey isn't good enough. You have to be irreproachable. You have the right to argue that too, of course. But I'd rather not do that in front of the Sept either.
"I've always thought you honorable, and your judgment sound." A faint, wry huff of a laugh, "As long as you yourself weren't involved, anyway. I think what happened with Ryan might make you an unfit Truthcatcher."
This is all leading somewhere. And now Lukas gets to it:
"I don't think it hampers your ability to be a Master of the Challenge."
[Hatchet] [Willpower +4: Please Be a Nice Man. For Once.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Failure at target 9)
[Lonna Larson] ((Per+empathy: keep bein' a psychic, lady!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Hatchet] At least he doesn't throw it at Lukas. The Leatherman, precious tool and one of the few things he carries with him everywhere, flies across the room, smacks the wall a foot from Lukas's head handle-first, and falls with a quiet thud to the carpet. It isn't loud enough that people throughout the brotherhood hear it. What they do hear, instead, is Hatchet roaring:
"STOP SAYING HIS NAME!"
Lukas didn't even get to finish the -yuf.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (OH COME ON.)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The tool flies by his head. Lukas is on his feet instantly, instinctively. The Leatherman smacks into the wall and Hatchet shouts at him, and Lukas waits one beat before he snarls back, low:
"Are you finished? Or do you actually want half the goddamn Sept baying for your blood?"
[Hatchet] The look Hatchet gives Lukas is one of hyper-exaggerated patience, the edges of it burning and curling away into his Rage. "Do you think that would be new to me?"
[Lonna Larson] Aidan makes a break for the hallway, and for her part she wants to do many, many things.
But she doesn't.
And instead determines that one beer isn't going to be strong enough for tonight, and she heads down the stairs.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Don't start that cynical shit with me, Rhya," Lukas fires this back almost before Hatchet's sentence is done. "I'm not here to start a witchhunt over your personal life. I'm here to discuss Sept business with you. Now can I finish what I was trying to say?"
[Aidan Whelan] Shit.
This could not possibly be good, whatever was going on in there. If Aidan knew the full truth, he'd be shocked that Taggart hadn't completely lost his mind by now. The bellowing shout had resounded from the 8th room, and Aidan approached it warily, but stayed back a respectful distance. He wouldn't have been able to hear anything spoken normally, but that wasn't the purpose of his watch. He didn't want to listen in. He just wanted to make sure that Taggart was alright.
So he'd just stay where he was for now, muscles tense with anxiety and waiting to hear another scream, or worse... a fight.
[Hatchet] "Stop giving me orders, Wyrmbreaker!" he snaps back. "I know that's your pack's thing and all, but it doesn't encourage me to listen to you!"
Hatchet is, as Ryan would have said, all riled up. Were he in another form his fur would be bristling, his teeth bared. He's on the edge of frenzying, so close that the edges of his eyes are brilliant gold. "Fifteen words or less, then get the fuck out."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (show us you can control yourself, wyrmbreaker!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's teeth grind so hard bolts of muscle stand out in his cheeks and his temples; a vein bulges in his forehead. Part of him wants to stalk out the door immediately, and fuck trying to reason with this madman of a philodox. Another part wants to grow fur, taste blood, tear Hatchet's goddamn throat out, enforce submission and silence in the oldest way known to man and beast alike.
A third part, tenuous, diminishing, recognizes the best course of action and clings to it. With an immense effort, Wyrmbreaker reins himself in.
"It's in your own best interest to hear everything I have to say," he says, low, strained. "I'm not here to ruin you. Or him."
[Hatchet] His own voice lowers in response. Maybe he's matching Lukas's tone to mock him. Maybe it's unconscious, the way that one person yawning makes another need to catch up on their breathing, or the way that wolves move in concert as they hunt prey. Or maybe he is as he sounds: tired.
He's very tired of feeling this way. And he's tried of it being so hard to control himself, even worse than it used to be. He's tired of Ryan being dead. And he's tired of remembering the way he sounded, or smelled, and he's tired of wishing he could do as he did before and just...forget. Forget it all. Let the lights go down.
"I know," he says, with the tenacious calm that has, despite all of his insanity and his mistakes and madcap behavior, earned him the Honor of a Nation whose Half-Moons are expected to be its blameless leaders. That was more than fifteen words, on Lukas's part, but -- inconsistent or not -- Hatchet doesn't demand he get the fuck out now, he's done.
"I know it is, and I know you're not," he goes on, in the same tone of voice that he once used to tell Lukas that he'd gladly call him his brother. "I'm asking for mercy," he says, his voice still low but now dropping to a near-whisper. There's no irony to his tone, despite the fact that he is speaking to a member of a Tribe not known for things like 'mercy', despite the fact that he is talking to a wolf born under a moon not known for its punch-pulling. "Not now. Not when the moon's this heavy."
Not when it's only been three weeks.
Not when I loved him this much.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas discovers his hands have curled -- not into fists, but into claws. He straightens them out joint by joint, looking down to see them uncurl. Flexes them once. Lets them relax. Then he looks up, studies Hatchet for a long time.
He draws a breath.
"I'm asking you to resign as Truthcatcher at the moot," he says slowly, "and claim the position of the Master of the Challenge instead.
"If you want my reasons, I'll gladly tell you when the moon has waned."
[Hatchet] Hatchet's brows pull together, not in annoyance now but consternation; confusion. "Got an idea for how to explain that first one?"
[Hatchet] Hatchet listens. It's not fifteen words or less, but Lukas does not mention Ryan again, or what they had. Hatchet as good as told him yes, yes we were lovers, yes Sampson is right, yes I loved him, yes I want to die, please punish me so I have an excuse to give up. He doesn't seem to care. Cynic or something else, it's obvious enough that there are still things he cares about. He cares enough, though about Lukas or the sept or the Truth or the Litany or whatever-the-fuck, to let him finish speaking this time.
His chin lifts slightly, when Lukas is done. He doesn't voice agreement, to anything Lukas has said, at least not yet. "Who do you plan on maneuvering into the role I abandon?"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Maybe Lukas should act hurt now. Or offended. Or protest that this isn't political maneuvering; this was wisdom, this was honorable; this was ...
... who knows what mountains, what cascades of excuses someone else might come up with. Lukas says merely this:
"Truthcatcher isn't important to me. Besides, everyone knows the Grand Elder has the Gift. The position may as well be ceremonial."
[Hatchet] [Perception + Subterfuge: ORLY.]
[Hatchet] This, Hatchet agrees with. He lifts his eyebrows, and he nods, stopping just short of rolling his eyes slightly. Maybe it's clear then why he took the position without a terrible amount of thought. Then again, perhaps it speaks for itself: in the time he's been Truthcatcher, Hatchet has been called upon to perform that role exactly zero times. It is one thing to play the impartial Philodox to a brief, on-the-side dispute between Garou. The Truthcatcher cracks the bone, watches it pass 'round...interprets the Litany.
There's more to it than Lukas said earlier, what he says about it now. But in the end it's beside the point: only once in half a year has a Garou sought interpretation of the Litany, sought that elusive Truth...and it was Lukas. And it was about interpreting the very first law, in fact.
The one that, according to the Half-Moons Lukas spoke to, the Truthcatcher broke.
"So why push me to claim Master of Challenges? It's not always held by a Half-Moon." Beat. "Galliards, for example, make excellent Challenge-masters."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Because Master of Challenges is important to me. And I trust your judgment. I trust you'll be fair."
That comes without hesitation. Then there's a pause, wry.
"As long as you aren't directly involved yourself, anyway. As for it not always being held by a Philodox -- true, but as far as I can tell, no one but Philodoxes have ever held it in this Sept. And there are three or four Philodoxes who would be glad to claim it if you don't."
Another pause, this one a consideration.
"I met three of them. I asked them for an interpretation of the Litany." Hatchet isn't an idiot. He can probably guess which law of the Litany was being questioned. Lukas shrugs and continues, "Only one of them gave me as thorough and well-considered an answer as I've come to expect from you. And he's not even part of the Sept."
[Hatchet] The look Hatchet gives Lukas when he says he trusts his judgment is droll, with a dubious lift of one eyebrow. He might as well say: Sure you do.
Or maybe: Why on earth...?
He is sitting on the bed still, the guitar half-strung, the Leatherman on the floor, the large room managing not to feel so empty with two Garou of such high Rage in the same space. Hatchet reaches up one empty hand and rubs his eyes, thumb and forefinger ending in a pinch across the bridge of his nose. When his hand drops again, he sighs.
"I'll think about it."
celebration.
9 years ago