summer solstice.

[Sam Modine] Wanna get started or wait for more? :)
to Liadan Whelan

[Liadan Whelan] Sometime around 7PM Líadan stands near the area set up for performers in a clearing in Tekakwitha woods. The smell of meat cooking wafts from the trio of cooking pits on the south side of the bonfire, far enough away that no one near the main fire will be overwhelmed, but close enough that hungry party goers can feed themselves easily.

Everything is set. Everything is ready. The weather could not possibly be more perfect.

She takes a box of matches from a pocket of her brown sleeveless hoody. Rakes a wooden stick across the side. Tosses it into the mass of firewood stacked and lightly doused with kerosene. It takes a second for it to take and then...

FWOOSH!

The bonfire begins.

[Alright people, welcome to the big bonfire night chat-a-palooza! A basic map is in my gallery and basic rules are in the forums under the bonfire thread.

Remember: If your characters wander outside of the sight of other players, please move their chats to PMs. If they're out where everyone can see them, stay in the open chat.

Have fun!]

[Henry Allard] He'd seen the note on the board at The Brotherhood one of the first times that he dared travel inside, and almost as if by compulsion and not rational thought Henry had called Líadan Whelan of Star Seed Photography not to chat her up, not to introduce himself as one of the Nation, but to ask if she needed help.

On the phone he had sounded nice enough. A little tongue-tied and not very well-spoken, but he gave her his name and said he'd be the tall guy wearing a blue polo shirt. Which he is.

He got here early to help Lee set up, had shaken her hand and then pegged her as the beer-chugging girl at the Brotherhood last week; he has lost the beard he was sporting at the time and the scars on his left arm are visible now where they weren't before, but he's still 6'4" in his shoes and he still is in dire need of a haircut.

Now that the bonfire's started he's standing out of the reach of the growing fire's flames, it being hot today, with a beer in hand. He brought harder alcohol, but that won't come out until more people show up.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus is off to the south near the pit he dug for the pig he brought along to the field party. It's still got another few hours to cook yet, but he's relaxing, already munching on a sandwich sitting on his camp stool just kicked back and relaxing.

He raises his chin up to Henry in a friendly nod. He's been here since this morning, and took a nap earlier. When Lee got back he helped out with anything else to be set up.*

[Sam Modine] Normally he'd havehad to show up to something like this dressed for war, taking p the four legged form to travel the umbra, unable to bring anything but those things dedicated to his form. Hardly party attire, all that. Thankfully Katherine's home and Kat? Has a driver. The staff has been back at work for a few days and it's only a matter of some small haggling for "Mr. Modine' or 'Sir' as he refuses to allow them to call him but they often insist upon anyway to get a ride out to the countryside.

One imagines the stop on the south end of 85th street to pick up six bottles of liquor from a store that had more dust on the shelves than 'Jeeves' as Sam ribbed the kinfolk with a nickname had ever seen in his life. Those picked up and necks taken in long bony hands Sam sends the driver off with a promise of the safe return of his friend later and walks over toward the small gathering group with half a dozen fifth-gallon bottles of spirits in various colors over toward the assembled.

"Lee!" he would wave but instead lifts full hands up and shouts excitedly. "I brought favors, where should I put them?" He's smiling for the first time in days, clean, wearing clothes nearly new, the tags from the Manhattan shops only ripped from the shorts this morning.

He looks like he's letting go.

[Liadan Whelan] It really is pretty out out yet, and it's not expected to get a whole lot cooler as the night goes on. But the bonfire isn't for heat, it's an excuse to get people out and into the woods in the middle of the night, where they can be raucous and have fun in whatever way they see fit without fear of the neighbors calling the cops for noise disturbances.

There aren't a lot of people here yet, but that's okay. The night is still young.

Líadan stands near Henry, staring at the fire, her hands balled up in the pockets of her brown sleeveless hoody. Aside from that, she's wearing a robin's egg blue tee, denim shorts that stop a little higher than mid thigh, and her Chuck's. Her long red hair is held at the nape of her neck with a clip. And of course, she has to wear her glasses.

She looks up at Henry and smiles. “Thanks for helping get set up.” She and Henry had rearranged the camp chairs to be at a little further distance from the blaze. They had also helped set coolers in odd places, packed with beer and soda and bottles of water. Over by the food area is a crate with some harder alcohol for those inclined to drink it.

Someone calls her name. She turns to see Sam holding up more alcohol. This was going to be such a great party.

Lee raises her arm to point to the south side, where the the cook fires and Marcus are situated. “Just put them with the rest!” she calls.

[Henry Allard] Líadan is one of the taller women that Henry knows, and she doesn't have to look up very far to accomplish the task of eye contact. When he senses her looking over Henry glances down. The blue of his shirt, the same color as Lee's t-shirt, off-sets the green of his eyes, but between that and the dark wash of his jeans and the grayness of his running shoes he's wearing an awful lot of colors that don't go with his skin tone.

The man may never learn how to dress himself properly. Then again, he's hardly trying to impress anyone, either.

She's given a close-lipped yet nonetheless friendly smile as she thanks him, and it's enough of a distraction that he doesn't notice Sam strolling onto the grounds. Marcus was given a return nod; it's unlikely that they won't introduce themselves at some point.

"Hey, no problem," is his response, anything else cut off by her command to Sam. That's when he looks over and notices him. And takes a drink of his beer.

[Sam Modine] And that he does, veering over toward Marcus and deftly setting down bottles. He's not an extra from cocktail by any means but his fingers show a more than remarkable dexterity in handling the smooth glass. "Hey." Sam offers the younger Fenrir a lopsided grin.

"What's up?" He looks the other over but just in glances, a little meaningless those, not some staring down or overly discerning glare. Open, informal, friendly even. "People showing already, big turnout you think?"

From on the table he plucks a red plastic cup. "Early bite to put a little hair on your chest, kiddo?" he waves a second empty one in the Forseti's direction.

[Wahya Many Tongues] The news passed through the grapevine of kinfolk and Garou who wandered through the Brotherhood. It even hits the ears of this one. It took some time for him to get here, Wahya eventually making his way onto the grounds where the bonfire was located.

The wolf, literally four paws and all, twitches his ears at the noise, his head tilted up to sniff the air. He can make out the monkey-babble and the delicious smell of meat cooking at the fire pits. He might look like some random wildlife that has bravely wandered in or someone’s pet in the fading light, but some will know him for what he is.

He pads over to the cooking pits, surveying the area to see which person was standing guard and what food was out of watchful eyesight and that he can pilfer to fill his empty belly.

[Megan] "This way.. come on." Laughing quietly, she hustled Seamus towards the fire. She had a hoody jacket tied around her waist in case it rained later or got too cold. Small black shorts, and a blue singlet is what she wore, with a pair of volley sneakers with ankle socks. In her other hand she was carrying a bag with some goodies in it, crisps, chocolate blocks and a few bags of marshmallows.

Wahya also catches her scent, as his new pack-mate heads for the group.

[Seamus MacKenzie] Ah can fookin' smell it too ya Valley girl.

*Seamus walked along beside Megan. Hiking boots, cargo shorts, a belt. white teeshirt with some blood stains from his mugging last week, over it a button up green shirt, that's opened and unbuttoned. Around his neck there's a new curiosity though. A braided torc with little wolf's head caps. The braid itself seems to be long corse black and gray hair around a wire core. The effect is pretty nice. It looks like a soft hair torc but it's stiff and doesn't flop around or fall off his neck.

Seamus was carrying a case of Guiness in his free hand*

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus frowns when Sam walks over. He sets down his sandwich on the plate next to his stool.* "First of all my name is not kiddo. It's Marcus, or Two Ravens. And do not think because this is a celebration I have forgotten the disrespect you showed me at the Brotherhood. How you questioned my honor in front of others not of our Tribe, and how you spit in my face after you had attacked him without issuing a proper challenge."

*He looks at Sam with hard eyes.* "And how you continue to disrespect me, those who witnessed what you did, and our Tribe by not making amends. So until you do so I will not forgot what you have done." *He holds up a hand.* "But for tonight... since this a celebration I will say no more on it, but tomorrow until you make it right you are nothing to me." *He says plainly.*

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((attacked him = attacked me))

[Wahya Many Tongues] Marcus had set his sandwich down on the plate next to his stool, Wahya paused by it to listen to the Fenrir speak. He glances up at Marcus and then back to the sandwich, and then back up again. If Marcus was still distracted, Wahya takes the sandwich for himself off the plate and begins to pad off with it, scarfing half of it down before anyone noticed.

[Wendy Berber] *How did she get here? One moment she was at the Brotherhood asking if she could help, the next she was belted into a car with a plate of sandwiches on her lap. Now she moved towards the bonfire, a watermelon hugged in scrawny arms. *

[Henry Allard] Henry does little more than glance off across the clearing before he catches sight of Wendy toting the watermelon in both arms. She's a slight girl, and though she's tall that watermelon looks bigger than her torso. Lee is given a "Hold that thought," and if no one else makes it there to help before he does Henry sets his Rolling Rock down in the dirt and starts off towards her.

"You want a hand with that?" he asks in that atrocious Chicagoan accent of his.

[Sam Modine] "Wasn't a proper challenge to be made, young man. You asked after my kin. I told you what was what and asked you three times to drop it. You didn't get disrespected, y'got what you had coming." He shrugs and gives a placating smile. "Ought to loosen up. It's a new moon and there are kin about."

As Sam's talking and glancing back and forth a bottle of something dark, sour mash from the smell of it is being cracked and poured into two cups. One is taken in had the bottle closed to let the other sit on the edge of the table.

"Here." Sam nods toward the other Solo. "This might help." His glass is raised toward the other man, and quietly in the tones of one committed to living hard enough that he would be a statistic to see six more birthdays intones.

"You your health, young man. To Fenris, to Gaia, and to a night of leave from the front." With that he's tipping back the cup, draining half of the four or five ounces in a draw. "Have a good night, I catch you." With that he's knocking easily once on the table and walking back out amongst the rest of them.

[Sam Modine] (*I'll)

[Wendy Berber] Oh, um.. well th-thank you sir. *She offers him a nervous smile. The damn thing was dribbling juice down her too warm for the weather sweater. Half an hour into the Bonfire and wendy of all people smelled like Vodka already. SHe gives over the watermelon, swallowing hard and trying to wring out her ugly shirt**

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus shakes his head and says to Sam.* "If you truly believe that, especially when a Forseti of the Fenrir is speaking to you of matters of honor then you truly will never understand the sacrifices your ancestors made so you could have their deeds imprinted in your blood."

*He looks for his sandwich, and finding it gone moves to go fix him another one.*

[Joss Lehrer] Well. She made it. We won't go into the how's or whys, or even whyfores or whatevers, because she's Fenrir, the Smiling Godi, and it's a PARTY and she is lugging a COOLER with her. It's one of those fancy one's with wheels on the bottom and a handle, making all kinds of racket as it bumps along the trail behind her.

As for what's inside the cooler (are you SURE you want to know? She is from a Sept who's Jarl is a Redneck...) - another large watermelon, this one? already sliced and diced and soaking in a cooler full of vodka and ice. The ice has no chance to dilute the vodka though, as it's double bagged and sealed. The girl knows how to fix a watermelon - for all she's only 18.

She's dressed as always, though her sweater is tied around her waist, leaving her in light flowing skirts and a tank top, her dreads unfettered, flipping every which way, damp from recent rains, and clinging to her slender form - as does her clothing.

Party time!

[Wahya Many Tongues] Wahya made his rounds around the bonfire, stretching his head out and shakes it. His tongue flicks out to lick along his muzzle, savoring the taste of Marcus’ sandwich. He is on the prowl for something else, head dropping down as he begins to wind his way towards the kin.

[Megan] "Valley girl?" She shot a look at him, and tugged on his hand. "What's that meant to mean?" The New Moon has her in good spirits. She wasn't as edgy or ready to snap at people. It was good times all around. Megan was a Child of Gaia, bonfires were all her business. She loved this sort of thing, just, she wouldn't exactly admit that.

[Henry Allard] Henry notices the leakage as he comes upon the girl who's only a few inches shorter than him, and as such does not hold the watermelon like a football but carts it like he would an EKG machine without a handle.

"Here, I'll give you two," he says, hoisting it out of her hands and starting towards the picnic tables. "Only thing is you're gonna have to clear off a spot for me. I'm Henry, by the way."

[Seamus MacKenzie] Tha' ya were born in tha valley? Up Seattle way? *Grinning a bit he looked around and nodded, The sept he was from had quite a few bonfires as well. * Naa' a bad start.

*Sniffing the air he squeezed Megan's hand* Any of your people here? Ya said ya totally wanted ta show off ya new bit o' arse.

[Liadan Whelan] Feeling a bit thirsty, Líadan wanders over to the cooking area where the bulk of the kegs (three, in fact) are set up.

She watches as more people come to the fire. The sun has not yet set but it's getting there, and though there are already cases and coolers and kegs stationed around the bonfire area, everyone seems to be bringing more alcohol. This makes the Fianna kinswoman smile.

She gets to the cooking area, grabs a red plastic cup, and fills it with frothy brew. Marcus, standing at a table preparing a sandwich, catches her eye, and she grins.

“Hey, how are you?” She takes a sip from her cup. “How's the pig coming?”

[Megan] Looking around the area, she shook her head, "Nope. I don't know anyone here."

Then she spots two people, "Oh wait.. There's one." Nodding over towards where Henry is helping out Wendy.

"And that wolf over there, that's Wahya." She added, as if to explain, "Pack," and obviously the lupus that she was talking about.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He smiles when Lee walks up to him. His frown disappears, and that casual good mood is back.* "I'm well. Very good. Oh it's coming along fine. About... maybe another couple hours."

*He leans over and says something low to her.*

[Wendy Berber] W-Wendy. Um Wendy Berber sir. *She hurries ahead of him, clearing a big spot on the picnic table for the Melon. She stands off to the side for the melon delivery.* um n-nice to m-meet you. *He gets a submissive head duck.*

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus followed her pointing with his eyes* Oh cool! A lupus. They tend to like me. *He grinned back to her* Na tha' the other's donna'. *Grinning he bumped her hip with his own.* Take me over. Introduce us.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] "You did a great job on organizing this. It looks really nice. I'm sure everyone is going to enjoy it."
to Liadan Whelan

[Liadan Whelan] As the sun casts long shadows across the clearing, Líadan's cheeks go slightly pink. She smiles up at Marcus.

“Aw, thanks.” She holds her red plastic cup in her left hand, uses her right to lightly punch the young man in the shoulder.

[Megan] "Wait, let's go stick those over there with the rest." Nodding towards the table with the food and where Henry was with Wendy anyway. She began that way, wandering with Seamus. "I hope you're not thinking we're going to stick around all night. Fianna and drink is bad on any given day." Muttered quietly to the man at her side.

Approaching the table, she put her bag of junk food up.

[Henry Allard] Henry sets the melon down on the landing zone that Wendy's created, tilting the great thing so that the puncture hole that had been made to infuse it with vodka is facing up, then dries his hands off on the part of his body where his ass would be if he weren't so lean.

"Nice to meet you," he says. If the expression on his face is any indication he's well aware of the younger woman's skittishness and the reason why she's wearing a sweater in the middle of June on one of the first warm days they've had this year, but he isn't going to say anything. "You want a beer or anything?"

[Seamus MacKenzie] Wot? Wot's tha? Ah ... Ah never! *he laughed good naturedly and walked with Megan over to Henry and Wendy. Raising up the case of Guinness he put it on the table and then offered Wendy his hand. Then Henry* Seamus MacKenzie.... Nice ta meet cha.

*His scottish brogue coloring his language* Scottish by birth. Megan's by the grace of Gaia. How the hell are ya?

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He smiles at Lee, and says.* "I should probably get back to watching it now." *He swallows a bit, looks at her, and then leans over again to say something low in her ear.*

[Joss Lehrer] She finishes her trudge and delivers the cooler full of mostly vodka with a touch of watermelon throwing in to the table, and dusts off her hands. Just in time to see Henry and Wendy depositing theirs as well. Henry gets a winning grin as she lifts a hand and waggles her fingers in a wave.

[Sam Modine] Well, he had been about to go the other way when a face he hasn't seen since she left the hotel room except maybe in flashes in some shithoused haze from which he does remember dragging Katherine away from a fight comes by going the other way.

Along with a man familiar enough even without the beard, carrying of all things a melon.

Both would get taps on their shoulders but the kid says something to Lee and she turns, facing the Modi from some few feet away. "I totally just got that you're Liadan." One he can get her eyes. "I kinda feel like a doofus now asking if you were coming." That grin returns but is stifled quickly into a sip from that black labeled whiskey.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] "If... you'd like to... spend some time with me tonight... When your hosting duties are done. I would... I would really like that." *He says in a nervous voice, putting himself out there.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Liadan Whelan] [percept+emp]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Wendy Berber] A beer? Oh, um. n-no thank you. Um. I don't - I've never um -*She shakes her head, tucking black hair behind an ear.* S-sorry. Um. thanks. Thanks anyway sir.

[Serafine Marceau] It was just coming up on 8:00 pm when Serafine's graphite blue Jetta pulled up to the parking lot. After getting out, she opened the trunk and withdrew a guitar case, which she slung over one shoulder, then a folding chair, which she tucked under an arm. It was a bit of a walk to get to the bonfire, but she didn't mind. On a lovely evening such as this, she was glad for the excuse to get out and play in the woods.

So after strolling her way down the path, eventually she caught sight of the open area and those who had so far gathered. She was humming something to herself as she set her chair up in the grass, leaning the guitar case against it and pausing to kick off her sandals before wandering over barefoot to inspect the drink selections. Her hair was back in a long braid tonight, and she wore a simple outfit of jeans and a black camisole.

[Henry Allard] (Shit shit! Fire ze missíles!)

Henry turns away from Wendy's turning down of the beer with the Scottish brogue that sounds out behind him, jumping slightly with the unexpected voice but smiling friendlily at the whirlwind of speech and energy anyway. When it's his turn to shake Seamus Mackenzie's hand, he does so.

"Nice to meet you, Seamus," he says, his accent massacring the name even though it's pronounced correctly. Looking over to the Gaian he met in the park several weeks ago he smiles with recognition and gives a short wave. "Hey Megan."

It's starting to pick up. Henry reaches up to rub his lower jaw with his left hand, revealing a gold band that wasn't there when Megan saw him out running--literally--in Grant Park.

[Henry Allard] Henry's player is an idiot, but Henry sees Joss anyway, raising his hand to wave at the Godi as she passes by.

[Wahya Many Tongues] Sam will feel the brush of fur and muscle against one of his legs. The wolf finding its way near the other Modi as he made his rounds, ears roll forward as he lifts his head up to look between Sam and Liadan. He lets out a loud woof to get the kin’s attention, wagging his tail in the air.

[Megan] "Hi Henry." She smiled back at him, looking a lot more at ease then last time. That was, not ready to run him down in a park. Moon phase has a lot to do with it. Her gray eyes flit to the nervous Wendy and she offers another smile, "Hi, I'm Megan." Also not from Chicago but Seattle, as way of accent. She's not like Seamus. No Scots brogue.

[Joss Lehrer] She winks at him, finds a paper cup, flips open the cooler and scoops up some watermelon vodka goodness into it, then wanders off to find someplace not quite so crowded, a spot where she can watch folks come and go.

And keep an eye on Henry. Especially when Sam is so near. The first fight of the night might be Fenrir after all... time will tell.

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Nodding to Henry he smiled and glanced when Wendy missed his intro. Instead he stood beside Megan and smiled glancing around. seeing the gal with Dreads he offered his hand to Joss* Seamus MacKenzie. Nice ta meet cha.

[Liadan Whelan] Marcus whispers close to her ear. Líadan looks up at him and smiles. “I'd like that. I'll look for you later.”

Then Sam is calling her. There's a look that passes over her face for just a fraction of an instant as she remembers the last time she saw him. It's gone quickly.

“Lee-den,” she corrects automatically. “And I prefer Lee, actually.” She grins a little and moves away from Marcus.

“If you guys'll excuse me, I have to go make the rounds.”

[Joss Lehrer] She pauses, and slips her slender fingers into Seamus' grip. She is average - average height, average weight, average looks - but with piercings and dreads that make her stand out a little bit. But she is anything but average, and the deceptive strength in that grip says so. "Joss."

And she resumes her walk to find a good place to watch everyone.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus smiles and nods to Lee watching her as she leaves. He moves over to Joss and says.* "Well Little Big Sister ~Rhya. You come bearing watermelon." *He smiles and says.* "Is it filled with something other then the natural juices Gaia put into it?" *He says joking with her.*

[Wendy Berber] *She nods to Megan and Seamus as they approach* W-Wendy um, Wendy Berber. Nice to m-meet you. *She's shrinking into herself the more people gather around her, fingers tracing along the edge of the table nervously.* I'm um.. I should go help.. with the food..

[Sam Modine] Wahaya gets a pat on one flank, from an overlong arm stretched down. One does not pet a Lup[us, they are not dogs, but from his experience physical contact works as well as vocalization in most cases. It's a quiet hello from the Modi who again stands up to his full and considerable lanky height.

He nods at the correction. "Find me later," He smiles at the red headed kinfolk before down again to the wolf at his side.

"You want a drink or something dude?" Looking directly at him and using his eyebrows and eyes as much as the words themselves to communicate. "I'm sure we can find something easier to get at for you then a cup. After all, it's not like the guy can get lit in homid like the rest of them.

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus was much the same. About 5'8", average looks. pale Scottish skin. a smattering of freckels, brown hair. Not too big or buff looking. But damn was he well bred. A nod to Joss and he watched her go with a grin.

looking back he let go of Megan's hand and leaned towards Wendy. His normally cheerfully boistious voice quieted* Did ya need 'elp there, Ms Berber? Ah grew up with 9 sisters, ah take orders from females right nice.

[Sam Modine] (((grrr. *"...than a cup."))

[Henry Allard] Henry glances down at Wendy as she stammers her way through an introduction to the Garou and her kinsman, and he looks back over at Megan and Seamus with a "I gotta go grab my beer before someone makes off with it, I'll be right back."

It's an invitation for Wendy to sneak away if there are too many bodies, but he doesn't wait for her. He just turns and walks towards the bonfire where he left his lager.

[Joss Lehrer] She laughs up at Marcus "I thought you had left!"

Then as he asks his question, she just grins and waves her cup under his nose - there is DEFINITELY something other than what Gaia put into it in that cup. "I certainly have no idea what you're insinuating, sir!"

Completely innocent.
Honest.

[Gael Sandoval] Why was he even here tonight? It didn't really matter. Nothing better to do, and it certainly beat another evening of roaming around looking for trouble. So at some point, Gael's rusted pickup pulled up, and he made his way through the woods to the location of the bonfire. Unlike others, he hadn't thought to bring anything with him, but it didn't really matter. He was content to grab a beer and park himself on the grass in front of the fire, which is exactly what he did, cowboy hat pulled down slightly as he brought his knees up and gave a small, contented sigh. He didn't really know any of those present, although he had met Sam briefly and Wahya briefly, and remembered Marcus from the incident his first night in town.

Either way, at present he didn't make a move to speak with anyone. He wasn't the world's most talkative guy.

[Wendy Berber] Oh, um. Its ok, t-thank you sir. I'll, um.. I'll be back. th-thank you.. *She ducks her head, curling her arms around herself and backing away a few steps before moving towards where the Brotherhood kin were preparing and unloading food.*

[Liadan Whelan] [COLOR CODING WINSAUCE!

Guys, chat's already getting some heavy flow. Jamie is a genius. This might help. Please color cod your posts as follows:

Red = Performing area/north bonfire
Green = West bonfire
Dark Blue = East bonfire
Purple = South bonfire/cooking area

And of course, if your chars are out of sight of everyone else, go to PMs for the love of all that is holy]

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus tilted his head. Normally garou and kin took to him a little better than that.

Looking to Megan he raised his brows and breathed into his hand and smelled it. Wondering if his breath stank or the like*

[Wahya Many Tongues] Wahya tilts his head at an angle, simply staring at Sam when he starts doing the facial gestures. There is an expression of amusement shining in the wolf’s gold eyes. He shakes out his fur, ears flicking up and down, before he responds to the Modi.

What sounds like barking to those that don’t speak wolf-speech is a response to Sam, ”Drink good, what in Sam cup? Wahya try?”

[Liadan Whelan] [EDIT! MAKE A LABEL OF WHERE YOU ARE THAT IS THE ABOVE COLOR CODE SCHEME. Or just like the first five words or so of your post.]

[Henry Allard] Henry strides away from the small cluster of bodies not with the pace of a man who is on a mission to get away from something but rather to do what he needs to do and get back without rushing. His Rolling Rock is still planted in the dirt by the bonfire, getting nice and warm, and the dirt by the bonfire getting nice and warm is where he heads.

[Henry Allard] [AUGH! ABORT!]

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire]

(try it like this. NOT THE WHOLE POST. *L*)

[Henry Allard] [I FAIL]

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((East of the Bonfire)) *Marcus chuckles, and looks at her skeptically.* "Uh huh. Sure it is." *He smiles.* "Cause if that's the case then we should go put some liquor in right away." *He smiles.* "I did leave... But. I cleared my head, and... Well I decided to come back." *He leans over to say something in Joss's ear.*

[Megan] [I laugh. *g*]

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She tips her head as he murmurs, and she laughs outright. "And why would I be adverse to that? I'll take you up on that later on for sure."

Raised in a predominately Fenrir sept? Some things are more sacred than others.

[Liadan Whelan] Lee makes a quick circuit through the crowd of the bonfire, pausing to greet briefly everyone she comes across, let them know the coolers are everywhere and contain both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, where to find trash cans, and that most of the drinks are centered around the cooking fires to the south.

[Guys, feel free to react to Lee, but please don't engage her because Monki's brain will freaking break if ten people try to start a conversation with her. THANKS!]

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

"Hmm, I think there was something that we neglected to mention to each other the last time we met."

(Like, oh hey, we both know about werewolves!)

Aidan had appeared seemingly from nowhere. Snuck in past the trees and wandered up unobtrusively to come up behind Henry and tap the man on the shoulder. He had something of a knowing smile on his face.

[Sam Modine] [Near the food/tables S of the fire.]

Sam for his part laughs as he kneels. "I'll get a new one, here. All yours." One fist grinds into the grass to make an even spot and the cup is set there. "This my man, is Jack Daniels old number seven. There's still about two shots in there so go easy. I don't really know how quick a wolf gets drunk."

He trots off and makes himself another drink, this time a little less potent and cut with soda. Sun isn't down yet, there's time for more later.

"You like?" a minute or two later on his return to where he's left the wolfborn to his own devices.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire of Doom]
Henry just about jumps two feet in the air when Aidan comes up from out of nowhere behind him, his greeting that of teasing accusation rather than that of a Hey, how ya doin'! Turning around, he just barely avoids kicking over his beer and quite literally claps his left hand over his sternum as if that's going to calm his heart down.

"Jesus," he huffs, laughing as he says this, and clears his throat and stands up straight as if to erase that ever having happened. "Yeah, I guess the sidewalk wasn't a good place to wave my Coggie card."

... he doesn't remember the bar.

[Megan] [Food]

Shrugging at Seamus, "Seems fine to me. But I'm biased. You didn't eat up some garlic or anything did you?" Her brows rose as she looked at him with a smile, leaning in to bump her head lightly against his.

Sam came and went.

Megan turned to the marshmallows she brought with them and opened up the pack. "I've been hanging for these since the store." She confessed to Seamus. And toasting be damned, she popped one fluffy pink one into her mouth.

[Henry Allard] [Uh, that's supposed to be green. OH MY GOD I'VE GOT THE FAIL THAT JUST WON'T QUIT.]

[Wendy Berber] [South bonfire/cooking area] *Wendy brings a jug of Orange juice and a bucket of ice towards the table, chewing her lip anxiously as she recognizes Sam as one of the drunken home invaders from last week. She sets the Ice and Oj down with more of a thud than she'd intended.*

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((East of the Bonfire.)) *He smiles at Joss, and gives her a firm grasp on the shoulder.* "It is good to see you again my friend. I need to get back to watching the pig, but feel free to drop by later on." *He turns to head back to his camp stool near the South of the bonfire.*

[Seamus MacKenzie] (food)

*Seamus shook his head* Jus' some of ya' left over stew from last night, love... and it smells nice. *Breathing in his hand again he grinned* Oh! Ment ta tell ya. Ah'm good for tha' camping trip. Checked and my gear made it cross tha pond just fine.
*he nodded* If ya waspys need gear ah can hook them up too with family discount from the shop. Can't discount guns but cammpin' equipment, yeah!

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She is watching the others, the groups they mingle in, than mingle out of again. She smiles up at Marcus as he clasps her shoulder, and gives him a friendly wink, before she starts to move around the fire again toward Henry and Aidan.

[Moving to other side of Bonfire]

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Near the food/tables S of the fire.]

Two shots of Jack Daniels, Sam tells him. He doesn’t exactly understand what the means, but by the time Sam as set it down on the grass to make it accessible to the wolf, you can be sure its all gone by the time he comes back with another round. Wahya was licking the glass clean, to the point of there not being a wet spot on it. He wags his tail, head up with his ears drawn high in attention as he waits for the Modi’s return.

”More?” he barks out at Sam, looking up at him eagerly.

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

If Aidan found anything curious in what Henry had just said (or not said), he didn't give any indication of it. Instead, he just laughed and lifted his beer to his lips to take a quick sip.

"Coggie? I won't even pretend to understand what that means, but I'm guessing... tribe?"

[Megan] [Food]

Chewing down a 'mallow she swallowed it while nodding to Seamus, "I'll let them know. You should come by. It's a bit of a crazy house, but, you'll be fine since you've got all those sisters." Which reminded her, "Have they--"

Spotting Wahya and Sam and what's going on, "Oh my.. " groaning, "He's going to get drunk."

"... Have they called again?" Back to Seamus, and another marshmallow for her mouth.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
He's guessing... tribe.

"Correct," Henry says, ducking down to pick up his beer from where he'd left it stashed in the dirt. There's a pause, and something seems to bother him for a moment; he takes a quick swallow of his beer and then drops his voice so that it won't carry without his having to get into Aidan's space.

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Líadan makes her rounds as the sun dips behind the level of the trees, makes sure that everyone's having a good time. She tries not to interfere with people's conversations much, and she's generally very polite to everyone she comes across.

Until she comes across the lone man sitting near in the grass at the edge of the cleared space for the fire. She walks up beside him, cradling a red plastic cup in both hands, and crouches beside him.

“Why the long face, cowboy?” A smile hovers around the corners of her mouth.

[Wendy Berber] [South bon/cooking area]*Wow, and there was a wolf. Right there. Right over there. Why hadn't she expected that at a party full of angry werewolves, there would perhaps be a wolf? She swallows and blinks at Wahya from behind her glasses. Was he drinking booze? She furrows her brow.*

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Food)

Yeah... aboout 3 hours this mornin'

*He grabbed a couple of mallow's and stepped over, kneeling near Wahya* 'Ello there, mate. Ah'm Seamus. Megan's lad. She's told me alot about ya. Nice to meet you.

*the kinfolk offered out his hand for Wahya to smell and smiled (( but did NOT show teeth))*

[Seamus MacKenzie] ((Crap Mine's purple! The Fail is spreading!!)

[Megan] [Food]

"Please don't eat him." Under her breath as she watches Seamus approach Wahya. Another marshmallow pops into her mouth and is chewed in her back molars. She watches Wahya carefully, still lingering by the food table.

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She doesn't interrupt, once she sees that they are conversing quietly. She just makes her presence known with a winning grin their way - but doesn't intrude.

She's all about being polite.
For now.

She sips that concoction in her cup, munching happily on the watermelon chunks inside as she tries to watch everyone all at once... she figured there'd be a lot of people, but wow.

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

"Wouldn' call it long," he drawled pleasantly as he looked up, tilting the hat back to get a better look at the woman who'd approached him.

"Just thinkin' and enjoyin' the fire."

He seemed fairly relaxed. A little withdrawn, perhaps, but also not averse to some pleasant company.

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire, moving towards trees]

Aidan looked at Henry in surprise for a moment, then nodded and angled his head in the direction of the trees.

"Sure, no problem."

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Food]
Wendy can see Sam giving the wolf alcohol. Seamus takes the chance to extend a hand to the lupine. He looks up, his ears rolling back along his head. He doesn’t sniff at the hand, just licks his muzzle. He drops his head down to pick up the empty cup, placing it in Seamus’ hand and barks at him. Simply expecting the human to understand.

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Líadan nods as she turns to admire the fire, as well. Then she turns back to the tall Texan. “Mind if I join you for a bit? This whole thing is starting to wear me out a little. I'm Lee, by the way.”

[Seamus MacKenzie] (food)

Right! *sniffing the cup* Whisky commin' up.

*Standing he tossed Wahya the 3 mallows and went to refill his cup with a grin and wink to Megan*

[Sam Modine] [Food Drinks]

"Whoa..." Sam's jovial, laughing openly as the Uktena's vigor in going at the cup. "Slow, slow, buddy." There's a motion of one finger around his ear. "That stuff will have you loopier than you know it before long." One hand points up to the sun and lowers itself slowly in his best approximation at wolfspeak in this skin. "In a little bit, more of that, why don't we get on some keg beer in the meantime."

The Irishman comes over and gets a nod from the Modi, "Hey, Sam." Drinking a little of his drink and simultaneously tapping his own chest.

With very little wasted time he goes and finds an extra piece of empty plasticware and fills it nearly to the brim from the keg. "Here, less potent and it should hold you for awhile." This after the few footsteps back to the two of them.

"Guys as much as I'd like to stick around I got something I need to take care of. With that he's off looking for Joss, he'd seen her on his way up.

[Moving to: Bonfire]

[Wendy Berber] [South bon/cooking area]*Wendy sets about looking for a bowl. While she didn't exactly think the wolf should be getting drunk, if he chose to, she wanted him to do it comfortably. She empties a bowl of pretzels into a cup, and offers Seamus the bowl. * um..this m-might work better s-s-sir.

[Serafine Marceau] At some point Serafine would wander back to her chair with a beer in hand and sit down to tune the strings on her guitar. (And will likely stay there for a bit.)

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire, moving towards trees]
He doesn't speak, but he does glance over to Joss as if to let her know that he'll be right back as he lets the beer dangle by its neck from his fingers.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
For awhile, he just crouches in the underbrush of the woods in lupus, watching whoever he can see. His eyes track Liadan briefly, linger on Aidan for a moment. He finds Gael and Joss, and then... it looks like Henry and Aidan are headed in the direction he's sitting at. He moves to his feet, a rustle in the grass and bushes as his tail twitches, and after a split second of decision-making, he reverts to his birth form.

Standing on his legs, no longer merely hind legs, he wears jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of boots. His eyes are gray in this form, instead of gold. He steps out of the woods to start to head for the fire.

[Gael Sandoval] "Can't say that I do," he offered the barest hint of a smile and even took off his hat as he gestured to the ground next to him, should she wish to sit.

"You the one that planned all this?"

[Seamus MacKenzie] (food)

*Seamus' smile was brilliant for Wendy. He wasn't much to look at but damn if the Scot wasn't friendly* Cheers!

*he poured about 2 fingers worth into the bowl and turned to bring it bacck to Wahya and knelt offering him the bowl* Here ya go.

Nice ta meet ya Wahya. Megan's told me alot about ya. Glad to be one of the lads helpin' ta support your pack.

Take it easy.

*Leaving the bowl for the wolf he stood and moved back to Megan's side. Giving Wendy a thumbs up*

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She watches as Henry and Aidan step off, than as Hatchet appears - and that smile never budges, not even once. It doesn't falter, it lingers around her lips, it sparkles like firelight in her eyes.

And then here comes Sam.
That would be a falter in her smile - a slip, a lessening, an acknowledgement if only to herself, that she's still angry. SHe doesn't move away though, she simply waits.

[Megan] [Food]

"I am totally staying at your place tonight." As Seamus and Sam both feed Wahya some more alcohol. Of course she had said this to Seamus, there's no reason she'd be hanging at Sam's place. Whoever Sam is.

Staying back, she watched the area, still popping marshmallows into her mouth. It's not like she had a waistline she had to worry about. Bless Gaia for her genetics.

[Sam Modine] [Emp]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wendy Berber] [South bon/cooking area] *Wendy gives a nervous little smile. So far no one was dead. Great success. She drags a burger onto a plate and hunkers down in the grass near the table, picking sesame seeds off the bun a few feet from Wahya. Safely out of face eating range.*

[Aidan Whelan] [Moving toward the trees]

And then... Taggart appeared. Aidan's eyes flicked over to him almost instantly, and he paused to turn and see if he could make eye contact. If the Fianna did happen to look his way, he'd hold his gaze for a moment and say, "I'll be right back." If not? He'd just keep going, until he and Henry disappeared into the trees.

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

She shifts her weight back, lets her butt hit the grass with a little, “Oof,” and sets her cup on the ground beside her. Her knees are drawn up slightly, her denim shorts baring most of their pale length. Her red hair is pulled to the nape of her neck and held in place with a simple clip. Long arms wrap around her legs as she turns to look at him.

“Yep,” she says simply, a small smile on her face. “I think it's going pretty well. So far no fights, so, y'know, pretty much a success.” She grins.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Taggart does indeed look at Aidan for a moment, long enough for that I'll be right back. One eyebrow cocks, but he doesn't nod. He doesn't speak. He heads over to Joss.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Food)

Ack.. well ya twistin' mah arm and all an' ah'll have ta call all the girls and tell um tha parties off till ya gone but ok.

*Grinning at Megan his brows went up* Burgers, Valleygirl. Want one?

*Moving to make himself a double. with ccheese. Not looking like he'd be able to eat it but he'll fool ya. He can pack back food. No garou genetics.. Just running his ass off twice a day every day.*

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]

Sam and Seamus both deliver the wolf a plate and a bowl with beer in it. He’s content for the moment, the notion to actually slow down doesn’t comprehend with the Uktena, but he seems to be holding his constitution for now. He is nose deep in the bowl, lapping up the remains of the beer before cleaning the plate.

When he lifts his head up, his gold eyes are bright and shining in the firelight, his ears erect on his head and his tail wags lazily. He eyes Megan for a brief moment. And then, his body erupts in a small quiver and he begins to hiccup.

Nose twitching, Wahya is licking his muzzle as he looks around for someone else to beg food or beer from. He tilts his head, spying Wendy; she wouldn’t recognize him in this form. Bemused, he pads over to the skinny kinfolk, head lowered as the smell of her food fills his nose.

[Sam Modine] [W. Fire]

"Hey." That little hitch in her smile is noted and the Modi's hands go up and open near her shoulders. "I come in peace." He offers her a light expression of considerable warmth. "You were right the other day." His shoulders shrug, the distance closed now Sam shrugs his shoulders, drinking with the cup and his head turned at ninety degrees from his body. It's a subtle Lupine gesture, one of open submission. His throat is hers if she wants it. "I got a rite to try out with you and an apology to the 'Child'," this not a perjorative on the man's age which is obviously greater than Sam's own, but a shortening of his tribal affiliation.

"If you think it's a good idea. I mean, I could guess he' probably still pretty sore at me." One hand reaches to grab the back of his neck and twist one hand there, taking another sip. "Hey," This, to the Fianna approaching one hand lifted in a slight wave.

"Was hoping you'd make it. Some turnout, huh?"

[Megan] [Food]

"Mmmm, okay." She had went to reach for Seamus, but he offered her some more food instead. He got a marshmallow shoved in his mouth first before he wandered off, with the Garou on his tail. She came over to help herself to a burger. "You planning on drinking?"

Wahya was kept an eye on. Mostly because they're pack, even if they don't interact much - yet.

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

He laughed: a deep, gentle rumble in his chest as he ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair, setting his hat down on the grass.

"Oh, give it time." After another sip of his beer, he set that down as well and reached out a muscular, tan-skinned arm in greeting. "S'pose I should introduce myself properly. I'm Gael." (Said like Gai-el.)

[Seamus MacKenzie] (( Food)

*Seamus came back with a burger for him and one for Megan and then shook his head. The brogue quieting down for a bit* Naaa.. but dona' tell anyone.... ah'll drive us home tanight an' all. Sides.. this many mixed bag and it might be ah good idea for me ta be able to duck and cover if shit hits the fan an' all that. yeah?

Ah'll drink pop and play it off as spiked. *He slipped her a wink*

[Wendy Berber] (food)

*Wendy looks up to find that the wolf was now most assuredly within eat-you range. She gasps before she can take it back, crab crawling backwards and abandoning the burger before she gets ahold of herself and clears her throat. Eyes wide, she tilts her head back to show the white of her throat and stammers* Y-Your burger.. sir. W-Would you um.. like another?

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She doesn't look amused as he says he comes in peace. Her gaze is direct, and unflinching. He shows submission, and there is a flicker of something in her gaze, like she may just take that throat of his and try to teach him a lesson - but she doesn't. Her arms cross over her chest as she listens.

"What rite?" Is what she says, and then there's a sound in her throat that is a CLEAR growl of warning. "You stay the fuck away from him, period. Don't talk to him, don't look at him, stay. the fuck. away. I will not have you ruining THIS night for him as well. And that, Mjollnir's Heart, is a direct order. Disobey and I will have your throat."

She glances at Hatchet, her gaze slightly warmer, softer, until it hardens once more and she returns that glare on Sam. Gaia help the one who causes the Godi to lose her smile.

[Seamus MacKenzie] ((Food) Oop.. fook. *A gentle nudge of Megan and a nod to Wahya and Wendy* Kitten's a lil skittish there, love.

[Sam Modine] [W. Fire]

"Whoa. Fine." THose hands resume their place. "That's why I asked. I'm not looking to ruin anyone's good time." Splayed fingers on the side of the cup he's holding return to grip.

"And contrition. Figure I fucked up and spirits don't care about him so much as you. Ought to make it right." This is simple an answer given coolly.

[Megan] [Food]

She took the burger from Seamus with a, "Thanks," and a smile. Listening to him while she watched.

Wendy flipped out about Wahya and Megan was quick to call out to her, "Hey, no.. it's alright." She left Seamus side in a split second. The way she moved, smooth and fluid, was definitely way behind normal human means, and it wasn't even Rage effected.

She halted a bit away, "He's name is Wahya, and I promise that he won't hurt."

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

She smiles at that. “Oh, I'm sure. Especially since everyone who showed up just brought more and more alcohol. I'm just happy it didn't happen in the first hour or whatever.”

She pauses to watch the firelight play on his face, her expression thoughtful.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Maybe it's because he's a maniac, or because he's an asshole, but Taggart ignores Sam. He is focusing on Joss, but holds his tongue as he sees the interaction between her and the other Fenrir. His eyebrows pop up; he looks at Sam, looks at Joss, and:

laughs.

Then he lifts his chin at Joss in a nod of greeting. If he's appalled at her threat, it doesn't show. If he's amused by it... well, that little smile on his face could indicate amusement at just about anything, really.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Food]

The wolf wasn’t that drunk yet. He still had his bearings, so seeing Wendy suddenly drop the burger on the grass and crab-crawl away in fright brings him to a sudden halt. His ears fold back, head ducking down like he’s done something wrong.

Wahya looks at Wendy, whining a little in the back of his throat, his eyes turn down to the burger, dropping his head to pick it up carefully. He doesn’t eat it, just cautiously pads over to the nervous kin and sets it down in front of her. He whines a little, lowering his body to the ground, head on his paws, ears down.

[Decker] Approaching bonfire from south

It's not quite the same as a picnic. There's food provided, for one. There are other people around, for another.

Other than that, there's a certain familiarity in this. The Barracuda, rolling down the highways at 90mph, wind roaring through the cracks in the sealant so loud that conversation is impossible. The ringing in their ears in the sudden silence when the hemi engine dies. Decker isn't carrying a cooler -- what he lifts out of the 'Cuda's trunk is, in fact, a guitar. Not his, obviously. But he slings it over his back anyway, feeling a little like a goddamn rock star as he heads up the embankment toward the grassy clearing.

It's getting dark. The stars are coming out. The bonfire burns bright and high, and the first thing Decker thinks of when he sees it is AnneMarie's funeral pyre, the little boat floating out to the lake ablaze and incandescent.

He turns toward Imogen, holding his hand out to tug her up the embankment. She doesn't need it. He holds her hand a little longer than necessary anyway, his grip rough and solid.

[Wendy Berber] (Food)

*The startled kin looks up to Seamus and Megan, Megan who was suddenly there. Oh how she hated that they could move like that. She swallows hard, fear spiking the air.* W-Wayha? *That name, she knew that name. Her eyes find the wolf, and seeing him bring her the burger, she bites her lip.* I'm s-sorry. Um.. Would you like another, um, another one?

[Sam Modine] ((whoa. slip! hahah fucked up = Messed up if anyone's actually editing this massive log!))

[Henry Allard] [Oh I will so be editing this.]

[Megan] [Food]

"Yeah, Wahya." She offers a small smile to Wendy. It's meant to be encouraging and reassuring. For the moment she lingers close by, as a physical support to the Kinfolk. She doesn't go to stop Wahya, however, leaving him to do his own business.

He's apologising as it is, and she gestures, "He's saying sorry," stating the obvious.

"You do know, he can change, and get his own burgers, right?" Her mouth quirked a bit.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (( food))

*Seamus just beams at Megan and her Coggie-ness. The hand not holding their plate came up to brush the torc at his neck. The dark blacck and silver woven hair there with wolf's head caps. Nodding gently as he watched her work with the skittish kin and her lupus pack brother. His blue eyes beaming with pride.*

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She studies him for a long time, and then simply nods. "If you are serious, you will find me later this week. If you are not, I will assume you to be everything I believe of you right now. One rite won't alter that opinion, but if you do not find me within the next week, the lack of it will - and not in the way you may like. Enjoy your evening."

It's a clear dismissal - especially when she turns to speak to Hatchet, who's laughing. When she has turned completely away, only then does her smile return, warming once again. "Hey."

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]

Wahya barks at Wendy, his head still down on his paws. His thumbs on the ground a few times, attempting to not look imposing to the nervous kin. The sensation of fear spiking in the girl fills his nostrils, he can smell it, taste it. His tongue washes out over his muzzle again, remaining still.

When Megan begins to speak, Wahya shoots her a look. Ears flicking up and then back in his pack mates direction.

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

They couldn't have been more different, these two. At least, on the outside. And yet, the fianna kin and the Uktena philodox seemed perfectly content in each other's company, for all that they had just met. Gael could never be called a social creature, but neither was he unpleasant to be around. He just... sat in his hunkered down state and gazed at the fire thoughtfully.

"I think you pulled it off. People seem to be enjoyin' themselves. I s'pose even I am."

At that, he offered her something which resembled a smile a little more closely.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Curiosity is not his vice. He's interested, and he's curious, but he isn't asking questions. They're both Fenrir, and she outranks Sam, so the matter seems to lack any need for his intervention. He leaves it alone, except for a slight narrowing of his eyes at one of the things Joss says while she's facing the Modi.

He tips his head to the side. "Hey." His eyes flick over to Decker and Imogen approaching, noting the guitar, and then go back to Joss. "You and me have settling to do," he says.

[Wendy Berber] (Food) Yes mam. But I'm k-kin. I can do it. f-for him *Wendy nods to Megan, taking the punctured burger out of the grass quickly and grabbing another one from the table. Her long arms easily nabbing one without having to stand up. This fresh burger se places just under Wahya's muzzle.* um.. unless you want k-k-ketchup..

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Food)

*Seamus eyes widened at that and instead of talking (( for once!)) he just took a large bite of his double burger and watched his coggie and her packmate field that one. His blue eyes seemed amused though. Highly amused*

[Sam Modine] [West Bonfire]

Sam can take the hint well enough and she's made it clear. "Have a good night, then. Hopefully I'll catch you later on. Good to see you Joss-rhya." He turns again to the grinning Philodox and gives him a small nod.

"You too Buried-Hatchet-rhya." That is the second time in their personal history he's used that suffix for the man before him. It doesn't take long for him to back away slowly and take his leave of the two with the simple verbal gestures of respect.

After that he finds a spot in a lawn chair and just sits for awhile, quietly enjoying his drink while watching the comings and goings idly.

[Imogen Slaughter] Approaching bonfire from the south.

Imogen had reached for the guitar before Decker had slung it over his back, letting her hand lower again with a faint smirk, an acquiescence that is deliberate and hardly meek.

The slight redhaired kinwoman follows the larger, more muscular Modi toward the embankment.

When he turns back to offer her his hand, the kin's dark eyes lower to it, and she does not take it until she is half way up - until the hard part is over, and the touch has nothing to do with her needing his help. Briefly, he holds it longer than necessary - and briefly, uncharacteristically, her grip tightens on his, bones slender and fragile within his grasp, belying their strength. She lets him go, her hand swinging to her side. She wipes her palm against the thigh of her jeans, and moves toward the bonfire, her gaze moving over the gathered - largely familiar, and nearly all recent faces.

The redhaired woman is abruptly reminded of how long she's been here - long enough for several changings of the guard.

"I assume you'll want food first," their silence has lasted most of the drive, and the entirety of their approach. When she breaks it, it's wry, her gaze coming to rest on Taggart as he looks at them both, the redhaired kin offering something like a greeting in the weight of her gaze.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]

Wahya wags his tail, standing up to take the offered burger from Wendy's hand, he is careful not to nip at her fingers. The burger is gone in one swallow, practically inhaled. He lets out a burp, licking his muzzle, then stretches out his head and licks at Wendy's fingers.

[Megan] [Food]

"What?" This to the look the wolf gave her. "You can. Don't let this poor woman fetch things after you. Don't be a prat." Her tone is light.

"Sorry, Wendy, but.. You wouldn't do this for everyone else would you? If some stranger came up and barked at you to fetch them some food?" Her brows raise at the other. Gray eyes are light. "You shouldn't, in any case."

"Kin doesn't make you a slave, hmm? And he shouldn't be acting like he's incapable. He's a Warrior for Gaia, for goodness sake."

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Líadan likes it when she doesn't have to try hard with the people she meets. Like Gael. He seems perfectly okay with her sitting near him as she stares into the heart of the fire, the corners of her mouth upturned, not saying anything. She just...relaxes.

She reaches down for her drink, takes a pull from her red plastic cup.

When she turns to look at him, the smile broadens. Her chin dips down so she's looking at him over the rim of her glasses. “Thanks. And I'm glad.”

From this side of the fire, she doesn't see the newcomers heading toward the fire wielding a guitar case. Her own Hummingbird is resting comfortably in its case near the performing area. She still needs to decide what she'll play.

“Say, I'm going to see about starting the entertainment. Any guitar requests?”

[Decker] [South bonfire/heading toward food!]

Decker is ... not a party animal. Nevertheless, the greetings he receives, he returns -- uniformly -- jerks of his chin up at all of them. Marcus, Hatchet. Joss. Well; no. For Joss, he interrupts her conversation with Taggart for a second:

"Talk to ya in a bit, Joss."

When he speaks to Imogen, his voice is lower, private. "Yeah." He's going for food. "Gitcha a plate?" Whatever she decides, he heads for the buffet tables.

(slow in here! modding, @ werk!)

[Liadan Whelan] [Reminder for new peeps!:

COLOR CODING WINSAUCE!

Please label and color code your posts as follows:

Red = Performing area/north bonfire
Green = West bonfire
Dark Blue = East bonfire
Purple = South bonfire/cooking area

And of course, if your chars are out of sight of everyone else, go to PMs for the love of all that is holy]

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

"Oh, I'm easy to please. Can't say I'd mind a bit of Johnny Cash, though."

He took a sip of his beer and gave a little roll of his shoulders, as if to say 'but then, it doesn't matter too much.'

[Wendy Berber] (food)
*Wendy looks from Megan to Wahya, the beginnings of panic stirring in her chest. She starts when Wahya licked her fingers, biting down on her lip hard and looking at her lap, vodka soaked sweater dragging at slumped shoulders. She didn't want to make either of them angry, and didn't know what to do. She sits silently.*

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

He doesn't ask, she does not tell. He says they have settling to do, and she lifts a hand to push her dreads back over her shoulders, gathering them briefly at the nape of her neck before letting them fall again. Her arms thus unfolded, she tucks her hands into the pockets of her skirts, instead.

"How so?"

Either she doesn't think there's settling to do, or honestly isn't sure what he's talking about. Either way, she waits for him to clue her in.

Decker greets them, and says he'll talk to her in a while, and she smiles up at her would-be Alpha. "Alright." Her smile is just as happy to see Imogen, even if she looks behind her just in case that Police Car Spirit hasn't gotten over his little crush yet. Whew. No toy following the redhead. They move on, and her full attention returns to Hatchet.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Food) *Swallowing he stepped over and gently his hand took Megan's and he raised his brows* Hey love. Why don't we go walk around the fire. eh?

*A smile to Wendy and he nodded* Thank you again for the bowl, lass. And pointing out the food. Twas sweet of ya...

*He also nodded to the wolf and then gently tugged Megan's hand* eh? Fire? MMMMMMm

[Seamus MacKenzie] (( FRAK))

[Wahya Many Tongues] Wahya flicks his left ear a few times as if a gnat were biting at it. Megan’s words berate the Uktena for his actions. He pads over to sit next to Wendy, more like putting himself between her and Megan. He glares at Megan, ears rolling flat and the upper lip peels back to show teeth.

”Go be with your man and leave me to my own.” he says to Megan in wolf-speech.

He turns his gold eyes on Seamus, something bright and feral shining in their surface, as if Wahya was ready to start a fight if Megan kept it up. He sits for now, remaining calm.

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Lee's head tips back and she thinks. “I...I think I only know Rusty Cage.” Her head tips to the side. “But I think that'll be okay.” She turns to grin at him, and for a moment she looks younger, and a little mischievous. “Maybe.”

She pushes herself up off the ground, using her free hand to swat at her butt in case any grass or dirt is clinging there. In her other hand is her red plastic cup. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Gael.”

[moving to the Performance Area]

[Imogen Slaughter] South bonfire

Liadan is given a brief glance - one who appears familiar without actually being so - then her head turns to attend to the Fenrir's words.

There is distance between them - and the kin's answer comes silently - a glance toward the food then a faint nod.

"'ere, gi' me tha'," lifting her hand with a drawing in of her fingers, indicating the guitar.

[Boy] (Food)

What had he been doing in the woods? Who knows. What were any of them doing in the woods? Boy seemed to come out from the trees, or from some area that was not the usual mundane entrance. He was panting. He'd been running. Running through the woods at night. That's what they were there for wasn't it?

But the smell of food had called him, and he was sniffing the air even as he approached, taking in the bonfire with wide eyed wonderment, but his nose in the air.

"SNIFF! Sniff-sniff-snort!"

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
He greets Imogen and Decker as he did Joss: with a nod, and a small one. Decker heads off to get food, and he waggles his eyebrows at Imogen's guitar case, staring right at it. "Quit makin' eyes at me, you harlot," he says to the inanimate object, pursing his lips in a coy little kiss. He adds a wink, then turns back to Joss.

"You healed me from the edge of death." Beat. "A few times, actually. Now," he adds, holding up his hands in a peacemaking gesture, "I would never dream of implying that you would require payment of some kind for this grotesquely generous behavior. However!"

Here he holds up a single finger to hold off any interruptions, his voice carrying a broad flourish on that last word. It lowers again, as does the finger. "However: if you would like anything from me... a cookie. A song. A hug. Something's head danging from my jaws, whatever... then I must say I am most definitely inclined to give it to you."

[Liadan Whelan] [char+perf: I can haz guitar solo?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Megan] [Food]

Fire and food. She could do without the fire, it was pretty warm out.

Wahya bares his teeth at her. Her nose creases a little, as does the warmth in her skin.

He looks to Seamus.

Seamus tugs her hand, and she moves off with him, making sure he still had her burger.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (( no))

[Decker] Decker pauses -- turns back. He's nearly a foot taller; a good deal broader. He's let the strap on the guitar case quite a bit. When he swings it off his shoulder, the cords in his arms pull taut, move beneath his skin. He hangs it over to Imogen.

"If yer gon' sing that one song," fuck knows what 'that one song' might be, "wait fer a bit, yeah?"

After she takes her instrument, he crosses the lawn, glancing toward the performers past the tall blaze as he goes. Something about that -- the lowslung stride, the slow turn of his head -- breathes power; breathes savagery. His shadow casts long and black over the grass.

[Decker] (fuck! [bonfire south --> food])

[Wendy Berber] (Food) *Wendy's attention is riveted to the Wolf sitting so close to her, all flashing teeth and flicking ears. She's not sure what exactly is happening, but the bookworm is more than happy to sit still and silent until its sorted out between Megan and Wahya. She watches Megan move off, sighing deeply with relief when it seems there will be no altercation. She swallows and offers Wahya her burger* I'm um.. I'm not really hungry....anymore.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Food)

*He held up the plate in his other hand. Both their burgers on it and he smiled* Some kin love ta serve, Valleygirl. Ya gotta let people flow as they like... she's a bit skittish but iffin' she didna wanna be round ya kind she wouldna be here. yeah?

*His brogue soft as they moved a bit away. Gentle and mostly for her ears* Enjoy ya burger. MMmmmm fresh meat.... blood... cheeeeese....

[Liadan Whelan] [South is Purple, Damon]

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

When Aidan reappeared, he seemed a bit less at ease than he had when he'd gone into the woods. His eyes looked troubled, and his pace wasn't as relaxed. He'd all but forgotten about the beer in his hand, but once he got back to the fire, he took an absent sip, gazing into the flames as if he were lost in thought.

[Henry Allard] [Leaving woods, heading towards bonfire]
Henry comes out of the woods behind Aidan in the same state that he was in before, looking no more or less worried or entertained or anything else. His beer is almost at the same level, and is still dangling from the bony fingers of his left ring-bearing hand. He glances around to see who has shown up since he disappeared but doesn't engage anyone yet. His pace is much slower than Aidan's, as though he has all the time in the world.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]
Altercation avoided with Megan and Seamus leaving, Wahya continues to sit next to Wendy. He can hear her sigh of relief, his head tilts to the side staring at her. She extends the burger out to him, no longer hungry. He whines at Wendy, wagging his tail and leans over to washes her face with his tongue.

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire]

She laughs softly, and shakes her head, dual colored dreads falling over her shoulders as she does so. "Oh, that." She doesn't say it was only twice, she doesn't mention that she also guarded him from Balefire and took the damage on herself. She doesn't do anything but seem almost embarrassed that he'd want to settle - it was her job, as Godi, as Warrior.

But she laughs as he lists the offer for settling, and her eyes are sparkling as she looks up at him. "I'll keep that in mind. Just remember, you also promised not to tell anyone I rested a while afterwards..." Sure, it was all of two minutes while she bound her own wounds, but that's rest enough for a Fenrir.

[Imogen Slaughter] bonfire

She reaches out to take the guitar from the Modi, picking it up by the handle, and lowering it to her side. His request is met with a simple regard, before he turns away and she turns her attention downward, readjusting the strap so it no longer hangs downward.

Taggart addresses her instrument and Imogen's gaze is one of scepticism, an eyebrow arching before she merely says, "Do let me know if it talks back."

[Wendy Berber] (Food - table)

*Big eyes, her glasses suddenly getting a liberal application of Wolf-spit. She's very still for a moment before she realizes he's not tasting her, bringing up spidery hands to fend off his tongue, still tense.* sir.. Wahya sir.. please.. my g-g-glasses sir..

[Megan] [Food] Moving to - > [Bonfire]

The first part of Seamus statement is completely ignored. Well, not commented on. She didn't have anything nice to say on that for the moment. Wahyas bared teeth, in public, had hit her on another level. It had nothing to do with fluffy marshmallows and bonfires though, and everything to do with pissy pack politics.

"Yeah.. " Taking her burger from the plate, she walked with him and bit into it.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Hatchet's eyes fly wide as Joss mentions the resting bit. He waves his hands at her in a mock panic, then slams one finger to his lips. "Shzzzt!" he says, then flicks his eyes back and forth to see if anyone -- other than Imogen, perhaps -- heard her. "Don't tell anybody that shit, Christ," he says, breathing heavily as if they've just escaped the Gestapo.

He looks at Imogen then, his dark eyes glinting slightly with mirth. "How can it talk if you're not playing, hmm? Don't tell me you're a poseur."

[Boy] He was sniffing around, even as obvious food circulated around him. He was almost caught sniffing Seamus' plate held aloft, and reeled when he realized the rudeness of it. He recognized the kin slightly. Recognized his smell even more. He smiled wanly and nodded, indicating his recognition, then bowed his head in apology and moved on.

With too many smells now he had to rely on sight, and with so many around, that was a bit difficult too. He did see one skinny, spidery girl he recognized at a table this side of the fire, and a licking wolf that he may or may not have seen at the moot.

"Wendy?"

And the rest of the questions were held in his throat, and in his eyes as he looked between the two of them.

[Liadan Whelan] [Performance]

As Líadan walks away from Gael, she knocks back the remainder of the contents of her red plastic cup, throws the empty container in a nearby recepticle.

She gets to the performance area, just a little open space with a few sturdier chairs for the performers to sit on. Seraphine gets a small nod as Lee kneels beside the 'Bird's case and snaps it open. She keeps it in impeccable condition. Lately she hasn't had as much time to practice as she would've liked, but still, when she takes her seat and starts tuning, the sound is rich and vibrant. Of course, most of this is that the Hummingbird is a damn fine instrument.

When she feels she's as warmed up as she'll get in just a few short minutes, when anyone interested comes near enough to listen, her fingers pluck out a melody.

You wired me awake
And hit me with a hand of broken nails
You tied my lead and pulled my chain
To watch my blood begin to boil

Her voice is a low and a little shaky, her fingers just a little uncertain, but there's talent there.

But I'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

She finishes out the song, gives a little cough. Then she looks around to see who's willing to entertain the masses next.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Blue.... area)

*Seamus walked with her. Just letting his presence work on her. Letting go of her hand he took up his own burger and took a bite and looked around, tonguing the bite into his cheek* Lotsa people here... iffin' the wyrm attacks... you hide behind me. Kay?

*Grinning at her he raised his brows.

Seeing BBoy sniffing at his plate he laughed and pointed* Foods that way man. Cheers!

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]
Wahya pulls away from Wendy, mostly after she pushes his head away. He stands up, dropping his down to pick up her discarded burger. He barks at her once, in thanks, and wags his tail. The wolf begins to trot off, moving away from the food area towards the bonfire, picking his way through the crowd.

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She laughs, the sound easy and free and the mirth clearly settles in the sparkling blue of her eyes. "My bad." She is certainly amused at his interaction with Imogen as well, though her gaze is turned toward Henry as he reappears. She catches his eye, a brow lifted slightly, but he seems none the worse for wear.

[Joss Lehrer] (that is too green. hush.)

[Seamus MacKenzie] (( that's pissy yellow))

[Imogen Slaughter] (what's that? I can't read posts anymore, I'm blind.)

[Henry Allard] [*puts thumb over it* Where's my Maxalt...]

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

Once-Fianna regards Fianna - and the eyebrow arches again, "And where is yours, then?"

[Wendy Berber] (Food-table)

*Wendy has survived a lupus glomping. And she is feeling all the better for it when Wahya trots off happily with her burger. She hears her name and her head jerks upwards, spidery girl wiping wolf slobber off her cheek and onto the grass. Boy gets a shy smile as she rises to her full height.* H-Hey!

[Wendy Berber] (OOPS! PINK!))

[Boy] ((lets try that again))

(Food)

"Are you alright? Was that...that was Many Tongues, wasn't it?"

He looks at the retreating lupus. He'd have to find him again before the night was over.

"I smell meat. It smells good too."

[Henry Allard] [West Bonfire -> North Bonfire]
Henry pulls a simultaneously confused and reassuring face as Joss regards him, and he makes his way in a swooping northeast direction, moving behind the performance area so as not to get in the way as Lee starts to sing a Johnny Cash tune.

He takes a slug from his beer and starts to stake out a place to park it on the east side of the fire.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
"I ran out here," he explains to Imogen. "And the guitar isn't dedicated." Neither is the one Sarah left behind, the Gibson sitting in its case on top of her empty bed. He shrugs, and glances over at the redhaired kinsman drinking his beer alone before turning back to the redhaired kinswoman who came here with her mate. "Besides, why should I get up there when there are far prettier people to play and sing?"

[Megan] [Bonfire]

Boy had received a look that didn't linger, since he trotted onwards and didn't steal any of their burgers.

"Mmm, sure. You can fight them off with your winning smile." Moving further away from the others, since there seemed to be plenty enough room, she remained mostly quiet as she ate her burger.

Meat and bread were swallowed down, and her eyes scanned across to see who was playing.

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

Gael relaxed and listened to the song, watching Lee as she played and smiling gently. The chords brought back memories, as did the fire and the night sky, and for awhile there... he might have been back in Texas, but for all of the lush foliage.

When she was done, if she happened to look in his direction, she'd see him give a nod of approval. Closest thing to clapping he usually ever got.

[Seamus MacKenzie] bondfire))

Ach well you know me dearheart. ah got my Xdm, 3 clips and me swingin' cod. Ah'd only have ta rely on tha smile iffin' there were girl spirals o-some sheet, yeah. *Taking another bite of his burger, chewing and swallowing* Probably wanna take me back to tha breedin' pits and do all sorts of kinky things.. ah'll fight hard. *he winked to her and bumped her hip*

[Seamus MacKenzie] Bondfire))

[Wendy Berber] (food/table)

B-burgers. *She nods, standing up and making him up one with frightening efficiency.* Um, here. That was W-Wahya. *Wendy hands Boy a burger, before she takes off her glasses and begins to clean them on her sweater, only to realize her sweater is still soaked with vodka. She frowns and gropes for a napkin.*

[Liadan Whelan] [Performance -> Bonfire]
Líadan looks out at the assembled, at the people talking or sitting or doing whatever. She catches Gael's eye, sees the nod, and a corner of her mouth lifts in a lopsided grin.

She sets the 'Bird back in its case and snaps it closed before heading back over to the tall Texan. Then she resumes the seat she vacated, sans red plastic cup. “Happy?”

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire]

Until now, the newest Galliard Elder had been keeping to herself. Sitting with her beer and her guitar and watching the others. When Lee got up to play, she stopped tuning the strings on her own instrument and listened appreciatively.

When the kinswoman stood up, so too did the Fury, and moved with her guitar to the performance area.

"Mind if I play something?" She smiled warmly.

[Boy] (food/table)[color=+c000c0][/color]

He sniffs at the burger and smiles, accepting it and filling his mouth with burger goodness. He nods as he chews, swallows heartily before speaking.

"Mm! Wahya Many Tongues. Marrick told me about him. He's...he's of the same tribe as me."

SNIFF!

"Wendy I...I didn't know you drank."

[Megan] [Bonfire]

"I thought you were into the kinky things?" Then, catching herself, she shot him a look, "Sorry. I shouldn't joke about that sort of thing." The idea of Spirals taking a Kinfolk off to do some nasty wasn't even remotely funny. Even though the idea of Seamus being kinky might be. She chastised herself mentally, and took the second last bite of her burger.

They were heading past the other couple, and she nodded lightly to Liadan and Gael, having no intentions of crashing their personal bubbles.

[Boy] That should have been (food/table)

[Liadan Whelan] [According to weather.com, sunset in Chicago was thirty minutes ago. Assume it's full dark!]

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

He chuckled softly, turning his head to regard the kinswoman as she sat back down.

"Like a kid in a candy store."

Tha analogy was amusing, considering the image it brought to mind, and the picture of the Uktena sitting there... looking nothing whatsoever like an excited, boisterous child.

[Seamus MacKenzie] Bonfire))

*Seamus laughter rolled out in his sweet tenor and he nodded* Tha' ah do, myheart. Tha' ah do.. but don't ya fret. Iffin it happens ah'll save the last for meself. Won't be defiled, tha ah promise ya..

Well unless ya deflin' me.. then ah'm all for it and foot da fire and lets go find a dark place.

*He raised a hand to wave to Lia annd Gael* Evenin'

[Wendy Berber] (food/table) *Wendy turns pink,pushing her glasses up onto her face and fiddling with her soaked sweater.* I carried a watermelon... I smell bad now. *She scowls down at the soggy sticky wool.*

[Serafine Marceau] [Performance+Charisma]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Henry Allard] Bonfire
With the fire raging in front of everyone's vision, Henry is nearly invisible for a moment, a blacked-out silhouette against the backdrop of the clearing before the woods begins. He walks slowly, gaze dropped down as he pulls his battered cellphone out of his pocket and moves to write a text message as he ambles on, whistling and eventually coming to a stop in the space between chairs in the northeast "corner" of the fire, facing away from the powerful Rage on the west side of the fire.

This is the first time he's had his back to that much Rage in years, but he doesn't look nervous.

[Boy] (food/table)

"Hm-mm. That doesn't smell like watermellon."

He takes another bite of his burger, chewing and gazing around quietly.

"Mm...Looks like everyone's by the fire. How come you aren't?"

[Megan] [Bonfire]

"We're at a bonfire talking about really depressing and sordid things." Sighing, she stuck the last bit of burger in her mouth and chewed. Seamus waves to Gael and Liadan, and finds an arm around his waist as the slightly shorter Megan leans into his side while they're strolling. She had thrown a small, closed mouth smile to the others, again, then finished chewing her food.

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire]

It wasn't the best she'd ever played, but it was hardly the worst either, and tonight seemed like a relaxed kind of event anyhow. Serafine's nimble fingers struck a sweet and pleasant chord as she played. Something to fit the occasion. A relaxed and romantic country song.

Look at how the twilight’s fading, all the nightbirds serenading,
And I’m helpless to that thin & hopeful tune, you know

The lightning bugs & the whiskey make tonight a little risky
I might stare at you and so I’ll keep my eyes a little low

I know there’s so much in the way, but I just want to stay right here anyway

Because in the night the church bell’s ringing, and now my foolish heart is singing
Though god knows I’ve told it time & time again to be slow

I know it’s only juice & june that makes me sing this tune, and it’s all too soon,

But if the night was never-ending, there’d be no more sense pretending
And perhaps there’d be no space between our hands at all
Then perhaps there would be nothing else to do but fall
Just fall

Perhaps she was in a romantic mood. Maybe she just thought others might be. When the song was finished, she smiled sweetly and left to make room for someone else, should they desire it.

[Seamus MacKenzie] (Bonfire)

*He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders* Wot? Kink with me is depressing? *He shook his head playfully.* I must not have been doin' it right o' something.

*Smiling as they walked* So that was Wahya huh? You two seem to spark over food. Didn't ya have a bit of a row over some meat? I remember ya tellin' me about tha? Maybe you should eat separately.

[Wendy Berber] (food/table) So many um, people. *She answers shyly, napping a hamburger for herself and beginning to once again pick off the damn sesame seeds.*

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

She grins at him.

It's hot. Perhaps too hot and too muggy to be wearing a jacket, but Lee doesn't remove her sleeveless brown hoody. Instead she has it unzipped, revealing her robin's egg blue tee and the word LONDON and a picture of Big Ben on the front stenciled in darker shades of blue.

She reaches up and back, undoing the clip in her hair and clipping onto the hem of her jacket. Fine boned fingers slide through the thick red mass of hair as she twists it up off her neck before replacing the clip on the back of her head this time.

“Ah, that's better.” Her arms wrap around her knees again, and she tips her head to study Gael's face in the firelight. “That's a nice hat, by the way.”

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

Imogen smirks at the flattery - unimpressed by it, unflattered by it. "Smooth," she replies, a little drily, before her gaze moves to Joss, then the direction of the Godi's gaze - Henry, heading toward one of the other bonfires.

From there her gaze moves over the group - the gathered Garou and kinfolk, her expression unrevealing.

Her attention returns to Taggart, "Perhaps a little later."

[Boy] (food/table)

"Heh. Yeah. That's sort of the idea."

Another huge bite and chewing session. The entire thing was almost gone already. he obviously didn't have much in the way of table manners.

"You wa--" He stops, blinks, pounds his chest and swallows. "You want me to show you around?"

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Bonfire]

Henry isn’t along for very long. He can see the long shadows of the four-legged creature loping his way around the perimeter of the fire, staying a good distance away from it. There is a burger in his mouth. Wahya comes to a stop as he approached the male kin, ears twitching as they roll up to look at Henry.

[Wendy Berber] (food/tables)
If you w-want.. *She looks at Boy shyly, taking a bite of her burger and nodding with a blush.* I'm um, I'd like that. Thank you.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] (Food/table) *Marcus gets up from his camp stool and heads over to find Boy.* "Excuse me." *He says to anyone around Boy and then turns to him.* "Hey could you help me out for a moment? I'm gonna get the pig out of the ground and I need help carrying it to the table."

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
As Henry is hitting 'Send' on his phone, a lupus wolf comes trotting up to him, a burger in his mouth and a soulful yet inhuman gaze greeting the kinsman in the darkness. He smiles, close-lipped and tight, unaware that he's being watched from the other side of the bonfire. There's little doubt it's Henry though, for anyone who's trying to identify him--it's hard to misplace that unfortunate build and that lazy haircut and that scarred-to-hell elbow.

"Hey," he says, careful to make sure his smile doesn't reveal a row of teeth as he speaks.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Imogen smirks, but it goes over Hatchet's head. He was referring to Lee and Serafine. His head tips to the side, dark eyelashes flicking once in a confused-looking blink. This may be feigned. At her respone, he just shakes his head, turns, and heads towards the north of the fire, to the performance area.

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

Seamus greeted them, and Gael responded with a little tip of his head before turning his attention back to Lee. Her compliment on his hat would receive an amused little huff of breath through his nostrils as he took a sip of his beer.

"S'pose it makes me stand out up here."

He handled the thing for a moment, running his hands along the familiar lines. It was old and worn. Well-used. Well-loved, maybe.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [bonfire]

Wahya had a purpose for the burger; he wasn’t going to eat it just yet. His head lowers to set the now slobbery thing down on the ground. Bringing his head up to look up at Henry, he takes a cautious step towards the kin, head down low. He sniffs out at Henry, attempting to identify him.

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Her eyes stay on the hat for a moment before going back to his face.

“Up here?” she repeats, questioning. “You're from the south?”

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Aidan had been content to stand by himself for awhile. The music drew him towards the performance area, eventually, and he stood by and listened to both Lee and Serafine's songs. The former made him smile. The latter made him look a bit... sad. Maybe wistful. And he glanced over to Taggart as the unknown girl was playing, watching him in silence.

[Wendy Berber] (food/table)

*Wendy steps away from Boy as Marcus approaches, ducking her head submissively and wiggling her thin fingers in a wave of recognition.*

[Boy] (food/table)

He was just about to stuff the last of the burger into his mouth when Marcus came along. He stopped himself to nod to him amiably.

"Two Ravens. Yeah, of course. Umm."

He looks to Wendy for a second, unsure.

"You want to come with us? Just so you're--y'know so you're not alone. Technically."

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
There had been a decent amount of lupus Garou and Kinfolk in the Lake Geneva area once upon a time, before the culling of their numbers and the events that followed. It's been a long time though, and Henry has been in the city for so long that he can't remember how to act around them.

So he just says, "My name's Henry," and lets the nameless lupus scent his breeding. It's thin, but it's there.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] (Food Table) *Marcus nods to Boy and smiles.* "Alright. I'll be right back I need to talk to Liadan really quick, and kind of coordinate things." *Marcus heads off to look for Liadan.*

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire]

She wanders around the bonfire toward Henry, only to discover him having a conversation with the Lupus, Wahya. The smile is certainly amused, as she wanders in their general direction.

[Wendy Berber] (table/food)

K-kay. *Wendy nods, chewing on her burger and looking around. She couldn't wait until the night got cooler.*

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire]

"Mmhmm," he nodded. "Texas. Grew up close to the border."

Which... seemed to fit both his accent and his ethnic heritage.

"How 'bout yourself? Seem more like a yankee to me." He winked as he said this, to indicate that no offense was intended.

[Gael Sandoval] [That was me! Really!]

[Taggart] [Bonfire to...Bonfire]
Walking up to the north end, the front of the performance area where Reuben and some of the other Kin set down planks on top of the earth, Hatchet looks around for someone as Serafine is playing. He sees Aidan. He actually makes eye contact with Aidan, who said he'd be right back...

...but then he just keeps walking around the fire, no beer in hand and no plate of food held close. He walks over to Gael and Liadan, dropping into a crouch beside the girl in the glasses. "Can I use your guitar?" he says, interrupting her quite freely.

[Boy] (food/table)

He nods to Marcus, and as he retreats and they are once again the only ones at the tables (right?) he begins to take off his shirt.

"Here." He says with his head alone still in the stitched T-shirt. "Put this on. You don't really smell like something that should be around a fire."

[Wahya Many Tongues] [bonfire]

Once he has the scent, he acknowledges the kin with a soft chuff of air from his nose. He blinks for a moment, his tail resting near his back legs. Henry can see the lupus shakes his head and fur, the vibration running through his body. And then he does something else, jaws open to speak—not bark in a gruff voice.

“Hen—ray” it’s a partial transformation of his throat, a difficult one to do, but it beat having to continuously change forms. He was more comfortable like this. “Wah-ya”

He turns his head, looking back in the direction that Joss was coming towards. He barks out to her in greeting, his tail lifting up to wag.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus makes his way over to Lee and waits until she's finished speaking to whoever she is speaking with. Then once he has an opening.* "Excuse me." *He says politely to those around her. Then to Lee.* "It time to take the pig out of the ground. I was wondering if I could make a speech after I set it on the table?"

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire]

She gives a low chuckle.

“Immigrant, actually. I started in Ireland, but yeah, I grew up in the Midwest.”

Taggart appears, crouching beside her, asking if he can borrow her guitar. She gives a friendly, “Hey,” then, “Yeah, of course.” She looks around him at the performance area. Everyone else with a guitar near them. “It's in the case all by its lonesome.”

[Liadan Whelan] [Reminder for new peeps!:

COLOR CODING WINSAUCE!

Please label and color code your posts as follows:

Red = Performing area/north bonfire
Green = West bonfire
Dark Blue = East bonfire
Purple = South bonfire/cooking area

And of course, if your chars are out of sight of everyone else, go to PMs for the love of all that is holy]

[Wendy Berber] (table/food)

*Wendy's cheeks turn a color natural only to lobsters and beets looking away as Boy drags his T-shirt off. She waits for him to wrench it off of his head, taking it uneasily, eyes averted.* Um.. I'll have to go..into the woods.. Are you sure you don't um.. you know.. need it?

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
"Well, we can't let it stay there all lonely like, can we?" he says to her, winking. His eyes flick at Gael, considering for a moment, then he rises to his feet again, heading towards Liadan's guitar case as Marcus comes up to ask her about making an announcement.

He will wait for Marcus, as far as the performance area is concerned. In the meantime, he acquaints himself with the Hummingbird.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
He's got to be aware of at least one person coming up behind him. He doesn't know the shorter, scruffier blond man in the white t-shirt, so his attention is not netted when he walks past as he and Wahya are introducing themselves; there's someone else behind him, though, and though she is failing to set the hairs on his arm on end he's aware of her presence anyway.

He doesn't look threatened. He actually looks kind of bored, but the only person who's had a chance to notice any sort of personality change in the last several weeks is Aidan, and he didn't have much to go on to begin with.

"Nice to meet you," he says, then turns around to face the object of Wahya's sudden attention. There's Joss. He smiles for her, wanly, and then turns completely to face her. "Hey, Joss."

[Boy] (food/table)

He shakes his head in an 'of course not' expression and sits on the table quite comfortable with his lean frame exposed to the humid night air.

"Go ahead. You might want to make it quick. Um...if I'm not here, will you come find me?"

[Gael Sandoval] [Bonfire]

He nodded in response to her clarification of his guess, and would remain in a relaxed and polite silence as the girl next to him was descended upon by first Hatchet and then Marcus. Both of them would get little nods of greeting should they happen to look in his direction.

[Wendy Berber] (food/table)

Kay. *Wendy nods shyly, risking a glance to the skinny teenager before turning and running off into the woods with his t-shirt. She runs like a stork, all leg.*

[Liadan Whelan] [Bonfire -> Performance -> Food]

Líadan tips her head back to look up at Marcus.

“It's time for the pig already? Awesome! And of course. Excuse me, I have to put on my hostess hat again,” she says to Gael with a grin and a shrug that says What can you do?

She pushes herself off the grass again and heads up to the performance area, stands up on one of the chairs, cups her hands to her mouth and shouts. Her voice is strong, and carries easily. This is not the holler of a timid woman. It's not the call of a seductress. It's the shout of a woman used to corralling models, make-up artists, fashion stylists, and generally being in charge when she needs to be. “HEY! EVERYBODY HEAD FOOD SIDE FOR AN ANNOUNCEMENT!”

When she's said her piece, she hops off the chair, flashes a grin at Taggart, and heads for the cooking fires.

[Sam Modine] [Chair E. Bonfire--->Food.--->N. Bonfire]

There's music. Good music that drifts over across the first to where he's sitting.

It gets him up and moving about refilling the liquor and rounding the fire in time to hear the last few bars of the Galliard's playing. One couldn't help but let a goofy smile hang on the face as she finishesoffering a whistle to the Fury.

"Awesome."

Once she's put away her things and seems to have settled in The Modi gets in beside, offering his hand. "Hey," He offers "I'm Sam."

And then Lee is yelling something over the din and Sam is looking up from across the way, all eyes, all ears.

[Joss Lehrer] She smiles at Wahya and Henry, and finishes her little walk to greet them. "Hey guys - headed to get a beer, and some more Watermelon/Vodka - want any?"

She waits long enough for their answers to the yay or nay, then promises she'll be back, before circling around to find Imogen once more. "Gonna get some more to drink, care to join me?"

[Sampson] Someone arrives. A number of someones, actually. Did someone say Ragabash Party?
Got his ladies, too. Got his WEMIN. Four of them, Four beautiful kinfolk, all with deep dark skin, one of them rounded from her advancing pregnancy, her bottom plump and curved. Another has that girl next door sweetness about her, with her simple smile, one woman glares with a haughty challenge as if to warn everyone away, or put them in their place, or perhaps plan their murder. The youngest is hovering around the 18 year old look, her face dewy and innocent (ish, she is mated to a ragabash, after all).
All of them are dressed for a party, and all but the extra curvy, lush kinfolk has a body toned by thousands of miles of hard running.
In the middle of them, one arm protectively around a wife, the other also protectively around a wife, is Sampson, grinning with pride and cunning and no little happiness.
"WHERE IS THIS WILD PARTY??!!" He shouts!

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire - going for food]

"I remember. You challenged for Ahround elder at the moot," Serafine grinned knowingly as she reached out to take the Modi's hand in her own much smaller and more dainty one. Of course, she remembered him from another incident as well, but didn't mention that one out of courtesy, perhaps.

"And I'm glad you enjoyed the song."

Attention was being called to the food, and after settling her guitar back in its case, Serafine nodded to Sam and began to head in the direction of the tables. He could follow or not, as he so chose.

[Serafine Marceau] [That...was purple]

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] (Food Table) *Marcus nods to Liadan, and then heads to get Boy. He motions for him to follow.

They head to the pit and the pig was wrapped in tin foil, dirt already taken off of the top of it and is placed on a burlap sack so they can carry it.

Marcus walks backwards carrying one side, Boy on the other and with a bit of a grunt lifts it up to place it on an empty table. He opens up the foil quickly, so as to not burn his fingers too badly.

The moment he does those close to table smell the aroma of slow cooked, sweet pork. The animal has a dry rub of various herbs and spices on it, and the pig right now looks to weigh close to a hundred pounds even after having been gutted and prepared for consumption. There easily enough meat to feed everyone.

Around it are various vegetables that have been cooked in the juices of the meat, onions that are now caramelized, sweet potatoes, and corn on the cob.

*Marcus turns to everyone and in a loud clear voice.* "Friends! May I please have your attention for a few moments!"

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"Thanks, Joss," Henry says, then turns his attention to the south side of the fire. If Marcus is anywhere near as loud as Lee or the skinny fellow with the small coterie of wives, he'll be able to hear just fine.

[Wendy Berber] (In the trees,( emerging to the food area))

*Wendy struggles out of her hot sticky, too big for her anyway sweater, letting it fall with a crunch in the wooded undergrowth. She's exposed for a moment in all her scawny, glory, her ribs jutting out, scars and mini-breasts on display as she shrugs into Boy's shirt. She ties her sweater into a stinky vodka ball and bolts back out of the trees.. The t-shirt hangs lopsided off her scrawny shoulders , white with an OKlahoma City Thunder logo in the middle.*

[Wahya Many Tongues] [bonfire]

Joss makes the flyby greeting; Wahya woofs after and picks up the burger. He swallows it in two bites. A rush of air expels from his lungs, a glance up to Henry as Joss leaves again, and Wahya becomes considerate of the other man’s presence.

He shifts out of his birth-form, taking on his monkey-skin. Leaving a short man just six inches over five feet in place of the wolf, a tangled mess of matted braids falls across his face. He and Joss must have the same hair stylist.

He waves a hand at Henry, sidling up beside him. “Henry has moment. Have question to ask,” his voice is gruff, a gravelly pitch carried in a low bass.

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

Imogen's attention moves from Marcus calling out for attention to Joss as she approaches. The kinwoman pauses briefly then inclines her head. "Ta," she says, simply, moving away from the bonfire with the Godi.

Part of her attention is offered to Marcus, for whatever reason he may raise his voice.

The other part - she speaks to Joss, her voice low, pitched to be heard, "I believe I may have to begin to avoid yer west packhouse," she says. "Yer car is quite attached."

It may take a moment through Joss's mortification to see Imogen's humour spark in her eyes - a shadow of it crossing her mouth.

[Sam Modine] [--->Food.]

"Yeah, that didn't exactly come out like I hoped. Guy thought I was being funny when I gave an honest answer." He frowns a little. "It's okay though, the Fury girl seems to have guts if nothing else. Guts get you pretty far." The smile returns and he's up to follow her toward the food.

"You kicked ass though. I'm serious. You and my friend Wyatt would get along really well."

There's little more conversation, at least from Sam's end before the two of them reach the table where the scent of groundpig surrounds them, calling out to the urges in many of those present like a dinner bell from a violated goddess.

It smells delicious.

[Boy] (food/table)

He was waiting for Marcus's return, though this time noticeably shirtless. The only scars he has all line his back and they flex along with his muscles as he helps lift the great roasting pig. He helps Marcus take off the foil and...oh, what's the point of fighting it? It smelled amazing and Boy was lucky enough to be close enough to enjoy it. When Marcus speaks he seems to have a hard time splitting his attention between the Philodox and the food.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire -> Somewhere not on the fucking color chart]
"Um... sure," Henry says, indicating the clearing off to the northeast, away from everyone else. "Step into my office."

[Wendy Berber] (food)

*Tossing the vodka bundle under the food table, Wendy creeps up towards boy, self conscious. Arms crossed over her chest. She looks up to Marcus and offers a fleeting smile. She was paying attention, waiting for his speech.*

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire, moving toward her cooler near the table - slow and easy.]

She smiles at Imogen, genuinely content that she said yes, and then... then... she says she's avoiding because of the car and Joss' eyes widen and she looks absolutely mortified that her car...

...didn't get out of the attic to chase Imogen this time. She see's that spark of humor, and the brief hint of it at her lips, and the groaaaaaaaaaan turns into soft laughter as she grins at the other woman. "Well, he did say that he was chasing you so that he could watch the lights shimmer in your hair...."

And that grin says two can play this game.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Bonfire -> Somewhere not on the fucking color chart]
It may look odd to anyone paying attention, why the Uktena would be going into the woods with Henry, or not. The shorter man turns his head to glance back over his shoulder at the assembled. His eyebrows knit together. The alcohol and food have left his belly full, he doesn’t feel drunk, or realize he’s buzzed at all.

There is a look of concern on his face as he follows the other man, “Apologize for taking away from party, but seem important to speak now…” his voice trailing away as they disappear into the woods.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus waits until he has the gathering's attention.* "First before before I begin I would like to thank Liadan Whelan, Jenny, and the staff of the Brotherhood of Thieves. They worked very hard putting this together for us, and they deserve a special thanks for making it happen.

And thank you to the kinfolk of this sept. Without you supporting our efforts our noble struggle would be all but impossible."

*He pauses for a moment.* "I do not know all of you here. Some of you I have fought along side in battle for this sept. Some of you I do not even know your names. I hope to change that. I am Marcus Schwarzkopf, Two Ravens, Cliath Philodox of the Get of Fenris new to this sept from the Sept of the Wind Horse in Pine Ridge South Dakota.

I present this animal to you all in a token of friendship. I stalked this wild pig in old tradition, in Lupus form, taking it down in accordance with ancient custom. I have performed the Prayer of Prey rite and it's soul is at peace knowing it will give strength to those who consume it's flesh to aid them for their fight against those who would hurt mother Gaia.

This is a custom of my father's people, the Oglala Lakota, the Wendigo, and I want to share this with you tonight, my new friends, brothers, sisters, cousins, family."

*He takes out a knife and moves behind the pig.* "In Accordance with the Litany, Submission to Those of Higher Station I offer the first piece of meat to the eldest of rank present here."

[Sampson] "MAYBE Marcus will be saying! When the Nekkid dancing starts!" He herds his harem closer to the place where Marcus wil be speaking, and waits for the announcements.
The pregant wife shakes him off and goes for the food table. FUck the announcements. Barmasai looks for her next victim. The otehr two wives seem happy enough where they are.

[Sampson] "That is me! OOH OOOH! Don't give it to Decker! He is an old Adren! His ancient teeeth will break off! He will be forced to gum his prey! Besides, my jokes are older than his!"
He laughs, and speaks, but makes no move to go forward.

[Decker] Decker punches Sampson in the face.

And takes the meat.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Idly teasing the strings of Liadan's guitar, he pauses to listen to Marcus speak. His nostrils flare as he smells the roasted pig, his eyes keen on the meat. And then Sampson speaks, and Decker punches him, and Taggart bursts out laughing so hard he nearly drops the instrument.

[Liadan Whelan] [Food]

Líadan moves to stand beside Marcus, giving a slight nod and a smile at his mention of her name along with Jenny's. She picks up a stack of paper plates and stands ready to help him serve the pig to the crowd.

[Imogen Slaughter] Heading toward the table

Imogen's reply to Joss is forestalled by Decker taking three strides forward and .... decking Sampson. The kin's gaze rests on the sight of violence for a moment, then turns away, as if nothing had happened.

"How lovely. A hot-wheel stalker," her humour is like a well-honed blade, sharp edged. "Just what I always wanted."

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] (Food Table) *Marcus cuts best part of the pig, in two thick slices for Decker, and then fixes another plate for him.* "For your mate Jarl." *He says politely, and then waits for the next person to step up cutting the meat for those who want it.*

[Wendy Berber] (beside boy)

*Wendy flinches and turns her head towards boy's shoulder as Decker smashes Sampson.*

[Gabbie Bellamonte] On and up over the embankment trudged a Kinfolk that some may have thought they'd never see out in the woods. Gabriella's hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep her hair out of her face and from getting caught in branches. She wore a pair of sneakers, fashionable, expensive and stylish last year, and now reduced to nothing more than 'outdoor shoes'. She wore jeans that had the same sad tale, loved and classy last year, now merely comfortable and less-than-valuable, and a very plain, very simple white spaghetti strap that was more often used for layering, but the evening was simply too hot for that.

She had her violin case hugged to her front, like she was afraid she might drop it. Her face was a little flushed from the uphill hike. Gabbie exercised, but she wasn't used to hiking. She approached the side of the gathering, but paused to take something of a head count/face check. To find someone she knew, someone she could go and talk to and be comfortable with.

So many people... She hated gatherings that were so large and loud when she had to wear dresses and diamonds and put on a polite show for business partners and 'family friends'. Why did she come to something so similar, hoping it would be so different because it was in the woods?

Oh hell, second thoughts already?

[Boy] (Near pig)

When Wendy found him he gave her a smile and squeezed her shoulders under his shirt. More noticeably he let his hand stay there for Marcus's speech. He laughs quietly at Sampson, and even more loudly at the 'exchange' between he and Decker then he nods to her and moves away from the Pig. Better not to get too close to garou and honorary offered food.

[Serafine Marceau] "I'm not sure if I would describe it quite that way, but I certainly appreciate the compliment. As for Marrick... I do believe that she did us proud."

There was a bright, almost cheeky glow in the Fury's ocean-blue eyes. Of course she had been cheering for her tribe-mate all along. This was no surprise.

Serafine moved forward when it was her turn, to collect some food on a plate and eventually wander away from the crowded tables.

[Liadan Whelan] [Reminder for new peeps!:

COLOR CODING WINSAUCE!

Please label and color code your posts as follows:

Red = Performing area/north bonfire
Green = West bonfire
Dark Blue = East bonfire
Purple = South bonfire/cooking area

And of course, if your chars are out of sight of everyone else, go to PMs for the love of all that is holy]

[Henry Allard] [Aww, you took out the part about me being a genius...]

[Taggart] [Bonfire to...Food]
Carrying the Hummingbird, Hatchet strides across the field over to the tables as people are getting plates filled. Jenny and the rest of the Kinfolk staff of the Brotherhood that volunteered to help out are moving as fast as they can to feed the gathered Garou and Kin. Coolers of beer and soforth are out, plates are passing around, and the smell of the roasted meat fills the air everywhere. Most of the 'side' dishes are things like corn, salad, raw vegetables, platters of fruit.

He heads over to Lee's side, wiggling in between her and whoever, and leans in to murmur something in her ear.

[Taggart] "Do you know a song called 'Mirrors and Smoke'?" he asks her. "I haven't played it in awhile; I need someone to sing with me."
to Liadan Whelan

[Joss Lehrer] [Heading towards the table]

She blinks as Decker, well, decks Sampson, though her attention is on Imogen for the most part - and the talks of the Hot Wheel Stalker. "It might come in handy getting you through to a crime scene too - just ask'im to hit the sirens as well!"

As if Imogen can't walk through a crowd to get wherever she wants to go anyway... "Though, if you prefer another kind of stalker, I can see what I can do..." Where Imogen's humor is carefully honed, and sharp, Joss is all laughter and smiles; expressive. Sometimes it's easier than others to remember she's only 18.

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Aidan was one of the few people not presently jostling for a piece of the roasted pig. Those couple of individuals who knew his eating habits wouldn't be surprised. Luckily, of course, he'd eaten before coming. One hardly expects werewolves to be serving up veggie burgers.

So instead he avoided the crowd and hunkered down in the grass, lying back and watching the stars with his arms crossed beneath his head. He seemed reasonably content like that. Still troubled, perhaps, by what Henry had told him. Perhaps by other things.

[Liadan Whelan] [Food]

Líadan passes a plate to Marcus to serve more meat onto, cocking her head to the side at Taggart. Then she turns to look up at him.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine Bellamonte's stylish head appeared in her younger sibling's wake, wrapped in a silk scarf with a pair over oversized sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. Trust the tall Philodox to dress entirely out of place in the middle of the woods.

"Be careful, Gabbie."

Fretted her voice as her long legs strode to keep up. "Do not touch anything strange, you may catch some disease."

[Wendy Berber] (heading North!)

*Damnit, she'd left her cheeseburger in the woods. She moves with Boy away from the Ceremonial pig, following him north towards the Performance area. Her arms still crossed.*

[Liadan Whelan] "Yeah, I know it. You wanna duet?"
to Taggart

[Taggart] [Food]
To whatever Lee says in response, he bursts into a huge grin, eyebrows lifting and head waggling in a doglike nod of utter sincerity. "Les'go," he says, and grabs her hand with his free one, pulling her from the table and towards the performance area. He does release her after that initial tug, but he seems...eager.

[Sam Modine] [Food. ---> S. Bonfire]

Marcus speaks, it's the same general thing you might hear at one of the feasts or revels or any Garou gathering over food. A little proper for a field party but who the hell's gonna say anything and make it go on further when there's food to be eaten.

Decker socks the bejeezus out of Sampson. Good.

Moving in right behind the Fury Galliard the Fenrir continues the conversation. "Yeah she did." That seems the final threat on the moot. They both decide to move out of the way when their plates are sufficiently full, avoiding the rush to grab at all of it at the same time.

"You come into town with anybody?" After a few bites, he takes the times to chew swallow and wipe the corners of his mouth before he ever even thinks of opening his mouth. He's not ostentatious about it, this is just the simplest of table etiquette anyone in his house would've had to abide by.

[Liadan Whelan] [Food to North]

As soon as she's tugged, Lee practically throws the stack of paper plates she was holding at the table. “See ya later, Marcus!” she calls.

Taggart releases her, and they walk together back to the north side of the fire. She's grinning in that lopsided way of hers as they go.

[Boy] "That's a big pig, isn't it? That could probably feed everyone here. Marcus must be a good hunter."

He was smiling. Or at least he was not frowning, which was a vast improvement compared to most days. He looked at her, not really acknowledging the difference in height, but regarding her presence.

"I'm glad you're here. Did you come with anybody?"

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [East of Bonfire]

The Kinfolk cast her gaze over her shoulder to her elder sister, and shook her head slowly. She'd tried to explain to her that no one would worry about what she looked like, that she would look lovely in a tank top and jeans and a ponytail, that she'd probably look lovely coated with mud and her hair in tangles, but of course her words fell upon deaf ears.

Appearance was everything you had for a first impression, after all.

Gabbie'd relented, they got into the car, and drove.

And now Gabbie was scanning the crowd. Plenty of unfamiliar faces, and some more familiar ones to boot. Aidan, the hispanic guy that slept next door, Sampson, Taggart, and Sam. Those that she was most likely to engage in conversation with were slim. She watched Sam for a few moments, decided he was content talking to the beautiful girl with the long pretty hair for the moment (with a twinge that she wouldn't acknowledge), and took note that Aidan was, for the most part, alone and undisturbed.

"You worry too much," she said to Katherine. "I'm going to go talk with my friend. You should get some food, or go see Sampson or Sam. Try and relax, have fun." Said the kettle to the pot. With that, she moved over to where Aidan was laying, folded her ankles, and sat down beside him. Here she would speak quietly, in tones that others shouldn't be able to pick up on over the roar of the fires and the voices of everyone.

[Boy] heading North

"That's a big pig, isn't it? That could probably feed everyone here. Marcus must be a good hunter."

He was smiling. Or at least he was not frowning, which was a vast improvement compared to most days. He looked at her, not really acknowledging the difference in height, but regarding her presence.

"I'm glad you're here. Did you come with anybody?"

[Sampson] SMACK! Sampson staggers backwards; when the smoke clears from the explosion in his brain, he laughs, and moves with his women to the food -- and drink-- tables.

[Imogen Slaughter] Approaching food

Imogen's breath exhales in what might be a silent laugh. "I believe the one stalker is sufficient." A glance, "but should I ever feel tha' I need t'be validated, I'll be sure t'keep it in mind. A plethora o' hot-wheels would do wonders for one's self esteem."

Taggart and Liadan begin to move away from the crowd - Imogen's direction shifts slightly, giving the two space to pass.

At the cooler she chooses beer, the bottle wet from the ice, straightening to allow Joss at the cooler or the alcohol herself.

[Liadan Whelan] [char+perf]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Taggart] [Charisma + Performance. Working w/ Liadan - Add the Suxx!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]

[Liadan Whelan] [char+perf]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 7)

[Katherine Bellamonte] (...Kahseeno, you whore.)

[Liadan Whelan] [char+perf]8
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus gives a nod Lee, and goes back to serving those that come up to the table, a sign of respect as one of the newest members of the sept meant to show the others he does not put himself ahead of those that have come here before him.*

[Wendy Berber] (performance area)

It is a b-big pig. *She agrees, looking back at it, surrounded by Garou and kin. She was suddenly doubley glad she was leaving with Boy. She follows Boy to wherever he would like, noting Taggart and Liadan with a swallow.* Um.. come with?- oh.. n-no..well. I came with Danny. I helped um, bring food. *The tall kin turns her attention back to Boy, offering a shy smile.* Thats ok?

[Henry Allard] [Henry's Office -> Food]
After stepping out of the wooded shadows from where he had disappeared with Wahya, the man who seems to be conducting more business than enjoying himself tonight strides across the clearing and loops around the bonfire, sniffing once as his cellphone buzzes in his pocket again. He checks it as he walks, and replies as he cuts through the chairs towards the picnic tables where Imogen's brilliant red hair catches the light of the fire.

He tries not to sneak up on her as he comes into arm's reach of her and the cooler. His beer is not drinking itself.

"Hey," he says, smiling a tired smile as if he would rather be talking to her about something other than what he's about to broach. "You got a minute?"

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire]

"No," she responded quietly. And that was all she had to say on the matter. No pack. No family. Just herself. And of course, from her accent, one would guess easily that she wasn't from this side of the Atlantic, even though her English was near-perfect.

Moving back with Sam, she settled herself into her chair once more and took dainty little bites of her food. She ate more like a silver fang than a fury, but one would have to forgive her this habit.

[Boy] (performance area)

He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Of course that's okay. And just so you know, asking me 'Is that okay?' is just as bad as apologizing for no reason."

But then he shakes his head and gives her shoulders a squeeze. Taggart and Liadan were up to something, he noted. This might be worth a watch.

"C'mon. Lets sit and watch."

[Joss Lehrer] [VOOOOOOOOODKA!]

She laughs, soft and light, and it dances in her eyes, sparkling there in the depths of blue. She nods. "It's true. Adoring fans are always good for the self esteem - even if they're hot wheels. And they could trip anyone who gets too close - act as your own personal bodyguards." As if Imogen has need of such!

Imogen helps herself to a beer, while Joss grabs herself another cup, having lost her previous one, and scoops up some more Watermelon Vodka, from her cooler, before closing the lid again. She nods to the table. "Think i'm gonna wait till the rush dies down a little."

Then Henry joins them, and she smiles. She doesn't interrupt though, as it seems he has business with imogen now as well. Quite the busy boy, tonight, Henry.

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

His gentle sigh was probably all that Gabbie needed in response to her question. He wasn't quite as enthusiastic as some of the other party-goers, but neither was he overtly down in the dumps. He just had a lot on his mind. Still, when he turned his head to look up at her, he smiled.

Apparently he wasn't still angry with her over Alex, or at least... if he was, he didn't show it.

"I'm alright. It's a nice evening. What about you?"

[Sampson] The Kenyan contingent, some of them with the exotic taste of Silent Strider breeding to their souls, spends some time eating, drinking, until each of them fall to their preferred activities.
Two wives dance. And drink. A LOT. For the rest of the night, pretty much stripping to their precious at some point.
Barmasai, ever utterly silent, works on luring pretty ladies into the nude dancing, and the pregnant woman does pregnant lady things.
Sampson....is himself. Which means, he makes sure that! His pregnant, lush Second Wife is not alone and bored, disappears into the bushes with any of his women at any time, and reappears to make trouble, tease, cajole, and fool...
(sorry guys, have to sleep!)

[Wendy Berber] (Performance Area)

*The bookworm nods, dipping her head shyly and moving with Boy to sit in the grass near Liadan and Taggart. Arms still crossed as she tilts her head, watching.*

[Sam Modine] [Bonfire]

Sam lives a life in service to a rather particular Fang. It strikes the question, is he kept so close because of things like manners born from a mother who would smack a hand that reached across the dinner table or has he developed them to appease her sense of social decor.

Few here would know the answer to that.
As always the answer to a trite paradox is actually quite simple.
It's the egg.

"That's too bad. Wolf can't be without pack long. Messes with your mind." And that's all he has to say on it either. "Glad you're here, though," Sam notes warmly from a chair pulled next to Seraphine's own. "Sept doesn't have enough moon dancer's to hold in one fist."

"So." This turning after a few scant bites of the pork. "Where from?"

[Decker] [foodz]

Apparently, getting food takes Decker a very fucking long time. Eventually he returns -- with the pork Marcus offered, along with heaps of meat and potatoes and what looks like and entire loaf of bread. He has two plates, both laden. He nudges Imogen with his elbow and passes her one, as if he really expected her to eat all that.

Standing with her are Henry and Joss. The Modi's grey eyes study Henry for a moment. Then he nods up to the other.

"Ain't seen ya in a while." He turns to Joss without waiting for a reply. "Got a minute?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] [East of Bonfire]

She could have attempted to explain that she had not come out to the middle of nowhere (where, it appeared, there was an enormous amount of insect life that troubled Katherine on account of her unblemished skin) for her own enjoyment but rather to keep a watchful eye on her sister.

Especially surrounded, as she was, by her romantic entanglements.

Pushing her sunglasses onto the crown of her head, the pale-eyed Silver Fang makes her way down toward the throng of gathered; Kin and Garou alike, her movement rather reminiscent of a peacock fanning out its tail and demanding by nothing more than its presence alone that all stopped to marvel at it.

[Taggart] [Warning: Big Post Incoming!]

[Imogen Slaughter] Food

Imogen twists open her bottle of beer, tilting it back to take a swallow as Joss gets her watermelon vodka and mentions the food. Her gaze moves over it, briefly, but does not answer before Henry arrives. His question results in a brief arch of an eyebrow.

"I do," she answers, glancing over at Decker as he nudges her, reaching out with her free hand to take the laden plate. She critiques Decker's over-feeding with a glance, the plate full of food of which she will likely only eat a quarter of, and returns her attention to Henry.

[Taggart] [Performance Area]

As people are starting to go to chairs to the fire, eating the roast pig and corn on the cob or what-have-you, drinking their beers, Hatchet walks up to the performance area with Liadan and steps onto the planks. He puts the strap of the Hummingbird over his head, cracks his neck, and after a silent count in his head, he starts to play. The song is up tempo, the kind of thing that usually gets a foot or two wiggling, knees bobbing. He starts to sing, and for the first part of the song, Liadan appears to just be his arm candy, his lovely magician's -- musician's -- assistant.

"I'm feelin' older than my years, I'm feelin' pain inside my chest. It's love that keeps me silent; it's my silence you detest. Rivers flow into theo ceans, and oceans never fill -- I want to kiss your lips, but I know I never will. Love's a hard decision, to risk impending choke -- but love will keep you wishing, and my heart will keep me broke."

He doesn't look around the gathering as he sings, his voice not the rumbling baritone he speaks with but a resonant tenor that, for this song at least, achieves a sort of gravelly undertone.

"I gave you flowers, gave you candy, to even out the guilt. I sent you greeting cards with messages that I could never write. Rivers flow into the oceans, and oceans never fill. I want to let you know me, but I know I never will. Love's a contradiction made of mirrors and smoke. Love will keep you wishing, my heart will keep me broke."

During the last few bars of that verse he looks over at Liadan, who clears her throat, then -- maybe it was a drink earlier, or the firesmoke -- she coughs, missing her first line. Hatchet doesn't miss a beat, singing in for her and paraphrasing the actual line:

"I will always want you...and I'll always want to leave. Even though I cut your wounds -"

but she picks up after that, with a small smile, her voice clear and feminine: "- you still deny they're real."

They sing the rest of the song together, alternating lines or singing together. For the duration, Hatchet keeps his eyes on hers, partly because they have never practiced this, nor performed together, and he's keeping track of their timing.

"Rivers flow into the oceans, oceans never fill
I want to lay my life down
But I know you never will
Love's a strange condition, with all the doubts it can invoke
Your love keeps me wishing
My heart, it keeps me broke."

After the bridge and near the end of the song Liadan sings alone, Hatchet's fingers slowing on the strings as he watches her.

"Baby, don't you cry, 'cause I got it all figured out. You always make me sad, but that's what true love is all about. Rivers never fill the oceans, but oceans always feel... The water's reaching deep inside them, I guess they always will."

And then the tempo picks up again, Hatchet's head bobbing in time as his voice rejoins his partner's: "Love's a constant mission to a word you never spoke. A love that keeps you wishin', a heart that keeps you broke... Love's a constant mission to a word you never spoke. My love that keeps you wishing, my heart makes me broke."

They finish off with Liadan's voice lifting to sing Keeps me wishing and a couple of repetitions of Mirrors and smoke together. Hatchet finishes with a flourish, a light in his eyes and a thoroughly pleased smile in his face.

They should do this more often.

[Joss Lehrer] [Vooooooodka!]

Decker comes over with two HEAPING piles of food, and realizes she hasn't ever seen Imogen actually eat - so perhaps this will be something new.... or not. Decker asks for a minute, and she nods her head. "Of course."

Henry had just ask Imogen for a moment, and now it's her turn. She smiles at both kin, and murmurs, "If you'll excuse me?" Before she turns her attention to Decker, and follows his lead should he want someplace more private to speak.

[Joss Lehrer] (Oh hush. that is too pink.)

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire]

No, a wolf cannot go without a pack for long. And yes, it did mess with one's head. It had been messing with Serafine's head for quite some time now, but she she didn't offer the Modi more than a quiet nod of agreement to this assertion. For a galliard, she could be a bit quiet sometimes. Or perhaps it was merely the subject matter.

Or perhaps she liked to save up her words for when she really needed them.

"Nevers, France, originally. By way of London." Now she smiled pleasantly as she took another bite of her food. "What about you?"

But then Taggart and Liadan began their song, and for the duration she was all watchful eyes and attentive ears. She even smiled softly at the end.

[Boy] (performance area)

Boy seemed to be enjoying the music, even if he occasionally glanced over to Wendy as if to confirm that she did too. Sitting in the grass, his feet and mis-matched shoes swayed, and to a lesser degree his head did too. And when they were finished he clapped loudly and let out a whistle of appreciation.

"I didn't know Hatchet could sing."

[Henry Allard] [Food -> Bonfire]
Across the bonfire, the pair of Fianna are playing a song that Henry doesn't appear to even be hearing right now. He doesn't look worried, necessarily; he actually looks pretty damned flat considering the fact that he typically looks about ready to jump out of his goddamn skin when he's around Decker. Particularly when Decker's looking at him.

He doesn't appear to notice that, either.

The firelight and the darkness actually makes him look healthier. It lends his pale skin some color and hides the bruises under his eyes.

"Here, let's go sit down so you can eat."

Assuming Imogen doesn't protest, he leads her and his warming beer over to the west side of the fire. He stays away from Sam and Serafine for no reason apparent to anyone but perhaps Imogen and Sam himself.

Henry does sit until Imogen does, and only then after it takes him a moment to realize that it has to be like having a sapling towering over her when he isn't sitting. So he does.

Sighing, Henry drops his voice so people around can't hear.

[That's right. Conductin' business in the open. OWW!!]

[Wendy Berber] (Performance Area)

*Wendy blinks, then claps, offering a nervous smile to Liadan and Taggart. Boy's shirt hanging off a scrawny shoulder, a little too threadbare and white for wear by anyone who might have breasts.* i d-d-on't know him at, at all.

[Aidan Whelan] [Man+Sub]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Boy] (performance area)

"Oh? He's sort of the reason why Marrick and I are hear. We met on the road. He's good people. A bit harsh sometimes but..."

And then a thought comes to him and he's squeezing her hand lightly.

"Do you want to meet him?"

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Liadan and Taggart moved over to the performance area, and when they started to play, Aidan sat up. His eyes were on them as he and Gabbie spoke, and for awhile she'd notice a lapse into silence on his part. Not out of disrespect to her, but simply because the music drew his attention so thoroughly.

When the song ended, he looked back at his present companion.

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

Imogen follows Henry, carrying her food - her attention briefly straying toward Taggart and Liadan at the performance area, her appreciation one of quiet appraisal, then turning her attention back to where she is headed.

As Henry gets comfortable, Imogen passes him her food, then sets down the beer on the grass, unslinging her guitar to set it down before taking her seat.

What Henry says stills her, any vestige of expression leaving her face. She answers in a simple short sentence, too low to be heard beyond their small gathering.

[Wendy Berber] (Performance Area)

Oh. um.. ok. If you like.. *Shock, then gentle obedience. Wendy nods.* Ok.

[Decker] [Walking west, away from the thick of the crowd]
Carrying his plate, Decker turns his back on the fire and walks westward. The heat of the blaze fades away as he leaves its immediate vicinity. The music fades too, tapering to quiet.

The night is warm, though. Warm and muggy. It's summertime in Chicago, and there's sweat on his skin, a sheen on his summer's tan. His wifebeater sticks faintly to his back, and his beat-up old cargos, though thinner than his jeans, are still too thick for the weather and the fire.

They pass Serafine and Sam. They pass out of the thick of the crowd, and when they're almost at the treeline Decker turns to Joss. The fire's distant enough now that it's a bare glimmer on one side of his face. He's awash in dark shadows.

"Heard about y'all's run-in with tha... Wyrm totem. Tha other day." He leaves it open-ended.

[Taggart] [Performance Area]
It is an understatement, and a vast one, to say that Liadan and Taggart did well. Hatchet can sing. Hatchet played that guitar like he was born to do it, Liadan sings with a clear voice if not a particularly practiced one, and he is beaming when it's over.

He leans over and kisses Liadan quickly but firmly on the cheek impulsively, laughing. "We need to do that again," he says, still holding her guitar. He doesn't start playing anything else, nor does he move to leave the performance area.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Bonfire]

Gabbie was sitting in the grass with Aidan, her violin laying across her lap. She figured herself a realist, and instead of complaining about bugs, she braced herself for them. Rather than smelling pretty tonight, faintly floral, occasionally a little fruity, depending on the perfume or shampoo she chose for the day, she smelled strongly of bug spray.

No one would want to lick her tonight.

[Boy] (performance area)

He beamed at her and, still holding that hand, he got to his feet and headed over to Liadan and Taggart, Skinny, towering kinfolk in tow.

"Hey guys. Hatchet -Rhya. You two sound great together."

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((Food/Table)) *After everyone has gotten some food who wants it, Marcus fixes himself a plate, grabs a couple of beers, and heads over to a nearby tree to eat and watch if anyone else puts on a performance. He eats slowly savoring his food, and being mindful of it.*

[Wahya Many Tongues] The Uktena eventually leaves the seclusion of the forest where he had ‘stepped into Henry’s office’. He retains his monkey-skin, long legs carrying him to the outer ring of people, distance kept as he sits down upon the grass. Legs drawing up as he leans forward, torso pressed into upper thighs, arms hanging off bent knees.

The shadows and light play off the haggard, weathered features of his face. The matted mane of braids allowed to fall freely into his eyes, concealing most of his expression as he just watches the fire. His ears opened to the bits of conversation that sometimes make his way, but he isn’t paying attention anymore.

[Sam Modine] [Bonfire]

There's talk of pack and lack of it, then an answer to pick up the next conversational knot along their newly tied rope. It's dropped that is when Sam's two favorite Fianna begin a guitar duet. They kill it, to put it in terms one can understand. As silent as Seraphine is Sam tries to be however his foot bops in time with the tune of an absent drumbeat, picking up the second and fourths and nodding his head in time. The Fenrir cannot help when they're finished but whoop and holler out in their direction.

"Yeah!!" Plate set back into his lap he claps up above his head, yelling into the dark. "Woooohooo!" There's mirth in his laughter when he's finally turning back with a broad smile and a sip of his nearly gone third mixer. They haven't been particularly strong save the first and so he's only just getting the burning whiskey-happies at the edges of his consciousness just now. "Where were we? Oh! Me." He makes a motion to the west of the two of them with his forehead and replies. "Grew up in Indiana, farm country. Moved out to Connecticut for a few years until I was far enough along for passage, Then Boston, New York and then here. Long way around, I guess."

"It's not so bad here." Sam muses in the firelight's warm gleam against the warm night. "I hated it at first but...you get used to it."

[Wendy Berber] (Performance Area)

*Wendy nods in agreement, holding Boy's hand like a lifeline. The tall kin looks distinctly ill at ease, but offers a weak smile to both Taggart, and Liadan "home invader" Whelan.*

[Liadan Whelan] [Performance Area]

She laughs, and doesn't pull away when he kisses her cheek. When he releases her she offers her hand for a low five.

“We should! That was fun.” The red haired Fianna kin with the glasses grins up at him. I'm gonna go grab a beer first, though.” When Boy walks up to them, she smiles, grinning her lopsided grin. “Thanks!” She looks up at Taggart. “I'm going to grab a beer. You want anything?”

[Taggart] [Performance Area]
A low five it is. He winks, then shakes his head. "A beer would be great, I think I'm going to sing some more."

As Boy and Wendy approach, he swivels his head around, lifting his eyebrows. His grin, faltering momentarily, bursts out in force again. He could be said to be beaming, even. It's been awhile since he's smiled this much. A goddamn long while. He doesn't look as though his eyes are as bloodshot as they were at the moot, the dark circles underneath those eyes not as pronounced. Some of his scars are on display: the one on his neck that is only covered when his collar is high or he's wearing a hoodie, the ones down his forearms. The tiny notch, as always, through his left eyebrow.

Wendy is damn near as tall as he is. He gives a glance to Her Scrawniness, then grins at Boy. "Why thank ya kindly," he drawls in an affected accent that mimics the area of the country that Boy and Marrick just came from. It's not quite southerly enough to remind him of a Texan. It's twangier.

Even on a new moon, his Rage is a searing, seething thing around him, coming in pulses like a heartbeat. He keeps his eyes off of Wendy after that initial glance, focusing on the other Philodox. "That's Lee, if you haven't met her. Kin to my tribe, general troublemaker, responsible for most of this chaos."

[Joss Lehrer] [Treeline]

She falls into step with Decker, content to have diced pieces of watermelon in her vodka serve as dinner for the time being. Soon she'll have to put some food on her stomach to soak of the alcohol, but for now, this is good enough.

It's hot and muggy, and her skirts cling to her thighs as she moves, fingers reaching to absently pull the thin material from her skin, and let it fall again. She glistens (women never sweat, after all!) in the firelight, but she's never been one for makeup, or appearances - that much is obvious. She looks as she likes to look and that's enough for her.

He turns at the treeline, when things are quiet, and they have a bit of privacy. He brings up the fight, and she wrinkles her nose, lifting a hand to scratch under her dreads briefly, before pushing them back over her shoulder and letting them fall heavily down her back. Then she gives the open ended comment a quick mini-rundown of what happened. "It was a trap - three of them were called, lured in. Thunder's Judgement and I followed to give our aid if needed. It was. The wyrm pack was calling the Dragon - we thought he we stopped it soon enough, but the rite completed. It took all five of us to defeat it." She shakes her head, slightly. "We dug our way out - and when i returned Evan healed me up so that I could patrol unhindered."

Except for the complete lack of Gnosis or Rage left at the time.

[Boy] (performance area)

He nods to him, still smiling. Strange. He was smiling. He didn't usually do that.

He was also noticeably shirtless. His shirt, the only other shirt anyone in the Brotherhood had ever seen him in, the only shirt he owned that he didn't toss into Maelstrom, was currently being worn by Wendy. From this angle he didn't have many scars. Just skin and just-enough-muscle, and the hint of exposed ribs under it all. For anyone who got a glimpse at the cris-crosses on his back, that was a different story.

"This is Wendy." He said, urging forward the hand that he held and the akward Kin attached. And for a second he seems to be considering. Should I...well, better get it out of the way eventually.

"My mate."

[Kemp Oates] heading for bonfire

When the tall lanky figure came out of the dark towards all the noise and dancing firelight, it was with a show of skin. Lots of bare, sun-bronzed flesh because the Rotagar turned up in a furred Banana Hammock. Sandals with straps wrapped up his calves to make it look like somehow he had found Gladiator sandals. Two strips of cloth cut across his chest in what looked like the straps for a back sheathe. And sure enough, there was the hilt of a plastic Heman Sword sticking over one shoulder.

He strode out of the dark carrying two grocery sacks. Lifting them high as he let out his battle cry.

"I brought the damned Marshmallows!"

[Decker] [treeline]

"I saw tha battle."

He lets her finish, and then he hits her with that. And then he lets her wait and wonder, because sometimes Decker can be a real bastard, while he chews meat off the bone. It tastes like beef -- the shank, perhaps, roasted until the flesh pulls off the bone in one clean piece.

"Went to tha Battleground Realm 'n looked fer myself. Ya left out how ya stood over tha singin' Fianna over there 'n took a bullet fer him, then sacrificed yer own glory ta heal him up so he could keep fightin'." Pause. He swallows his mouthful, tears off another. Decker doesn't give a shit that he's getting gravy and juices all over his mouth and hands. He doesn't give a shit that he's eating like a barbarian. "Guy who ain'tcher packmate, ain'tcher tribesman. Jus' a stranger."

His tone gives no indication of approval or censure.

[Liadan Whelan] [Performance Area]

Líadan wanders off to the nearest cooler, grabs a couple long necks, and heads back over to Taggart and Wendy and Boy. She offers Taggart one of the beers, pops the cap on hers and pockets that cap.

She offers Wendy a smile, kind and reassuring, and she keeps her distance. She knows the girl is nervous in general, and has noticed that she gets especially nervous around Lee, probably because of that time she followed Alex into the girl's attic. The redhead had only wanted to keep an eye on the man. She's had some experience with drunken men luring girls into secluded areas for illicit deeds. Looking at the tall, skinny girl, Lee felt a pang, a need to protect. Even if that meant Wendy wound up being afraid of her, anyway.

It was a feeling that confounded the Fianna woman.

“Hey, Wendy. How are you?”

[Wendy Berber] (Performance Area)

*The kin shrinks into herself, head down as Boy addresses Hatchet, and Hatchet speaks to Boy. Quite happy to be an invisible kin in the face of so much rage. She's urged forward into the line of fire, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously and looking up to Hatchet over her specs. She blushes deeply and stammers out an introduction.* N-nice to m-m-meet you, Hatchet Sir.

[Decker] [treeline]

Decker abruptly turns from Joss to yell at Kemp: "Make me a fuckin' s'more!"

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

Imogen and Henry's conversation is briefly broken as Kemp comes out, dressed in... almost nothing, and declares that he has the marshmallows. Decker raises his voice. Imogen's gaze rests upon the Rotagar for several seconds, an eyebrow arching, before turning her attention back to her conversation.

[Taggart] [Performance Area]
Hatchet's smiling. Boy's smiling. At least one of these could very well be a sign of the Apocalypse, but mostly right now they just look like a couple of generally happy Half-Moons, whether that's true or not. Taggart looks from Boy back to Wendy when he introduces her as his mate, and his eyebrows hop up. He doesn't offer his hand to either of them, as though it doesn't quite occur to him to do so.

He also doesn't imagine Wendy wants to be touched by him. So he doesn't instigate such a thing. He grins, though, then fights it down so he's not baring his teeth at anyone. Kemp comes in announcing that he has the marshmallows, dressed like He-Man, and Hatchet glances over with a snort of amusement.

Lee comes back, handing him a beer, which he takes and opens since the Hummingbird is still strapped over his shoulder. "Call me Taggart," he says when Wendy says it's nice to meet him, and then he laughs. "Okay, the two of you are killing me with how cute you are. You gotta get out of here."

He takes a swig of his beer, grins directly at Boy, but it's hard to tell if he's conveying anything there. "You both need more roast pig," he says, and turns around to set the beer down. He knows what he wants to sing next.

[Kemp Oates] "S'more what?!"

He bellowed back. It was the New Moon and a party. He'd come in costume. A Geek bearing gifts. Fortunately he had come prepared for exactly that, S'mores.

Of course the look from Imogen earned her a full out smile and a shake of his hips.

"Wanna see my Marshmallows?"

[Liadan Whelan] [Reminder for new peeps!:

COLOR CODING WINSAUCE! (aka Jamie is a genius!)

Please label and color code your posts as follows:

Red = Performing area/north bonfire
Green = West bonfire
Dark Blue = East bonfire
Purple = South bonfire/cooking area

And of course, if your chars are out of sight of everyone else, go to PMs for the love of all that is holy]

[Wendy Berber] (Performance Area)

*And Wendy gives Liadan a blushing nod, murmering.* F-fine miss, *-and her attention is back to the fount of scary in front of her. She nods. She will call him Taggart. Her hand tight on Boy's.*

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

"I left my magnifying glass at home." Imogen breaks from her conversation long enough to retort back to Kemp. "Perhaps another time."

[Boy] (Performance Area)

He smiles and nods in response, at both Taggart and the returning Liadan.

"Right. Lets hope there's some left."

Wendy's hand was tight on his. He had some idea of what that meant. A nudge and a nod led them away from the entertainers and toward the tables. Roast Pork did sound like a good idea.

[Joss Lehrer] [Treeline]

She blinks, and looks confused a moment, and then he clarifies. And she blinks again. He went... to see... the battle. Oh hell yeah she's gonna write home about THAT one....

She doesn't answer for a moment, and in that time Decker yells at Kemp, and she turns her head, still piecing together how she'll answer that exactly.

She nods. She doesn't fidget, or shift her weight. She is Fenrir, she is Fostern, and this is her prospective alpha and Jarl questioning her. "We needed all the claw we could get. There is no glory in not using the whole of those who fight by your side, by taking it for myself only to have us fail. Sometimes the true measure of a Garou, a Fenrir, is acting with wisdom on little information. I did the best I knew how - and I knew we needed his strength to defeat the Dragon - mine may not have been enough. My strength is as Godi, though I can bare teeth alongside the best of them. I would have done the same for any that I battled next too. In that moment there is no tribe, there is no rank division - there is only a group acting as one for the greater good. I did what I felt was needed to ensure our victory."

[Henry Allard] [I suck at not PMing shit.]

[Bonfire]
His conversation with Imogen didn't appear to be about anything happy or uplifting. Both of them looked tense at times, either swallowing something out of her throat or staring at the fire when he couldn't bring himself to speak more than a few words at a time, and Henry abruptly sat up straighter at one point. Never did either of their voices rise loud enough to encroach upon another's sphere of influence, and at some point Henry managed to drain his beer and set it down on the folding chair next to him.

He almost leapt out of his chair when Decker bellowed for Kemp to make him a fuckin' s'more, but he managed not to spill the food he was trusted with holding onto.

Henry looks chagrinned now by whatever Imogen's said to him, looking at her as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but he doesn't argue with her. Without knowing his history she can't understand how ridiculous it is that this guy can't seem to handle asking for help, or just flat out won't.

"You eating this?" he asks, no longer keeping his voice down as he gestures to the food on his knee.

Either she takes it from him when he passes it back, or Henry puts it down next to his empty beer. In either case, before he speaks he fishes a small Ziplock bag of marijuana and rolling papers out of his pocket and clears his throat. When she insults Kemp he smiles a little.

"I think I'm just afraid of incriminating myself if I ask for help," he says. "You want some of this?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Bonfire]

Katherine Bellamonte paused as she reached the bonfire area; lifting a hand to her nose discreetly as the scent of roasting pig invaded it. She was determined however, and catching sight of Sam and Serafine, reached to unbind her hair from its headscarf, tousling into an attractive array of golden waves falling against her slim shoulders.

A charming smile was painted on her lips and she sauntered across; her expression draw momentarily into a wince as the loud wailing of the Fianna singing invaded. "Trust the Fianna to make every occasion one for warbling," she murmured beneath her breath before she skirted around and appeared at Sam's shoulder, a small hand dropping to rest upon it briefly.


"Bonsoir, Sam." She greeted lightly enough, her eyes steady on Serafine. "I believe to you I owe congratulations. Word reaches me that you are our new Galliard Elder, oui? In which case I say we are well met. I am Katherine Bellamonte, Truth's Meridian, Cliath Half Moon and member of the Unbroken Circle."

[Wendy Berber] (performance area ---> Pig/Food area

..I wonder how they make Ham?! *She blurts randomly, cheeks pink as she's led away from the performance area, towards the roast pig.*

[Kemp Oates] bonefire

"Oh I saw ya looking with your super vision and shit."

Kemp came in close enough to stop bellowing. Slapping Henry on the shoulder with a wave of the sacks.

"Got enough for several if ya want some."

Reaching one handed back for the plastic sword as he contemplated trying to use it to roast the marshmallows.

"Guess I better find a stick."

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((East of the Bonfire)) *Marcus finishes up with his meal, and the two beers he had. He gets up off the ground, and heads back to the table to throw his trash away.

He heads over near the treeline, grabs his camp stool, and a leather pouch about two feet long, and four inches wide out of his Alice pack along with a plastic bag that is filled with a green looking herb that looks like Oregano to the uninitiated.

He heads back to the food area to grab three more beers, and then back to the spot he was sitting on against the tree, and sets his camp stool down, and out of the leather pouch produces an ornate cherry wood pipe with a lacquer finish, with detailed carvings of Lakota symbols all along the neck.

He opens up the bag of... green looking herbs and starts to pack the pipe waiting for the next performance to start.*

[Liadan Whelan] [Performance to Bonfire/treeline]

Líadan watches as Boy leads Wendy away. She smiles at shakes her head.

To Taggart she says, “Hey, I'm gonna go make the rounds. I'll catch ya later, okay?”

And by 'make the rounds,' she means 'wander away from the fire and look for someone. She had told Marcus earlier in the evening that she would like to spend some time with him. Now, with all the new people she's seen, and the singing, and being hostess to the organized chaos of the bonfire, she thinks she would like to sit a while with the quiet young Philodox.

[Imogen Slaughter] Bonfire

Imogen takes the food from him when prompted, but merely sets it aside, picking up a small piece of meet between two fingers. She takes a minor bite, chews and swallows before speaking again.

"He is kinfolk," she says, "one hopes that he would not choose his human job over other loyalties."

At the offer of pot, she glances at the bag. "No," she says after a beat. "Thank-you."

Her gaze lifts to Kemp as he considers his plastic sword. "I believe that would melt," she observes.

[Taggart] [Performance Area]
Nodding to Lee as she heads off, he swigs his beer one more time before he sets it down, then turns around and tries to see if he can find Joss by the firelight. Not seeing her dreadlocked self, he scowls briefly and not sincerely, then clears his throat and starts to speak. It's a booming voice, and no surprise: he can project. He has to; they don't have a microphone set up.

"GOSSAMER WING, WHERE ARE YA?" he hollers. Answered or not by the Godi herself, he throws out his arms to the assembled. "I don't know if you people know this, but there's this Crescent Moon hanging out with us these days who kept me from...y'know...dying. I don't know. Like a dozen times or something."

Two. Three. Whatever.

"Anyway!" he continues. "I got a little song to dedicate to her."

[Wahya Many Tongues] [treeline to food area]

Wahya lifts his head up, glancing around the bonfire, he pulls himself out of his thoughts, eyebrows drawn together in a quizzical expression. He can feel the tightening of stomach muscles listening to the growling noise it makes. The burgers he’d scarf down earlier hadn’t been enough.

With a grunt, he pulls himself up from the grass, hands brushing the grass off his pants. He begins to make his way through the crowd, heading for the food area.

[Serafine Marceau] [Bonfire]

"Bon soir, Katherine," Serafine responded in kind. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

If she felt any embarrassment from all of this congratulating, well... she did her best to remain aloof and dignified. Her warm smile greeted the Silver Fang, along with a polite nod of her head as she was rising from her seat.

"My apologies, but I'm afraid I have a bit of business to take care of. I hope to talk more with both of you soon."

And with that, she was heading off towards the woods, somewhat...enigmatically.

[Taggart] [Charisma + Performance. And let's spend some more WP, why don't we, it's like candy. You don't NEED it.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 7, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Bonfire ---> [color=+c00000]Performance Area[/color

Gabbie had held conversation with Aidan in quiet tones. She'd stroked his hair, smiled, and pulled him into a snug hug, then picked up her violin and rose to her feet. Carrying the violin case by its handle, she moved around the roaring bonfire to the performance area, found herself a lawnchair, and sat in it.

Hatchet was still in the performing area, shouting about dedicating a song to some Garou she didn't know. So she opened up the violin case in her lap and started to get it ready, checking to make sure it was tuned (and of course it was, she tuned it before she left), grabbing her bow, and holding the instrument and its device gingerly, gently in her lap after she moved the case and set it beside her chair.

She sat and watched Taggart, and the look on her face as she did so was curiously blank, like she'd completely erased something that may have been there previously.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry just flicks his eyebrows when she states her hopes for the kinsman who he has not met yet. It's sardonic, but there is nothing pointed or mean about it. Brimming with distrust, perhaps. This particular Child isn't the most open person in the city.

"Yep," he intones to her Thank-you, only to be smacked with a bag a few moments later. He tilts his head back to look up at Kemp upside down. "Oh, hey, Kemp."

A moment later he starts rolling a joint, sighing to himself as he works.

[John Thornton] Edge of Bonfire Clearing

A figure slowly approaches from the darkness without, his approach given away by the singular beam of a flashlight cutting through the darkness. It bounced erratically, its focus generally on the path before him, as the figure avoided the branches, underbrush, and myriad other obstructions on the path leading to where the bonfire blazed brightly.

Then, as the bonfire's light grows intense enough to pick out these obstructions, the flashlight's beam dies silently... The figure's identity revealed.

A mop of brown hair framed a pale deadpan expression, as eyes made orange in the brilliance of the bonfire's blaze reflected from them. His eyes were ringed in the darkest of circles, giving them a freshly blacked look... Thin lines, the careful etchings of fatigue and hard drinking, crossed his brow, teased the edges of the unsmiling facade.

His clothing was as typified his nature... A simple white dress shirt worn open at the collar, a flat gray tie hanging loose from about his neck, its angle slightly askew... A black trenchcoat flapping slightly as it snagged in brambles and branches.

In one hand rests a full bottle of scotch whiskey... In the other, a large Mag-Lite flashlight.

At the edge of the treeline, he stops... As though uncertain why he'd come.

Perhaps he saw the posting on the board and decided to mingle amongst the family he had only just met recently. Perhaps he felt it his duty to learn more about this world hiding behind the mundane. Perhaps he merely thought his nightly search for Oblivion would be better in the company of others than alone for one night.

[Decker] [treeline]

"Nh-hnh."

Evan would know that sound. Not from Decker, ironically, but from the Fostern that had overseen his own Fostern challenge. Maybe they teach it in Fenrir boot camp. It's a wholly noncommittal noise, a grunt, an acknowledgment that Joss has spoken and nothing else.

Over by the fire, Taggart yells for Gossamer Wing. Decker's eyes pass over Joss's shoulder briefly to watch the Fianna, and then come back to her. Looks like at least some of her battle-brothers thought she did the right thing. From Decker, though -- still no sign of approval or censure.

Without warning, the Modi changes tack.

"You say you kin bare teeth with tha best'a 'em," he says. "Fine. Show me. Hit me as hard as you kin."

This has gotta be the chance of a lifetime.

[Boy] (Getting his 'Lord of the Flies' on)

Boy only released Wendy's hand when they'd gotten to the pig. It was a bit of a switch, The trueborn readying plates and taking large slices of what was left of the roasted pig. It was indeed a BIG pig. If any kinfolk attempted to serve him he would protest against it. And while the thrum of his rage washed over them he simply did as he wanted. Plus, he already had the knife.

Boy cut a large jagged slice and set it on a plate, setting that plate on the table near Wendy before going back for another large slice.

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

He glanced towards the bellowing of Hatchet. A few moments later had him searching out a thin green switch before returning to start setting up graham crackers and chocolate. Roasting/setting marshmallows on fire wouldn't take too long and he could listen at the same time.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus looks up and sees Lee approaching. He smiles and stands up, and gestures for her to take his camp stool.* "Please." *He packs the herb in the pipe with his thumb pushing it down a bit.* "I was just about to enjoy a smoke. If you have no objection I'd like to offer you the first inhale, for a new friend who has already shown me much kindness." *He says softly to her, holding out the ornate pipe to her, pulling out a wood match ready to light it.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Imogen catches sight of John Thornton pausing at the gathering's edge.

"For reference," she says simply, her voice low again, "that's him. Do what yeh want wi' it."

[Taggart] [Performance Area]
At this rate, he's never going to leave this goddamn makeshift 'stage'. Planks on the ground don't exactly qualify as a 'stage', but it's close enough for them. Boy had stated, after the duet with Liadan, that he didn't know Hatchet could sing. Apparently that duet was not a fluke, because when Hatchet takes one more swig of his beer and starts playing his little dedication to Joss, whether she's out there to listen to it or not.

This isn't wholly for her sake, after all. This isn't even payback. It isn't a moot, it's a new moon and there are Kinfolk everywhere, but he still remembers waking up with a Godi's paw on his chest twice, allowing him to lunge back into the fray. She is currently off to the side by the trees talking to Decker, being told to hit Decker.

Well, by god, she's going to do so against the familiar strains of With a Little Help From My Friensd, done with more panache and skill than the goddamn Beatles ever managed.

"What would you do if I sang out of tune -- would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ear and I'll sing you a song and I'll try not to sing out of key," he sings, and -- for some reason -- finds Imogen in the people out there and grins at her, whether she sees him or not. For the most part he goes through the song with an almost flamboyant flair, a self-mocking delight that only makes it more... charming.

The bastard.

[Wendy Berber] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

*This was new. She's stooped over the table like some nervous grim reaper, letting a garou serve her. She gives Boy a nervous smile as he gets her food.* Thank you.

[Taggart] [Hahahaha I can spell the word 'Friends'. I really can.]

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]
The Uktena now became a part of the crowd that mingles around the pig. His stomach growling more, he grabs up an empty plate from one of the kinfolk helping out, shaking his head and waving a hand when she tries to put other stuff on it. He only points at the meat, the pork and the burgers, rejecting any bread this time. It’s piled on high.

He pokes his head around the coolers, glancing in at the bottles of beer, taking one up in his hand and looks for a place to sit.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Lichen-colored eyes follow Imogen's indication towards the perimeter of the clearing, and he nods in understanding. That's Detective Thornton.

"Thanks, Imogen," he says, sounding genuinely grateful for whatever it is she's done tonight, and starts putting together a joint. He does it far more proficiently than one would think him capable of.

[Kemp Oates] Bonfire

"Ya bring your guitar?"

The question was casually put to Imogen as he lifted the stick away from the fire to blow in a flaming marshmallow.

[Sam Modine] [Fiii-yah]

"Hey Katherine!" Sam stands and his ever pristine and noble Queen? Is greeted with a bear hug. Under the new moon his Rage now again locked down in his guts like steel trapped hatred seems to slumber, as does hers. For just a second, if one's far enough away they might seem a brother and sister who haven't seen each other in ages come home for Thanksgiving. "I hope Gerard didn't mind taking time from washing the vehicles to drive me out here?"

The staff wait on them with bended knee. It doesn't mean they don't talk.

"Come on, I've taken up plenty of our Serafine's time. My drink is gone and you need one." With that She's taken by the hand and asked, trepidatiously if not more than a bit hopeful. "Did Gab come along?" She knows Sam must've had a few, they've been friends, the best of them, really, long enough she's able to tell he's not far along but neither is he abstaining.

[Joss Lehrer] [Treeline]

Hatchet bellows, and she glances that way but returns her attention to Decker and he....

He says... what?

She blinks, again, and studies him before there's a little grin. She debates asking him if he wants to put down his food first, or risk losing it. She debates what he may mean by "as hard as you CAN" because that could be taken literal, or as hard as she can RIGHT NOW. Then again, this is the Jarl who entered the party, and slugged Samson right in the face on the way to get food. And...

Fuck it. No more Debate. She swings.
After all - a command from the Jarl is a command from the Jarl.

And she is Fenrir, after all.

(Come on Kahseeno - don't fail me now... Srsly, Hailing and any sacrifice you want! and motherfucking WP too.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Liadan Whelan] She chuckles, holds up a hand palm out. “No thanks, not tonight.” Her rejection of the smoke is light, and for a different reason than when she started to refuse the offer from Dime Bag so long ago.

She pauses before she takes a seat, looks over her shoulder as Taggart begins to sing, and she smiles fondly. Then she turns back to Marcus. “And I'll take the grass if it's all the same.” Not waiting for his acceptance or insistence on her taking the camp chair, she plunks herself down on the grass, sets her beer bottle down so it's close to hand, and stretches out her long legs. She's wearing what she was wearing this morning, when she and Marcus rode together to the bonfire site to set up. Short denim shorts that only go to about mid thigh, brown sleeveless hoody with a heart embroidered over her right breast, the hoody unzipped to expose the LONDON on her robin's egg blue tee.

She lets out a sigh. “It's good to get away from that for a little while.”
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Joss Lehrer] (HAAAAAAAAAIL Let's not tickle him, ok? it's DECKER EFFIN ROHL! Stay with me Kahseeno!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Decker] (....)

[Decker]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joss Lehrer] (DAMMIT KAHSEENO. *LMAO*)

[Henry Allard] [GET OFF THE STAGE!]

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Henry thanks her. "Don't mention it," she says.

Imogen has eaten her single piece of meat and wipes her hand on the thigh of her jeans, before turning slightly to pick up her guitar, lifting it for Kemp to see, before setting it down again.

"Do you have a request?" she asks.

[Boy] (At a table near Pig)

He had his own meat now, piled high, and a few rolls. It doesn't occur to him to ask for anything else.

But then there was someone else here. Someone's who's rage marked them as distinctly not Kin, and his eyes followed curiously at the man with the long twists for hair. He sets his plate on the table near Wendy's and says "I'll be right back."

And then he approaches. His eyes instinctively go to the man's chest. To his hair and his lips. He looks at everything except his eyes, avoiding them as best any Homid-born could.

"Wahya Many Tongues? I am Boy, called Brother of the Lost, Cliath Philodox of the Uktena. My sister, Bones to Dust, told me about you. I'm very happy we could meet."

Then he turns his body slightly, his arms indicating the table where he and Wendy had planned to sit.

"Will you sit with us?"

[Decker]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Decker]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Boy] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

[Joss Lehrer] (crap!)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Taggart] [Performance Area]
Over to the side, Joss hits Decker as hard as she can... which is not that hard, tonight. Maybe it's the distraction of the Fianna warbling in her honor over by the bonfire. He finishes up with that shit-eating grin still on his face, blows a kiss to the people, then goes to pick up his beer.

"Thank you! I love you people!" he hollers. "I'll be here all week! I'll be here all month! I'll be here til I fuckin' die!"

He cackles at that, though it's a rather morbid thing to think of, and swigs that beer. He swings Liadan's guitar off his shoulder and steps off the planks while Joss gets hit in return, walking to return the Hummingbird to its case.

[Decker] Joss's punch may as well have hit a brick wall for all the good it does. Decker's plate doesn't even wobble in his left hand. Instantly, his right hand comes up in a flash of motion, his knuckles meeting Joss's cheek in a brutal backhanding.

"That's as hard as you kin hit? Tha Godi that wants ta join my pack?

"Put a l'il fuckin' effort inta it."

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He smiles at her, and sets his camp stool aside, and then sets his pipe on top of the leather pouch not lighting it up. It was better to smoke with friends, and honestly he'd much rather be in the moment with Lee then distracted by Mary Jane. He sat down next to her, but left some space, but... was a little closer to her, more intimate with her, more engaged in their conversation.*

She'd come to see him, walked all the way over here when so many other people wanted a little bit of her attention, and... well that mind his heart swell, and he smiled looking at her, swallowing a bit. He leans over to speak to her, getting a little closer but not touching her.*

"I'm sure it's good for you to relax now. You've worked hard, and everyone is enjoying themselves. You should be proud." *He said to her.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Imogen Slaughter] (belated but....)

[Bonfire]

Taggart plays the Beatles - grins, perhaps unexpectedly in Imogen's direction. At the familiar opening sounds, her head turns toward the stage. While her amusement certainly does not match his, a suggestion of a twist starts at the corner of her mouth, then ends.

(and thus ends my out of order posting)

[Decker] (oh right. [treeline])

[Kemp Oates] Bonfire

Taggart sang, then yelled and Kemp hooted at him.

"Ham!"

Still smiling when he turned his attention back to Imogen and finished the first S'more.

"How about that Uncle Cracker song?"

Then lifted his voice and bellowed.

"Ya gonna come get this Deck or play all night? Fuckin burned my fingers for this!"

[Wendy Berber] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

*Wendy eats her food like its the last food she's going to get, plate nearly cleared as she watches Boy and Wahya interact near the pig. She smooths Boy's shirt over her body, tugging at it and nibbling her lip. It didn't cover as much as she'd like. More skinny arm coverage would be good. But at least it was cooler. *

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Bonfire]

"Vous parlez du français? Comment merveilleux." She says with sincere warmth, and nods as the Fury rises to excuse herself. "I look forward to speaking again soon." Katherine, her body enveloped in a spontaneous hug from Sam, emits a small huff of air from her nose and, extracting herself, pats down her tousled locks as she is pulled along in the Modi's wake.

"Yes, Gabbie is around here somewhere, no doubt giving me stress by engaging in conversation with undesirables."

She really was a people person, the Philodox.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Performance Area]

The crack of hand to cheek caught Gabbie's attention, even as Taggart was calling his joyful, jesting goodnights to those gathered, and she turned to see a tall man with a buzzed head slamming the back of his fist into the face of a much smaller woman.

Garou.

Sighing a little, taking something of a deep breath first, she stood and walked out into the performing area, utterly alone. If there was a chair, she refused it, opting to play standing on those comfortable, well-worn sneakers instead. She glanced out to the crowd, wondered if she should bother with an introduction, glanced briefly to Katherine and Sam, then decided to forgo. The violin was shouldered, her lips were licked, and she started to play.

[Charisma + Performance: Let's introduce these heathens to the classics]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Table]
If Boy is taller than 5’6, he’ll have much more to look down to; Wahya is surprised by the approach. He blinks at the youth, the corners of his mouth beginning to twist up in a reflection of his birth moon once he recognizes the name.

“Boy.” He says in the gravelly-pitch of his voice, hands filled with a plate full of meat and a bottle. He looks up and over at the table where Wendy sat. “Lead on, Boy-yuf, no need to downcast eyes.”

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Seriously? We can do better than that!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 2

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
"You're a ham!" he shouts back to Kemp, pointing at him with his beer hand as he walks from 'stage' to guitar case.

He closes the case when he gets the Hummingbird safely into it, taking a nice long pull of the beer that Reuben brewed and bottled and brought for them all. This shit is strong. It was brewed by a Fianna Kinsman and owner/operator of a pub, for chrissake's. Coming to the performance area after him is Gabriella, as talented as the Fangs can breed them. He looks around for his kinswoman but doesn't see her, so he lowers himself into a lawn chair, leans back, and listens to Gabbie play.

[Joss Lehrer] (don't mind me..)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Performance Area]

And immediately Gabbie's violin began to pour sweet, beautiful, wonderful music across the clearing.

It was quite different from what has been played recently, classical, something composed hundreds of years earlier, but the pace was fast. It wasn't exactly the type of song you danced to, but more something that had you stop and stare at the person playing, watch their fingers fly up and down the neck of their instrument, the expression on their face as they let the music sweep them up and away.

Gabbie swayed a little, moved when the music jerked or changed, and kept her chin to the violin, her eyes closed. If something could be said, it was that Gabriella Bellamonte had a gift, and she loved it completely.

[John Thornton] Approaching bonfire

From his spot on the edge of the clearing, John watches the flames dance for a long time. His hand moves to open the bottle of scotch, before taking a long swallow of the amber liquor within the glass prison. Then, as if deciding something, he starts again toward where the orange luminescence shoots skyward. His progress is slow, measured, as hazel eyes move about the area steadily...

They watched as one who believes not what he sees, as though he were searching for some flaw, some mistake, some inconsistency in reality... As though it were all just some dream of which he yet had no proof.

The hazel eyed gaze turned curiously to where he heard Kemp's yell, then the treeline where Decker and someone he didn't know stood...

[Boy] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

Even that got a smile. Oh, he was so full of smiles tonight. Sign of the apocalypse indeed. He nodded at the wolf-born, and for a second he let their eyes meet before turning and heading back to the table.

"You know Wendy?" He asked, indicating the kin at the table.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [bonfire --> performance area]

"Wait!" Katherine almost walks into Sam as the strains of a violin reach her. She utters a small laugh of joy and turns to cup her hands around her mouth. "Bravo, Gabriella!" With a coy glance at the Modi, the Silver Fang is making a dash to the performance area and planting herself front and center to listen to her sister play, the pride on her face almost too much to bear.

She sways back and forth, eyes closed after a moment.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Table]
Wahya sets the plate of food down first followed by the bottle of beer. He sits down, resting an arm on the table to lean on it as he begins to pick at the meat piled high on his plate. He regards Wendy with a mischievous smile and wiggle of eyebrows.

“Yes,” he replies to Boy with a nod, “Afraid of Wahya, offered burger earlier.”

To Wendy, “Thank you.”

[Liadan Whelan] It's dark where they're sitting, so far away from the fire. Light enough to see each other's faces, to make out little details like the shape of eyes, the curves of lips, but not so light as to make out the colors. Lee blushes at his words of praise, ducks her head a little. Her hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks.” He's leaning in close to her. There's just enough space between them that they're not touching. And she honestly does not know what to do with him. She's seen the way he looks at her, knows that he feels an attraction, but she can tell he's young, and kind, and in that respect reminds her so much of someone she used to know.

So instead of closing the distance between them, instead of wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders and pressing her lips to his, she looks at him in the semi-dark. “How old are you, Marcus?”
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Joss Lehrer] [treeline]

Ouch. Her head rocks back and she spits off to the side as she stands her ground. It should be noted - that she's smiling. Still. Her eyes are sparkling and she's smiling through the blood on her lip. He wants effort, and he gets it.

She bulks up - she shifts, but only so far as glabro, as this IS a party. But he IS also an Adren, a Modi, and her Jarl, and goddammit he's just plain TOUGHER than she is. And she knows it. But she has things that he does not (presumably) - she is GODI.

When she acts, she does two things almost simultaniously - first, it's a yelled command. Not to Decker, not to anyone near - but to the elemtals gleefully playing in the fire. Her command is simple - Singe/Distract - do not HARM - and when the fire spirits leap to do her bidding, the fire POPPING and a shower of sparks traveling on a sudden gust of win to shower the Modi, she swings again.

(first roll was command spirit - 2suxx - this one, PLEASE KAHSEENO I'll give you MINDY! and V! and any holy sacrifice you WANT!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 2

[Joss Lehrer] (THATS RIGHT! ANY HOLY SACRIFICE YOU WAAAAAANT! V! MINDY! Take em!)

(str + glabro +5)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Decker]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wendy Berber] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

*Wendy ducks her head shyly at Wahya's eyebrow wiggle, blurting.* You licked me.. *and blushing terribly.*

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

Until Gabbie had gotten up to play, she and Aidan had been huddled next to each other, talking like old friends. Talking about things that had left the Fiann kin feeling a bit drained. But then she'd gotten up to play, and he had turned to face the stage completely, his attention focused on her and her playing. Nothing else in the world existed for awhile. Just Gabbie and violin music, and he smiled to himself, his eyes shining like emeralds in the firelight. Wet, but not crying. Just full.

[Sam Modine] [bonfire --> performance area]

"Katheriiiine..." Sam does not warm. He wouldn't deign. It's his job rather to advise, to balance where he can.

And then the sound hits his ears as well and as fast as she might be, Sam is faster and he right there just when Katherine is, front and center. His chest rises at the sounds of her excellence. Bravo! the Silver Fang cries out to her sister next to him and Sam leans in next to her.

"She's really something, isn't she?" His eyes never leave the kinfolk, don't stop darting along with her hand on the bow that cuts across strings like lightning and calls out a stirring staccato melody into the moonless night.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
The music pouring from Gabbie's violin is not the DeBussy he first heard her playing, once upon a time. This is something thoroughly different, and it makes his pulse pick up as much as his own performances had just from sheer excitement and... well, now, could he say he was happy?

He cocks his head to the side and drinks his beer until it's finished, his eyes glittering a bit. He sees Katherine listening to her little sister playing, but it's a momentary glance before he turns his attention back to the youngest Bellamonte. When she's done he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles sharply in appreciation. The bottle set on the soft ground by his chair, he applauds loudly, laughing to himself.

[Decker]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He exhales a bit looking away and then looks at her for a moment. Yeah he hates this question because in his experience it's the kill answer, shoots down any chance he has. But... he's one to be honest even if it hurts him. Lying to her is out of the question.

In a low, but sincere voice.* "Seventeen. I'll turn eighteen in mid-August." *As if that really made difference, but... he swallows and it's clear on his face he's really hoping she's not gonna hold his age against him.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Decker]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Imogen and Kemp banter a bit, Kemp and the unnamed man at the performance area shout back and forth, and Henry just lights his joint, staring into the flames of the bonfire and inhaling without contentment. He hasn't drifted into outer space but neither does he appear to be paying attention to what's going on around him.

Given the fact that he jumps at the slightest sudden noise, it's not likely that the guy is oblivious. He just pays attention to the wrong things. The violin music courses through the air as he holds the smoke in his lungs and finally lets it out, quietly. The Ziplock bag and lighter are closed up and pushed back into his jeans pocket as he adjusts the fall of his feet on the ground.

It's too damned hot to be smoking but he does it anyway.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Imogen's eyebrow lifts faintly, "Unfortunately based upon that vague description, I don't think I can help you," she says - her gaze moving briefly toward the stage as the classical music breaks across the air, completely out of step with the festivities, the cooking meat and outdoor locale, the Garou and the rage and the two Garou duking it out -

Imogen's gaze briefly moves toward Decker and Joss as they trade blows. Rest there a moment, unflinching, expression giving nothing away.

She turns back, lifting her beer again, taking a deep draught before speaking, to either Kemp or Henry, or perhaps no one in particular.

"There is a Fianna game," she says simply, her explanation unheralded, "played in some o' the Septs back 'ome - at parties and th'like. What th'Garou do is take a shot o' the strongest drink available - generally some homegrown brew, and then punch their partner. Then their partner will do the same.

"Last one standin', wins."

[Sam Modine] (again! WARN not Warm.))

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Performance Area]

The melody ends as abruptly as it begins, and Gabbie's left looking into the faces of loved ones. Taggart had taken a seat to watch her when he left the stage, drinking a beer and keeping his intense gray eyes on her through the performance, save for a glance to her sister. Katherine and Sam were there in a heartbeat, sitting right in front of her, one beaming proudly and the other looking enraptured and awestruck. Aidan was further off in the grasses, but she knew he was there. He said he'd be her audience, and Aidan's word was iron to her.

When she finished, Taggart whistled, applause hopped up, and she opened her eyes and relaxed her grip on the violin and bow, letting them both fall loose, the bow to her side, the violin still on her shoulder but without the grip of her chin in its designated place. She smiled broadly, and might have blushed if she wasn't accustomed to such responses. She was a performer, after all.

And unless anyone called for her to play another, she took her leave from the stage.

[Kemp Oates] Bonfire

What he knew of classical music was played in old cartoons as background or theme music. For a moment he looked up from burning marshmallows to watch the performance, then his attention was on Imogen as he waved the flaming marshmallow back and forth to put it out or send it flying off into the night like a miniature flaming sun.

"Sounds like a good game, wanna play?"

[Joss Lehrer] (come on baby...belated soak! Kahseeno be with me!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Boy] (Food...table...we're the purple ones)

He sort of chuckled at that, obviously in a good mood, and takes a bite of the meat in his plate, handling deftly, but manually. What was there to say about the two Uktena at the party sitting side by side, and one of them without his shirt and eating with his hands. Whatever there was to say, it seemed to be lost on Boy.

"She gets nervous sometimes. I know what that's like. You're packed with Nightcrawler-yuf, aren't you? I fought by his side recently. He was glorious. When our foe caught Bones to Dust and me by surprise, he killed him with a single blow!"

He said this with amazement in his voice, looking at Wahya enthused, and then to Wendy...less enthused. The kin probably didn't like that kind of talk.

"Sorry." He says to her, in a continuation of role reversals.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Imogen tilts her head indicating the fighting to her left. "I wouldn't want t'steal their thunder."

[Decker] A shower of sparks whirls up from the distant bonfire, arcing across the distance to whip between the Modi and Godi in a curtain of brilliance. Briefly blinded, the Modi loses track of where Joss is -- until her fist, her fucking Glabro-sized fist, cracks in him the jaw.

It snaps his head sideways. He goes with the blow, sways with it, plants a foot sideways to catch his balance. Whips back around with a punch, not nearly so devastating as the first one. There's no indication that Decker is angry; no indication that he might flip his lid, pop fur, tear heads off.

It's tit for tat. Fenrir don't allow free hits, period.

"'s more like it." He raises his hand to his own face, sticks his thumb into his mouth, touches where he'd cut the inside of his cheek on his teeth, looks at the blood on his thumb with something like bemusement. He spits a stream of bloody saliva to the side, looks at the Theurge again. The distant fires glimmer in his eyes -- making the grey briefly brilliant, but not changing the heaviness or hue of his stare.

"Now call tha spirits 'n axe 'em ta heal yerself 'n me. Without crossin' over."

[Liadan Whelan] Her brows go up. “Wow. I thought you were older.” She looks away momentarily, considering for a moment. Then she laughs. “Six years.”

She looks at him and smiles a smile that is also a frown. “You're a good kid, Marcus, and I mean that. But I...I just, I don't...” Her voice is uncertain as she looks at him, like she can't find the words to express how she feels. Like she doesn't know how she feels in the first place.
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry just laughs, for what sounds like the first time in weeks.

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

He snickered and waved the next flaming marshmallow towards Henry.

"Gotta eat some of this shit man. Or I'm gonna harf half of it on yer shoes when I eat it all."

The stick next waved towards the stage and Imogen again, sending the marshmallow flying off through the air.

"I lose more marshmallows that way. Will ya go sing or something?"

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

As soon as Gabbie was done, Aidan stood up and made his way forward to meet her halfway. Spontaneously, he threw his arms around the elegant violinist and gave her a tight hug, whispering something into her ear.

[Wendy Berber] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

Z'okay. *She says quietly, still a little pink as she nibbles the last little bit of meat on her plate.* I'm glad you w-won.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Performance Area]

Sam's whispered reverence is enough to temporarily draw Katherine's eyes from their closed rapture. She looks, for a moment, not quite so much the proud sister but the concerned sibling, casting her eyes over his face and flicking them then beyond him to Taggart. He looks away from her as she does, and Katherine returns her concentration to the stage.

The smile that flashes over her face is blinding; and Gabriella is barely a few steps from the stage before she is enveloped in her sister's embrace. The enthusiasm of her kisses, planted again and against against her brow, her cheeks, and once to the tip of her nose are mortifying for anyone.

As much is the torrent of french that the elder Bellamonte spills in a rush, amongst the praise is the whispered name of their father and the praise that no doubt would have come loudest from his corner.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"You ain't harfing nowhere," Henry proclaims, turning his head to blow out the flame on the end of the marshmallow. He's not high off his ass yet: he isn't loud.

[Liadan Whelan] [Reminder for new peeps!:

COLOR CODING WINSAUCE!

Please label and color code your posts as follows:

Red = Performing area/north bonfire
Green = West bonfire
Dark Blue = East bonfire
Purple = South bonfire/cooking area

And of course, if your chars are out of sight of everyone else, go to PMs for the love of all that is holy]

[Decker] (aghh! [treeline!] i'll remember!)

[Henry Allard] [Remember, Simba...]

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

He leaned towards Henry, shoulders lurching as he started making that urping dog sound that comes before barfing up a wad of half wet food.

"Gonna harf!"

[John Thornton] Bonfire

Thornton stops at the very edge of the crowd near the bonfire on the western side, the darkened flashlight falling uncaringly into a pocket of the trench, the hand holding the bottle of scotch making no move to do likewise. A few moments pass, the lid is again removed from the bottle, and another solid drink is taken.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [North Bonfire, just shy of performing area]

Katherine grabbed a hold of her as soon as she was off the stage, and in concern for the safety of her beloved violin, Gabbie raised her arms over her head to keep them safe. She was kissed all over her face, forehead, brows, cheeks, nose, you name it. A few probably brushed the lips, but it was hardly indecent. Katherine gushed to her in French, a language that perhaps one person here understood, and he didn't even realize that he did.

Gabbie just laughed and replied in French as well, thanks, a little of 'it wasn't much', and a reminder/reminiscence of the fact that Christopher was the one that supplied her with this particular violin. Then Aidan came up, wrapped his arms around her as well, and Gabbie found herself in a hug sandwich. The beautiful red-haired friend of hers whispered in her ear, and she touched what fingers she could free to his face in thanks, having to hold her bow funny to do so.

"Thank you, really, but can I breathe? You're all very warm, and it must be eighty degrees out here."

[Wahya Many Tongues] [table]
To hear the way Boy speaks about Adam, with an almost starry-eyed expression, it makes him laugh. The sound is low and rough with his voice. He shakes his head; the matted braids writhe along his lean shoulders and back like living vines.

He sits next to Boy, like him, using his hands to shovel meat into his mouth. He offers Wendy another smile, “Adam is good, yes.” He begins to say, “We are pack, but can’t be why Boy-yuf ask to speak with Wahya, don't follow in Adam's shadow Wahya does, makes his own path. Marrick speaks of you fondly, mention you in passing once.”

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He reaches over and takes her hand gently into his, and then puts the other one on top of hers, gently trying to reassure her.* "You don't have to say anything Liadan. You have done nothing wrong. You have nothing to apologize for.

Yes I am still a young man. But I am a Garou. I have trained very hard, and I have done more in my short time on this earth then many men my age." *He exhales slightly through his nose.*

"But I am still learning a great many things. I have yet to experience many things too. I am not as traveled as you, or... as wise in the ways of the world to a large degree. I'm just a simple country boy at heart."

*He swallows and smiles at her, looking into her eyes with his intense gaze, and she can see a building passion for her.* "I will not demand anything from you Liadan. I am thankful for everything we have shared today. Talking with you has been one of the best things I've done. And it means a great deal that you've chosen to spend any of your time with me." *He says softly, completely honest and sincere, caring and concerned for how she's feeling.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Joss Lehrer] (don't mind me)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Sam Modine] Everyone's hugging his girl Gabriella and Sam's hands go to the pockets of his shorts, standing just over her older sister's shoulder wearing the most unflabbable happiness on his face one could imagine. "Your mother would've loved to hear that." He never knew their father, he was long through his Gathering by the time Sam had met them nearly half a decade ago.

"You are peerless, Gab." The rest he doesn't say. Keeps it in his eyes and on the way he sucks in his lips just slightly and turns his head away for a moment.

"Drinks, shall we, everyone?" Aidan is included in this with a look. "Seriously, this cup is white at the bottom and I shouldn't know that."

[Joss Lehrer] (or me)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Joss Lehrer] (crap - wrong diff - reroll)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire to Performance Area]

Imogen's glance toward Kemp is long-suffering as he tells her to go sing.

"Do not vomit," she says, simply as she gets to her feet, her departure not entirely related to Kemp's noises, though one imagines she might be grateful to get away from the rotagar's never-ending motormouth.

She brings her beer and guitar with her, but leaves the food behind for either Henry or Kemp to eat, or for no one to do so.

Her gaze passes to the two Garou briefly as Decker spits bloody spit. Her eyebrow arches faintly, then settles as she takes her place on the chair, removing her guitar from its case.

She checks the strings, her fingers quick upon them as she down, comparing one tone to another. She has tuned the guitar recently and it only takes a slight adjustment of the tuning peg to get a single string in line with the rest.

She does not speak or dedicate the song to anyone - merely begins to sing, her fingers light on the guitar strings.

[Imogen Slaughter]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry laughs again, looking up and over at Kemp before standing up and getting out of his potential line of fire as Imogen commands Kemp not to barf. Another drag off of his joint, and he holds it in for a moment as she walks off, not watching her go.

"You drink, Kemp?" he asks, voice tight before he releases the lungful of smoke away from the s'more master.

[Liadan Whelan] He tells her he's not as traveled, as knowledgeable of the world as she. He tells her spending time with her is the best thing he's done. He barely manages to get through telling her he's grateful she's spent any time with him when she suddenly closes the distance between them, throwing caution to the wind.

Her mouth finds his in the semi-dark, and the kiss is soft, but gently insistent. If he doesn't immediately pull away, she brings up a hand to lay her palm on his cheek.
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

Kemp held up a finger to Henry when Imogen rose and went to start to play.

"Hold that thought, I'll come back to it in a minute."

All the harfing motions stopped as he turned to watch the performance. For years he had been following Imogen around to watch her play, from one club to the next. He'd turn up in the dark and most of the time she never knew he'd been there.

[Boy] [table]

He nods, having been caught in it.

"You're right. You're wolf born. And even more a grinning-moon. Of course you'd know there's more to it."

He chewed thoughtfully for a while, and looked down at his bare chest, finding no shirt to wipe his hands in. Instead he just holds them together, forgetting his food for now.

"My sister has had a dream. A dream about people from her past, and a painful journey that never ended. She says she's never had a dream like that. I was hoping you might be able to tell us what it means."

And, as if hesitant to say it, he takes a breath before speaking again.

"And maybe you can tell me about my dream as well."

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

He dutifully withdrew his hold on the poor girl, smiling a bit as he did so and turning to acknowledge Sam and Katherine.

"Thank you, but I think I'm going to head out. I have a long day tomorrow."

He had some important decisions to make, after all. Things he hadn't even mentioned to Gabbie, but then, he hadn't decided what he was going to do...yet.

Glancing over to where Taggart was sitting, he looked thoughtful.

(Or maybe he had decided.)

He turned back to his friend. "It was really nice seeing you, Gabbie." And with that, he was making his way over to a certain familiar Fianna.

[Joss Lehrer] (and one last one)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [performance area]

Aidan hugs her sister; and Katherine's eyes narrow in clear speculation. She stands to one side, a hand still resting gently at the small of Gabriella's back, with a quiet clearing of her throat and the lifting of one fair brow it is clear that she expects nothing less than an introduction of sorts.

Which -- it would seem, she is not to receive as the child excuses himself and earns a small frown from the tall figure. "Who was that, Gabriella?"

Her pale eyes, it should be said, remain fast on the red-head.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Performance Area]

Perhaps irony causes her to choose a Beatles song - subtle commentary to Hatchet's earlier choice, or perhaps Hatchet himself. Perhaps it is merely a coincidence.

"Though you've gone away this morning you'll be back again tonight,
Telling me there'll be no next time if I just don't treat you right,
You'll never leave and you know it's true,
'Cause you like me too much and I like you. "

The truth is, in music, you cannot be cold - you cannot be disconnected. It is impossible to sing a song and keep at least the appearance of emotion at bay. To do so is boring, uninspired.

These moments are likely the most emotion that anyone who knows Imogen in passing have seen. Whether or not it is heartfelt or not, it doesn't matter - she is a consummate actress.

"You've tried before to leave me but you never had the nerve,
To walk out and makee me lonely which is all that I deserve,
You'll never leave and you know it's true,
'Cause you like me too much and I like you.

I really do and it's nice when you believe me if you leave me,
I will follow you and bring you back where you belong,
'Cause I couldn't really stand it I admit that I was wrong,
I wouldn't let you leave me 'cause it's true,
'Cause you like me too much and I like you. "

[Joss Lehrer] [treeline]

She grins at him, and then nods. Command given, command taken, and she takes a breath, and falls to her knees before him. The rest of the party has disappeared, she is fully committed to this, to calling the spirits to come to her aid, to calling those who would heal herself, and heal her Jarl, to prove herself a worthy godi before him - and anyone else who may be watching.

She has prepared her whole life for this.
Gaia be with her now.

She pulls her skirts upwards, bearing her thighs, and the matching set of scars that are there - long, four stripes on each thigh, carefully and perfectly placed by garou claw. She wastes no time, her hands falling into a beat, soft and even, her body swaying with the effort as she does so. It is not so easy here, without shifting over to the Umbra where she is so much at home as the real side. But she does not shy from the task, and she makes her call.

And they come.
They come.
(They ALWAYS come to her call...)

She smiles as the dew from the ground here around the treeline starts to seep upwards, the ground wet from recent rains, the earth itself still holding moisture as it pools around her knees in the soft grass, she slides her fingers down her thighs, sliding them into the water to welcome the brothers that have come to her aid, her voice a soft murmur her body attuned completey to brokering the deal that her Jarl had asked her for...

[SS] Hello, my brothers, thank you for coming to my aid... my Jarl is injured, in need of healing. In his testing, I too am injured, though I ask that you see to his needs first, as is befitting a man of his station. We ask this so tht we may be strong to continue to fight for you... I've a fountain that I will set up in your honor, where you and yours may flow free and pure. I am honored by your aid.

She does not command, she merely asks. She offers her own essence to seal the deal, then scoops up the water in her hands, and offers it upwards to Decker. "Drink, and you will be healed."

[Wendy Berber] (Sitting at a table near Pig)

*Thats her cue to leave. To give them privacy. The tall kin stands up and gives them both a shy apologetic hint of a smile.* G-getting more f-food. .. I'm going to um.. talk to someone too.. Kay? *She doesn't take off until its been agreed upon.*

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He is stopped in mid-speech, and at first his mouth is a little rigid just from the surprise. But then he relaxes and there is an small breaking of the dam as he moves to put his arms around her, his strong calloused hands rubbing her back gently, breathing in through his nose softly catching her scent as he starts to deepen the kiss.

He's not keeping her there, she can pull away if she wants to, but he definitely responds by pulling her a little closer, wanting the kiss to last, and perhaps to increase the intimatcy with her.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Henry Allard] [West Bonfire -> South Bonfire]
The man can barely do what he's told or asked to do when he's sober and grounded. Right now he's several drags into a substance that he'd cobbed off of one of the guys at work, and it isn't skunk weed. He hasn't gotten high since that night he and Tristan laid out in the hammock at the old house in Lakeview and passed a joint back and forth. That was the week before his arm was broken.

Sniffing, Henry reaches out with his joint-commanding hand to pick up his beer bottle, and starts to walk it to the trash area set up by the food.

Imogen's song follows him.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [North Bonfire]

Aidan parted by saying that he was heading out and that it was very nice to see her. She smiled brightly at him, her face a little flushed from the rush of the performance and the hugs she was receiving for it. Or that could just be Kate's lipstain smeared all over her face. It was hard to tell in the flickering firelight. "It was wonderful seeing you too. Don't be a stranger, call me, alright?"

And then he was walking toward Taggart, and Kate was glaring after him with her hand at Gabbie's back. She glanced up to her taller, older sister, then made a soft 'tut tut' noise and shook her head. "That boy is steadily becoming my best friend. He's a Fianna Kinfolk, and perfectly harmless unless your name is Alexander Vaughn."

Sam commented on needing drinks, and Gabbie flashed a big grin to him.

"I agree with Sam. Let's get drinks."

[Andrew] [treeline]

He appears, silent, without fanfare, at the edge of the treeline. He must have come in something other than homid, since he appears to be deflating like a balloon as he steps into the edge of the firelight at the treeline. He goes from near-man to man and pauses there.

His clothes are different than usual, no sweats. Cargo pants. A black t-shirt with a smiley face and 'Fuck You!' underneath the big grinning yellow circle. No shoes. Of course. Barefeet. They slide over the green grass, dirt, twigs, and pieces of yard debris.

He pauses there, at the edge of the firelight's reach, and considers the place.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
He looks up as Aidan approaches, his hands limp at the ends of the lawnchair's arms, his fingers dangling and his eyes flat. He observes the way the kinsman moves, the look in his eyes, the lines of his mouth. He stands up when Aidan is a few feet away, arms at his sides.

[Boy] (tables)

He nodded to Wendy, more concerned with what Wahya had to say for now.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [table]
Wahya was all smiles up until the last part of the conversation. He waits until Wendy has made her leave, his eyes have gone down to the meat piled on his plate and he has suddenly lost any desire to finish it.

He regards Boy with a serious expression, eyebrows furrowed deeply. He reaches for the bottle, staring at it. Lucky for him, the nice kinfolk that gave it to him opened it for him. He takes a swallow of the beer and quickly sets it down, head turning to spit it out.

He wipes the back of his hand against his mouth, making a sour face at the bottle. “What are these dreams?”

[Aidan Whelan] [Bonfire]

The night was almost over. He just had one person left to talk to, so after taking his leave of Gabbie and her little entourage, Aidan found himself standing next to Taggart. He was quiet for a few moments, looking at the man who now stood in front of him.

After awhile, he said, "did you get the letter I left for you?"

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

He watched Imogen play and sing as the marshmallow on the end of his stick burned and flamed and the end of the stick caught fire too. And he remained that way until Imogen finished. Only after the spell broke did he cheer and turn to pick up his imitation barfing attempts on Henry who had moved out of target range.

[Decker] (Treeline --> performance area)

Decker considers the dew on the grass for a moment, collected as night, at last, brings relief from the day's stifling wet heat. Then he drops to one knee as well. Thoughtfully, he combss his fingers through the wet grass. Is it his imagination, or do his fingers tingle faintly now?

Without drinking, he stands.

"Naw. Jus' wanted ta see ya prove yer worth. Once at tha battle, once when ya called on yer strengths, all yer strengths, 'n hit me. 'n once when ya called tha spirits, which is yer Fenris-given role.

"'s yers ta drink. 'n give tha spirits my thanks." A pause. "Think we'll call Eagle fer ya when we git back tonight. C'mon." He nods over to the performance area where Imogen is finishing up. "'s go lissen."

Decker brings his plate with him. He shoulders through the gathered to stand, for once, in the front row. He's still eating. If this is disrespectful, he doesn't seem to notice, or care.

When she's finished people clap; Kemp cheers. He glances at the Rotagar briefly, then waits to see if she'll sing anything else.

[John Thornton] bonfire

After a few moments, the bottle is set on the ground before him, as John slides the black trench from his shoulders and spreads it on the ground nearby. His dress shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow, a shoulder holster and well-maintained .45 revealed as the black trench falls away. Then, after a few moments' consideration, he slides the five pointed star from its place on his belt near his hip...

The hazel gaze focuses upon it for a long time... Before it finds its way into his shirt pocket.

Then, taking a seat on the trenchcoat spread upon the ground, his hands find the bottle of scotch... The drinking resumes.

[Wendy Berber] (Moving from near Pig ----> towards treeline)

*First order of business. Peeing. She heads west to the trees at a lope that is too much limb and not enough forward motion*

[Liadan Whelan] His arms wrap around her, tugging her closer, his arms strong around her. She doesn't pull away, but tugs him harder, the hand on his cheek sliding back to bury itself in his hair. Her fingertips rub against the back of his head, massaging his scalp.

Her mouth opens against his. She doesn't wait for his response, her tongue darting against his lips, testing, tasting. His beard scratches against her face. The sensation is not altogether unpleasant, the hairs not course enough to cause discomfort.
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
For some the night is just getting started. Fenrir at play beat each other's heads back and forth, call spirits, talk pack issues. Fianna play and sing, as does a Fang. Lupus mingle with Kinfolk, beer and vodka and watermelon and roast pork circulate. Near the tail end of Imogen's song, Taggart greets his kinsman wordlessly, and then he asks about the letter.

Hatchet's eyes darken. "Yeah." And his fist flies towards Aidan's jaw.

[Inits?]

[Taggart] [No Inits! Dex + Brawl]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Taggart] [Damage. Kahseeno, stop flirting with the Fenrir, you h0r.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Aidan Whelan] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He increases his passion to match hers, one hand running up her back to the base of her neck feeling her hair gently, the other wrapped around her to pull her close up against him, intimate, almost protective. His arms are strong, but he controls the strength in them, not getting rough with her.

When her mouth opens so does his, and after a bit he sticks his tongue in her mouth, stroking her tongue with his. It takes a couple of tries, but he soon has it down. Seems like a guy who hasn't done it a whole lot, but has studied up on it, and has been prepared for this occasion for awhile now.

He doesn't dare break the kiss, he doesn't want it to end, for her to pull back and come to her senses, at least in his mind. He just wants to be with Lee right now, and nothing else in the world matters to him.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Joss Lehrer] [Treeline ---> Performance area]

It's not his imagination, his fingers tingle. He speaks, and she listens, and then blinks.

And smiles. "Thank you, Decker. I'll do my best."

There's no doubt what the news does to her, how it affects her, though she does well not to jump clean out of her skin in sudden proud excitement, sudden delight. To meet Eagle hisself after tonight's party too? She practically glows at the prospect, even as she lowers her head, sips of the water dripping from her palms, taking her time, then murmuring her thanks to the spirits that responded to her call, offering his as well.

He says come on, and that's what she does, hopping up after her speech with the Spirits is done, and then falls into step with the Modi as she shifts back to homid, and they move to watch Imogen perform.

This has just become the BEST DAY EVER. In case the bounce in her step doesn't give it away... she is, after all, still a teenage girl.

[Aidan Whelan] [Dex+Dodge]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 4 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Aidan Whelan] [Er...what the heck? That was supposed to be 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Boy] [table]


"Both were different, but still the same. In Marrick's dream she says that she was in a field of...glass. There were people running from a great fire, and they called for her to go with them. These were all people she recognized, and she realized that the fire was her burning home. There was a city in the horizon, and she knew that if she could get there she could be safe. But first she had to walk on the glass, even though every step cut her feet. Others stopped, too tired or too in pain to go on, and they either died from their wounds or were consumed by the fire. But she never made it. She walked and walked and walked, and the city was never any closer."

He took a breath, giving that some time to sink in.

In my dream I was...something else. I was darkness, or a shadow, or a serpent. Everything in my path was afraid of me and I felt powerful for it. Eventually I came to a hill, and on it was a great twisted tree made up of many other trees. I climbed up the tree and saw that it had fruit. And the fruit all had faces. Some of the faces I recognized, some I didn't, but I felt like I should have. One of them...

And here he stops for another breath, this time to take stock of himself before moving on to, what to him, was a very personal detail.

"One of them had the face of my mother, who I've only seen in pictures. It was that one that I ate, and my belly was full."

[Taggart] [Delete that damage, then.]

[Sam Modine] [Performance Area ----> Booze]

And So Sam leads, taking both of his favorite things in he whole Tellurian by the hands one on either side of him and marching them off toward the picinic tables that house not only the booze he's brought but veritable mountains of food and drink, cups, beside there are kegs. There's a watermelon that smells like one of the Fangs' Russian uncles there too.

Immediately Sam goes about mixing three drinks, each of the girls getting something close to what they'd like even if Katherine can't properly have a sidecar or a manhattan tonight with what's available. They're strong, the Garou's more than Gabbie's but even that one might remind the girl of Sam feeding her drinks across the bar during a fill in shift at the brotherhood.

"To us." Each of the women gets a look, each of those looks is heavy with meaning, each of those meanings is different.

And then Sam's drinking again and he can't help but smile not for that but for the wonderful-

There's commotion and yelling.

"Looks like your fan club is having a leadership struggle." Dryly, that. Sam makes no move to stop them.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire/Food]
Grabbing two beers out of the sleeve he'd brought with him, Henry waves to Boy if he catches his gaze and then starts walking back towards the fire where he'd left Kemp, joint dangling between his lips.

And we're pretending not to see the fight happening on the east side of the bonfire...

[Aidan Whelan] [No it's cool... if this is going to keep going we can just say he hit him and then he left]

[Wendy Berber] (running towards Treeline)

*Wendy is so preoccupied with well.. going into the woods to pee, that she nearly runs right into the scary scar faced man lurking in the bushes. She gives a startled little shriek before clamping her hands over her mouth in horror.*

[Imogen Slaughter] [Performance Area]

Imogen sings to no one. She likely sings for no one, even when she sings in front of others. Even when she can see the people in front of her, bathed in firelight, instead of hidden by stage lights or darkness, she looks at no one in particular.

"The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door,
said I am not fighting for you anymore.
The Queen knew she'd seen his face once before
and slowly she let him inside..."

People move, Decker and Joss move up to see, Wendy goes to find a convenient place to crouch and relieve herself. John Thornton settles down for some drinking. Another fight breaks out. She is not, in particular, paying attention to any of it.

The song is a story - a soldier who asks his queen why he is fighting a war. An arrogant queen ("she said, You won't understand and you may as well not try"), a question left truly unanswered.

There is a simplicity to the lyrics, a starkness to the song, to the queen's break down, the soldier's plea for peace ("I want to live as an honest man, to get all I deserve and give all I can. And to love a young woman who I don't understand.") then the queen's request for him to wait outside, her crown fallen, her heart aching.

"Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on"

[Andrew] [treeline]

His eyes flick back and forth over the gathering. And lock onto Wendy as she flees towards the woods to 'tinkle' or whatever cute name humans give it. He isn't the least bit shocked as she nearly runs into him.

He doesn't make a sound, or move, or seem startled. He'd seen it coming, afterall. And it's perhaps that much more startling when she looks up to see him staring back at her placidly. The firelight casts the scars on his face into even more stark relief, making them seem larger, more gruesome and frightening.

"Hello." There's a brief showing of teeth, something of a smile.

[Taggart] [Bonfire]
Lithe as ever, Aidan ducks Hatchet's punch, unexpected as it is. And Taggart, apparently not one to be dissuaded, scowls and brings his right hand across Aidan's face on a backswing, his hand still curled into a fist. This one lands solidly, and will discolor Aidan's face.

Taggart leans in, and maybe people hear him, and maybe they don't. He mutters: "I. Am not. Broken." Pulling back, he says more clearly: "Stay the fuck out of my room."

And turns to go get another beer.

Aidan...

... Aidan leaves.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Performance Area ---> Liquor Table]

Sam took her by the hand with one of his mitts, Katherine with his other, and led them around the roaring fire that was the center of the celebration (of what? life?) to the tables that held the food and drinks, which was also a center of festivity. Couldn't have a party without something to put in your belly, after all. Hardly thinking about it, she hangs onto Sam's hand until he lets go and uses it to mix drinks.

Then a plastic cup is put in her hands, and something that smells light, fruity, and pleasant with only the slightest tang of alcohol is offered for her to drink in it. She lifts the cup, sniffs at it, and looks at Katherine questioningly, perhaps asking permission to enjoy a drink.

But then there's the scuffle back in front of the performance area. Taggart slamming his fist into Aidan's jaw, Aidan taking it, them staring at one another, then Aidan walking away without a word. An expression of terrible offense crosses her face, and she moves impulsively to approach, to perhaps intersect Hatchet as he walks toward the table.

Hopefully someone's smart enough to stop her.

[Sam Modine] [Str+brawl//You think I can't grab you by the back of whatcher wearin'?]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Wendy Berber] (Wendy is never going pee again)

*Her breath comes sharp and she stumbles back, hand dropping to her cest like she could slow her heart by pushing on it. Wide eyed, she stammers* I'm s-s-sorry, Sir.. I didn't um, I didn't s-see you. there. *The tall kin swallows hard.*

[Liadan Whelan] He's unpracticed, and it shows, but he catches on fast. This would make her smile if her mouth wasn't currently pressed against his. And suddenly the six years don't matter. It doesn't matter that he's younger or she's older. It doesn't matter that he's been quiet and polite with her.

She's seen the way he looks at her. And regardless of how much younger he is, seventeen is still a man, is still the age of consent in most states.

He was sitting with his knees up. They're only up for a moment longer. Lee eventually breaks the kiss, breathless and smiling. She doesn't say a word as she shifts her position, as she moves to wrap her long legs around his waist and settle herself in his lap.

And then she moves in to kiss him again, along his throat this time, giving him a chance to say anything, if he has anything to say.
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Sam Modine] [Booze.]

The Fenrir's hand darts and Sam clears his throat. He moves so deftly, so precisely as to nover even allow the possibility of leaving a mark.

"No." Severe the sound but not gruff or billowing with Rage. "Don't."

[Andrew] [treeline]

His eyes flick up and down over her. If only the hand on the heart thing actually worked. Kin might be able to keep their cool surrounded by Rage filled Garou. Or at least, their chest wouldn't be trying to burst out of their chest all the time.

He meets her eyes a moment and then they flick to the gathering and firelight behind her. "You wouldn't." He flicks a glance over his shoulder to the woods. So few humans wandered into them alone, in the dark. "Where you going?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Liquor Table/Bonfire Area?]

Katherine swoops in. Her arm encircles her sister's waist and remains there, like a warm anchor to hold her in place. "We do not brawl like simple heathens, sister." She gently scolds, sipping from her own cup.

[Decker] [Performance Area]

The two Fenrir, packmates now in all but totem, stand side by side a mere eight or ten feet from Imogen. There's no stage here. She sings on a level with the rest of them, and if not for the resonance of her voice, her guitar, she would be lost in the crowd. Except -- Decker's never stood this close in a public performance. It's different from listening in her living room. It's different from listening in the dark corners of some pub.

He's quiet, listening, until she's finished. There's no expression on his face; no wince, no tears in his eyes, nothing of the sort. If not for his absolutely unwavering regard, he could be utterly unaffected.

But his regard is unwavering. His attention is undivided from beginning to end.

When she finishes, if her eyes chance over his face, the corner of his mouth turns up faintly. Then, as she plays on or puts her guitar away, Decker bumps Joss with his elbow, a sort of unspoken communication to alert her of his movement, and then goes over to Kemp.

"Where's my s'more?"


(okay folks, i am going home! i'll be back within the hour. Decker'll eat the s'more if Kemp gives him one.)

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry returns to his place by the fire eventually, watching out for Imogen's plate as he moseys past her abandoned chair and setting the two beers down on his own as he regards Kemp with eyes clear despite the influence of marijuana in his system. He plucks the joint out of his mouth, blows a plume of smoke into the air, and without speaking picks the beers back up and parks himself in his chair again, one leg straight out and the other's knee at a ninety-degree angle.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Tables]

As soon as she'd moved, two Garou were keeping her back. Sam's hand grabbed the back of her tank top, secured around the bra strap that was just under the hem as well so that she wouldn't just pull away with the shirt, which was rather stretchy and probably wouldn't hold that well alone. Then Kate's arm was around her waist, and they were both telling her 'no'. Sam in two simple, short words, Katherine with a bit of a scold.

Gabbie didn't glance to either of them, but glared at Hatchet for a couple of seconds before making a noise that was somewhere between anger, disappointment, and distress before stepping back, tipping her chin up, and taking a big deep drink from her fruity drink.

She wasn't going to brawl. Just verbally ream.

[John Thornton] Music drifts past his ears, a curious brow raises as John's gaze moves to the stage once again. Another drink of the scotch; his cheeks beginning to flush as the liquor hits his bloodstream. Then, a fight, noticed but largely ignored...

If needsbe, one of the myriad other onlookers would stop it. Nevermind, that if the fight was between garou, a kin had no right or sense to place themself in the middle of it.

Still another swallow of the amber liquor, the bottle's contents significantly depleted under the onslaught of John's thirst...

[Wendy Berber] (Wetting herself in the Treeline)

*She opens her mouth, then shuts it, blushing furiously. She wasn't sure if she was more frightened or uncomfortable, clearing her throat and scuffing a shoe in the dirt.* Um.. I was.. just going into the woods, sir. Um.. to give B-Boy and Wahya sirs p-p-privacy. *So it wasn't entirely a truth, but she didn't want to talk about peeing with Andrew. She practically crawls out of her skin under the scarred man's scrutiny, tilting her head back to show the white of her throat.*

[John Thornton] ((Gah, sorry... Bonfire))

[Joss Lehrer] [Performance area] -> [Bonfire]

Imogen sings again, not really paying attention to anyone, anything in the area, singing for herself a story of a queen and soldier, the war that goes on, and tears them apart. Joss? Is completely enthralled. It's no secret that she arrived in Chicago with glittery gaze, with starry eyed hopes and dreams of meeting Imogen - that almost as exciting as meeting the Eagles themselves and fighting her way up the ranks into acceptance. Speaking with Imogen, laughing with her (well, as much as the kinswoman laughs, of course) Sharing moments of humor... it's been worth the price of the trip and more.

Now, to hear her perform? The Godi couldn't possibly adore her any more. She does well to hide - well, all but that delighted grin. Decker bumps her arm, and she looks up at him as he moves away with a grin, then turns back toward Imogen.

...then remembers. Henry! She'd promised to go back and talk to him long ago - and that's what she does, weaving her way effortlessly through the crowd to find the lanky paramedic once more.

[Taggart] [Food to...Bonfire]
He is actually headed straight for the tables, the coolers. He looks at Gabriella about to move his way, watches Sam and Katherine step in to stop her, and meets her eyes for a moment before passing the three of them to start filling a plate with roast pig. "And another one," he says to Reuben, taking his beer when it's offered.

The night isn't anywhere close to over, but for the time being it's clear to everyone around him that his Rage is close to the surface. Even Taggart's aware of it enough to take himself away from the Kinfolk and even the other Garou, dragging a chair to the edge of the firelight and plunking down to eat. And drink.

And be merry.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He isn't thinking about how he might be taking advantage, what is the proper way to act... fuck all that, this is natural, and it feels sooooo right. He is with Lee, she makes his heart sing when she's near. Whether that is because he's still a teenager, the rampaging hormones, blossoming love or a little of all it who can say?

When she sits in his lap she can feel how hard he is, and... Marcus is definitely an on the larger side of things. He's about 6'4", big feet, size 14 shoe, and long arms with a strong nose... his cock is in proportion with the rest of his body.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, he grunts and then a slight rumble of pleasure deep in his chest... that bit of Garou nature letting her know the pleasure he is feeling.

He says in a low voice.* "I want you Liadan..." *Is all he manages to get out as his hands roam down to the small of her back just above her ass.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Taggart] [Switching characters! BRB]

[Henry Allard] [h0r!]

[Kemp Oates] Bonfire

He watched Imogen till the spell ended then promptly turned towards the returned Henry to start his barfing act again. Only stopping long enough for two things. One, he shoved a S'more towards Decker. Two, he spoke to Henry.

"Where's my beer?"

[Andrew] [treeline]

He smiles again, slightly. He liked this one. She knew some of his ways. Just enough that he didn't feel irritated by her. Almost wanted to mentor the poor thing. She was so frightened of everything. Especially him.

"There is privacy in that.... mess." Tilting his chin towards the bonfires, the tables of food, the kin, the rough housing, the music. The concept of privacy amidst so many was foreign to him. But he wasn't used to needing much privacy anyway. He'd just spent too much time alone with himself.

[Sinclair] [Comin' Up From Behind]

[Sinclair] [WTF is wrong with me.]

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Where's his beer.

Henry cops a quizzical face, examining the twin Rolling Rocks, sweaty with condensation, in his right hand, then squints and tilts one of them towards the Rotagar. He's actually starting to loosen up. Marijuana does cure everything.

"Sitting cold and lonely in my hand waiting for you to acknowledge it," he says, feigning seriousness.

[Wendy Berber] (Treeline)

Yessir. *She nods, smoothing at her-well-Boy's shirt as she looks over her shoulder towards the party.* Um.. theres p-p-pork.. if you'd like me to um, get you s-s-some...

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

For a moment a wide wicked smile crossed Kemp's face as he contemplated Henry's reply.

"Oh man, how many times ya used that line with Tristan?"

Snickering as he snagged the beer.

[Liadan Whelan] Her lips trail a line from his jaw down to his shoulder. She opens her mouth against his skin, grazes her teeth against the flesh of his shoulder, and she kisses that spot.

I want you Liadan...

Lee should've been a Girl Scout, because she is always prepared. She smiles, pulls away and shifts just enough to reach into a pocket of her shorts and pulls out a condom. She smiles down at him before leaning in to kiss his jaw just beneath his ear.

“Then take me,” she whispers.
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Imogen Slaughter] [Performance Area to Bonfire

Imogen's gaze does pass over Decker, but she does not return the expression, slight though it is. A moment after the last strains of her guitar fade away, she kneels before her guitar case, putting her instrument inside, closing the lid and latching it shut.

She carries both her guitar and her beer, walking back toward the bonfire. In passing, she pauses at Decker, doubtlessly eating a s'more which is much better from a bonfire than from over a stove's burner, tapping his bare elbow with the butt of her beer, offering it with an arch of an eyebrow.

Once she's retrieved her brew, the level considerably lower than it had been, she returns to the fire, setting her guitar back on the ground.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"You sir," Henry says, plugging the joint between his lips so he can unscrew the cap from his own beer, "are disgusting."

[Andrew] [treeline]

He considers her for a moment. Then lets his eyes survey the bonfires. The people gathered.

"I smelled it. Miles away. Humans. Urine. Cooked beef. Pork. Sex. Rage. Many smells. Many things humans miss." He turns to look over his shoulder at an angle, off into the woods. "Heard them too, back there somewhere."

His head swivels around to stare at the bonfires. Primal forces of nature tended and grown in a controlled environment. Mastered by men so they can dance around it, use it. Their tool use started so early.

[Sam Modine] [Tables.]

Slowly, once she's huffed her last puff and begune to drink Sam's hand sinks back in front of him, hooking a thumb in his shorts belt line.

He drinks too, and deeply. And this? gives him an idea.

"Katherine. Three wise men. We gotta." He smiles and grabs a stack of the empty cups and deliberately lays down six of them in two rows, whether his once and always Alpha agrees or not. "You remember that night we went over to Cheers just to make sure Ed didn't act foolishly and he tricked us into a drinking contest with those tourists from Omaha?" Sam's laughing while looking down at the table, pouring rounded ounces of liquor from three different bottles twice each.

"Three shots, c'mon." Sam grins. "We'll race and then? We'll dance or something, I dunno. It's a new moon, i'm sure we can find something, right?"

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire]

She pauses halfway - doing a run-by plate fill at the table because suddenly she's STARVING, and to refill her watermelon vodka cup (or get another one because she keeps LOSING hers) and and only once she has a plate full of deliciousness, her cup filled with potential drunkenness, THEN she makes her way back to Henry, and now Kemp.

She's still smiling.
(Duh.)

She joins them - Henry and Kemp, and Imogen and Decker, and plops gracefully (mostly) on the ground, so that she can eat. "Miss me?" To no one in particular, and the whole group at once. Mmmmmmm pig. yummyyummy pig.

[Sinclair] [Fuck This, I'm Getting a Beer]
Those assholes that pretend to be her packmates should be here but nooo no no no no, they're off doing more important things, fuck if she knows what those things are. Maybe they'll be here later. Maybe. But this bonfire-slash-field party-slash-not-a-moot is exactly Sinclair's cup of liquor-laced tea. She tromps up from the South, wearing a pair of Doc Martens. Yeah, that's right. Go ahead. Ask her which decade she's from. Try it.

Her cutoffs are ragged and one back pocket is torn off, leaving a dark shield-shaped mark on that ass cheek where the denim didn't fade like the rest of the garment. Her t-shirt is loose because it's several sizes too big but it has The Clash on it and even if it's a men's large you buy that shit when you find it, you know? So you know. There's the pink bra strap showing and the sleeves go down to her elbows. Her hair is down and kind of messy, barely brushing those nearly-exposed shoulders, kinda dark at the roots.

She gets to the tables and her eyes -- pronounced with plenty of dark eye makeup but actually a rather soft blue -- bug out. "Holy fuckshits, you guys roasted a PIG?"

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

He saluted Henry with the beer, tapping the edge to his brow with a wide smile.

"Thanks for the compliment. Ya know I'm right."

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"Mister Thornton," an aside as she turns her head toward the Fenrir kinsman working on his Scotch in his own place, a little separate from the others.

"Have you heard what they say about drinking alone?"

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *That's all he needed to hear. He stands up with her, legs wrapped around his waist. Although his arms are strong, the strongest muscles for Marcus are his legs, walking several hundred miles for 27 days with 100 pounds on your back will give you some stamina.

He takes her deeper into the woods kissing her on the mouth, deeper full of passion until he gets about sixty yards away from the main area. He doesn't have any trouble walking, he knows the route, memorized it during the day, another skill of being a hunter he's picked up living on the Reservation still with him.

There is a lean-to set up, and a mat with a sleeping bag, his quarters for the night. He lays her down on it and starts to take off her clothes like he's unwrapping a present. He's looking down at her in the moonlight, eyes full of lust and... hint of a something else. He stops every once and while to kiss her again, just wanting to feel the touch of her lips.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
[insert Henry auto-failing a WP roll on account of acute highness here]

"Ohhh," Henry sighs, joint plucked from between his lips to facilitate grandiose speech, "it is true that escitralopram causes sexual side effects that I shan't get into, but going cold and unacknowledged is not something I have to worry about at 9C West Lake Street."

He takes another drag, then looks to Joss and asks, voice choked with held-in smoke, "Who won?" Exhale.

[Wendy Berber] (Treeline)

Sex?!?! *She blurts, eyes wide before she blushes again. This had not been part of the "Wendy-berber bonfire experience" She swallows hard, skin hot from embarrassment.* s-s-sorry... I.. *What? You didn't know people were having sex in the bushes? Why would you? Why would you care? Her hands ball into pokey fists at her sides. So very mortified with herself.*

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Tables]

So Sam challenges Katherine to a shot-off, and Gabriella, after that half-a-glare-down with Hatchet, after he went off to eat alone and cool down, turned her attention back to her sister and friend-turned-lover-turned-friend-again. After that initial deep drink from her cup, she was sipping it lightly now, more interested in figuring out exactly what fruit flavor she was detecting than getting herself drunk and forgetting her woes.

Drunk Bellamontes did not function well.

Then someone was cussing about a pig across the table, and Gabbie turned to see the beautiful, animalistic woman from the club that had circled around her, sniffed her, and laughed at her back when she left.

Well, it was nice to know the woman wasn't a Black Spiral Dancer that had nearly killed her, she guessed.

Her attention returned to Sam and Kate, to watch with intrigue.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, who has barely made a dint in the first drink placed in her hands merely raises her eyebrows high and shakes her head with a small silvery laugh. "Non, Samuel! I cannot while I am watching Gabriella." A beat, and she looks first at her younger sibling, and then at the hopeful expression on Sam's face.

She sighs, and surrenders with a theatrical sigh.

"Oh, very well. But I am not doing it more than once!"

[Andrew] [treeline]

"It happens." Is his stark reply. One has to wonder if it's ever happened to HIM. Who in their right mind would take a tumble in the hay with something so monstrous anyhow? They'd have to be drunk. Wait, even that wouldn't do it. High? Doubtful. Asleep. Well maybe if they were unconscious. Yes, then he might get some.

"Don't stumble on them." He glances at her. "Your cheeks would catch fire."

[John Thornton] Bonfire

"They have quite a bit to say, in my experience..."

His lips widen in something not-a-smile, before he takes another solid shot from the bottle of scotch. Then, after a few moments, he shrugs...

"If memory serves, They say you don't need meetings if you have a good reason."

Spoken as simply as saying the sky was blue today... There was no hint of sarcastic wit about the man, no hint of anything other than simple consideration, and an answer to her question. The hazel gaze focuses on Imogen with a curiously raised brow.

"What did They say to you on the subject?"

[Sinclair] [Tables]
The next thing Sinclair notes is -- well, to be fair, the next thing she notes are the coolers. "BEER!" she roars enthusiastically, trudging over to the coolers only to realize that no, there's something better than beer over there. Watermelon-vodka-thingy-stuff. She literally giggles, shining with delight that does not make the vicious flash of her too-white teeth any more comfortable to deal with. Metal glints between the strands of her hair as it moves, hit by bonfire light and cookfire shadows all the same, but she seems rather at home out in the woods getting her bonfire on.

She gets a cup to get the tasty mixture of fruit and booze, since no one is checking ID and these are her people. Her peeps. Her tribe, her clan, the drummers at the circle, fuck yeeeaaah. Sinclair downs some, licks it off her lips, and looks around, then sees... Gabriella.

Her eyebrows, about the same color as her roots, hop up. "Well fuck me hard and call me Shirley," she says, and heads over to the two Fangs and the Fenrir. "I remember yooou," she says gleefully, and flashes that grin again. Her lips are pale pink. Kinda like a doll's.

[Wendy Berber] (Treeline)

*Wendy nods. Yes. Were she to trip over garou in lust.. she would blush until she died. Which would likely be seconds later. She adjusts her shirt and shifts uncomfortably.* Um.. d-did you want um, some b-b-beer, sir? I can bring you s-some. If you w-wanted.

[Sinclair] [That was totally color-coded you're just all colorblind. Because of Lessa's yellow tag way back when.]

[Henry Allard] [*blindly gropes*]

[Kemp Oates] bonfire

(just as lost as Henry)

He snorted at Henry and tossed Joss a furrowed brow look. She asked if anyone missed her and he felt like he missed something in there.

"I gotta take a piss."

Addressed to the air and he was striding off in his wonderful costume, for the dark.

(I gotta crash. Thank you!)

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire]

She blinks at the sudden big words from the paramedic, chewing thoughtfully as she tries to figure out what he just said - then simply gives up. His next question, though - THAT she has an answer for. She smiles brightly at him. "I did. I mean, I passed. I mean, I'm in. I - aw hell, I dunno what I mean, only I do because it was a test that I didn't expect to take in front of everyone but I'm glad I did and DAMN he hit me hard, but it was SO worth it..."

Pause, swallow, lean close and stage whisper. "Decker's calling Eagle for me when we get back. I'm in." She grins at Henry and then takes another bite. From the looks of her she was just given everything she's worked her whole life for - she's all but glowing.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Tables]

And, of course, because she looked at the crazed blond woman, she was noticed. It always worked like that. The woman had roared about beer, gotten herself a drink, then exclaimed something about being fucked and called Shirley, which she assumed wasn't actually her name. She made a circle around the table to approach Gabriella, and Gabbie turned to face the woman, but in doing so shifted herself to stand a little closer behind Sam while he and Kate lined up their shots and counted down to the start of the race.

"And I you. Do you... need something...?"

A little short, perhaps, but the woman unnerved her.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [tables]
Wahya’s eyebrows shoot straight up, almost touching the hair line. He would never fathom that his night at the bonfire would see him discussing dream interpretations with Boy. It plays out like a riddle in his mind; he focuses on the half-moon next to him. Brown eyes caught the light, the fire brimming in their dark depths, so different from the gold they become in his birth form.

He grunts softly, his right hand comes up to rub fingers across his forehead, the skin faintly stained red with dye from the tips of his fingers to his wrist bone. He begins to speak—to analyze what Boy tells him.

“Something about Boy-yuf that he doesn’t realize yet, an aspect explains the formless self. Boy has fear, but this will be asset in future, to when? Don’t know, but it’s why Boy is frightening monster. The apple is the family that is close to Boy, of the blood.”

He pulls his hand down, resting it on the table, thoughtful. “Marrick needs to cast off her past, despite pain she feels. Fire destroys everything as is its nature. It is fierce element. If she can’t stop or it’ll consume her like it did home. She has a goal, but it’s unattainable, Wahya think. And not all is lost and destroyed; Marrick will need to look at what she brings with her.”

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

And Kemp takes off. She blinks and looks at the others. "Was it something I said?"

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Imogen takes another swig of her beer, glancing toward Henry at his confession. Her attention rests on him a moment, then turns her attention to John, lowering her beer to rest it upon her knee.

"They never said it to me - in Britain, we are universally quiet on the subject."

Kemp's departure merely garners a glance before her attention leaves him.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry takes a huge slug from his beer, then parks his joint between his lips to free up a hand to high five Joss with his off right hand. He is so stoned he can barely see straight, but somehow he manages to connect if she tries to return the slap. That done, he pulls the joint out of his mouth with a parting drag, and frowns when she asks if it was something she said.

"It wasn't you."

[Sam Modine] [Les Tables.]

"Only takes one set." He offers the girl a wide grin and sets down the mixy. Carefully but quickly he arranges the shots in order in front of each of the two Garou. He nods to the new woman in their presence, offers a quick, "Oh, hello!" But then it's quickly back top business.

Jack.
Jim.
Jose.

The Old No. 7 is gripped first but not yet raised and Sam calls off in awful accent the way Katherine has tried to teach him. "Un.... Deux... Trois! Go!"

[Dietrich Burke] (Treeline) * He'd followed his pack mate to this little party. She'd been kind of enough to leave him a text message which after several expletives actually gave him a location.

He was dress in blue jeans, combat boots, and a black form fitting T-shirt that had a read skull on the back of with a K-Bar Knife, and an M-16, a Marine Corps tee that read "One Mind. Many Weapons"

From out of the darkness comes a voice. "SINCLAIR YOU CRAZY ASS BITCH WHERE THE FUCK YOU AT?" *He called out in a barking voice that only a Marine could pull off with authenticity*

[Liadan Whelan] She laughs aloud when he stands with her still wrapped around him, but she doesn't make any move to let go. Just continues to kiss his throat and shoulder, pausing to switch sides, to move up to his ears to kiss and nip.

He lays her down in a lean-to of all things, and she laughs again. The laughter stops when he starts tugging at her clothes. She reaches out, wrapped condom still in her fist, and tugs his shirt over his head, tosses it to the side. They unfasten each other's bottoms at the same time.

“Have you done this before?” she asks against his mouth. When he answers or otherwise tells her that he has not done this before, she smiles and sits up, pushing him gently onto his back. She pulls his jeans and his underwear down, exposing him fully to the elements, and she sits back to admire what she can see of him.

And then she's slipping out of her shorts, out of her panties. She's ripping open the wrapper and rolling the condom over his erection. And then she straddles him, pulls him inside of her with a groan.

It doesn't take long. He's young and inexperienced, but Lee makes the most of it, reaching between them to stroke herself. The grind together, her on top, guiding his hands to her breasts, to her hair, to her mouth, to her hips. When they come, they are almost but not quite together.

She collapses over him, smiling. “That was nice,” she whispers to him in the dark. “We should get back,” she adds. There will not be a second time, at least, not tonight.

She finds her clothing in the dark and dresses.
to Marcus Schwarzkopf

[Andrew] [treeline]
Shaking his head a bit. "Beer is nasty." His eyes move over and pause on the appearance of a new person. New peoples. Yelling and loud and annoying. Homids. Ugh.

"Where are these ones you gave privacy?"

[Sinclair] [Tables]
Being near this woman unnerves just about everybody. Even other Garou sometimes look askance at her, and it's not because of her Rage. It's intense Rage, enough to turn off mortals and Kinfolk children without Sinclair even trying, but that's not really it. It's that animalism that Gabriella felt the first time she saw this woman.

She had been circled like prey. She had been stared at like meat. She had been grinned at, laughed at. Sinclair cocks her head to the side, every movement of her body a little too loose to seem controlled, a little too sharp to seem safe. Even when she tromps along in those boots of hers, she seems like she's stalking something.

"Nah," she tells Gabbie, then opens her mouth to speak again when Dietrich's voice bellows out across the bonfire. She whips around and hollers right back: "BY THE GODDAMN TABLES, YOU FAT FUCK! STOP YELLING, IT'S FUCKIN' RUDE!"

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She does return that High Five, grinning happily at Henry. He's much more relaxed than he was before, and that's a good thing, likely. There's hollaring and yelling and a bunch of other distracting tings, but she's content paying attention to Henry, Imogen, and John.

Wait, John? She watches him a minute, then grins back at Henry. "Good. Save some of that for me will ya? I'ma do things backwards and take care of my munchies first." She nods toward his joint, and then, continues digging into the mound of food on her plate.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Tables]

And then, of course, there was Dietrich. The man she'd danced with at the club. Fan-fucking-tastic. She knew, she knew it was a mistake. Garou just show up everywhere, haunt you until the day you die if you even look at them once. These were people she didn't particularly want to meet again.

So when Sinclair turned around to bellow back, Gabbie side-stepped around Sam to do her best to hide behind him without looking too conspicuous.

[Wendy Berber] (Treeline)

oh.. um.. *She follows Andrew's gaze to Deitrich, before pointing over towards the table where Boy and Wahya sat engrossed in conversation, Boy shirtless.* Over there sir.

[Boy] [Tables]

He nods, listening as best he can. In his head he has to translate a bit. Even though Wahya's speech was simple, it was perhaps too simple. He's quiet as he listens, and then after, even though the crowd around them seems to have grown, and raucously so.

"What she brings with her. That's not much. Just me and the truck. And we gave that to Maelstrom. And me...well, I guess...I guess there is a part of me that I'm still afraid of. More of the monster in me. But as for family...Does it have to be blood family?"

[Joey Oliver] Joey had come with Dietrich. She still didn't have a car yet, so she had to bum rides when she could. The money from home should be arriving any time, along with boxes of her stuff. Tonight she's wearing a shirt borrowed from Sinclair again. It's a little too big, and looks like it came from a second hand shop of some kind. She's wearing jeans and her tennis shoes. Her blonde hair is tugged to the sides and twisted into twin messy buns behind her ears. The Fenrir is so fucking cute you could puke.

She walks a little to the side of Dietrich and the two Red Bulls climb the hill to the bonfire clearing together.

And then she catches sight of Sinclair, and she's gone. Racing over the distance between her and her packmate, billion watt smile lighting up the darkness. When she gets to the tables she stops, raises both arms into the air and shouts, “BEER!” She snatches a bottle from a nearby cooler, pops the cap, and chugs.

[Andrew] [treeline]
He nods a bit. Abruptly. And starts out towards the party. A hand snaking out and taking Wendy's arm in a careful firm grip. "Let's get you back to them."

And dork and the beast go once more into the breach.

[Henry Allard] [WHERE'S THE COLOR TAG]

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus for his part is nervous but excited, barely able to contain himself but he does. When she asks if this is his first time, he simply nods.

He smiles up at her, and lets her do her thing rolling him over, and he groans out when her hands touch his cock rolling the condom on. He licks his lips, and he exhales when she slides down on him. He lets her take control just enjoying being in the moment, and he does his best to last as long as he can, but it is his first time, although he goes longer to let her get off.

He simply nods when she says about getting back, not really sure what to say. He takes off the condom, and gets dressed, looking at her swallowing still sort of... stunned by the turn of events, having something happen he never expected to happen.*
to Liadan Whelan

[Joey Oliver] [GET OF FENRIS DON'T NEED NO FUCKIN' COLOR TAGS!]

[Joss Lehrer] [right here. quit ya bitchin.]

[Joey Oliver] [food/beer]

[Henry Allard] [YOUR FACE--wait.]

[Wendy Berber] (Treeline stumbling towards Boy's Table)

Oh! I - *And she's jerked along behind the frighteningly scarred man, stumbling out of the woods along with him. Like an errant child caught truant.*

[John Thornton] Bonfire

"If only all cultures were so advanced..."

With that, he raises the bottle, and with the not-a-smile upon his otherwise deadpan and flushed expression, he adds...

"And on that note... Cheers."

With that, the bottle is drawn to his lips again, his throat visibly swallowing at least three, if not four times. As the bottle is then lowered, John's jaw tightens visibly, his eyes closing even as he replaces the lid on the bottle with the practiced air of one well-accustomed to the action.

Then, standing (oh so slowly), John sets the bottle on the ground and picks up his trench. The bottle finds its way into the pocket (on the second attempt, anyway), and the Mag-Lite takes its place.

"Enjoy the party."

With that, the detective begins his walk back toward the treeline path that led back to his parked car. He did not stumble (much), his shoulders slumped with weariness, as though the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [table]
His lean shoulders roll back in a slight shrug, “Perhaps not blood family, or just those close to Boy-yuf. Tribe is family. Pack is family.”

He extends out his right hand, red fingers tapping the young Philodox on the forehead with two fingers. “Never be afraid of what Boy is. Boy makes his own path, Boy is warrior, remember that.”

The tables have grown wild with raucous laughter and drinking games. Wahya has managed to block most of it out, but eventually acknowledges the presence of the others. He eyes the Silver Fang and Sam, shaking his head. His lean shoulders roll back in a slight shrug, “Perhaps not blood family, or just those close to Boy-yuf. Tribe is family. Pack is family.”

He extends out his right hand, red fingers tapping the young Philodox on the forehead with two fingers. “Never be afraid of what Boy is. Boy makes his own path, Boy is warrior, remember that.”

The tables have grown wild with raucous laughter and drinking games. Wahya has managed to block most of it out, but eventually acknowledges the presence of the others. He eyes the Silver Fang and Sam, shaking his head.

[John Thornton] ((Gotta jet; night folks! *wave* Thanks for the rp))

[Imogen Slaughter] (night! back atcha)

[Liadan Whelan] [bonfire]

Líadan strolls back into the firelight, her hair a little bit messy but otherwise looking the same as when she left. Her beer is in hand, and she takes a swig, finishing it off before tossing it into a nearby trash can.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
"Whoa, bitch, hold up!" Sinclair yells at Joey. "There is watermelon! With vodka! You must try the --"

Joey pops the beer open and takes a swig and Sinclair cackles. "The beer!" She holds out her hand to five the other girl, who is naturally the height that Sinclair only gets when wearing these boots. "They roasted a pig. We should run a goddamn train on the pig. Like, tear that shit up, you know what I'm sayin'?"

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Dietrich Burke is just over 6 feet, buzz cut hair, and a regal look about him, but right now any sort of regal bearing is at an end. Right now he's ready to party with his pack.

He comes over to Sinclair and has a hard looking face before he turns it into a smile, and a hearty chuckle, grabbing her by one arm, and pulling her into a hug.* "What the hell Sin?!? You can't wait on a motherfucker?" *He says pressing his forehead to hers in a display of comradeship.* "But first two things: Hows' the food? And where's the booze?"

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((Bah! Wrong Window! That's Dietrich! Repost!))

[Sinclair] [*whistles and helps Laz kick that over to the right login*]

[Henry Allard] [PHAIL]

[Dietrich Burke] (Food Table) *Dietrich Burke is just over 6 feet, buzz cut hair, and a regal look about him, but right now any sort of regal bearing is at an end. Right now he's ready to party with his pack.

He comes over to Sinclair and has a hard looking face before he turns it into a smile, and a hearty chuckle, grabbing her by one arm, and pulling her into a hug.* "What the hell Sin?!? You can't wait on a motherfucker?" *He says pressing his forehead to hers in a display of comradeship.* "But first two things: Hows' the food? And where's the booze?"

[Andrew] [Foood!]
He leads the skinny tiny girl through the Garou and kin all around. In the case of the kin, his scars and Rage seem to clear the way. With the Garou, well, no one wants to be near him anyway. He finds his way easily to the little table with Boy and Wahya.

And sort of... appears there. Looking at the two of them. Then over at the little kin he was bringing along. "You lost this."

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"Good night," Imogen replies, absently, lifting her beer for another swallow. The yells of the incoming packmates draws her attention briefly, before turning her attention back toward the fire.

She drains her beer and leans down to set it on the ground. Belatedly, her attention flicks to Joss.

"Congratulations."

[Joey Oliver] [tables]

Joey finishes her swig with a satisfied smack of her lips. “I so totally know what you mean! Point to the pig so I can get my motherfuckin' grub on!” She laughs. Then she spots the pig, runs over, rips off a fucking leg and brings it back to the table to share with her packmate.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
"Fuck, man you're gonna make me spill my --" Sinclair spills her watermelon-and-vodka, sloshing messily out of her red cup onto his shoes as he hauls her in for a hug. She wrinkles her nose as their heads bop, wriggling away like a kid sister caught in an uncomfortable embrace. At least she doesn't elbow him in the ribs, which is just as likely considering who she is.

Coming from her, not tearing his throat out is probably comraderie, too. "You are surrounded by food and booze-- heeey Joey's bringing us meat!"

[Joey Oliver] [That was pink, it's totally pinkish purple, you guys're blind]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Tables]

Katherine downs the shot, shudders and her lips deliver a polite moue of disgust as she struggles with the sudden burn in her throat. Holding the shot glass in her dainty fingers the tall elegant woman opens pale eyes, her cheeks stained with bright flags of color now.

"That... was horrible." She laughs, and wrinkles her pretty nose. "Next?"

[Wendy Berber] (Boy and Wahya's table)

*Wendy is watching the raucous antics ofSinclair and companions nervously as Andrew hauls her to the table. She frowns to herself as she's drug up in front of boy and Wahya, head ducked low*

[Wahya Many Tongues] [Boy and Wahya's table]
The sight of Andrew hauling over Wendy makes the Uktena sit up straighter. He pulls his eyes away from the Garou doing shots, and the trio tearing apart huge chunks of pig. He lifts and eyebrow, giving Andrew a quizzical expression.

“Define lost?”

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] (Edge of Tree line) *Marcus comes out of the tree line, and sits back down on his camp stool, a nice little smile on his face because the world is just so damn great right now. With a little sigh, and a deep breath he picks up his pipe he packed but never lit, but lights it now, and takes a long drag.*

[Boy] [Tables]

Boy's shoulders tensed when Wahya's hand came to his forehead. With his shirt off Wahya could probably see the full body cringe, how nearly every muscle he had tensed and his eyes followed the finger in a 'This dog bites' kind of way. But when he's tapped, and when the Uktena speaks with it, he relaxes.

Slightly.

"Warrior. Right."

And in all the tumult his attention turns to Wendy as she returns. No, as she is brought back. He stands, and it might be a mistake. He was still on edge, and his shirtless body seems tense, even as he reaches a hand out toward Wendy.

[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich puts his hands on his hips and nods impressed by the spread.* "Roasted pig, check. Alcohol... Liquor, watermelon with vodka, Roger that. Well Fuckin' A. Got everything we need right here." *He says moving to get himself some of that watermelon.*

[Dietrich Burke] ((Grr Tables for Dietrich))

[Sam Modine] [Tables.]

Sam's already got his second red cup in hand. "Yeah, one after the other." This delivered through the slightest of grimaces. That one too is downed and then the third, all lined up upside down.

There's a hitch a little blinking stop between the second and third though, it's enough time for Katherine to catch up and then pass the Modi by a millisecond.

She wins.
And Sam will go to his grave letting her think he didn't let her.

He shakes his head on his neck excitedly after the Cuervo is downed and lets out a large woof, Laughing. "Very good, very good." The standby drink is taken in hand and Sam turns around to the girl behind him.

"Your sister just beat me." This with a comical frown. He leans in just an inch, maybe two and then shakes his head, lighter than the last one and smiles down to Gabbie. "You having a good time?"

[Henry Allard] [Sorry, I missed Joss's post because y'all are maniacs. Catching up.]

[Andrew] [food]
He tilts his head slightly. Grinning a bit at Wahya. "Mis-placed."

And suddenly Boy is leaping out of his chair. Andrew's body tenses. He considers the man for a moment. Eyeing the guy. His natural reaction is to step into the way. Prevent him from grabbing her. But something clicks in his mind and he remembers. Not his. She led him here. Yes.

And he steps away slightly.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Tables]

Gabbie was doing her best to be forgotten by Sinclair and not spotted by Dietrich or Joey. She seemed to be fairing pretty well so far, they were distracted by a roast pig leg and cussing up a storm at their own table, and then there were elbows flying near her head and Sam and Kate were taking their shots. Kate one. Sam let her, but no one realized this but Sam.

Kate asked what was next with little patches of pink-red on her cheeks, and Sam whirled around, leaned down to her, and complained that Kate won, then asked if she was having a good time. Gabbie blinked up at him, the rim of the plastic cup between her teeth, she'd idly been chewing at it, then she grinned and lowered the cup to speak.

"Overall, yes. It's nice to see everyone with their hair down. Even if that does make hackles go up from time to time."

[Liadan Whelan] [Tables]

Líadan makes the rounds. She makes a stop by Katherine and Sam and Gabbie.

“I'm glad to hear it,” she says, with a polite smile to Gabbie. The last time she saw the girl, Gabbie made a snide remark to Líadan the day Alex had his face bashed all to hell.

[Wendy Berber] (Boy/Wahya table)

*Wendy reaches for Boy's hand, Spindly fingers curling around it as she stumbles into him. Admittedly just glad to be away from Andrew. She's not going to argue about being misplaced. She'd pee later.*

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Settling back in his chair, Henry watches the wayward detective wander off with eyes that are tired from the month he's had and the weed he's ingested. The joint is only half finished, and he looks down at it when Joss tells him to save some for her, pinching off the cherry with his thumb and forefinger and bending down to set what's left of it on a dry spot on Imogen's plate.

"My god," he says, as if it's just stricken him how stoned he is, and leans back to take a slug off of his beer. Turning to Imogen, he asks, so mellow it's almost funny, "Is there a lot of yelling right now or am I having auditory hallucinations?"

[Wahya Many Tongues] Wahya sees the flash of tension between the two other males. He turns, a glance down to the plate still piled high with pork. He picks it up and offers it to the other feral.

“Here. Have to be hungry?”

He glances sidelong at Wendy and then back to Boy, “Should take her away from noise,” jerking his chin over at the drinking trio.

[Joss Lehrer] [Bonfire]

Ahhh, there's that smile again - content and happy and just all around... Joss. Goofy Godi, Freaky Fostern, Jolly Joss. She's heard them all, and then some.

"Thanks." She could say that she guesses they're stuck with her now, could say so much more, but what she does is wipe the grease from her slice of pork off her chin with the back of her hand, than take another bite. "Wasn't sure what I expected the test to be - I couldn't have imagined it going quite like that. 'Hit me' he says, and I find out he went to the Battle Realm to SEE the battle I was in a while back - and then summoning on this side and...."

She lets loose a dramatic breath - did she ever mention her best friend growing up was a skald? - and nods. "Whew. Tough, but that's as it should be. Though for a second there when he swung at me, I thought sure I was gonna end up on my ass."

[Sinclair] [Tables]
Her eyes track over to Sam and Kate doing shots, flick across Gabriella, and then:

well, then she belches, does not excuse herself, and cracks her neck. She drinks some more watermelo-vodka-n and then sniffs. And sniffs again. And turns her head, scans the area around the bonfire, and narrows her eyes. "I smell some good shit," she intones darkly. Tossing back the rest of what's in her cup, she throws the cup into a trash barrel.

She doesn't immediately go off in search of the 'good shit', instead staring again at Gabbie. The tension between Andrew and Boy catches her eyes then, and she apparently loses all interest in the Fang girl, peering now at the others.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey tears a huge chunk of meat off her pig leg, chews with apparently relish before offering some to Sinclair.

“Watermelon with vodka? Sounds weird. Is it as weird as that Vodka Red Bull crap? That made my stomach feel funny.” Her words are only slightly hampered by the food in her mouth.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Tables]

Her throat is on fire.

The liquid burns its way down to her stomach and Katherine, hearing she is victorious presents herself with an impressive curtsy and flair of one hand outward, as if she were at a ball.

"It is the rich blood of my ancestors that gives me the stomach of a thousand men!"

She cries, with a soft laugh that floats pleasingly on the evening air and somehow works to soften the features of a woman that was imposing by her very nature. Then Liadan stops by to smile and Katherine, her senses perhaps a little overwhelmed by more alcohol at once than she's accustomed to, says quite loudly:

"Hello!!" As if they were at opposing ends of a train station, attempting to be heard. "I have been coerced into a drinking contest, but I am the victor, naturally." She tosses her golden mane over a shoulder in a manner that might have been insufferable, but that the action was accompanied by the most amusing of tiny hiccups.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Imogen considers Henry for several seconds, her expression entirely deadpan. "There is a lot of yellin' right now," she says, "but you are well and truly stoned."

Katherine 'Hello's quite loudly. Pause, then, "And quite a few people are well and truly drunk."

Joss tells her story and Imogen attends it, but only absently. Her congratulations offered, she adds nothing else.

[Boy] (Boy/Wahya table)

He had her now, or at least he had her hand, and held it close along with the rest of her. He was on edge, but that was then. Slowly his body seems to relax, as does his expression, and he inclines his head to the scarred man.

"Thank you, Dances-on-fire-rhya."

And to Wahya's suggestion, he nods as well, a bit embarrassed.

"And thank you, Many-Tongues-yuf. You've been very helpful. I hope we can speak again."

And his next move was to do as advised and get Wendy away from there, heading back toward the fire.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Listening to Joss speak, at least and enthusiastically, has a fond yet somewhat sad smile on Henry's lips, one that he tries to extinguish before it can linger for too long by taking another slug of beer.

Having not been watching the fight between Decker and Joss he can't comment on it, and when Imogen proclaims him well and truly stoned he breaks into restrained yet genuine enough laughter, raising up his free right hand to cover half his face.

"Oh nooo," he says.

[Sam Modine] [Tables.]

Oh. Man.
Awk-warrrrrd.

Sam's eyes get just a little wider when Lee walks up beside them. "Hey." For a few seconds those blue eyes just stay in his drink. There isn't white in the bottom his now-fuzzy mind notes. This is good. It's enough that he can let his gaze rise again up to Lee and Gabbie each. This is a situation new and nearly unfathomable to Sam.

Thankfully, Katherine speaks up for the both of them. She's always good at hiding the lump in his throat. "Yeah, she beat me. It's that Silver Fang tenacity. I swear she gets me every time." One hand comes up courageous under liquid and taps lightly at Liadan's elbow. "Everything turning out the way you hoped?"

[Andrew] [food]
He nods a bit to Boy. Not entirely sure of who the man was. He'd have to scratch his brain and try and remember sometime. He remembered his fellow theurge and feral though.

At the offer of food, he sits down in the chair vacated by Boy and nods a bit. Picking some pieces of loose meat up with his fingers and tossing them back. Chewing with great enjoyment. It wasn't as raw as he liked, but it was still pig. Rich, fatty, and hard to find around here unless you risked a farm.

His mind wanders down that line of thinking for a split second. Farms. Farmers. Traps. He sucks in a breath, chokes, coughs and swallows hard. Grunting softly afterwards to cover it up. "Thank you."

[Dietrich Burke] *(Food Table) Dietrich shakes his head a bit.* "Nah. It's like... Well watermelon that will get you drunk as hell if you're not careful."

*Dietrich actually fixes him a plate, and then notices Gabbie at the table. He smiles a bit, and then heads back over to Sin and Joey.* "Well hell it is a small fuckin' world. You remember that sweet little kin girl you all ran off last night." *He says in a lowered voice.* "That's her sister Katherine. I'm supposed to be meeting with her at some point."

[Gabbie Bellamonte] Sam got a funny look on his face when the red-haired girl wearing the glasses came around and stated she was glad to hear they were having a good time. Gabbie lifted an eyebrow, but didn't go too deep into that. Instead she looked at the other Kinfolk, did her best to remember why the face was familiar.

Something involving Taggart. She was probably one of his Kin.

She didn't say much, just smiled politely to Lee and finished the drink in her cup, which was then pitched into the barrel set up to serve as a trash can. Time for Gabbie to fade into the background...

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [TABLEAHAHAHA]

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

Henry is well and truly stoned, thus sayeth Imogen, and who in their right mind would argue. She laughs, and scrapes up the last of the food on her plate with the last piece of pork and slurps it down, even licking her fingers to get those last few drops. she sets her plate under Henry's chair, since she's sitting on the ground by them, and it saves it from getting trampled until she can dispose of it.

She leans back on a hand, and pats her belly, content, before taking a bit of watermelon soaked vodka with a slurping chew. "Don't worry, Henry. I'll make sure you get home in one piece." She grins with the tease - at least this time she walks him home, it's under happier circumstances.

[Liadan Whelan] [Tables]
Lee turns away from Gabbie to smile at Katherine. “Congratulations! Je suis heureux que vous appréciez vous-même, mademoiselle.”

To Sam she says politely, “Better, even. Well, you all seem to be in good spirits. I need to keep making the rounds. I'll see you around.”

And then she's walking away, heading over to smile and make sure that everyone was having a good time.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
Blindly, Sinclair takes the meat Joey offers, belatedly taking her eyes off of Andrew and Boy and turning back to her packmates. "No. It's like... you know what, I'm not even explaining it." She chews on the pork as Katherine crows her victory over Sam, licking a bit of grease off the corner of her mouth.

Thankfully, Dietrich explains to Joey what the hell it is, and then he explains Gabriella. "Eh?" She looks over at the thin freckled girl who is not the thin freckled girl she's packed with. "Who said she was sweet? I didn't say she was fuckin' sweet. Is she sweet? You should spread her on toast and have her for breakfast."

She goes to get more watermelovodkan.

[Wendy Berber] (With boy at fire)

*Wendy follows Boy, moving to the fire with her hand in his, blushing shyly.* S-sorry. i um.. I sorta stumble o-over him in the um, in the woods.

[Wahya Many Tongues] [food]
Once he is certain Boy and Wendy is gone safely away, Wahya looks to the other. Andrew, he remembers from the moot, from the alley when he’d first met Silence; the other wolf-born and speaker of spirits.

Andrew eats and Wahya sits down again, this time stretching out his legs and leans back on the table with his elbows. He watches the others through the matted mane of braids that fall across his face. His nose wrinkles up as he snorts softly, “City wolves are amusing,”

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Tables.]

Katherine eyes Sam, looks to Liadan's retreating back and then at Gabbie's polite smile. Under normal circumstances she might have been entirely nonplussed about it, but at present it strikes her as entirely and completely amusing and with a snort of laughter that is very unlike herself, begins to giggle, and then to laugh -- and laugh --

"My Lord, Samuel Modine, your life is like a soap opera these days!"

-- and, yes. Oh dear. She buries her face in her arm.

[Boy] ((Food-->Fire))

"No...no, I'm sorry. That was...that was the wrong reaction. It's just...when I saw him holding you like that I thought...No. It's fine. Are you alright? What were you doing in the woods?"

[Andrew] [tables]
He snorts. "And irritating." Letting his eyes scan over the people. Katherine and Sam and their foolish drinking games. The smell of some weird herb wafting from multiple directions, mixing with the wood smoke and giving it a pungent green smell.

"Their humans too." Huffing softly as he takes more food and munches. "Have you had alcohol?"

[Wahya Many Tongues] [tables]
“They have moments.” He continues to watch the others, more with amusement now than anything. When asked about the alcohol, he gestures to the open bottle of beer sitting behind him on the table, it was still full.

“Tried it,” a glance at Andrew, “Sam gave stuff earlier, wasn’t bad. Never got drunk.”

[Decker] [fire]
"Who's fuckin' stoned?" Decker, having returned from heaping more food on his plate, drops down on the grass beside Imogen. "'n where's tha fuckin' joint?"

[Dietrich Burke] *(Tables) Dietrich frowns a bit, and then eats another piece of watermelon with his left hand.* "Well hell. Might as well get this shit over and done with." *He turns to Joey and Sin.* "If a fight breaks out do hurt the kin girl." *He set down his plate on a table, and wipes his hands off on a napkin*

*He walks over to the table, and with a serious face, well semi-serious considering the occasion. He looks at Katherine.* "Katherine Bellamonte? My name is Dietrich Burke, White Oak, Cliath Ahroun of the Silverfang Tribe. House Wyrmfoe. I apologize for the informal setting to have to make a formal introduction, but did you receive my letter?" *He says politely enough to her. He does have some manners after all.*

[Wendy Berber] (Fire)

I'm - I'm fine. *She nods, sitting down at the fire. The orange of the bonfire reflects off her glasses as she bites her lip.* I was, I just wanted to give you two some, you know. some privacy.. that's all. *Wendy offers Boy a shy apologetic smile.*

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"I don't know," Henry tells Decker, his accent hideous as ever but his tone looser than usual, the man himself so relaxed it isn't even funny. "But the joint's down there."

[Sam Modine] [Tables.]

"I'm glad it's so funny, Queen Butthead." Okay. He's slightly more than half drunk and pouring a little more on top of that. It's a jab between friends though, that, even if Sam's not very good at it. She's laughing though and before too long of that one of the more obnoxious but entertaining latecomers grabs her ear and Sam leans in close to Gabriella, mouth just next to her ear.

Pulling back He smiles coyly and walks away out toward the darkness.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"Don't worry," as Henry moans, "it will pass."

Decker drops on the ground beside her, heavily enough that she can feel the echoes of his weight through the ground. The redhead's glance is brief, a tilt of her head indicating her plate in answer to his question. The joint sets on the plate's edge, and the plate - while lighter than it had been when he passed it down to her, is far from empty.

"I'm pretty sure you'll discover who is stoned soon enough." Certainly, it is not the slight kinwoman.

[Andrew] [Tables]
He glances over at the bottle of beer. Huffs and shakes his head. "Foul." His eyes go to the table. He can almost smell the sweet scent of the watermelon. The liqour mixed with it. He did smell it earlier. Mixed in with all the other scents.

"You won't." Seemingly in reply to the 'drunk' comment. "I tried once in monkey-skin. Doesn't effect us like them. Bruises mend faster in monkey skin. I think what makes you drunk goes away faster too."

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey gives Dietrich a look that clearly says, Duh. Then goes back to happily enjoying her beer and pig. Every once in a while she pauses to laugh.

“Dude,” to Sinclair, “this bonfire thing is so fuckin' sweet.”

[Sinclair] [Tables]
There's watermelovodkan on Dietrich's shoes when he goes to introduce himself to Katherine. Sinclair snorts when he tells them not to hurt the kin-girl if a fight breaks out... which could happen, given the fact that they're here. Fights do tend to happen. Furniture does tend to break. Bones, sometimes. At least the two females don't have their baseball bats with them.

She glances from Katherine and Dietrich to Sam and Gabbie, eyebrows flicking up, and then looks at Joey, trying to catch her pack-sister's eyes.

[Decker] [fire --> food]

Decker follows Henry's rather bonelessly pointing arm. He doesn't see the joint. Then Imogen nods down at her plate, which is in a totally different direction from Henry's pointing.

"I figgered it out," he says, deadpanning it, and picks the joint up. He paws through his pockets until he finds his matches, leaning down to strike one on the side of his shoe with a deft, practiced pull. Then he cups the flame to the joint, relighting it as he inhales.

The match gets flicked in the direction of the bonfire. The Modi takes the joint between thumb and forefinger, sucking down a huge ass hit. Then he passes the joint Imogenward, pushes his hand against the ground, gets up.

"I'm'on git some booze," he says.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]

Joey, totally unconcerned that Dietrich is meeting with the family of prospective mate, hears his introduction.

“Hey!” she shouts, sounding offended. “YOU FORGOT THE FUCKIN' RED BULLS, DUDE!”

[Sinclair] [Tables]
This is, indeed, true. Sinclair boggles, then joins Joey. "She's right, you asshole! We totally matter!"

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

Nor is it Joss. Yet. Though she's feeling her vodka by this point, the flush high in her cheeks as she leans back on her hands, comfortably. Decker reappears, demands to know who's stoned, they figure it out and he's off again, getting booze.

And Joss just sits in a warm haze of contentment. See, she doesn't talk ALL the time...

[Boy] (Fire)

"Alright. But, you didn't need to go so far."

He nodded there, and looked around this side of the fire, noting those there, and finally recognizing Henry among them and inclining his head to Decker as he went by. His attention goes back to Wendy.

"Wahya's my tribe-mate. I'm glad I finally got to meet him, but I'm sorry it looked like I was ignoring. He's also a crescent moon and...I needed to ask him something."

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Tables --> Woods]

Gabbie had been staring into the coolers, trying to find a water bottle amongst the many bottles of beer with her eyes rather than her hands. Then Sam appears behind her, mouth close to her ear and smelling as strongly of alcohol as she did of bug spray. He whispered, half-slurred something in her ear, smiled, and walked away, leaving her staring after him and looking mildly bewildered.

Her eyes flickered toward Katherine and-- oh, hell. Maybe escape wasn't so bad of an idea after all. She grabbed a water bottle she'd spotted, figuring that anyone who took that many shots in a row needed some water to dilute the contents of their stomach to something less harsh, then turned to follow Sam, having to trot to catch and keep up with his long-legged stride.

[Boy] (that fire is green)

[Sinclair] [Perception + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry takes another pull from his beer, disappearing far more rapidly than the one that he had been nursing all night while he bounced from person to person resolving issue after issue, then wipes the beer-y film from his lips with the shaft of his right thumb and hiccups quietly.

"Hope you're not planning on walking me from here," Henry tells Joss after Decker leaves. "Imogen says I'm stoned."

[Wahya Many Tongues] [table]
Wahya nods, “Figured,” he sits up, beginning to lean forward. His weight distributed to allow him to just roll up onto his feet and retain his balance. He winces as Joey shouts something about forgetting red bulls. He brings a hand up to rub at the scar tissue that marks his right temple, pressing on it.

“Boy is Brother of Lost, half-moon of Wahya’s tribe. Wendy his girl.” He says to Andrew without looking at him, “Time I clear head from all this.”

[Wendy Berber] (Sittin by the fire)

S'okay. *She nods, listening and rolling her narrow shoulders. She quickly hauls Boy's shirt back over one as it escapes, boney and scarred. A yawn escapes her and she covers her mouth.* S-Sorry.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"Congratulations," as deadpan as Decker is.

When he pushes the joint toward her, she glances toward it, she shakes her head slightly. "Keep it," she says, simply.

Conversation continues between Henry and Joss. Imogen's attention moves toward Boy and Wendy as they come near, her gaze lingering on the spindly girl, before turning her attention back to the fire.

[Andrew] [Table]
He nods to the other feral. "I see." His eyes roam over to where Boy and Wendy are now. Sitting. Talking. The hand holding had tipped him off. Humans did that. Affection. Like muzzle licking or nuzzling. It seemed a little strange to him, still.

He looks over at the food, left there on the table. Well, no point letting it go to waste. "Thank you Many-tongues-yuf."

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She laughs and shakes her head. "We'll figure something out. I'd trust Imogen's word. She is, after all, a doctor." She holds a serious look for all of 2 seconds, before she's chuckling again. "If worse comes to worse, I'll go all cave woman on ya, smack ya in the head with a branch and drag you home."

She's kidding.
Maybe.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
As Gabriella gets her bottle of water and heads off with Sam Modine, Sinclair glances that way, then nudges Joey in the ribs, nodding after the Fenrir and the Fang girl. A lazy grin spreads across her lips, cocky and even a bit... dark. Unlike the blonde beside her who looks like she could potentially be her sister (at least in this lighting, which is far from perfect, far from fully illuminating), Sinclair's smiles are rather hard-edged. When she laughs, most people feel chills go up their spine.

"Check that shit out," she mutters, smirking. "I think that's Dee's mail-order-bride, running off with...y'know. The meathead-lookin' guy."

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"Good luck," Henry says, over his beer. A quick slug, and he adds, "Whaddayou weigh, like, seventeen pounds?"

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"She weighs twenty at least."

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]

Joey's head whips around to watch the pair wandering off. Her face splits in a grin.

“Oh, dude, that's totally gonna suck for him.” She laughs, short and quick.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, lifting her face in time to be called Queen Butthead makes a rather grotesque face at Sam and calls him something in french that is decidedly not fit for polite company. Ah, and then Dietrich Burke makes his grand entrance and Katherine's rosy face loses a touch of its open humor and she listens to him for a beat before, rather than hopping down from her perch on a table; proffers to him her hand in a decidedly Queenly gesture.

"Ah, good Cousin I had been meaning to get in contact much, much sooner. You must forgive me my tardiness but my Uncle beckoned me to New York on very little notice." She lifts a slim shoulder as if in casual disregard for her high-ranking relative and smiles beautifully down upon Dietrich.

"Of course I welcome you with most ardent joy to Chicago and I do hope that perhaps you will consider having dinner with myself and my sister, Gabriella." At mention of her younger sister's name, her sharp [or slightly less so at present] gaze shoots outward in search of the girl and catches sight of her slipping away after Sam.

"Gabriella Bellamonte!" She calls, in a loud, commanding voice. "Do not think I do not see you, sister. If you are not back at my side in five minutes, I will give you cause for tears." The dark look lightened magically, she smiled at the Fang before her.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
"I bet he wishes," is all Sinclair retorts, and low-fives her sister.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry bursts into laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth to stifle it and briefly closing his eyes. He has the presence of mind to stabilize his bottle of beer on one of his meatless thighs so catastrophe doesn't follow suit.

[Boy] (Fire)

He remained standing for a bit longer, and was looking down at her, and at the exposed shoulder, for a while. Quiet. Contemplative. Something he feared. Something that would be an asset. Family. What Family?

And then Wendy yawns, and he kneels next to her.

"You're tired. Are you ready to go?"

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She sputters in mock outrage - and starts to say....

...and Imogen does it for her, and that does her in - she is laughing outright, folding herself over, giggling as she covers her face. "Great. Your stoned, I'm tipsy, and and I apparently am FAT too! Twenty pounds. Seriously!"

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey low fives, then frowns when Katherine's shout cuts across the clearing.

“Aw, cockblocked!”

[Sam Modine] [Treeline.]

Sam disappears just out to the edge of the woods and then goes in, at first at least alone. Gabriella is made to turn and look out at the now fairly distant fire for...well something. Eventually the top of Sam's frame reappears and waves her come in.

And Katherine yells out. "You be quite over there, I jus' needed a lookout."

At that, of course Sam nods her in. "Five minush. Let's talk please?" Those? Are what would be puppy dog eyes.

If that puppy dog were teh droopiest bloodhound on the face of planet drunk.

[Wahya Many Tongues] He looks back to Andrew, staring at him and then grins, “Welcome, Dances-on-fire-yuf.”

He gives the bonfire one last look over, eyes skimming over at the other Garou and kinfolk that still remain. He begins to make his way to the edge of the grounds towards the dark line of trees, when the shadows start to envelope the Uktena; he shifts down into his breed form and lopes off into the woods.

[Decker] [Table]
So Decker keeps the joint. And goes over to the tables, where a bunch of rowdy Cliaths are yelling about Red Bull. Decker doesn't want no red bull; he's looking for booze. Firelight makes the labels indistinct. He can smell vodka on the watermelons. And oh, look, Andrew's ugly ugly mug.

Decker elbow-checks him as a form of greeting. And then he nods him toward the indistinct bottles. "Help me find tha vodka, fucker. Look fer clear bottles full'a clear booze."

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"Well," she says after a moment, turning her eyes away from the flame, "The good news is tha' I don't believe there are major predators out 'ere. So when yeh two are left wanderin' the woods, drunk and tipsy as yeh are, yeh should be able to lay down when yer tired and survive th'night."

A smirk lurks in the corner of her mouth.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"Well you need to gain like ten times that much if you think you're picking my fat ass up and carrying me further than like, nowhere."

[Wendy Berber] (Sitting by the FIRE)

*She looks up, at Boy, pushing her glasses back up her nose and nodding.* yes.. *She gives a shy smile, before nibbling her lip and looking into the fire.* ..But if you still um, want to stay.. I'll just sleep somewhere?

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Treeline]

What does it say that Gabbie hardly even faltered when her sister/keeper called her name? She glanced back toward Katherine over her shoulder, but didn't stop walking. Five minutes, fine, whatever. Sam called that he needed a lookout, excused their absence, and Gabbie returned her gaze to him to lift an eyebrow curiously.

Let's talk, please?

The puppy-dog eyes weren't even necessary. She just nodded her head toward the trees while unscrewing the water and taking a drink. "Go on, then."

[Dietrich Burke] *Of course Dietrich helps her down, taking her hand, one hand at the small of his back, bows his head slightly touching her hand with his lips, but not kissing her, just the gesture of a courtly show of respect, and he slips right into Silverfang Etiquette mode*

"Do not distress yourself dear sweet cousin. I took no offense from not hearing back from you. I understand the pressures of what it means to be a line of house Wyrmfoe, and I took that into consideration.

I am glad to have the chance to speak with you now though." *He smiles and then with a bit of a flourish.*

"And of course forgive my rudeness cousin by that is Sinclair and Joey, or Warcry and Laughs in the Face of Death. They are apart of my pack, the Red Bulls. A most two fearsome amazon warriors you will never see." *He says politely.*

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She snorts, and shakes her head, laughing. "Well, I'm sure we can find some little hovel to hole up in - or you can text your boy and have him rescue us. Oh! Do THAT! He have a phone?" she's digging for her cell phone in her pocket somewhere.

beware the Random Tipsy Texting...

[Andrew] [tables]
He grunts from the elbow-check but hardly moves. For a theurge, he's sure built solid. And considering his attitude, well. No wonder people get confused sometimes about what auspice he was born under. His eyes flick over the table a few times. Including the raucous Claiths guarding said booze.

"There's vodka in the watermelon. I heard it." But he doesn't get up from his chair. He's got pork. And he takes a few more scraps and tosses them back into his maw. Chomping away and not bothering to wipe his mouth for now.

[Joey Oliver] Joey laughs. “Did you hear that? He called us fearsome amazons. Wicked!” She high fives her sister.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]

[Henry Allard] [Stonedfire]
"No no no no no," Henry protests. "No. He's working, if you call him saying I'm stoned in the middle of the woods he's gonna burn himself on the frier or something, huh uh."

[Lukas] [tables]
Lukas sits up. He came here with Sampson; god knows where Sampson is now, but he took a nap in the grass in the meantime. He's a night owl, after all. His day doesn't start til well past dark, and his packmates dragged his ass out here early.

The Shadow Lord looks bleary-eyed, still half asleep. His hair is sticking up in the back. He scrubs his face clear and then calls over to Katherine, "What time is it?"

[Decker] [table]
"In a bottle, wolf-born," Decker specifies, exasperated. "Vodka in a fuckin' bottle."

[Boy] (Fire)

"No...No. You should go. We can see if Danny or someone from the brotherhood is going back into town. I'll find my own way."

Once again he stands, extending a hand down to her.

"C'mon. Lets get you out of here."

[Sinclair] [Tables]
"I ain't rude," she snaps at Dietrich, wandering over to stand with him as he speaks to Katherine. She does not offer her hand but drinks some more. "I also ain't an amazo-- it isn't a compliment, Joey!" she snaps, not joining in the high five this time. "Amazons cut their tits off!"

She glares at Dietrich, then looks at Katherine, still wearing vestiges of that glare. "He didn't even tell you which one of us is which, did he? That shit is rude."

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]

“It's motherfuckin' booze time, bro!” Joey calls to the recumbent Ahroun.

To Sinclair she frowns. "Aw, but amazons are hard core. And, like, tall and shit. I wish I was tall. Did you see? All these dudes are giants."

[Lukas] [tables]
Joey gets a squint-eyed look of puzzlement. "Who's that?" he asks Kate. And then asks Joey, "Who're you?"

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen eyes Henry and Joss for several seconds.

"Perhaps you can get a drive with someone from th'Brotherhood," she says fter several seconds, unwittingly echoing a similar sentiment as Boy.

[Imogen Slaughter] fter = after

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

Aww... but she doesn't give up, grinning. "I wasn't gonna say you was STONED... just that you was NAKED. And DANCING. with a Feather BOA."

That right there, is her best innocent look. Too bad it's not innocent at ALL...

And Imogen offers a solution, which is logical and likely what they'll do anyway, and she just grins.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
Henry considers this for several seconds, a blank expression on his face as he does this, and the life comes back to him a moment later when he turns to Imogen.

"I can't even remember how the hell I got here."

[Andrew] [tables]
He blinks. Once. Twice. Still chewing. And looks over the table again. Then shrugs. "It all comes in bottles." He grunts in the middle of taking another bite. Speaking with his mouthful. Ahh, manners. "What do I know of..." A pause. "Booze."

"Foul stuff. Doesn't do anything." And at the contractions in his speech sneaks in that bizarre southern accent. 'Like me, but retarded' as Decker once put it.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lukas' head pops up.

Your timing, Lukas, is as always a thing of mastery. Come and be introduced to those who I mentioned to you.

Katherine, her hand held as she rises and descends to stand tall at her height, turns to look at her Alpha over a shoulder with a smile. "This is the Alpha of my own pack, the Unbroken Circle. Lukas, be well met by my Cousin, Dietrich Burke."

[Wendy Berber] (By the fire and heading AWAAAAY)

*The spindly kin takes Boy's hand, wondering when touching him became something that felt natural, rather than completely nerve-wracking. Standing to her full surprising height, she nods and moves with him towards the Brotherhood kin. They'd brought her. Surely they'd un-bring her.* th-thank you Boy. Um.. Goodnight?

[Danicka] [Bonfire]
She is one of the only people here tonight who is wearing a dress. It's hot tonight, and muggy, and she is not going to wear jeans or shorts out to Tekakwitha Woods. She is wearing the same dress she had on earlier at another celebration that had a marked lack of Garou or other Kinfolk. It's a sleeveless, V-necked number made of some thin material, the pattern abstract oranges, browns, yellows, and the like. The hem does not quite reach her knees.

Danicka is not wearing heels, though, not out to the woods. She's wearing flat, close-toed shoes when she arrives, and she has been walking at least part of the way into the woods to get here, alone in the dark after her cab ride. There's a small purse slung over one shoulder. Her hair is up in a ponytail, neither straightened nor curled, and she did not bother with makeup. Her skin sheens slightly with sweat.

She doesn't smell like bug spray, but she does smell like a combination of essential oils that is doing the same basic job. She can be crafty. She has met some people with strange talents. You pick things up. Danicka walks towards not the tables, but the bonfire itself, a small smile on her face.

[Decker] [table --> fire]
"Fuckit." Decker grabs a bottle at random. All this time the joint's still smoking away between his teeth, shedding ash when it waggles on every word. "'m goin' back by tha fire. Ya comin'?" A glance at the noisy cliaths. "'r ya rather sit at tha kiddie table?"

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey is asked to introduce herself, and she literally leaps out of her chair at the chance. “Oh! Oh oh! Okay. Hang on, let me make sure I get this right.

“I'm Laughs in the Face of DEATH!” She raises both fists into the air, obviously very proud of her deed name. “Cliath Rotagar of the Get of Fenris. And, uh, omega?” She turns back to Sinclair. “Am I the omega?” She glances back at Lukas and laughs. “Sorry, I've never been in a pack before.”

[Lukas] [tables]
Lukas stares at Joey for a while.

And then he presses his lips together, looks away, and tries to conceal the fact that his shoulders are shaking from amusement.

[Andrew] [Heading to fire]
"That's what I thought." In reply to Decker's succinct declaration of 'fuckit'. He glances around a few times. Hmm. No, no kids over here. But Claiths. Yes. They were the same thing, right? Right.

He leans forward and rolls to his feet, similar to Wahya's own movements. Grace. It's a lupine thing.

"Sure." His hand snags the plate full of pork on the way as he falls into step behind Decker.

[Boy] (By the fire)

And he walked with her, confidently hand in hand.

"Good night, Wendy."

And once her transportation was secured, he would head back into the woods and get home in the same way that he'd gotten there.

**Exit Boy and Wendy, Stage left**

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, still entirely not sober, deftly leans back to lightly elbow Lukas in the ribs to halt his laughter least it provoke her own.

[Wendy Berber] (and gone!)

[Dietrich Burke] *(Tables) Dietrich turns to Lukas after having let go of Katherine's hand. He extends his right hand to Lukas and the Silverfang act drops a bit.* "Dietrich Burke, White Oak, Cliath Ahroun, Silverfang Tribe, House Wyrmfoe, Red Bulls Pack." *He says politely but quickly, not really wasting his breath on a bunch of protocol that Lukas might not want to here. Just down and dirty, speaking like an Ahroun. He does wanna drink and eat after all.*

[Decker] [fire]

"This's Andrew. He's wolfborn." Decker jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the rather disfigured guy behind him. He has a bottle of ... oh look, it's bourbon whiskey. He cracks it open, tossing the cap down in the grass. Such a litterbug. "'n Imogen, Joss, 'n -- " he blanks for a second, " -- Henry."

He drops down again, next to Imogen again, heavily enough that the soft ground vibrates faintly from impact. He passes the joint after another hit, rightward this time, toward Joss. And then he knocks the bottle back, gulping a good three, four shots' worth before passing it on. Leftward, toward Imogen.

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

She laughs, and puts her phone away, completely blocked from picking on Tristan. That's ok, she does have Henry's number, and just wait till next time HE's at work. He doesn't remember how he got there, she just shakes her head, and pulls her knees to her chest, adjusting her skirts for full coverage, and wraps her arms around her knees.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
Sinclair just mutters to herself, since she's even shorter than Joey -- technically -- and drinks some more of her fruity and strongly alcoholic wonderfulness. Most of these guys are giants. Joey gives her incredibly enthusiastic introduction to Lukas, and Sinclair snorts.

"Omega wolves are the ones get that get pissed one. Either of us pissing on you? I ain't never pissed on you. Dee ain't never pissed on you. I don't particularly wanna..." she trails off, looking at Lukas with a droll expression.

And then she starts snickering. "Ahem," she says, trying to control herself. She clears her throat, looks at Katherine and Lukas, and -- though neither of them asked for this -- she lifts her voice and says in a silvery-clear tone: "I am her sister Warcry: Cliath, Galliard, and Glass Walker. We are bound by Bull, he of profound potency in both Rage and fertility, graceless yet powerful, highly caffeinated yet only one hundred and ten calories."

She sweeps into a low bow, flinging one arm out in a flourish before the Lord and the Fang. Rising, she listens to Dietrich's introduction again, and smirks. "Our brother is the serious one. Joey's the cute one. I'm the asshole."

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Henry doesn't even remember how he got here. Imogen's eyebrow lifts upward, a slow arch.

"Hopefully you'll remember by tomorrow."

The only sober person in a conversation makes for an interesting perspective. Mix Henry's stonedness with Joss's tipsiness and the conversation lingers on the rather simple process of getting home. Or, even, getting here.

Someone shouts "DEATH!" closer to the table of food. Her gaze moves there, regarding the newcomers absently.

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

Then Decker returns, and she smiles up at Andrew. "Hey." and at last! A joint is passed in her direction! She takes, and hits deep, and passes it on as she holds.

[Lukas] [tables]
When he gets the laughter under control, Lukas gets to his feet. He dusts the seat of his pants off. His jeans are dark, but his shirt is pale -- blue, maybe white. There are grass stains on the back now.

"Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Cliath Ahroun of Thunder, Unbroken Circle." He gets elbowed by Katherine and takes it goodnaturedly. "This is my packmate," he looks between the Fangs, "but then I think you've already met."

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

"Andrew."

Greeting, as Decker introduces all around. Perhaps had he continued to blank on Henry's name the kinwoman might have interjected. As is, Decker remembers, then passes over an unidentified bottle of alcohol.

She turns it so she can see the label, her mouth shifting thinning to a seam as she reads the quality. Still, she knocks back a mouthful then passes it over. Stoned or not, Henry gets the opportunity.

[Andrew] [fire]
Following along behind Decker he finds himself amidst mostly kin. Or half and half at least. But he's thrown the balance off now. A plate piled with pieces of pork is held in one hand and his mouth is greasy at the corners. His eyes go over each of them as he's introduced.

And he sits. With much less gusto than Decker. His legs fold and seem to simple collapse inwards as he glides to rest on his butt. His eyes fix on Joss for a moment longer than the rest, and he grunts. "I remember you. From the alley."

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
“Nice t'meet ya, Lukas! You can call me Joey.” Joey beams. “And I am not the omega of the Red Bulls, by the way.”

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
The vodka comes his way, and Henry, with most of his beer demolished, politely shakes his head.

"No, thanks, I'm done for."

[Sinclair] [Tables]
"She so totally isn't," Sinclair adds for Joey, slinging one arm around her packmate's shoulders and drinking with the other. Not a single one of the Red Bulls has mentioned an Alpha, but Lukas didn't introduce himself as Alpha, either. He didn't have to; Katherine did.

Sinclair hums a bit to herself, dragging Joey to one side as she sways. It sounds like she's humming Danny Boy.

[Decker] [fire]
"Also," Decker moves his plate out of the way, stretches his feet out, and then drops back prone on his back with a satisfied grunt, "Henry's a fuckin' faggot."

[Joss Lehrer] He remembers her from.. ah. She exhales, nods and smiles. "Yes, the night against the Face-Stealers."

Then Henry turns down the alcohol, and apparently the Joint, which she passes back to Decker instead. And he calls him a fucking faggot, and she blinks.

And doesn't say a word.

[Henry Allard] [Bonfire]
"Aaaand, goodnight!"

Henry stands up fast enough to tip over the folding chair he'd been sitting in, purposefully dropping his beer bottle as he kicks the damned thing out of his way and strides off towards the embankment.

Apparently he is walking home.

[Joss Lehrer] [THERE IS TOTALLY A FIRE TAG THERE]

[Imogen Slaughter] (DON'T DO THAT)

[Joss Lehrer] (CRAP! *goes to fail corner)

[Lukas] [tables]
"That must be a huge relief," Lukas replies to Joey and Sinclair, wry. "Sucks being omega."

Lukas's eyes are a startling clear blue. They move over the clearing, looking for familiar faces. Then he turns to Kate. "Where'd Sampson go?"

[Danicka] [Bonfire to...Bonfire by way of...the South!]
From the looks of things, she's looking for someone. She can smell marijuana strongly around this side of the fire, and when she doesn't see whoever it is she's scanning for, she heads over to Imogen, Decker, Henry, and Joss...

...just as the tall paramedic is flinging himself out of his chair. She did not hear what Decker said, only sees Henry drop his beer bottle, kick it away, and storm off. Her eyes go wide...and then go back to the Modi. Danicka takes a breath.

Turns on her heel.

And walks to the other side of the bonfire, where it seems to be just lawn chairs and empty space.

[Dietrich Burke] *(Table) He gestures to Sin and Joey.* "And there you have it." *He says to Lukas and Katherine.* "It was a pleasure to meet you both. I know you don't want to stand here and make introductions all night when there is food to eat, and spirits to dull the senses." *He nods to Lukas.* "~yuf" *He looks at Katherine and bows his head again, formally.* "Cousin." *He straightens up.* "Enjoy your night." *He turns to leave going back for his plate of food and grabbing some form of liquor bottle that's left.*

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Imogen flicks a gaze toward Decker at his statement - then toward Henry as he abruptly gets to his feet to leave.

"Charming," the slight kinwoman observes to the Modi, her tone dry.

[Decker] [fire]
The sound Decker makes when Henry charges off is most certainly a huff of a laugh. "Is what he is, ain't it? I don't git pissed tha fuck off when people call me a fuckin' facebreaker." And he takes the joint from Joss, closing his eyes to take a hit before, holding it, he passes the joint to Imogen.

[Andrew] [fire]
Faggot. It takes him a moment. He has to mentally review some of the slang he's learned over the years. Oh right. Fucks the wrong gender. Andrew gives the aforementioned man a strange look. It seems both confused and a little disgusted.

But he doesn't need to concerned, apparently, as the guy suddenly hops up and storms off. Joss is the safest place for his eyes now and he looks at her. "Yes. Face stealers. Bug-thrower." His mind wanders back to the memory of bugs trying to crawl in his orifices while biting, pinching, and stinging. He shudders a little.

[Henry Allard] [SLEEP TIGHT YA LOUSY BUMS! Thanks for the RP, Monki you rock.]

[Sinclair] [Tables] "Who's Sampson?" Sinclair jumps in, interrupting her humming but not her swaying-with-Joey so she can ask this.

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire of greenish type]

She watches Henry, and makes a decision that she'll follow him in that direction at some point tonight to make sure he makes it home ok, but then it's back to Andrew, Imogen and Decker. She grins at Andrew and chuckles. "The bugs got to you - but the kamakazi dive off the roof mouth first didn't?!"

She grabs her phone again, and texts a quick message, sends, and tucks the phone away in her pocket again.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Where did Sampson go?

Katherine smirks, there is no other word for it. "Well, from what I have seen, he was punched in the face by Decker Rohl over there, took his harem of ladies and vanished into the beyond." She flitters her fingers before her in some imaginary fashion and turns eyes quite similar to Lukas' upon Sinclair.

"Sampson is our Ragabash, and quite the character to boot." A beat, Katherine's eyes narrow a fraction. She leans back to murmur to Lukas. Gabbie has been in the trees for far too long with Sam. I must fetch her, it looks bad.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey sways with Sinclair. When they swing a little closer to the table, she grabs up her beer and knocks it back, only to discover that it's empty. She looks down at it mournfully. It is perhaps the saddest look anyone in the history of ever has seen on the Rotagar's face.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

She sets the bottle where either any of the gathered can reach it, a flick of her glance toward Decker as he justifies himself.

Her commentary, or critique, if you will, is short lived. She does not bother to follow up again, instead reaching out wordlessly to pluck the joint from Decker's hand. The kinwoman holds it pinched between the tips of her thumb and forefinger, bringing it up to her mouth for a hit.

She holds the smoke in her lungs, leaning forward to return to the joint to Joss.

[Decker] [fire]

"Hey."

Decker has a low voice by nature. Quiet. He manages to get heard most times; when he raises it like this, even a little, the effect is stark. He's calling out to the blonde kinswoman who's sharply changing direction.

When she turns back, he doesn't bother to sit up. Sprawled on his back, the modi sits beside a slightboned, fire-haired woman; also beside a teenage girl whose Rage marks her not a girl at all. And across from them, a scarred, ugly man whose every movement was somehow less than human.

"Wanna hit?" He indicates the joint, now in Joss's hand, with a flick of his eyes.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *(Treeline) He'd finished his beers, and smoked his pipe. No one else joined him, but frankly that wasn't on his mind right now. He stared up to the face of Luna hidden from the sky. He smiled and blow some sacred smoke up to her, to let her know he she was in his thoughts... along with another.

He gathered up his things, pipe back in the pouch, bag of... herb in hand, and camp stool in the other. He braced himself against the tree for a moment before heading into the treeline to sleep under his lean to.*

[Lukas] [table]
"He got punched?" Lukas interrupts; he's clearly wondering if he needs to put out fires, doctor the spin, control the damage. A beat. "Is he ali--" (he tooks his ladies and left) "... oh." He thinks about it for a minute. "Why'd he get punched?"

[Andrew] [fire]
He grunts and shrugs. "Smash my face into concrete; done that before. Crawlies in the nose and butt; no fun. Found one still in my ear later. Being sneaky." He shudders slightly again. Then picks up a few chunks of meat, pops them back into his mouth, and chews away.

[Sinclair] [Tables]
Sinclair is too close to Joey not to notice that the girl is sad, that the beer is empty. "Awww," she says, the most sympathetic thing they've heard from her yet. They're still swaying. "Wanna go sing 'We Are the Champions' with me? It always makes me feel better when..."

She stops, blinks, looks at the beer bottle, then at Katherine. "Who's got a harem?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Tables]

Katherine's expression is patient.

"Have you met either Sampson or Decker? I'm surprised there was not more damage."

[Dietrich Burke] *[Tables]

Dietrich calls out.* "Joey! Get over cher ass over here little sister. I'm gonna show you how to shotgun a beer." *He says when he sees her turn up an empty.*

[Decker] [tables]
"Sampson." Lukas turns his attention back to Sinclair. "Our Ragabash. He has four wives." He's totally straightfaced. Maybe he doesn't realize how absurd this sounds.

[Joss Lehrer] [fire]

Decker calls himself face breaker, and she catches herself reaching to massage her jaw where that remembered hit landed. And OUCH, in case it wasn't noted then. After all, he didn't hold back. They're Fenrir - why would he?

Then she's just chuckling, softly, and takes the joint as it makes it's way back to her, taking a hit as she looks up to find whoever Decker is offering the next hit too. She lifts it toward the kinswoman if she does look back, willing to hand it over. If she doesn't come back, the J makes it's way to Decker once more.

[Decker] (yeah, that wasn't decker.)

[Katherine Bellamonte] (oh, make that it was, do it.)

[Danicka] [Bonfire]
She has not quite made it around the fire to the other side when Decker calls to her. Danicka halts immediately, turns completely, and looks directly at... his cheek. Not at Andrew. Not at Imogen, who she has actually interacted with. Not Joss, who reminds her slightly of certain girls she knew in New York. She smiles warmly, shakes her head, and doesn't say a word. She can't.

He reminds her of someone.

So she gets away, obviously frightened but not quite shaky enough to be called 'skittish', and heads for the tables to get something to wash the terror out of her brain.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
And thus Laughs in the Face of Death is torn. On the one hand, SINGING! And not just singing but singing fucking QUEEN.

On the other hand, BEER.

She looks from her sister to her brother and back again. And the brother wins. “We can sing later, okay?” She shrugs out of Sinclair's arm and races over to where Dietrich is sitting. She misses the comment about this Sampson Ragabash having four wives. If she'd heard it, she probably would've laughed.

But she laughs, anyway. “How do you shotgun a beer?”

[Sinclair] [Tables]
The look Sinclair gives Lukas when he informs her that Sampson is their Ragabash and he has for wives is nothing short of...gobsmacked. Her jaw is slack for a moment, and then she shuts it. Joey unwinds herself, Sinclair lets her go, and then she blinks at the Lord and the Fang before her.

"What is he, fuckin' Mormon?" she asks, bewildered.

And yet, she doesn't wait for an answer. She tromps over to Decker and Imogen and Joss, dropping herself on the grass in her cutoffs and bare, tanned legs. "Hello, new friends!" she announces.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine casts a meaningful look at Lukas and then turns and begins off in the direction of the woods, making little effort to disguise her footfalls. From her expression, if she finds Sam and Gabbie in a questionable scenario, woe be it on them, indeed.

[Decker] [fire]
Marijuana relaxes him. It's a new moon in the sky. A frenzy is almost impossible right now, even for him. Bourbon is joining the weed; it's a fuckin' symphony, a cocktail of chill.

And then Danicka looks at him like that. Like he might fucking eat her head. And smiles, and shakes her head, and turns and walks away. Decker raises up on his elbows. And then sits up. He watches the kinswoman another moment or two, frowning, and then returns his attention to his immediate company.

"Where's tha bourbon?" He doesn't find the bourbon; Sinclair appears instead. He looks at her for a moment, nonplussed. "Fuck, it's one'a tha kiddies."

[Dietrich Burke] *[Tables]

He tosses her a can of beer.* "Catch." *He pulls out a Spyder Co knife from his belt pouch.* "Alright take this knife. Poke a hole in the side of that can near the bottom. Then I'm gonna pop the top and just start fuckin' drink as fast as you can."

*He hands the knife to her handle first, and then after she's poked a hole near the bottom.* "Put it up to your mouth." *And when she does he pops the top. He watches smiling as the beer explodes into her mouth.* "Drink it quick now! Chug that shit!"

[Andrew] [fire]
Scarred ugly. Dove off the ugly tree and hit every branch. Or almost every. But not quite. He's happily munching on pork and not paying too much attention to the rest of them.

Until Sinclair appears out of apparently no where, like poof, she's there. Flopping down and announcing her presence. Demanding attention, really. He glances over at her. And holds back a snarl from the sudden amount of energy and simply loud.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey complies, and happily. She guzzles it down like it's water, or something not about to make her head spin, make her woozy. Not that drinking beer fast has ever really made her dizzy before. Well, except that one time when she hadn't eaten for most of the day, and to celebrate, her brother had gotten her a case of Bud. That had been a Bad Idea.

But this time Joey's stomach is full of pig meat. She sucks the beer down. When the can is empty, she slams it onto the table, crushing it. Her other fist goes up into the air. She closes her eyes and shouts, “WOO!”

She laughs. "Again?"

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Trees]

When Katherine comes out into the woods, she'll hear Gabbie chattering at Sam, though her voice sounds a little strained, a little winded.

"...can't understand why I even needed to take my shoes off in the first place..."

When they come into sight, Sam's doing something no doubt intoxicated, leaning against a tree to keep from swaying, perhaps, while scanning the ground with his blurry eyes. Gabbie, however, was half-hunched over with her hand on her knee, in her socks, pushing aside a patch of shrubbery. Sam was holding her other shoe.

[Lukas] [tables]
"No, he's -- "

She's gone. Lukas laughs under his breath. He meets Kate's eyes for a second, and some of the humor evaporates. He still doesn't know Sam is fucking living with her still, or his support might not be quite so staunch. As it is, however, the Ahroun merely nods at the Philodox.

"Call me," he taps his temple, "if you need to."

She leaves. Lukas is briefly alone. He looks down to make sure his keys and his wallet haven't fallen out on the grass while he slept, and then he looks around, spots blonde hair and green eyes; heads to the tables as well.

Lukas didn't see what happened on the other side of the fire. If he had, he might not do as he does, which is to come up beside Danicka and loop his arm around her waist, pressing his mouth to her temple. He smells like grass. He feels like rage. "When'd you get here?" he asks, by way of greeting.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

Though Danicka does not watch Imogen, Imogen does regard the blond kin, her expression even, a line forming between her eyebrows, then smoothing away. The kin moves decisively toward the tables.

Imogen is sitting up in contrast of Decker's lounge, has an easier reach for the bourbon, particularly knowing where it is as she does. However - Decker's imbibement is distracted by Sinclair's sudden and boisterous arrival.

A beat of silence after the Garou's excited greeting, then Decker's non-plussed reply.

"Hello." Imogen says simply, then leaning forward to retrieve the bottle, tapping Decker's knee with it.

[Joss Lehrer] [bonfire]

And suddenly their foursome is a fivesome once again, and a brow inches upwards toward her dreads as she reaches back and pushes them off her shoulders, lifting heavy lengths off the back of her neck briefly. She leans back again, stretching her legs out before her, crossing them at the ankle as she watches everyone through lids half mast, leaning back on her hands.

She's clearly feeling just fine, thank you.

JUST FINE.

[Dietrich Burke] *[Tables]

He chuckles and nods.* "Hell yeah again. I ain't been drunk on beer in awhile. No better time like the present." *He goes and grabs a case of beer, and then hands her another one, and then himself one.* "Hand me that knife please."

*He pokes a hole in the can, up to his mouth, and then pops the top and down it goes. When he's down, burps a bit, crushes the can tosses it over near the trash.*

[Sinclair] [Bonfire]
"Indeed it is," she agrees simply, resting her elbows on her drawn-up knees, hands loose between them. "I'm Sinclair," she adds, then affects quite a bit of cheer, drawing up her shoulders and dropping them again: "I'm new here."

Behind her, off to one side, her packmates shotgun beers and holler. They haven't had this much fun in at least three or four days, since they woke up in a hotel room in Vegas and started asking each other how much they remembered. For her, the party's just started. She is loud, and brash, and demanding of attention -- Andrew has that much pinned. When she's just sitting by a few people by a fire, oddly, her voice isn't as loud as it was when she and the other Reds first arrived; it's not like they're elsewhere. It's not like she just pounded two full cups of vodka-soaked watermelon.

She's not mellowing out at all. Of course not.

[Sam Modine] [Trees]

"I don't know, either." Sam is, yes leaning back and forth with one hand up against a tree and the other with an extended index finger pointing along the ground as though he has a magical shoe detector on one end of his arm.

"But we gotta find it. Your sister is gonna be chapped if we aren't back soon." Slurred, just slightly and a little louder than necessary. The words are heavy as stones in his mouth. The middle Bellamonte will have no trouble finding her sister and her sentry.

[Decker] [fire]
Decker takes the bottle. He guzzles. He's had a bit already. He has a bit more. Wherein a bit refers to: a fucking lot.

It really is a little like the kiddie table and the adult table. This little cluster is a good deal quieter. The laughter is not constant; it comes in waves, if at all. The Garou here (and the kin) are mellow; or simply reticient. Decker, irony of ironies, is the most vocal of them; but then, he's fucking drunk. And high.

A good third of the bottle's gone when he lowers it and, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist, passes it directly to Sinclair.

"Good fer ya." She's Sinclair; she's new. "'m Decker. 'm -- " he pulls up short. No need to feed that goddamn Ragabash's jokes. "Thatcher pack over there?" He jerks his head in the direction of the noisemakers.

[Danicka] [Tables]
The only signal Lukas gets that indicates Danicka might not be all right with him coming up behind her, beside her, and touching her so suddenly is an intake of breath when he slides his arm around her that is a little too fast to be mere recognition. She settles immediately, moving against his side and tipping her head with the kiss to her temple.

"Just a couple of minutes ago," she answers, and turns her head so she can look at him over the curve of her bare shoulder.

Danicka blinks. "You're kind of messy," she observes, though without any evident judgement in the words.

[Decker] (retiCENT. I KAN SPELZ)

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey passes the knife to Dietrich, then takes it back, poking a hole in her can, popping the top, and down it goes, with the same results. The can is crushed on the table. Except this time, instead of shouting out, her fist comes up to pound her chest, and she belches, long and loud, about an octave and a half lower than her normal speaking voice. When she's done she breaks out in a fit of the giggles.

She is just the cutest damn thing anyone ever saw. With her fair hair twisted into twin knots just behind her ears, and her oversized shirt, her the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, she looks like Everybody's Little Sister.

When Dietrich belches, she just says, “Nice, bro!” Then she's reaching for another can.

[Lukas] [tables]
They don't stay close for long. It's a certain instinct for privacy. At the Aquarium he hadn't even come up to her like this, embraced her and kissed her temple, though he'd wanted to. He only does it here because the nearest people are Joey and Dietrich at the end of the table, chugging beers, caught up in each other's fun.

"I was asleep." Where? Here? He says it like it's the most natural thing: asleep, while people walked around and over him; while people played music; while people got smashed and made noise. He paws a hand through his hair, but it's haphazard at best. There's a difference between vanity and taking care to be presentable; his attention to his appearance is the latter. He looks at her as she looks at him, studying her for a beat. "You all right?"

[Sinclair] [Bonfire]
She reaches forward and takes the bottle from Decker with a "Thanks, man," that's as much sincere as it is offhand. She doesn't expect the bottle or the joint to be passed around, and it means something to her when one of them is, but she doesn't place so much stock in the gesture that she's overwhelmed by it.

This is, after all, a party. Out in a field. Full of folks who, in one way or another, are a People.

Taking a long drink, she looks at Imogen and Joss, not sure who is due the bottle next... so she passes it to Joss and glances back at Decker. Sinclair twists to look where he jerks his head, sees Joey and Dietrich shotgunning beers, belching, hollering, and having a grand old time. Her body unwinds again, and she nods to Decker quite happily. "Ayup. That's Dietrich and Joey. Lights of my life, apples of my eyes, sterile wrappings around my fresh needles."

[Katherine Bellamonte] [trees]

Oh, find them she does.

Hands on hips, her expression every bit as frightening as the accused must have found their inquisitors during the witch trials.

"Find, what, precisely?" She says, with succinct, careful phrasing.

[Dietrich Burke] *(Tables)

He chuckles and says to Joey.* "Alright there are some rules to this shit here. A little guideline cause you're my pack sister, and I don't wanna see you pukin' your guts out.

Just remember this little saying "Liquor before Beer, Never Fear. Beer before Liquor Never sicker."

"So we've switched now we're just gonna have to get shit faced on beer. Cool?"

*He shotguns another beer.*

"We need to do about six or eights of these bad boys in quick succession and then we can slow down. Should have a good buzz by then."

[Andrew] [fire]
He grunts. "I'm Dances-on-fire. I'm gonna go hunt."

And he's on the move. Standing up with his plate. He tosses back the last few pieces of pork off the plate. Munching happily, as he walks past a trashcan. Dropping the plate into it as he starts towards the treeline.

[Joss Lehrer] fire

She's new here, Sinclair says, and Joss watches her a moment with a lazy little half grin. Decker introduces himself, and she follows. "Joss."

He inquires of her packmates, while Sinclair answers and hands her the bottle. Joss takes a swig - not a guzzle, as she really doesn't need much more else she lose the happy tipsy and go right on into full on Drunk. She passes the bottle to Imogen with a grin, and leans back on her hands once more.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] Katherine stalked up behind them, and Gabbie startled a little by the voice, so chilled and precise. She turned to look over her shoulder at Katherine, observed the expression on her sister's face, then shook her head almost dismissively. Not of her sister, but of the very critical look she wore.

"My shoe. Sam insisted that I experience grass on my bare feet, as though this is something I've never known before." She huffed. She explored the woods behind their estate in France plenty, she knew very well what it was like to run around barefooted through the wilds. Granted she didn't get to travel too far before Katherine would come after her, calling for her to be careful, taking her back to the house.

"I kicked it off, and now I can't find it."

On to the next bush, she kept a'hunting.

[Gabbie Bellamonte] [Trees, mofo. I'm officially too lazy for color.]

[Danicka] [Tables]
He can smell her sweat, smell the day on her, smell the oils on her skin that will not keep bugs off of her completely but will do a decent enough job that she won't have erupted into bites tomorrow. There's not even a bat of an eyelash when he says he fell asleep out here in the middle of the woods; Danicka just nods. It is most natural thing, oddly familial, to be able to sleep and know that you'll be safe.

Safe enough, at least. She doesn't reach over to arrange his hair for him as he lets go of her. She gives an absent nod, reaching to the tables to get a bottle of beer. Nothing to eat, apparently. "Why wouldn't I be?"

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's purse is near her side, sitting on the ground, the black of it getting smeared and marked with dirt. She brushes it off absently as she picks it up, undoing the clasp to retrieve her cigarette case, her zippo.

She flicks open her case and plucks free a cigarette, lighting up silently as Decker asks of Joey and Dietrich, and Sinclair answers. The paraphernalia of her most present addiction are returned to her purse, the purse returned to the ground. She takes a deep drag, the nicotine competing with the hiss of marijuana in her blood.

The kinwoman is pure-breed, a contrast to those present, her Fianna blood sharp and clear in her bones, in her decorum.

Greetings go around - the kin goes last. "Imogen," she says, her word foreign to American ears, just as her accent is. She takes another hit from her cigarette.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

[Decker] [fire]
"He's a fuckin' party pooper," Decker says, carelessly, as Andrew leaves.

This, coming from the man that snarled at half the table over Thanksgiving dinner at the kinhouse one year. Oh, and later had a real bang-up fight with Imogen in the Barracuda.

While the bottle passes around, Decker leans back on his hands. He drops his head back, shutting his eyes for a moment. (Is this real life?) When he opens them he raises his head again, gives it a quick shake, turns to look over his shoulder at the lights of Sinclair's life.

"They's tryin'a dink each other ta dreath." He sniffs. "Where's tha fuckin' joint?"

[Joey Oliver] [Table]
“I,” and here Joey slams her palm to the table, “have never puked from beer. And I didn't switch from nothin'. This ain't my first rodeo.

'Sides, my brother already told me that. Like, years ago, dude. Again?” Her face splits in another ear to ear grin.

Three beers, two slammed back in seconds, and the girl is just as bright-eyed as ever, like she doesn't even feel it.

[Joss Lehrer] [fire]

Where's the fuckin... oh yeah. She grins sheepishly, and hands it over to Decker. Yeaaaaaaah, she's not overly relaxed at all, right? Right.

[Imogen Slaughter] (her name foreign to American ears...)

[Lukas] [table]
Lukas's eyes flicker to the table. She doesn't get anything to eat. After a moment he does, reaching to carve a hefty slice off the roast pig, pairing it with mashed potatoes. And broccoli. His parents taught them to eat their vegetables.

"You said the same thing after bloodsuckers jumped you in the street," he points out.

[Andrew] [treeline]
At the edge of the trees as he wades into the darkness he shifts and vanishes off into the night. Black canine on long skinny legs off to find someone's pet, most likely, to wash down the yummy pork.

[Andrew] ((Thanks for the RP folks, night!))

[Decker] (night man!)

[Dietrich Burke] *[tables]

Dietrich smiles, and holds out his fist for little bump from her.* "Well hell ya. Ooo-fuckin-rah there sis. You're ready to go into combat. Fuck me for tryin' act like this is your first time at the dance."

*He shotguns another beer... and then another... Up to four now.* "Hell yeah. Half way there." *He says as he burps low and long and then shakes his head.* "Woo! That one burned off my nose hairs damn it." *He chuckles.*

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey returns the fist bump. “Hell, yeah, bro! Live it up, 'cause we could all be dead tomorrow.” Then she laughs and shotguns another beer. When she's finished she tips her head back and practically howls, “OOOOOO-RAH!”

[Sinclair] [Bonfire]
"He's an Ahroun and she's a fuckin' Fenrir," Sinclair says. "I figure they'll be fiiine."

Her eyes flick to the joint as it's passed to Decker. She looks at Imogen lighting up, then at Joss, then glances over her shoulder. "So, uh... yeah. You're all real nice and thanks for the drink, but...uh... you're boring as shit tonight."

She hops up, not bothering to brush the dirt off the ass of her cutoffs, and starts to head back to her packmates.

[Danicka] [Tables]
Danicka actually laughs quietly at that, opening her beer and taking a drink. "And I meant it then, too. Did I miss bloodsuckers jumping me tonight?" She peers at him, head tilted to the side, eyes bright with amusement. She doesn't seem like she's been drinking, so it can't be that. Probably not. "Because I could have sworn I didn't meet any on the way out here."

[Dietrich Burke] [Tables]

"Sin! Beer or the Hard stuff?" *He shotguns another beer, his fifth now, and then rubs his head.* "Shit.. I didn't eat any of that fuckin' pig... I don't wanna lose this little buzz I got goin though."

*Decisions, Decisions*

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Luckily for Dietrich, Joey's leg of pig is resting on a (used by someone else, most likely) paper plate nearby. “Oh, dude, you totally gotta eat something. Otherwise you'll be out, like, on your next beer. And how much of a wuss would you be then?”

She picks up the leg, already shared by herself and Sinclair, and offers it to her brother.

[Decker] (leg sweep! +1 diff: sooo fuckin wasted)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Failure at target 9)

[Decker] [fire]
Sinclair starts to head back to her buddies. Decker lashes out with his feet ... sort of. He manages to tangle his legs with hers; doesn't manage to bring the Galliard down.

"Fucker," he says; he doesn't sound particularly pissed. "Ya'd have more fun if you was eatin' turf."

[Lukas] [tables]
"I'm a worrywart," Lukas replies, echoing her to herself, his smile wry. A pause. "Are you all right?"

[Dietrich Burke] *(Tables)

Dietrich takes some of the leg of pig, and eats a few bites. He cracks open another beer.* "You know now that we're all here and settled in in Chicago we need to talk about settin' up some kind of trainin' schedule, gettin' those pack tactics down, and all that happy horseshit.

I mean we've got a reputation of carnage and destruction we need to build. Kickin' ass for the Cause." *He looks over at Sin to she what she's gotten into.* "Sin! Stop fuckin' around, and whip some ass! Just be respectful about it!" *He says out loud.*

[Sinclair] [Bonfire]
There's a sweep and a tangle and then a weird sort of jiggling hop-step that Sinclair does to get away from Decker's leg. She peers at him with one eye squinted, askance and buzzed, then processes what he says. Thoughtfully she considers it. Sagely, she nods. "You know... some of my fondest and most stimulating memories do indeed involve eating turf."

With a choppy, flippant salute, she gives a small bow. It's oddly not as deep as the flourishing one she gave Lukas earlier during her grand introduction. "Another time, perhaps. We can have a whole turf-eating contest. Kinda like a pie-eating contest, only with dirt. Instead of pie. Or maybe pavement, instead. That is a whole other experience."

[Joss Lehrer] [fire]

She presses her lips really hard together when Decker goes to trip the girl - and it doesn't exactly work. She doesn't want to giggle, but it's really hard to keep back. Which is about the time she discovers that she quite literally MUST use the little girls Tree now, less she embarrass herself. She grins at Imogen. "S'cuse me."

and off she hops up, dashing for the trees.

[Imogen Slaughter] [Bonfire]

It is the third time tonight that Decker has prompted something resembling violence. Imogen straightens slightly as he kicks out a foot and gets his leg tangled with Sinclair's.

Her mouth tightens, though whether it is a suppression of amusement or a suppression of tension - well, neither Joss nor Sinclair know her well enough to tell, and Decker is too drunk and stoned to identify it.

Her attention lifts to Joss as she dashes for the trees, "Enjoy," she says, simply.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey grabs another beer, decides to drink this one like a normal human being for once. She pops its tab and takes a swig, then tips her head at Dietrich. “Training schedule? So we're staying here for keeps? Whew! Good thing I told my mom to sell my car." She looks thoughtful. "Hm, I should get another one."

[Decker] [fire]
Decker sort of waves Sinclair in the direction of her packmates. "Yeah yeah."

She leaves. Joss runs for the treeline. Decker drops onto his back again, covering his face with his hands for a moment. He yawns, jaw crackingly. Then he shifts one hand behind his head, reaches the other out to bump Imogen gently with his knuckles.

"You laughin' at me, woman?"

[Danicka] [Tables]
She laughs again, turning around and wrapping both of her arms around his neck, privacy be damned, apparently. She holds her beer carefully so it doesn't smack the back of his neck or head.

"You have yet to answer my question on why I wouldn't be, but I'll be nice, since it's the solstice: I am fine. I am okay. I am absolutely wonderful. I have had a fantastic day, I look awesome, and you smell like grass. All in all I think I'm doing pretty good."

She lets go of him, takes a swig of her beer, and laughs again.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen does not answer the question, instead turning her head to look down at him. "You're drunk," she says concisely. "If I were t'laugh at yeh, it would be entirely deserved."

[Decker] [fire]
"'m drunk off my fuckin' ass," he agrees. His hand drops to the grass. He closes his eyes for a moment.

And then opens them again. It's getting near dawn. The east is growing light. He turns his head toward Imogen. "You wanna drive on tha way back?"

[Sinclair] [Bonfire]
Dietrich yells at her to stop fuckin' around and whip some ass and she turns around, hollering back: "Hold yer fuckin' horses, ya goddamn uppity Fang! Jesus Christ on a cross..." she mutters, stomping that direction.

[Tables]
She flops down between her packmates, Joey to her left and Dietrich to her right, scratching a spot on her right knee. "You guys drunk yet?"

[Dietrich Burke] *(Tables)

Dietrich is a little drunk, and he raises an eyebrow.* "Ain't got no car huh? What about a sportbike? Motorbike? Think you can handle one of them and not get yerself splattered all over the streets of Chicago?" *He says to Joey*

[Katherine Bellamonte] Kate, passing Gabriella her shoe says only to her sister: "It is late, our driver is here and will take you home." Her expression leaves little to be argued with and with a beckoning finger toward Sam Katherine begins her return march toward the brighter fires of the campside and Lukas. Finding him, and perhaps Danicka, she says with a straight expression: "Samuel, as much as I love you as a former pack mate it is no longer appropriate for you to remain beneath my roof." Here she pauses to shoot Lukas a glance. Half expecting his outrage.

"As well as this I must ask you to cease any inappropriate associations with my sister."

[Imogen Slaughter] She looks at him a moment, expression still. Then, the expression breaks and she smirks faintly.

"I certainly ha' no desire t'be in the car when yeh wrap it around a lamppost," she answers. He'd only done that once - without her in the vehicle. One imagines he will never live it down.

Her gaze moves toward the sky, the lightening dawn. "Yeh want t'go now, or are yeh goin' t'finish the bottle?" a lift of her chin indicates the bourbon, a third of it still remaining.

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey looks at her sister and makes face. “Psh. No one ever got drunk off five beers. Right, bro?”

She turns to grin at Dietrich. “Dude, please. I came outta the womb with a license to drive fuckin' everything, bro. I can drive anything you put in front 'o me. Manual, automatic, big rig, bike, whatever.” She leans back, holds her arm straight out in front of her and moves it in a sweeping motion away from Sinclair. “But I rode here with Sinclair. Left my baby behind, and now I gotta get a new one.”

[Sinclair] [Tables]
Sinclair lifts her fist for a bump with Joey as she's talking about everything she drives. "I told you, motherfucker, girl drives like a demon." Beat. "We talked about you the whooole way here, too."

Cracking her neck, she fidgets a little more, then wiggles back and forth a bit. "Dudes, you wanna head out? We got here kinda late. I don't think there's a whole lot more damage we can do, y'know? Not without... like... I mean we could but then someone would probably shoot us."

[Sam Modine] [Treeline.]

"Cause I needed her help walking?" Sam isn't especially undrunk at the moment. "We can talk about this in the morning please?" Up ahead in the direction they're moving he sees Lukas, who he'd not noticed here tonight.

"Seriously. I need a place to sleep, and I thik in the morning-" He hics once, stopping in his tracks, they'll sprroach no further and not to within earshot.

Calmly the Modi asks. "I've never done wrong by you, not ever. I'm asking you," Vomity face. Not the one you make when you're actually going throw up but the one you make when that third burp even stifled to silence hits your taste buds and suddenly all that pork wasn't the best thing you've ever had.

"We can talk about this sober."

[Decker] "Uppity," he snags the bottle from her, "Fianna bitch."

And, without sitting up, gulps from the bottle. Coughs as he almost chokes himself, sputtering up a splash of bourbon, winces, passes it back to her. There's a swallow or two left.

"You kin finish it." And he smirks. "So when ya wrap my car 'round a lamppost, I kin mock ya fer years."

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Go, sleep it off." She gestures, giving him perhaps the final order she ever will. And perhaps the last of her sympathy. Alone then, Katherine walks toward her pack mate, her expression difficult to decipher, even for one as knowledge of it as Lukas.

[Imogen Slaughter] Her flicker of amusement is undeniable as he chokes on the bourbon, quickly suppressed as if it were out of place, her head turning toward the fire to half hide her expression. When she turns back, it's gone.

He hands her the bourbon, but she sets it down instead, crushing out her half finished cigarette on the plate, and getting to her feet.

"Pass."

[Lukas] He has food in one hand. She has beer in the other. She wraps her arms around his neck and his free arm comes around her waist like it's natural, like it's expected; he lifts her against him and whirls her around a hundred eighty, the way he had in New York City.

"Okay." Sometimes his trust in her word is simple as that. 'Sometimes' began a month ago, if that. Lukas doesn't try to look deeper; he doesn't look for hidden meaning. She says she's wonderful. He accepts it.

"Let's go hang out on the other side of the fire," he suggests -- only then Katherine's approaching, and Lukas is letting Danicka slide to the ground, turning to face the Philodox expectantly. His arm remains around Danicka's waist.

[Dietrich Burke] *He reaches into his pocket and tosses a set of keys on the table in front of her. He points to the parking area.* "In the parking area out there is a red 2008 Ducati 1098 Sportbike. One of the finest motorbikes made in the world. It's yours now. Tell your mom she can save her money." *He says with a nod. He looks at her and says.* "You're my pack sister. I die for you." *He puts his hand on Sin's shoulder, a firm grasp like a comrade in arms.* "Both of ya. Least I can do is gave ya a bike, and a place to crash."

[Joey Oliver] [Tables]
Joey catches the keys, a look of pure astonishment on her face. Then her free hand comes up to flail wildly. She takes a second to knock back her beer (priorities) before tossing the can to the side, out of her way. And then she gets up, leaps onto the table, and from the table onto Dietrich and hugs him.

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD BRO YOU'RE THE BEST OH MY GOD!”

[Decker] So Decker drinks the rest of it. He even manages not to choke to death. He even manages to sit up afterward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The bonfire is starting to die down, little by little. He looks around at the damage: the plates of food, the empty bottles, the bottle caps; the emptied bourbon bottle he adds to it all.

Whoever was cleaning up had their work cut out for them. He plants a palm on the grass and gets up, swaying faintly before he gives his head another sharp shake. There's a bruise darkening his jaw where Joss had cracked him the second time. He doesn't want to think about how much of that bottle he just personally drank, or how much he smoked. He doesn't really care.

He feels ... pretty fucking good, actually.

"Here." He digs his keys out of his pocket, hands them to Imogen. "Where's yer guitar?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] You must give Katherine credit: she lets Sam go with little more than an order that meant little more than nothing now.

If she sees Danicka, which undoubtedly she does, there is nothing on the woman's face but polite greeting. She does so much as to incline her head in deference to the Kinswoman before she puts a light hand to her pack-mate's elbow and leads him a few steps away. As if in truth, they required the distance to confer secretly. "I have sent Gabriella home, and Sam leaves likewise I suspect to avoid your gaze." She breaks, to regard his face. "I have told him that after tonight, he may not lodge with me. Chide me not, Lukas." She preempts, with a feeling glance. "He was our packmate."

[Sinclair] She hates charity. She hates allowances, gifts, things that imply: you are not fit enough to survive on your own. You need this. You need me.

Sinclair's reaction to Dietrich's gift to Joey is flat, and unpleasant, at least until the Fenrir girl jumps for joy and thanks him profusely. Then a grin cracks Sin's lips, and she lets herself at very least be happy for Joey. She doesn't acknowledge Dietrich telling them he would die for them. All she would say would be dismissive and cruel, and for once she keeps her goddamn mouth shut.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen does not help him rise, not even when he sways. Her hands remain by her sides until he holds out his keys, then one hand lifts, palm up to accept them.

"Ta," she says, before answering his question, "I've got it," what she means by that is - she has it handled, not that she has her guitar in her hand right this moment. She leans forward, picking up her guitar by the handle, then moving her grip to the strap, slinging the guitar over her back.

A tilt of her head indicates the way she came, and with that, she starts that way.

[Dietrich Burke] *He chuckles and pats her back, really kind of unsure what to do about... well that sort of affection as if he's... never really had it. He smiles.* "It's fine... Really. Just promise me you won't get yourself killed ridin' the damn thing. You run that fucker wide open it'll get away from ya. If we're gotta get killed we need to do it like proper Garou fightin' the Wyrm, and all that good shit."

[Danicka] They are happy. It happens more often than one might think. Danicka is fine, as much of a worrywart as Lukas is. Decker is not new to her in terms of being fearsome, uncomfortable, his Rage thick with her memories when she looked at him. She bites back laughter when he twirls her around, her skirt flitting around her thighs, and she nods when he sets her down and suggests they go hang out on the other side of the fire, past the 'stage', past the people.

And then Katherine walks over, and though Lukas keeps his arm around her waist, Danicka is subdued. She drinks her beer quietly, giving Katherine a shy-looking smile and a small nod, as though the other women is just... flustering, to her. She doesn't know what to say.

There's a flicker of something through her eyes when Katherine touches Lukas's elbow to lead him away. It passes. It was nothing; just the firelight, dancing.

[Joey Oliver] Still hugging Dietrich tightly she looks over her shoulder at Sinclair. “Did you hear that, Sin? A fucking Ducati oh my God.”

She turns back to Dietrich and grins. “I promise I won't get killed! And totally! Ain't no other way for a Fenrir to go out, right?” Then she seems to realize where she is, and she pulls herself away. When she's standing again, she's bouncing from foot to foot. “Are we going now? Can I drive it now? Do you wanna ride with me, Dee? Sin?”

[Decker] Decker catches up to Imogen in two strides. His hand slides under the guitar strap; he lifts it from her shoulder and slings it over his, though truthfully, she might feel better about her instrument's safety with it on her own shoulder. "Thanks fer singin' that one song," he says, as they back the way they came. "I liked it."

They disappear past the crest of the embankment.

[Sinclair] Shoving herself to her feet, Sinclair throws her hands up in the air, palms heavenward. "Praise Jesus!" she crows. "A fuckin' Ducatiohmigod."

Sinclair shoves her hands in the back pockets of her cutoffs, cocking a brow. "Shit, I gotta drive back." Beat. She looks at Dietrich. "So if you took the bike here, you gonna hold onto her waist or hop in ol' Patrick with me?"

Patrick is her car's name...today.

[Dietrich Burke] *He rubs his chin.* "Joey you should probably ride it by yourself the first time. It's an experience to be remembered."

*He stands up.* "Yeah I'll ride back with you Sin if you don't care." *He says stretching a bit.*

[Joey Oliver] "Woo hoo!" Joey gives a leap into the air, both fists raised high. "See you guys back the the Brothahhood!" And then she's gone, racing down the hill to the parking area to look for her new bike. It's cherry red, and handles like a dream.

Joey...Joey drives like a demon.

[Danicka] Sinclair looks at Dietrich flatly, sighs heavily, and shakes her head. "You touch me," she mutters, starting to stomp off in the direction of the parking area, "I will break every bone in your hand."

Beat. "You can pick the radio station though."

[Sinclair] [FOURTH TIME OF THE NIGHT!]

[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich downs his beer, but doesn't say anything to Sinclair. Hell it's best to usually not. He tosses the beer can in the trash and follows her out to "Patrick" letting her stomp off, just casually following behind her.*

[Liadan Whelan] People are filtering out. Lee and Taggart sat together in companionable silence, eating and drinking, for quite some time. Now the redhead looks up from her plate, and surveys the surroundings. The bonfire has died down considerably. There's trash here and there from where people missed the trash cans.

Lee gets up to help the Brotherhood staffers get things cleaned up and put away. They throw water onto the bonfire, then scatter the remains.

It takes time, but eventually the vans are loaded up again. The only sign of the late night party is an area void of grass and filled with ash. Lee hitches a ride with the staffers. Taggart gets back however Taggart wants to.

All in all, Lee would consider this night to have been a roaring success.

[Lukas] There's a second when Lukas's arm is unyielding to Kate's grasp, and his other arm is just as unyielding around Danicka's waist. It passes. He unwinds his arm from around the latter; but he doesn't follow the former. His hand comes up to grip Kate's elbow in turn, gently breaking her hold on him.

"Kate," he says quietly, "it's fine. I don't mind Danička listening."

She goes on, and Lukas's brow darkens. "Sam left," he says, "because he knows he's forbidden to speak to Thunder's kin. As for the rest -- " chide me not, she said, but he apparently has other ideas, " -- what the hell, Kate? He was our packmate. That bond snapped clean. These days he's a goddamn loose cannon, and you know better than anyone he and Gabriella can't be trusted with each other."

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Lukas," She says in a voice clear in its rebuke. "Yes he was our packmate but I wonder if you forget it!" Lukas goes on, and something akin to guilt lashes the Silver Fang's brow. "I know it. I know it. Do you question that I do not?" Her mouth quivers.

"I fear for his mind, Lukas. He was beside him come his last moon. He--" she hesitates before Danicka. "He attempted to strike Gabriella."

[Danicka] [WP +1 (sheee's actually pretty buzzed)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 7 (Failure at target 7)

[Danicka] He doesn't mind her listening. Which is great, except for the fact that listening to Katherine Bellamonte isn't all that high on lists of things that Danicka finds necessary or pleasurable. And in the end, maybe it would have been for the best if, one way or another, Lukas and Katherine had left her behind to work on helping the Kinfolk clean up or finish her beer quietly. Because when Katherine looks at her, hesitates, then informs him that he attempted to strike Gabriella --

-- Danicka laughs. It's a mocking, scoffing sound. "Shocker," she says viciously, when the chuckling fades.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (WP! SAY WHAT?)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Do you have something to say, Thunder's Kin?" Asks the Fang, with enviable enough self control that she laughs at her sister's fate.

[Lukas] Lukas's head turns the second Danicka begins to laugh. When she drops her singular word, he looks at her, the firelight glancing off his broad, sharp cheekbones, glinting in his eyes.

"Danička, co to kurva?"

There's no way to tell from his tone, which is level and calm, what he just said to this woman that most in the city would consider his. He might've been telling her to go wait by the stage area. He might've been telling her to get him another beer. He might've been telling her to stay out of it.

He turns back to Katherine.

"Kate, I apologize for Danička's tone. But if you have a problem with what my kinswoman said, you'll discuss it with me." A pause. "At any rate, I can't say I disagree. It was a matter of time. He struck Danička and was very sorry for it. He disobeyed you and I and Sampson and half the ranking Garou of the Sept and was very sorry for that too, right before doing it again. He does what he wants and when he's caught he'll apologize, and go right back to doing it again.

"He'll never change. He's flawed at the core, insolent, inconsistent, dishonorable. That's why he's not our brother anymore. I thought you understood that when you came to me that night at the Brotherhood. You told me you understood that. And all this goddamn time you've had him under your roof like nothing's changed. So I have to ask again. What the hell, Kate? Is he still your brother, in your heart?"

[Administrator] peep, welcome to Tekakwitha Woods (Now)

[Katherine Bellamonte] She is silent for so long as Danicka remains.

"She can leave us."

Is all Kate offers, in an offended tone.

[Danicka] Does she have something to say?

Half a second after that laugh and that word had exited her mouth, something snapped in Danicka's mind, shrieking out in terror because she knew what was coming. She almost flinched, but neither Kate nor Lukas see or feel the tension that might hint at such a reaction. Katherine's going to hit her. It doesn't matter that compared to Lukas, Katherine is weak. It doesn't matter that compared to Vladik, Katherine is a child. It doesn't matter that compared to Night Warder, Katherine is nothing. It doesn't matter because compared to Danicka, Katherine is a monster, and could tear her to pieces only to frantically clean Danicka's blood out from under her fingernails later.

So she doesn't smirk, or laugh, or even answer, when Lukas speaks to her in his native language, her father's native language. She looks at Katherine, and then she drops her eyes to Katherine's knees. She is apologized for. Sam is spoken of. Danicka's expression flickers when he says What the hell, Kate? the way he does, and then her jaw clenches.

Katherine tells Lukas that she can leave. Danicka lifts her head, slightly, and looks at Lukas.

[Administrator] peep has left Tekakwitha Woods

[Lukas] Lukas does not catch that flicker or expression. He does not catch her flinch, either. He does, oddly, guess at her terror.

Or perhaps it's not so odd. He's seen it before: the flare of her temper, which is something of her very nature. The immediate fear which follows; the surety that violence and pain and possibly death is coming. He's seen it before because he sees it every time she snaps at him. Nearly every time.

He's seen this before too: her silence, and the way she looks at him as though to take her orders from him. Any Shadow Lord should be gratified to have a kin so obedient. And no Shadow Lord ever bowed to the whims of his kin.

Lukas turns to Danicka. He speaks to her quietly, "Možná je to nejlepší, pokud si dejte mi soukromou slovo s Katherine. Prosím."

And then he turns back to his packmate.

[Katherine Bellamonte] "I say to you Lukas, what is your heart? She disrespects me at every turn be it in look or word and you say nothing. You allow her to get away with this? So I say to you how am I in such a wrong light to have housed Samuel when I returned and he was the lone one there to welcome me? How am I to refuse him when he comes to me on his knees groveling and crying his tears of sorrow?

Am I such a monster Lukas that I do not feel his suffering?"

She stalks to and fro, and strikes at the air. "Yes?! I know all his sins because he confesses them to me as if I am his confessor. Do you have any comprehension the lies I must tell now to protect my sister? The fabrications that I make so that she is not held accountable for her own actions? No! Of course not, none of you have any conception." Katherine turns abruptly to conceal the depth of her feeling on the matter.

[Danicka] Before that last word from Lukas's mouth, Danicka has turned and gone away, to the northside of the fire where she can stay warm and be out of both sight and earshot. Her obedience is immediate. She misses almost everything that Katherine says to Lukas.

[Administrator] Dietrich Burke, welcome to Tekakwitha Woods (Now)

[Administrator] Dietrich Burke has left Tekakwitha Woods

[Administrator] Dietrich Burke, welcome to Tekakwitha Woods (Now)

[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich came walking back up to the bonfire. He was rubbing his jaw, and spit out some blood from his mouth. At least Sin had slowed the car down to only a lazy 10 miles an hour when he bailed out. There was a rip at the left knee of his pants, and he rolled his head around his shoulders. He came up to Danicka and said.* "You're a woman right? Let me ask you this. If you say to a woman I really like the way you fixed your hair tonight. It highlights your eyes, and she then calls you a worthless douchebag piece of shit motherfucker, throws a mixtape at you, and then kicks you repeatedly until you dive from a her car... What does that mean?"

[Lukas] "Katherine," he sounds infinitely patient, which surely means his patience was stretching thin, "Danička has spoken rudely to you once in my presence, right now. For that I apologized. She has disobeyed you once that I know about, and for that I will not apologize, because you were out of line when you tried to command my kin. Mine!"

The last word is sharp, nearly a snarl. A beat goes by; then he levels.

"If there are other occurrences I don't know about, by all means, tell me. She's my kinswoman, of my Tribe. I'll pay my debts where they're due. Only don't try to insinuate that I need to rein her in, or punish her. You do not have the right to dictate what lies between my kinfolk and I."

A memory:
Do you expect me to protect you?
No.
--passing.

"As for Sam," he continues, "don't try to leverage what happened just now against me. My kinswoman decided to mouth off at you. You decided to shelter a Garou I kicked out of this goddamn pack. And I don't have to explain to you why that's so much worse. If you didn't know how much worse it is, you wouldn't have hidden the truth from me for so long. Worse, when I ask you why, you can't come up with anything better than his groveling and his crying, which I've told you -- and you've agreed -- was as false and capricious as his loyalty.

"What happened to your resolve? Do you know how bad it looks? How fractured and inconsistent it makes us look for me to kick him out and you to hide him away in your own home?"

She paces. She strikes at the air. Lukas stands absolutely still where he is, lashing the silence with his words.

"Christ, Kate, what grieves me most is that you only now tell me this. After he's endangered your sister, after he's spun out of your control, after you can't handle him yourself -- again. I don't think you would've told me at all if you didn't need my goddamn help."

[Danicka] An Ahroun comes out of nowhere.

This is the third time that's happened tonight, with steadily decreasing levels of intensity. Danicka doesn't jump this time, or tense. She takes a breath when someone completely unfamiliar shows up and says: You're a woman, right?

She blinks at him, her lean, tanned arms crossed over her chest, purse hanging down her side. Her hair is still up in its ponytail, loose tendrils stuck to her neck and face here and there with sweat and the air's own moisture. Standing near the fire, she is nowhere near cold, even though her dress is thin and sleeveless and short. She lifts her eyebrows at Dietrich at the question, a bit bewildered. He doesn't wait for an answer: small-breasted or no, she is quite obviously a woman.

He gets to the end of his question, and Danicka... blinks. "Is this woman from New York?"

[Katherine Bellamonte]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Dietrich Burke] *He exhales.* "You know... I don't know... Maybe... I don't know I kind of get the feeling she's a Cali girl but... That could be just me." *He takes a seat with a groan next to her but keeping some space between them.* "I'm Dietrich by the way." *He says as he flexes his knee. He looks up at the heated argument.* "What's up? My cousin pissed off at pretty boy blondie trying to get into her little sister's pants tonight? Or is it other business?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] She makes no pretenses.

She strides toward him and strikes out at him, her fury is evident; that she is still not sober clear. "I am Katherine Bellamonte! Do I need any man's strength? Do-do I need your strength!" She amends, with a break in her voice. "I need no man's strength! Do you believe anything shall break my spirit? I am not your pawn, Lukas! If I shall not be for my Uncle I shall not be for you!"

She is near to him, she has not broken into a stride this time, despite her attempt to strike at him, despite how he reacts. Her temper holds true, for now, though she digs her fingernails into her palms in tiny fists until they bleed. "I do not have the right, Lukas? The same way you did not have the right to put my own kinsman's head in a toilet?" She questions bleakly, without a break for a smile.

"I spoke against my Uncle for you, Lukas." She looks pale, and as always, unfairly fair. "You tell me how sincere my resolve is."

[Danicka] The man in the Marines t-shirt takes a seat in a lawn chair, but Danicka remains standing. They're on the northerly side of the dying, dimming bonfire, while Lukas and Katherine argue closer to the tables. She turns to look at him, rather than watching the fire now, or watching how Katherine advances on the dark-haired man over that direction.

"Danicka," she says, Americanizing her name before he can do it for her. Resigning herself to mispronunciation, or perhaps taking an obscene pleasure in keeping that away from others, not that Dietrich could know the difference upon first meeting her. She shrugs one slim shoulder. "I really have no idea," she says mildly, and takes a drink from the bottle of beer hanging from her hand.

A beat. "So you're a Silver Fang?"

[Dietrich Burke] *He nods.* "Yup, Silverfang." *He exhales.* "You know I gotta apologize for my crude behavior... and probably more after this. I just got into a pack and the totem we got.. Bull. He's a powerful damn spirit. I mean I'm strong as hell now but... One side effect seems to be I just sort of speak what's on my mind a lot of the time so I kind of cuss like... well a Marine."

*He frowns as he leans forward watching the exchange.* "What the hell is it with Garou women and talking shit back to Ahrouns lately? It's like a god damn epidemic. I mean for fuck's sake didn't somebody pass out the memo about "Hey don't piss off the Rage tank. Not smart. Playing with fire." *He says plainly.*

[Lukas] "I don't want a goddamn pawn!" Lukas shouts. "I want a packmate!"

-- and he snaps his mouth shut. He looks away at the dying fire, the dying festivities. A beat goes by; he turns back, controlled now, no less angry.

"Your uncle," he spits. "Your sister. Your brother. Your Sam. You're pulled in all directions, Katherine, but aren't we all? Only, most of us choose according to our duties and our conscience. Right or wrong, we pick our loyalties and we stick to them. You! For no reason I can comprehend, you follow every path, and none of them to the end."

Another silence. He brings his hand to his brow, thumb and forefinger bracketing his temples, shading his eyes for a moment as he closes them.

"Look, Kate. It's a very simple choice. Sampson, Caleb and I: we are the Unbroken Circle. Mjollnir's Heart is not. He's not longer our brother. If he's still your brother in your heart, if you can't bear to relinquish him, then go to him with my blessings. Form a new pack. I won't hold it against you, and I'll always consider you an ally.

"But if you remain part of the Circle, then that's the end of it. Samuel Modine is no longer your brother, and you will treat him as such. If he's crying, if he needs help, we'll bring him to the Sept. Let whoever thinks they can help him try. But you will grant him nothing you would not grant any other member of this Sept, and you'll stop allowing him to tail you around like a fucking puppy."

[Danicka] With a small shake of her head and a smile, Danicka both accepts and dismisses Dietrich's apology. She's ladylike. Her back is straight and her bearing casual, feminine, sweet. Her breeding does not quite drip and roll off of her like sweat but it's there, strong and warm as a heartbeat, calling to mind not craggy mountains and cold winds and lightning but...

...fields. Acres and acres of meadows, vineyards, wildflowers. If there's a storm in her blood it's thunderclouds looming overhead to bring a torrent of rain, nourishing and flooding, both. Danicka's breeding brings to mind warm hands. A full oven. The sense of family nearby, sleeping in the other room, working outside. It's strong, and there's an undercurrent of war, as though all the gentleness and comfort she brings to mind survives in the midst of a violent occupation.

Though she does not have the dark hair and sharp features of so many Shadow Lords, it's undeniable what she is. Who she belongs to.

She listens quietly, and seems faintly amused, head tipped to the side. "I suppose they'll learn," she says mildly.

[Dietrich Burke] *He chuckles a bit.* "Ohhh no. From what I've heard about my cousin Katherine, yeah that's not gonna happen. And Sin? Shit forgot about it. If she even knew I was talking like this I'd get a punch in the gut." *He chuckles again and sighs a little, looking down lost in a thought, a little smile on his face. He inhales a bit, and then exhales.* "It's alright. The Nation needs strong women around... And at least now I know what it feels like to be a Male Fury Kin in a small way." *He says laughing a bit, and then stands up.* "I'm gonna get a beer to get rid of this ache. You need anything while I'm up?" *He says looking at Danicka.*

[Katherine Bellamonte] Chilled.

"And I have never been this to you, then? For all the time we have been acquainted, would you call me nothing more than a pawn?" Her pale eyes have retreated whatever emotion they might have born, there is only the familiar glint of her determination there now, and the ever present cruelty.

"You would dismiss me with such easiness?" She scoffs outright. "No, I do not think you will. I will do what necessitates doing in regards to Sam." She turns away from him, her voice falling dead, and empty of feeling.

"Let it never be said Katherine Bellamonte would not do what was ordered of her."

[Danicka] In answer, she simply holds up her beer. In all likelihood if her smile is a bit tight he can easily attribute it to his own Rage, to the nearness to frenzy he always has now. She shakes her head. "I'm good...but thank you for offering."

[Lukas] "Katherine," he waits for her to turn back, "I'm not ordering you to do anything. I'm telling you to make a choice. For once, make a choice instead of following orders. If it's Sam, so be it. I don't hold it against you. If it's us, then stick to it and don't falter."

[Katherine Bellamonte] She spins, and shouts with sudden feeling: "I have never faltered, Lukas. My life for this pack." She beats her fist against her chest, heaving. "My life for the betterment of us all. If I have erred, if I have fallen short it was only for the love of a brother. I will never forsake the Circle. On that," she punctuates with a finger to the night air.

"You may judge me on my deathbed."

[Dietrich Burke] *He walks over to the table, and grabs a couple of beers. There's a slight limp in his walk from his knee.* "You don't mean to interrupt or anything seeing as your conducting pack business but I think I have a solution to the problem with your uncle cousin Katherine." *He says simply sort of jumping in the middle of shit that really isn't his business... but he was speaking the truth.* "And then you'd only have the Sam problem to deal with, and if he's the blond pretty boy then the solution solves both of those since he seems joined at the hip to that your sister Katherine."

[Lukas] Don't mean to interrupt...
"Then don't," Lukas snaps.

He holds Katherine's gaze another moment. There's a sense some unspoken communication passes between them. Then he turns and walks away from the two Fangs.

What Dietrich does not hear are the words on the totem:

If you're of the Circle, then you're of the Circle. Tell Sam to fuck off.

[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich for his part doesn't take a offense. He already expected that reaction cause hell... He'd of said much worse to someone if they'd interrupt him talking to Sin on pack business. So he grabs a couple of beers, some cold meat, and then starts to make his way back up toward Danicka. Hell at least she smelled good. That was better then eavesdropping anyway.*

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, for her part, simply turns her head and stares at her tribes-mate as if to suggest really? right now? with the rise her of her eyebrows in incomprehension before she returns her attention to Lukas, even as he walks away there is the sense of some level of communication between them.

Abruptly -- Katherine turns away from both and walks several paces only to bury her face in her hands. She does not weep; she will never give any the satisfaction of her tears before them, yet the motion of face in her hands, the slouch of her shoulders conveys a depth of grief beyond such things as tears.

[Danicka] She is as she was. Her back is to the fire now, her eyes facing east, where the sky wants to lighten but has not, yet. She drinks her beer and wonders when her energy will run out, when the night will feel over. She wonders if she'll watch the sunrise from the wrong side of sleep, as she's done before.

Dietrich returns, and Danicka flicks her eyes over at him; nods a greeting.

[Dietrich Burke] *Dietrich stops and sees his cousin crying. He actually frowns.* "God damn it." *He says in a low voice, and then turns back around to head in Katherine's direction... Doesn't really know what to say, and he's not really good at the whole... shoulder to cry on, but... she is a Silverfang too.

So he sits down at a table nearby her, and eats some meat, and nods.* "Pretty fuckin' good." *He says to no one in particular, and then cracks open a bottle of beer.*

[Katherine Bellamonte] Actually, she does not cry. Her grief is expressed beneath her palms and when she lifts her face again it is one of clear-eyed composure, not hint of any overwhelming sensation in one form or another. Her cousin has returned to sample the remaining meat and Katherine, stalking by him only does him the credit of nodding in passing and saying in a rawer voice than she perhaps would have desired.

"Cousin, I am going home, can I drop you to the place of your choosing?"

[Dietrich Burke] *He nods to Katherine.* "Yeah if you don't care I need a ride back to Lakeview." *He exhales.* "Sorry about saying what I said before. I've been sort of out sorts... New totem and all... I don't seem to have much of filter anymore." *He says plainly.*

[Lukas] There's this, at least: Katherine is spared the humiliation of having her packmate and tribesman bear witness to her grief. One goes to the friendlier blonde; the other goes to the food tables, where he bypasses the food and sifts through the vodkas.

They don't have Wyborowa here. He picks Ketel One instead, pouring himself a doubleshot; adding another shot after a moment's thought.

The day may come when Dietrich and his packmates miss life before Bull. They may miss being able to control themselves, control their tempers, control their strength. They may one day grow tired of the feeling of constantly riding a razor's edge between sanity and fury. They may, as they age and mature and grow up, look for calmer totems, subtler ends.

Or they might die first.

It doesn't matter. The point is right now, under Bull, Dietrich would not be able to - on his best day - summon up the sort of control Lukas summoned up a moment ago. To not leap at Dietrich, claw and tooth, the instant he interrupted. Not because he interrupted, not really because Lukas was so damn offended by interruption that he'd lose his temper. Not because of that, but because he represented an opportunity, an outlet, a scapegoat for the fury that had woken slowly, burned out from the tinder of bafflement and amazement to wrack every nerve, sear every bone, when Lukas realized Sam Modine had been sleeping under his packmate's roof, sharing his packmate's meals, tailing her around like a goddamn packmate, still.

And -- let's be honest -- when Katherine accused him of cutting Danicka too much slack; when she suggested, in tone if not in words, that he rein her the fuck in.

Lukas tosses down his vodka and goes around the fire. Shadow Lords to Shadow Lords; Fangs to Fangs. He finds Danicka watching the east as though she were waiting for the dawn. He tries to wipe the frown from his brow, succeeds partially. They're out of sight of the south side of the fire now. He looks into the east too, and then he looks at her. He doesn't say anything.

[Katherine Bellamonte] He needs a ride back into Lakeview.

She nods, but says nothing, her eyes focused beyond him, and the way ahead, beyond all of it, perhaps fixed on some point in the past, or in what she glimpses as the future. Katherine does not speak until she is spoken to again and this is when they are crunching through undergrowth toward the parking bay; the sleek black car housing the Bellamonte's secondary driven all but obscured but for the glinting of the metal beneath the parking bay lights.

"You are fine." She says plainly, and then, perhaps sensing the unease of the one beside her, qualifies her statement. "It was not your doing." She is flat on the way home, Katherine Bellamonte. Her face drawn and strict beneath whatever sensation ruled her, her answers empty and flat. While she draws herself together enough to wish her cousin a pleasant farewell, her heart is not in the gesture.

Her mind remains otherwise engaged.

[Danicka] But dawn is a long way off. Eastward is her family: aging father, tall brother, buried mother. Eastward are people she knows, or knew, could talk to if necessary, could ask for help if she had to. Danicka looks to the east, waiting perhaps for the sun, waiting perhaps for clarity. When Lukas comes over, wordless and his mouth tasting faintly of vodka, she does not unfold her arms to take his hand but drinks her beer.

Dietrich frightens her. Decker frightens her. Katherine frightens her. Lukas, sometimes, frightens her. Sam instills in her a disturbed, gut-wrenching terror. It has been a long time since the fear has made her feel like prey. It is no wonder she left the goddamn state for a few days, bolting like a gazelle.

Yet: she whipped around and lashed Sam verbally. She tells Lukas no. She disobeys. She scoffs at Katherine. She risks the displeasure of an Ahroun by walking away from him. She lies, and hides her tight smiles and bites her tongue against her actual opinions so that Dietrich does not lose his temper and trample her. She thinks, as she looks to the East and drinks her beer which is wet from sitting in a cooler of melting ice, that some of them are capable of waiting to punish her.

Just because she's gotten away for now doesn't mean she's ever really safe.

The bonfire is dying. Danicka's beer is almost empty. She looks at Lukas, turning her head slowly. Her eyes are thoughtful. In the firelight they're almost amber, with hints of green, instead of the other way around. Without a word, she bends, sets down her beer, then turns and walks past the wood-plank performance area and into the woods.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (okay, I'm out! thanks guys!)

[Danicka] [Thank you for the RP, Jac!]

[Lukas] (ack, night jacqui!)

[Katherine Bellamonte] (LOL I'm out ICly, I might stay to spy though)

[Dietrich Burke] (I'm out too. Guys have a good one. Thanks for the scene.)

[Administrator] Dietrich Burke has left Tekakwitha Woods

[Lukas] (night man!)

[Danicka] [Thank you, too, Laz! Awesome RP tonight.]

[Lukas] It's a moment before he follows her. A long one. For a while she might think Lukas doesn't mean to follow at all; and perhaps that would be just fine with her. He frightens her too, sometimes. He frightens her because she thinks he might hurt her. The how of it might be unexpected. It might also be irrelevant.

But he does follow her. He looks at her discarded beer; his shadow dancing on the grass. And then he follows, quickening his pace to catch up to her, lengthening his stride. When he catches up to her he doesn't reach for her this time, either. Or speak.

Not that they lack things to say. He could, and perhaps should ask her again, what the fuck, Danicka? What was she thinking? Why would she say that to his packmate; to Katherine? He could tell her what they spoke of, Katherine and he, or at least what pertains to her. He could tell her never do that again or you're a fool; you know she won't stand for that or you frightened me or I would protect you. He could say any of these things and more, but in the end:

he says nothing.

The light of the fire falls behind them. The night is almost unbearably warm, the humidity thick in the air. The day will dawn grey. There's a storm on the air; the woods seem thick and dark, full of shadows and monsters. But the only monster here is Lukas, and as for shadows and storms: they are nothing, if not these things.

[Danicka] She feels terrified and because she feels terrified she is also thrilled. It goes up and down her spine like gemstones rolling across the keys of a piano, the bars of a xylophone. Inside her she feels a trilling, delighted sort of music in response to these disallowed things: she cannot do things like that. Mouth off to Katherine, frighten Lukas, show herself to have a backbone.

Danicka gets away with it. She has trouble concealing the intense pleasure and satisfaction she takes in that. She is not terribly proud to feel such a thing when she knows that it's dangerous, when she knows that Katherine might corner her and destroy her and whether Lukas turns around and kills her it will not change the fact that Danicka would be gone, and never coming --

-- she would argue that she would come back.

They walk to the treeline. Her flats have wet dirt clinging to them; there's a monster behind her and these shoes are not good for running. No matter, she ran from Spirals in heels. Danicka glances at him over her shoulder as she steps past the general clearing, into the underbrush where her bare legs are going to get scratched and wet and dirty and perhaps bitten by bugs, snakes, Gaia only knows. Her skin glistens. Her eyes gleam.

Her heart beats faster. She moves faster, keeping ahead of him, not to make him chase her but because she wants to get into the dark, away from the firelight, deep enough into the woods that they can no longer hear even the crackling of the snapping wood, the voices of the Kinfolk. But he can hear her breath, and the starlight is enough that their dilated pupils can make out shapes.

"Proč jste po mně?" she murmurs, because it is quiet enough that a whisper is enough, not because a whisper is necessary.

[Administrator] sampson, welcome to Tekakwitha Woods (Now)

[Lukas] Sunrise is still a vague dream on the horizon. Moonlight is nonexistent tonight. Starlight is all they have when the bonfire falls away behind them; when even the snap of the wood and the voices of the kin fall away.

It's enough. The undergrowth catches at them as they pass. There's wetness on the ground, on the leaves; dew collected from the wet air. They're so close to the lake and this is the first day of summer, the first true day of summer, and by god it feels like it. It's hot. It's muggy. Frogs and night insects, alive with heat and the season, replace the sound of human voices. Her skirt is short enough to bare her knees, her calves; her arms are bare, too. Her skin glistens. Her eyes gleam. He's reminded of a wild thing, feral, a little skittish, shying away, vicious when cornered.

He doesn't bother with pretense, all the half a hundred good and valid reasons he could have for following her: to see if she's all right. To reassure her. To shout at her. To punish her. He doesn't lie to her, never really did, never really could even when he tried.

And his eyes are steady on her. His shirt is grass-stained and he smells like grass. His hair is still a little tousled. He'll taste like vodka and rage if she tasted him now; his anger has burned away his earlier good mood and then burned itself away. It leaves him an empty vessel, empty and hungry, and his eyes are steady on her.

"Proč myslíte?"

[Administrator] Katherine Bellamonte has left Tekakwitha Woods

[Danicka] Who knows what she did today, what's she's been doing since the last time he saw her, the last morning. Who knows what Danicka, who speaks of Gaia and prayer and being connected to spirits in the only way a mortal can be -- since she has no way to summon them and no way to go find them herself -- did on the summer solstice? She is not Fianna, and so many of the truly ancient pagan paths of Slavik people are overgrown and even destroyed now because of the trampling influence of Christianity, but she knows the moon, knows the sun, sometimes watches the stars.

She will never go to the Aetherial Realm and talk to them.

Danicka keeps walking, even as she speaks, trusting her feet as much as her eyes, touching trees as she passes to make sure she has something to hold onto even if she trips, stumbles, falls. As though he wouldn't catch her -- as though she cannot rely on this, or will not. But the trees. She touches the trees. They have been here longer than Lukas, and they will remain when he is gone. They know her in the way that Gaia knows her footsteps, and she knows them the way that Kin and mortals can know Gaia: by touch, by sight, by smell, but never by the touch of the soul to the spirit.

But Danicka will never bind them, or Awaken them from slumber. She will mourn them if they are blighted, but she will never hurt them.

Anyway, they're just trees. They are handholds. They will be cut down or burnt down. They will fall. They are here now, and she is glad of it.

"Nacházíte se po mně, protože dnes... byl velmi dlouhý den," she murmurs, with an almost ritualistic cadence to the words. And she keeps walking. It is getting colder.

[Lukas] Any other night and he would have laughed, shaken his head, said no. Nothing of the sort.

It's ironic that he, half-human at best, should be so tied to his human reason sometimes; his logic, his proofs, his plans, his step by step. That he should consider more the concrete reasoning and ignore the pulse of the wild, his blood, the turning of the seasons so often.

When his packmate died, he forbade all kneejerk reaction, all thoughts of rushing out the door howling and furious. He wanted to stop, to wait, to plan, to learn everything and calculate and then move. When he discovered Sam had been seeing Danicka again, chasing her around the goddamn city, terrorizing her at her fucking home -- he finished his phone call, paid his bill, went home, and took the time to pen a goddamn note. Because he knew Sam may or may not be in a mood or even conscious to hear what he had to say. Because he had the forethought, even then, to plan ahead.

And then in both cases, when he was satisfied that all bases were covered, he let slip the chain, let open the door, let free the beast. And everything, all the plans, all the strictures, all the careful and meticulous maneuvering went up in a blaze of bloody fury, and he became a goddamn animal.

Savage. Victorious.

Let go, she's told him a dozen times or more. Let go.

--

Why are you following me, she asks him now.
Why do you think, he asks her back.
Because today was a very long day, she tells him.

Maybe it's the turning of the seasons, stirring in his blood. Maybe it's the way she looks in the starlight, in the moonless night. Wild. Moon-touched. Lunar. Lunatic. A step beyond human reach.

He doesn't scoff. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tell her no, nothing of the sort.

He looks at her. The look in his eyes is half-quizzical; half-understanding; the former bleeding into the latter. They're still moving. She's still slipping away before him, fleeing, but perhaps not from him. From the shadow of who he is; what he is. A slow and strange sort of running away, half-ritual. From the predator, because she is -- prey? -- and this is the first day of summer, and summertime is the killing time, the season of war and blood and the hunt.

The shadows of trees slide soundlessly by. Her shadow is barely visible. Her skin glistens. His eyes gleam.

Slowly, he nods.

"Proč jste běží ode mě?"

[Danicka] The bonfire was a party, and quite simply that. Meetings were held between Garou and Garou, Garou and Kin, Kin and Kin. Fists flew. Spirits were called. The greatest share of the kill went to the greatest in station. Newcomers made themselves known. Alcohol flowed. Songs were sung, or played. People embraced. Drugs were partaken of both socially and meditatively. People fucked in the woods. The chosen warriors of Gaia and their lovers, siblings, and children came together. They laughed.

It was not a moot. It was not a ritual. Danicka would say: it was still worship. It was still prayer.

She knows things, intuits them not by candlelight or study but by her hand on the trunk of a tree, her feet pressing into soft earth as she walks. She says she prays by making love to Lukas, worships when she makes kolache. She hears and sees and feels the rain and knows it for what it is, more than water, counts the beats between thunder and lightning and thinks of them as the footsteps of a nearing spirit.

This is Danicka, who is as familiar with technology as she is with anything. She has a head for numbers. She has a natural talent for the patterns and processes that make up both the hard and soft components of that miracle, the computer. She is a liar, and Sam said that good people, worthwhile people, don't ever do that. She is a New York City girl, extending her leg to trip a douchebag, and calling him that to his face. She does double shots of vodka like it's water.

This is Danicka, whose body moves ahead of his with a certainty in the darkness that is borne not of familiarity with the terrain but an innate trust in it. This is Danicka, who speaks to him in a cadence that is neither worship nor prayer but most certainly ritual.

She would tell him, like a whisper to the deaf ears of a sleeping child: it goes deeper than that. Deeper than predator and prey, savage and civil, passion and plan. They are more than wolf and woman, and she tells him this in the way she speaks to him. If he looks hard enough at her half-bared back, at the shift of her shoulderblades when she pushes a branch out of her way, at the flutter that signifies her breathing, maybe he can see her heart beating. Hear it. Feel it, like her pulse against his mouth when he licks her neck, kisses her wrist.

She knows something about the equinoxes, the solstices, the way beginnings are also endings, the fact that ripping something's throat out is as much worship and ritual as fucking is, as much a prayer as feeding. She knows something about what he is, what they are, and why they're here.

When Danicka turns her head to look back at him, there's a certain darkness in her eyes. Sometimes they are the color of deep woods. Golden-skinned, fair-haired, summer-eyed: she belongs here. And that look confirms:

the season of war

season of blood

season of the hunt.

And that look is predatory.

"Proč myslíte?" Danicka asks him, letting the branch she holds fall between them. She doesn't wait for an answer. She moves into the shadows.

[Lukas] Certain and unfaltering, she moves ahead of him while she looks behind. She trusts the terrain, and the trees, the soft dampness of the earth beneath her feet. He can't remember if she wore her shoes out here. He hopes she did. The ground is full of twigs and dried leaves, fallen plant-matter. He hopes she didn't. The ground is full of life. He wishes he'd left his shoes behind.

Certain and unfaltering, he follows her. He looks at her and her only. He trusts the terrain, and his balance, and his senses. She moves into the darkness and the bonfire is a memory now; when he follows her past that swaying branch they can't even see the last residual glow of it.

In the darkness the borders of their world at once diminish and expand. Danicka the New York City girl is left behind; Danicka the club kid; Danicka the computer geek, Danicka the numbers prodigy. Danicka the raiser of Silver Fang children. Danicka the bearer of none.

Lukas the boy from the Slavic Bronx is left behind. Lukas the thoughtful, with the books. Lukas the controlled. Lukas the Cliath Shadow Lord Ahroun, Alpha to a pack, mate to no one.

Their titles and positions and masks and faces peel aside. Their borders diminish, diminish, focus to a singularity: he and she, the two of them. Us.

(There is no us, she would have told him once, if he'd asked her -- plaintive, sundered: How can you do this to us?

He didn't ask. It doesn't matter now.)

Their borders expand. It goes deeper than that. Deeper than he and she, them, us, two not quite human creatures in human skins moving deeper and deeper into the wilderness. There's not than that. There's the cusp of the seasons, the nadir of the moon cycle; there's the hot hot night, the wet heat that presses on their lungs. There's the scent of her caught in his nostrils. There's her indefinite and undeniable femaleness when sometimes she's nothing like the shrinking, quavering ideal of femininity.

The look in her eyes was wild.

She passes into shadow and he's right behind her.

Closer now than he had been; he seems to have caught up three or four steps in the space of one. When he reaches out his fingers graze her back, her bare skin; skim the tracery of sweat from her spine. "Protože že dnes byl nejdelší den," he says.

Lukas brings his fingers back to himself, licks the salt of her sweat from his fingertips. He lets the distance between them grow by a few inches, by a foot or two.

"A nejtemnějších luna."

He's not immediately behind her now. He ranges a little to the side, as though to anticipate; or to drive. If there was another of him, or three or four more of him, a pack, he would be herding her somewhere, pressing her toward some ambush or some ravine, cornering her: the pattern and the reflex of the hunt; a plan and an instinct in one.

But he's not a pack. There's only him. He closes the distance again.

"A protože nemáte opravdu chcete běžet ode mě."

[Danicka] When Lukas comes up behind her, touches her back like that, Danicka starts. She flits away from him, forward, as he licks her sweat on his fingers, as though to track her by taste as much as scent. He falls back again as she takes a longer step, a faster one, poetry about the moon descending to her ears, drifting away, fading behind her. A long day, the longest day, the dark moon, the fire that could have consumed any body thrown upon it.

He moves after her like prey. He thinks like a pack animal, moves like one, comes closer when it occurs to him that his pack is not here... nor should they be. But this is still a hunt.

And this is a trap.

Lukas moves closer to her again, speaking a truth that is outside the context of ritual, apart from the poetry, and yet speaking to the inherent dynamic of it. Danicka glances back at him again, takes a breath, and is slow for a moment. She shifts on her feet; she wants to move. And then she does. She does what she has not, since turning to go into the woods past the fire:

she runs.

Maybe he notices with a nudge of his feet or by scent that her shift was her feet slipping out of those slender, flat-soled shoes. Maybe he doesn't realize, as she darts ahead, because the very act of her running stirs that part of him again that says: hunt. She does not really want to run from him, but she moves quickly, and lightly, and of course she moves like prey, deft and small but of course weaker than he is.

And of course he will go after her. Because he thought to himself, while buried inside of her and wrapped around her: Já patří k její. Because of the long day, longest day, darkest moon, the fire, the sweat, the heat, the season that tells his entire body what to do. The earth holds onto its heat. The woods breath around him, and Danicka runs, as warm and moist as the earth...

...luring him.

[Lukas] She runs. Of course she does. He chases. Of course he does.

Not even a moment, not even a second's hesitation. She's off, light and fleet, and every predatory instinct in him, which is to say, every last instinct he has, screams at him to go, go, go after her. They say you should never turn your back on a predator; they say you should never run, because it triggers the instinct to chase. They say that to those who don't want to be chased, don't want to be caught, but she:

She wants to run and she doesn't. She doesn't want to be caught and she does.

She runs. He follows. He doesn't kick his shoes off; he hasn't the time. She's swift and sure, a sylph on her long legs, narrow frame. He's heavier and coarser, more powerful, but by god he's fast, too, and though his breathing elevates immediately, it's merely shifting up -- like a car shifting gears, the war-machine of his body shifting to a heightened state, steady, indefinitely sustainable.

It's dark. It's dark and god knows what she's running by; some sixth sense, some intuition -- the trees, the earth. Branches flash by and fling in his face and he doesn't so much paw them aside as duck under them, never misses a stride. He's running by scent, perhaps, or taste, or sound; surely not sight; he's not looking to see where he's going because his eyes are fast on her, her back, the prize, her beating heart and the narrow spine that guards it, the wings of her shoulderblades that flank it.

The truth is he could be on her in ten seconds flat. The truth is he could shift forms and leap at her and be on her in a second. The truth is he's not doing this because that's part of this: this informal ritual, this most serious game. Lukas follows, but he lets her have her lead, he lets her zig this way and zag that, lets her keep her distance, and then suddenly the treeline ahead opens and it's another clearing, another patch of wildgrass, wilder than the one they've left behind with its human or near-human inhabitants and its bonfires, chairs, stages, musicians.

No music here but the insects and the frogs, the night-creatures skittering out of their way in the undergrowth. In this clearing he lets himself go; stretches out his stride, accelerates, drives at her from behind and the left, comes close enough to brush past her, overtake her, and when she turns --

-- he stops. His eyes are fast on her back. Fast on her, if she turns. They're nearly ablaze. Even in this light, even by starlight, they're blue, and clear as ice. He stops, but not because he's done. He pulls his shoes off, quite deliberately, one and then the other, and when the second drops he comes at her again. If she's never stopped at all he plunges right after her, runs as though he'd never stopped. If she's stopped, he gives her time to turn, to flee -- he walks, moves one step at a time, and only when she turns and runs does he.

Out of the clearing. Into the woods, the shadows of trees standing still, their tops wavering in an unseen breeze that does not touch the earth. It's hot and still down here; the woods resound with the small noises of wildlife, nightlife. She can hear his steady breathing, ramped up, and his feet, quieter now, over the earth. This time he runs harder. Comes closer. Reaches out to brush her shoulder, touch her arm, her hip. Cuts her off, more and more often. Anticipates. Intercepts. Harries, presses, until he's sweating and she's out of breath; until some immeasurable signal speaks to him, tells him:

here is the place.
now is the time.

A stand of sycamore and oak ahead. A thicket of brambles and briars beside it, impassable. He swings her sharply toward this natural harbor of foliage, presses and herds her into it, the trap; slows now, from run to jog to trot to walk. Assurance, confidence in every step: nothing left to run for, nothing left but the kill.

[Danicka] I did very well in combat.

He's built for this: not just the hunt but the whole war. His senses are sharpened, and he knows how to listen to them in a way humans have forgotten. Do not eat this, its color is too jarringly bright. Do not go there, the smell is wrong. This is bad, it causes pain when you touch it. This is good, it tastes good. That sound is angry. That voice is home. His body is ready; it is made to run, to leap, to be the fittest, to survive because of it. He is not weak. He knows, with all the cruelty and passion that the truth manages to encompass: she would not want him if he was. Would not tolerate him.

I stayed in control of myself.

(Let go. Let go.)

There is no way, not even on her best day and his worst, that Danicka could run from him and not be caught. She should hate that he is running after her now, despise that there is no way for her to get away from him. If he just stops to think of it, to realize how she tenses when his teeth close on her pearls and tug back, to remember that there was never any escape for her because she was up against creatures so much stronger, then he might wonder why she runs now, why the taste and smell of her sweat does not reek of terror.

A deer would smell like fear. A rabbit. Any animal he might hunt for food would be so afraid of him right now that its heart would burst, it's scent would be sour from panic, but Danicka's is not. She smells like earth. Beer. Sweat. Danicka. Female. Wild. His.

I made unfounded assumptions, which is a blind, arrogant, dangerous thing to do.

The truth doesn't change. He could catch her, almost has, and not a single time has she reached for him. Not a single time has he grabbed a hold of her. He could have her; he knows this, even if he didn't flicker between the bodies he is capable of inhabiting. He limits his own strength as she stretches hers; he can hear her breathing against his own, more labored but sharp with excitement, not anxiety. He tells himself he lets her get ahead, and this is the truth. He tells himself that he lets her go where she wants when she is running headlong, running with a sort of wild abandon that is almost -- not almost -- sacred.

In the grass, she slows. She pauses, as though to scent the air, though her nostrils don't flare. Lukas comes close but she doesn't bolt away again; she does turn her head, find his eyes. Her ponytail is loose, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed with color. And as he pulls off his shoes, almost lazily, Danicka...

I gave an answer that was well-planned and well-defended, but ultimately lacking in wider vision.

... reaches to her side, drawing down a zipper he couldn't even see, can't see now, but she knows by touch. She crosses her arms, tugs on the fabric, and arches her back as she stretches. The dress inches up her thighs, up her torso, off her shoulders. What he does with deliberation -- that drop of his shoes, one after the other -- she does in one graceful, almost musical motion, leaving the dress where it falls fluttering to the grass. Danicka looks at him once, her hair dislodged completely now, the band dropping to be forever lost, every golden strand loose around her shoulders now. And then she runs again, after just a few spare seconds to breathe.

Not in the clearing, anymore. The woods are thick and tangled out here, and her feet bare. Rocks, twigs, fallen plant matter, the homes of insects and animals, though most of those are fleeing even harder and faster away from him than she is. They scatter from the pounding of feet, the smell of at least one human being, the Rage coursing through the air. They run from the hunt. Danicka feels pain at the soles of her soft, uncalloused feet, and she ignores it. Accepts it, because she is female, as natural heritage.

He chases after her. Because she is his prey, because she is naked, because she happens to be running.

Somewhere clustered. Somewhere dark. Somewhere the sky doesn't quite touch. Somewhere the branches meet and he can barely see her, where likely she can't see at all. Somewhere where the world doesn't touch, either. He keeps touching her, finding skin instead of fabric, finding softness, finding her hot to the touch. He pushes her towards the sycamore, the oak, the thicket, the harbor, and as he slows, she turns suddenly and sharply to him, close enough that her hair brushes past his chest like a breeze.

Hair sticks to her brow, her cheeks, her neck. She is sweaty and out of breath. Her eyes are vivid and wild, but not afraid.

The one who one was the one I defeated.

Her answer was simpler

but it saw farther and deeper than mine.

What he sees in her is not courage in defeat, or defeat at all. She does not look like a caught thing, a hunted animal. She never was. They are far, far away from anyone and everyone they left behind. They are far away from her family, his pack, books, moots, claims, laws. Danicka has stopped dead, no longer even walking, and her breasts lift and fall as she breathes, steady but heavily. She stares at him for a moment, then... circles him. If he turns with her, she waits until they are reversed, until he is between her and the place. Then she begins to advance. If he lets her get behind him, shows her his back, she advances.

Either way: she pushes him there, deliberate and slow now, moving close enough to touch, close enough that her breathing hits him, close enough that their bodies are very nearly pressed together, close enough that when she speaks, it does not need to be above a whisper:

"Byl jsem vždycky ten, pronásleduje vás," comes her voice, half-breathless, as her hands come up to his hips, whether from before him or behind him. "Vy byly vždy na jedné běží ode mne."

[Lukas] Stock-still now, his turn to freeze where he is when she wheels on him. Some part of his baser, instinctive self recognizes and reacts: prey that can defend itself. Prey with claws.

Only that's not what she is, either. She's not prey at all; never was. She was closer to prey in the W Times Square, when his teeth closed on her pearls and tugged the strand against her throat. She was far closer in his room months ago, when she tried to rise and he tried to stop her and panic slammed through her so sharp and sudden that he could feel her heart jump against his chest.

There's no fear in her now. He would question this, but that requires a logical mind, and his mind is full of the heat and the night, the starlit moonless sky, the pounding of his blood in his ears. His mind is blank and open, his senses stretched to their limits, stretched toward her, and when she comes toward him

he stands his ground, his nostrils flaring on every breath, a breath drawn out of turn when she's so near he can smell her.

Smell her nakedness, and her warmth, the life in her veins, the terrain they've covered.

He allows her to circle behind him. He shouldn't; she could be a threat. He should turn with her, keep her within sight. He should bear her to the ground. He should bear her to the ground and

(fuck her)

tear at her with his teeth, or his mouth. But he stands his ground, lets turns his head follow her until she's past the line of his shoulder, and when she advances he continues to stand his ground for a moment, a second, and then relents.

Into the shade of sycamores and oaks, then. Into the natural harbor, the corner, the trap; the shadow amidst shadows. He looks at the branches curving overhead, the roots twisting out of the ground. Her proximity behind him has every hair on his body standing on end. He knows she's naked. His shirt is white, grass-stained on the back. It's the only pale smudge in this darkness.

When she speaks --
-- he laughs.

Softly, but suddenly, a bright flare of barbaric humor, laughing for the sake of laughing, laughing the way a flesh-sated wolf laughs with bloody teeth and lolling tongue, laughing in a way that could, in an eyeblink, a flicker of a wrong move, flash into fury and bared teeth. He laughs, and laughing, turns to her, and he doesn't bother to put his hands on her or pause to look at her or speak; none of that.

He presses his face to her hair immediately, heavily. Nuzzles against her temple, her cheek, bends his head to her neck. Inhale. She can hear it; feel it, the expansion of his chest. He rubs his cheek against her neck, her jaw. His teeth catch at her ear. His hands don't touch her. His hands don't touch her but his body does; he presses his body to hers as he presses his face to hers. Exhale now. His rage is a bright, jangling thing, even by the dark of moon. He smells like sweat and exertion, like grass, like earth. Something else too, wilder than that; a sort of musk, a wolf-scent, nothing close to human.

When his hands move they don't go to her. They do to the buttons of his shirt. He doesn't unbutton a single one. He grasps the halves and jerks, sharply, but not recklessly, not thoughtlessly. He knows exactly what he's doing. He's getting his clothes off in a minimum of time, literally tearing his shirt off, while he rubs his cheek to hers, nuzzles her, presses against her, turns his face until he finds her mouth.

Silently and savagely, their mouths come together. His opens onto hers. He's ripping his shirt from his shoulders and letting it fall to the dirt. He tips his chin up to break that first kiss, sucks a breath of night air, lowers; kisses her. This is only a kiss by the thinnest definition of the word. He's working at his belt now, deft here because he has to be, deft and undoing the buckle, which clinks as it comes loose; wresting open the button and then the fly of his jeans, tearing that down as well.

Not a single word when he pushes his jeans down, his boxer briefs with them. Not a single word when he seeks out her hand, pulls it directly and unapologetically to his cock. He's hard already, so fucking hard -- from kissing her, from her body against his; from running, from chasing her. His fingers wrap hers around him. Not a single word, but no longer silent either: he utters a sound into her mouth, a long, low snarl, and his teeth scrape her lower lip.

[Danicka] The woman in front of him is a mess. There are tangles in her hair, bits of dirt and twig and leaf where branches snagged it. There are scratches on her hands and arms and legs. There are small bruises, tiny cuts even on her feet. Soil clings to her here and there because of sweat; lengths of grass are stuck to her skin as well. If she climbed him now the way she did the first night, when the air outside was freezing cold and the moon was full -- not at all like tonight, all heat and humidity and darkness -- she would get mud and earth all over his clothes, but

it doesn't matter

any more than it matters that when they go back, there will be no doubt what they were doing in the woods. Disheveled, sweaty, her dress torn and their clothes grass-stained and muddy and red weals on her legs and forearms from all the tiny scratches of the woods. It doesn't matter. She doesn't care.

He pulls at his clothes, yanks off his shirt and lets it fall, pushes his jeans and his underwear away and brings her hand to him. Danicka presses fully against him, as heedless of his dominance as his laughter, and kisses him devouringly, ravenously, biting at his lips in an uncontrolled frenzy for his mouth. She kisses him more deeply, strokes his cock with her sweat-slick hand.

"Get down," she growls, pulling her mouth from his, her free hand grabbing his shoulder and exerting an almost laughable amount of force, urging him towards the ground.

[Lukas] His feet are bare. His body is mostly bare, his jeans sagging down to the forest floor. They tear at each other's mouths and his hand holds hers over his cock, tightens but doesn't stop her when she strokes him. Other than that, and other than the brief, ferocious, clashing contacts of their bodies when they breathe, when they lean into the kiss, when they eat at one another --

there's no contact. It's all electricity between. His free hand stays at his side. He puts everything he has into that kiss, that kiss, and when she pulls free so suddenly and puts her hand on his shoulder and tells him, growls at him, commands him to get down

he snarls at her, the flash of laughter into fury, a ripple of instinctive reaction, there, gone again. His eyes are aglitter in the dark. They don't close when he leans into her and kisses her again, sharply, devouringly, and when this one spins apart his hand drops from hers. He takes a step back. If her hand starts to slip free from his cock he catches her, closes her fingers again. Says nothing. Doesn't need to say anything. His body says it all for him: the quick deep breaths that raise and drop his chest; the hardness of his cock; the burn of his eyes on her.

He kicks his jeans free of his feet. He kicks them aside, into the undergrowth. He doesn't give a fuck if they're lost. He reaches for her hand again, takes her by the wrist and raises her hand to his face and, his eyes on hers, licks a hot line from the center of her palm to the tip of her middle finger.

Then he drops unhesitatingly to his knees. A branch snaps under him. He tugs her forward by her hand, and his mouth turns from her fingers to her body. It's like he's lost all recollection of what it is to use his hands; like he's forgotten that his hands can grasp, can hold, can grip, that his arms can embrace. He's all mouth tonight, all teeth and tongue, all the sinuous, craning power of neck and shoulders. He leans into her and bites at the sleekness of her abdomen, the crest of her hip; stands on his knees to lick the underside of her breast up to the nipple.

Which his mouth closes over. Which his teeth close over, lightly, lightly, holding it exactly and gently in place while he flicks it, unrelentingly, with his tongue.

At last he lets go her breast. Turns his face and rubs his cheek against the wetness he's left behind, nuzzles between her breasts, bites at the skin over her breastbone. Opens his mouth against her skin, as though he meant to eat the very beat of her heart.

[Danicka] For some reason, she's not afraid of him. She should be. Logically, she should be terrified, even with this strange concept of 'love' between them, this idea that they care about one another and would protect one another. They are far away from the remnants of the bonfire, and it's likely that as far as they've gone the remaining Kinfolk -- if they are not already finished cleaning up and gone for the night -- would not hear her if she screamed. Lukas is a monster, and when he snarls in response to her command she should quail.

Danicka does not. She bares her teeth at him, pushes down with her left hand... caresses him so slowly with her right. Her hand slides down off his shoulder then, fingernails lightly raking down his chest as he kisses her. They find his hand wrapped around her hand wrapped around his cock and she very, very nearly claws the back of his hand to get him to let go so she can touch him freely.

But he lets go. She does not.

Her eyes meet his as her mouth softens again, as the snarls die away. She is close enough that when she decides to roll her hips she rubs him against herself a little, teases the both of them, bites her lower lip to not make a sound, not even a whimper, not yet. She does make a sound when he pulls her hand away, licks her palm. She protests, wriggles her wrist, fights him even as his tongue is running up to her fingertip.

Was it worse for you if you resisted Vládík?

She resists, but her breathing is quickening again, as if it had ever really slowed down. Then Lukas is down, and she fights his hold on her wrist, her other hand going to his hair with... shockingly, infinitely gentle care. She does not pull his hair, or rake his scalp. She strokes him like a dearly loved, painfully rare animal, even as she squirms against his mouth, against his bites and the run of his tongue.

Danicka's eyes close when he starts to suckle at her breast. She works her wrist out of his grasp and holds his head with both hands, pets his hair and makes some low, wordless noise of comfort, of pleasure, of demand. He rubs his face on her and she rubs her chest back on him, gasps. Her palms fly to his shoulders, and she shoves, all of her weight behind it. He won't be moved if he does not want to be.

He wouldn't have been lured if he didn't want to be.

"Down," she moans, rubbing her cunt against his chest, against his shoulder, whatever the fuck she can reach.

[Lukas] They play at ritual. They conduct a game. She pretends to run. He chases. She tells him to get down. He pretends to resist.

Or maybe there's no pretense in this after all. She did run. Far and wide. He doesn't know how far they've come. A few hundred yards. A few hundred miles. They could be in another state; another planet. The wind stirs the tops of the trees, and does not touch them down here.

An hour before sunrise, and it's still warm. Still muggy. Still oppressive -- storm-weather, summer-storm-weather.

Down, and she's moaning now, she's rubbing on him and moaning, and he bites at her skin and nips at her flesh and ... her right breast now, sucking furious and hard, but briefly, briefly, while he strokes himself with his hands, cradles his balls in one hand and strokes his cock in the other, the same furious unrelenting speed he sucks at her with.

When he lets her go his mouth is wet. There's just enough light, and their eyes are just adjusted enough that she can see the gleam of saliva on his face, the glisten of sweat on his body. He has to let go of himself to put at least one hand on the ground. Dirt on his palm now, twigs digging in when he turns his legs out from under himself, sits, lays back. Dirt on his back too, twigs there too, and he doesn't care.

This is the first thing he's said since ... too long ago to remember:

"Chystáš se milovat mě?"

[Danicka] She is on him before his legs are fully out from under his body, falling on him because to go slowly to her knees, to go slowly at all now, seems unthinkable. Her hands hit his chest, the force of her body enough to knock the wind out of even him while he lies there supine and bare. Danicka does not lift herself up, put her weight on her legs, but her palms remain on his pectorals her hair brushing his skin, as she wraps her legs around his thighs, straddles him, as though she is going to lay him out and feast on him.

Or as though she fell, and he caught her.

Again, she rubs herself on him, this time on his cock and not his chest, not his thigh or shoulder or bicep. She is slick as he is hard, gasping as she thrusts her hips to press against him. Her breath is harsh when it hits his neck, and her nod is a quick, desperate thing.

"Ano," she says, achingly, the word a groan that is as far away from how he gave the same answer to the same question in New York as New York is from Chicago. There's need in her voice, underlined by a sort of fierce anger, descending into a flickering panic. Need. Not just want. Not only desire. She does not know what she'll do if she can't have him now, if somehow she cannot have what she needs.

With a deep intake of breath, she pushes off of his chest and sits up, lifting her hips. Her eyes stay on his. Her hands trail down his torso, trace his abdominal muscles. She takes him inside, without hesitating, without waiting, and she doesn't stop until he is as far as he can go, as deep as she can take him, as close as they can be.

"Ano," she says again, softer this time, and precluding what could be his next question, she shows him how:

Danicka moves on him, rising slowly, thrusting down again with the same steady longing. And just as slowly, as steadily, she runs her hands back up his chest, leaning over him as she rides.

When she kisses him, her tongue finds the same rhythm as their bodies.

[Lukas] A sharp rush of air when she falls on him. Like she tripped. Like she's the predator, and he the prey.

Earlier she reached out to the trees, which are older than him, more reliable than him. Trees don't have tempers. Trees don't have spite, or fear of weakness; resistance to love; any of that. Trees are dependable and immobile. Earlier she reached out to them because if she fell he might not catch her, but she could catch herself.

Only he does catch her. She comes down on him and his hands come to her waist. He's remembered their use after all. It's evolution, a hundred million years in the blink of an eye, and now he has his mouth and his hands, and when she rubs on him he closes his eyes and his hands rub up her sides and he barely recognizes the half-caught sound he makes behind his lips.

Ano, she says. Ano, he thinks, and she's moving on him, moving to take him inside, taking him inside in one long, slow, endless slide that makes him open his eyes and raise his head and look down to watch, to watch, can't watch anymore, his head falls back and flexes back and he says it too:

"Ano. Bože, ano."

If she'd told him the last they met that she wanted to ride him then, fuck him in his tiny bed, ride his cock until she came -- if she'd told him that, he might consider this fair play. He got it the way he wanted it then, with her on all fours, arched over her like a beast. She can have what she wants this time. It's fair play. It's a fair exchange. It's fair, except he doesn't think about fair or not fair anymore; he doesn't think about quid pro quo and equal exchange and

any of that anymore, really.

She kisses him and it's slow, it's slow, it's steady as summer rain. His head comes off the wet earth. He kisses her back, and his hands are holding her hips now, guiding the slow rock of her body, the slow glide of her cunt, so fucking wet, wet as summer rain.

Longest day; darkest moon. The beginning of a season he's wanted to see her in since time immemorial. All time before tonight, before now, this passing second that slips by even as he marks it, is immemorial. He could've been born a minute ago, shaped out of the damp earth by her fingers running down his chest. He could've been raised from the ground and infused with a sudden, feral life, given breath and mind by the way she darted from him in the dark, or by the way she drew her dress off in the second, wilder clearing. Nothing existed before now. He opens his eyes; such a clear, razor-sharp blue, glazed with want, black with desire.

He keeps his eyes on her as the kiss parts. No words now; just the rush of his escalating breath, the grasp of his hands on her hips, moving her, moving her.

Ano.

[Danicka] The sound she makes when he catches her with his hands is something like a whimper, something like a sigh, something like joy, something like gratitude.

And the sound she makes when he slides inside of her is nothing more than near-silent panting, her lips parted and her eyes open, open, pupils open, taking him in by as much of the thin light as she can. Taking him in, and taking him, and making him

hers

the way they both know he is. There are no showers out here, no changes of clothes. They'll have to hunt down her dress and her shoes, his shoes, so they can even leave the woods. But leaving the woods is for the wise, for those who think about the plans, the difference between right and wrong, the line between weak and strong. They are unwise, and naked, and there's a savage innocence to them just as there is a wild vulnerability to the woods themselves.

Danicka does not fuck him. She loves him with her hands running up his skin, touching him, saying without saying I love your body even as she murmurs "Jste tak krásna" aloud, purrs it as her fingers displace the dusting of hair on his chest. She loves him with her mouth, kissing him slowly, wetly, with a lack of inhibition that could not possibly come from a single beer and whatever else she had before she came here. He's seen how much liquor Danicka can imbibe without losing that serene mask, that careful moderation of her behavior.

Yet tonight she gave a vicious snort of laughter to Katherine Bellamonte, seethed a one-word insult not only against an Ahroun of the Nation but against the Silver Fang herself for seeming surprised that his behavior might not be on the level, and then turned around and kept herself from telling another Silver Fang that he sounded like a chauvinistic mouth-breather with the social and reasoning skills of a third grader.

And then she hunted an Ahroun by luring him, word by word, where she wanted him.

How she wants him.

Danicka is not shy about telling him how she wants to fuck him. She is not timid about riding his cock until she comes, whether he is hypersensitive or not, and she is not hesitant about telling him no or telling him what she wants him to do to her, or... showing him what she wants him to do to her. They kiss, her nostrils breathing in cooling sweat and damp earth, and they fuck, her hips rolling under his hands, her cunt clenching on his cock.

He is formed from the mud, but she's older than his rib-bones, older than this shared breath. She is older than the garden, or the woods, or the snakes flickering through the underbrush, the only animals that don't seem scared of his Rage, oh in their infinite wisdom. Danicka kisses him, holds his face with her hands to keep their mouths together, and when the kiss stops -- it is not over -- she watches his eyes.

"Jste tak silný," she whispers, and grinds down on him a little harder, the end of the last word a moan. She tips her head back for a moment, then down again, finds his eyes again. She moves faster.

"Vy jsou moje."

[Lukas] There's a world out there where their roles are so very clearly defined.

He's the hunter and the predator and the dominant and the strong. She's the hunted and the prey and the submissive and the weak. Out there there's a world and there's a war and there's his pack and there's his packmates and their problems, their issues, their goddamn insecurities and bickerings and tragedies and dramas. Out there Katherine is probably seething that a kin, a mere kin, dared to speak to her like that; Gabbie is probably dreaming of freedom and some elusive, imaginary happiness she will never ever in this lifetime attain; Caleb is mourning his slain wife and the way in which she was slain; Sampson is sharpening his tongue in the shadows like an assassin sharpens his knives.

And there's Sam, too, and the others they've lost or thrown off, and there's a Sept, and the positions they've striven for and failed to attained, or attained and failed to hold, or held and gained nothing from; there's his family scattered to the two ends of the continent; there's her family, her brother, who owns her.

Out there.
Not here.

Here, their roles are not so easily definable. If he was the hunter then she was willing prey. If she was prey then she was dangerous prey indeed; a predator herself, a predator in disguise, and she hunted him in spirit as he hunted her in body, laid the trap, set the snares, lured him in step by step, breath by breath, until the path closed behind him and the darkness opened before him and all the lines blurred and

when she told him to get down, he did.
when he asks her if she would love him, she does.

Their horizons have collapsed. They're a singularity, tear in the logic and the fabric of the laws and litanies and battles and wars he lives by. Time has ended for them. Time never began at all. She's older than time; this is older than the human reckoning of time. There's a rhythm in this, bone deep, stone deep, deep as the earth, or the endless black sky; it may as well be the rhythm of the rise and fall of the sun, which stands still today, or the wheeling of the stars, which are all the light they have, or the ebb and flow of the tide, which is too far away for him to see or hear, or the turning of the seasons, which slip one into the next around them as they

make love.

There are two creatures making love here. They have names that they call each other by, but he doesn't use any of them now; they seem unnecessary. He knows her by something closer than a name. He knows her by the way she smells, by the way she tastes, by the way she feels --

tak kurva dobrý

-- when she moves on him like that. He knows her because she's his, and she knows him because he's hers, and she speaks of his strength and his beauty, but in place of his name she says:

you are mine.

Which may as well be his name.

There are two creatures making love here and when she rides down on him and her head falls back so does his. They're suspended, pierced through with pleasure and suspended on the wires; she moans and he doesn't even breathe, and then she moves again and he sighs, and they find one another's eyes.

A little faster. A little faster. Oh... faster, he thinks, but he doesn't want to say it; the silence doesn't need to break. He speaks to her with his body. His hands hold her hips a little tighter, rock her with a little more insistence. His eyes pass hers for a moment. He looks at the black sky above, the stormclouds and the stars between them; he looks at the shadows of the trees moving in the invisible wind, feels her moving as though driven by some invisible current herself, rising and sinking, rising and sinking.

When she rides down on him again his spine arches; the muscles of his back flex and pull his shoulders back, chest open. His hands open over her ass and he pulls her down hard, harder. He grinds her against him, holds her against him and swivels her hips slow, slow, fills her up with every inch; rubs her clit against the outcropping of bone under his skin. There are two of them making love here. He snarls long and low to feel her like that, to feel himself so deep inside her, to feel her wetness pushed down the shaft of his cock, and her hands on his face or on his chest, his shoulders, his arms, somewhere.

It might be an eternity before he lets her go, before his hands come to the arches of her hips again, his thumbs sweeping her belly and her waist. He lets her move on him, closing his eyes for a moment now to just take what she gives him freely, to enjoy it, to feel it. His face is taut with pleasure, his nostrils flaring on every breath until he gives up and gasps through his mouth, pants audibly and harshly every time she comes down on him.

That's right, say his hands on her body, urging her faster still; harder. That's it.

Mine, say his hands on her body, his palms pushing over her skin, his fingertips dragging. Mine, says the rock of his hips up against hers, meeting her stroke for stroke, a building intensity.

Yours, says the groan she pulls out of him; the noise he makes, heedless, when she does this, or that, or ...

There are two creatures making love here, and who and what they are pales to insignificance before what they do to each other.

[Danicka] She is a better actress than Lukas, and a better liar. That does not mean he does not act, play a part, play his role, dissemble, give half-truths, manipulate. They are Shadow Lords, and nothing comes freely to them. Nothing ever has. Kings or heroes or otherwise, they are descended from a line of people so frequently downtrodden and abused that for generations the only way to get ahead was to strive for it, fight for it, sneak around and take what they wanted when the time was ripe. Unlike the Silver Fangs, nothing has ever been handed to the Lords.

Except, in a way, he could believe that Danicka was handed to him. Milo did not and would not have fought hard for her. She's told him that her brother would give her to him in a heartbeat. He knew from almost the very beginning that she wanted him, as much as he wanted her. She told him, over and over. She offered... if not herself, than something with her. No wonder he distrusted it, distrusted her: all he ever had to do was reach out and take what was offered, what was freely given.

And when nothing is free, and everything must be earned, he must have wondered what the catch was.

The cost is everything. The task to earn her was surrender. The catch was, and is, that now he must live with the knowledge that he could lose her.

Danicka moves on top of him, loving him with hands, mouth, body. She watches his eyes and loves him there, too, pinning him to the ground and bearing her weight on his chest but there is, now, not a trace of the momentary dominance she treated him with. There is no submission. There is just the slow lift of her hips, the slightly faster return of their bodies together. Each time, she exhales a little breath that sounds almost surprised by the sensation. This is the first time they've made love -- she was on top of him then, too, the first time -- and this is the first time anyone has made love, and it is the last time, because after this they are going to die, and the days will get shorter, and the moon will get brighter and more dangerous.

So she loves him, a little faster now, wordless but chanting with him in that esoteric near-silence: oh...faster. But no command passes between them, not in words. He holds her down hard on him, and she fights, and when he finally loosens his grip on her hips she rides him faster, presses her hands on his chest harder, leans over him and loves him with a sudden upswing of intensity. Her hips rise and fall on him as though to say

mine... mine... mine... mine...

which may as well be his name, which may as well, to his body, be saying

yours... yours... yours...

in a cadence that is somehow slower, somehow more comforting, somehow less demanding. When he looks at the stars and the blackness all around them she doesn't stop him but arches her back, lets her head fall, lets her hair swing against her shoulderblades. She lifts her face as though to catch rain upon it, rain that isn't falling; all they have is the moonlight hitting them and the trees moving overhead in a wind that they are protected from. For a few moments it's just the feel of each other, the movement of the other and resounding rhythm between them, because both their eyes are looking at shadows, at darkness, at the way the sky aches to change color.

Not yet, Danicka's body says, to him and to the dawn, grinding against his cock, swiveling her hips in squirming circles that make her gasp and drop her head again, make her look at his eyes instead of the woods or the stars. He snarls, and she gives a full-body shudder. One of her hands runs across his chest sideways, touches his bicep, runs up his arm to his wrist, his hand, drawing it from her hip. Eyes locked to his, she pulls his hand to her breast so he can feel it filling his palm, feel her heartbeat slamming against the heel of his hand.

When she has him touching her she reaches between them again. She rests her left hand on his chest, touches herself with her right, moans aloud as her fingertips rub gently on her clit. That's right. That's it. Danicka's eyes try to close and she fights to keep them open, fights harder than she fights for air. Faster, now, and harder, until she seems to lose control over how fast, over how hard. She cries out:

"Aah! Ah, moje láska, zůstaň se mnou! Zůstaň se mnou..."

which must be the first name given to man, and the first command. He can feel her shuddering around him, clenching, hear the way her breath hitches and see the pleasure breaking over her face as she comes, not like a wave or a hurricane or the turning of the earth but the very creation of it, the spontaneous eruption of life and light and meaning. Her hands, both of them now, slide up his chest as she folds forward, falling to him and finding his mouth by memory and by instinct, stealing his breath and his moaning with her kiss, giving him back

everything

with her own.

[Lukas] Her heart beating against his hand.

That's another rhythm in all this. Bone deep. Blood deep. Her heart beating against his hand, her breast fitting his hand, and she does fit him, she fits his hand and she fits his body, he fits to her, they fit. They belong. He's thinking to himself that she belongs; she belongs right here, she belongs with him, she belongs to him, and months ago, even six weeks ago he would've never dared to think this, because claim implies necessity, and necessity implies breakability. Weakness. Something like that.

He thinks this now, and he doesn't think about breakability or what he thought about a month and a half ago. He doesn't think about these things because a month and a half ago is ancient history, is prehistory, is before the beginning of the world as far as he's concerned. As far as he's concerned the world began when the sun set on the longest day and the stars turned over the shortest night. As far as he's concerned

there's never been anything but this, but her body moving on his, her breast fitting his hand. Summertime is the season of war, of hunt; of blood. Blood shed in war, in the hunt, but in birth as well -- and that's an awareness too, a flame in the back of his mind, the part of him that meant every word when he said

I know our children would be worthy and strong.

because that's what her breast in his hand tells him, too; that's what the lean twist of her muscles tell him, what the way she rides him tells him, what the way her cunt grips him and squeezes him and clenches around him tells him.

That she is fertile. That she is warm and nurturing, that she would be a good mate, a good mother, that she would birth strong children and raise them well.

His hand closes over her breast. Her heart beating against his hand, her hand holding his to her breast -- momentarily, anyway -- before she's leaning down to him again, leaning down and he's leaning up, she's seeking out his eyes, they look at each other, they stare at each other and lock each other into one another's gazes, reflected in the green, reflected in the blue, and her mouth is open as she gasps, her brow furrowed, and his teeth are half-bared and his face is taut.

He rubs her breast in his hand, his touch heavy; squeezes it not so gently as he would've liked to, because he's past gentleness now; takes her flesh in his hand and opens his hand over her breast, her ribs, her body, leans up to kiss her neck and bite at her throat until suddenly she cries out, cries out and makes him drop back with a sharp, surrendering groan, makes him shut his eyes for a blaze of a second before he opens them again to watch the inevitable; the beginning and the end.

When she careens over the edge she pulls him with her. The slam, the clench, the quivering of her cunt spins him out into his own orgasm, and before she even begins to level off, to plateau out, to come down, he pushes his hands under her thighs and lifts her hips and arches his back, braces his feet flat, arches his hips right off the ground and fucks her, pounds her, batters into her again and again and again and again while his hands grasp at her thighs, her ass.

At the end, when she falls against him, his arms fold around her and pull her so fiercely against him he nearly crushes her. He meets her kiss and he kisses her, eats her fucking mouth, gives her every last shred of breath he has, every last rough, ragged groan that claws its way out of him when he

comes inside her,
comes into her,

fills her cunt up and keeps pounding at her, recklessly, mindlessly, for another ten mindshredding seconds, twenty, as though to drive himself so deep he would never, ever had to come apart from her again.

When at last he has nothing left, no strength and no endurance left to go on, the quivering hard arch of his body relents by slow degree. He lowers his hips back to the dirt. He straightens his legs, one at a time. His arms loosen minutely, give her room to breathe, and when she does he realizes their mouths are still opened to one another's, gasping the same air, tearing ragged gasps out of the same shared darkness.

[Danicka] When she asked him -- flippantly, almost -- if he wanted to get her pregnant, the answer was like Lukas is: instinct idealism mated off to planning and selfishness. It was wholly honest. He does not lie to her, and she loves him for that. She trusts him for other reasons.

But it was the truth: Danicka would be a good mate, a good mother. Her children, raised as far from their father as necessity allowed, would be strong, well-formed, and intelligent. They would be born lonely, as though their mother's ache could be passed to them in the womb and fed to them while nursing, and yet when the object of their longing appeared they would be filled with a primordial terror of him. Lukas knew the truth when he told her that a part of him wants very, very much for her to carry his child. Children.

And he knew that he wants this more, whether that is selfish or not.

Danicka cannot read his mind, however close she comes to it at times, so as she folds over him and loses herself in her orgasm, forgets her name in kissing him, she does not think about the lack of a barrier between them. She does not feel fragile, or fecund, or fearful. She could not name this feeling if she tried, and she would not try. Out here it seems safe to say mine and yours and find no weakness in it, no risk. Out here there's nothing but strength, and that is why she took him this far.

For a moment they look at each other on the cusp of orgasm, feral and yet set apart from every other animal in the kingdom with a savage tenderness. She cries out, he falls down, and she falls apart, consciousness becoming nothing more than this: Lukas underneath her, holding her on him yet lifting her up so he can fuck her, so in the last moments before his own climax he can move in her, hips swinging his cock into her harder than before, faster, striving to join her like some birds of prey beat their wings harder to meet up with their mate flying so much higher.

Every mask, even the ones of each other's faces, is gone. Not so much torn away as shattered and dissolved, their mouths meet honestly and instinctively when they kiss, when they come together like a hurricane. Even against his mouth she cries out as he pounds into her, so far gone there is no division between pleasure and ecstasy or line drawn between where he ends and she begins. Her knees return to the ground, the grass, the mud. They shift and re-settle against one another, back to the earth.

She buries herself in him when she is done dying, her thin arms folding inward between them, her shoulders hunching to his chest. Her mouth slides away from his, back along the line of his jaw, til she turns her face to his neck. She holds herself for a few seconds, quite still, and then... gradually... she melts. Her arms unfold and her hands find his shoulders, his sweating arms. She lets go of the last clench of orgasm and finally, completely relaxes on top of him. She embraces him, and she trembles.

Danicka says not a word.

They have not invented language yet.

[Lukas] In the aftermath he's destroyed, reinvented, he's in the few femtoseconds pre-creation, nothing more than an abstract concept of himself, a spark of consciousness in the dark.

His first awareness is her. He can feel her trembling, collapsing on herself, imploding on herself before relaxing, suddenly and completely, spreading over him like...

...like the warmth of summer rain falling on his skin. He wraps his arms around her by instinct, his arms crossing her torso at midback, at her shoulderblades; his hands wrapping around one slender deltoid, around the curvature of her ribcage. He holds her to him, holds her as though she were irreplaceable, precious, the one and only of her kind that, if lost, is lost forever.

Which is, perhaps, not so very far from the truth.

She turns her mouth to his neck, as though to tear out his throat with a kiss. He thinks of what she said. She was always the predator. He was always running from her; she was always the one to give chase. Or was it the other way around now?

Did it matter anymore?

She turns her brow to the wet dark earth, as though to pray, and she can smell him -- can smell the dirt, the soil. He faces the sky. When he opens his eyes he finds the sky over him. It's still there, though for a while he wasn't sure it would be.

Stars overhead are a faint glimmer between the darkness of clouds. This far from the city the clouds have lost their reflected glow. They're only patches of blackness overhead, patches of nothingness, as though the sky itself were putting itself back together in puzzle-pieces.

He stirs. His hands move over her back. Here's the dip of her spine. Follow it from the nape of her neck down, down. His fingers skim through sweat, over skin. Here's where his arm bars her back. Past it; here her vertebrae are close to the surface, even with her spine curved in to him. Here they submerge again. Here's the small of her back, the faint dimples on either side where her loins tuck into her hip girdle. His right thumb finds the one on her left, uses it as a sort of pivot, a point of contact when his hand turns to cover the curve of her bottom. His fingers squeeze gently. His palm rubs over her flesh. And then back up again, following her back up, up, to wrap around her shoulders again.

The night, the predawn, is warm and humid. She cannot possibly be cold after what they've done. Still, he covers her with his hands as much as he can, as though to warm her.

[Danicka] Stay with me, she'd cried, as though she truly feared that he might go away from her in the middle of lovemaking, as though she feared she might lose him somehow if she did not call to him right at that second. He stays, tracing the topography of her back as he holds her, touching her as though she were some new gift to be turned over and over in his hands, examined and experienced from all angles.

Danicka breathes against his throat, as hot and humid as the night air itself. They stick to each other with sweat and adoration, and her eyes close because she does not need to see anything anymore. She can feel him and smell him and she can feel and smell the earth, and that's all she needs. Lukas has the sky, the backdrop to the way she looked as she arched on top of him, rode him to completion, loved him until... well. Until she trembled.

Sometimes it still shocks her, how close they become, how far she goes, how much he means to her.

Often afterwards she is the first to speak, to move, to slide off of him and away. The first night they spent together she left him, and he refused to ask her to stay because he would not tolerate being told No. The last time they slept together she was the first to initiate separation, to bring them back to their own bodies, their own space. Tonight she doesn't. Tonight, not very long at all before dawn, Danicka holds Lukas he holds her. She shakes slightly, not cold but shivering all the same, and catches her breath on top of his chest.

Her movements no longer insist mine, mine, mine. Now she clings to him, the slowing of her breath a surrender that was not really given while he was fucking her, while she was fucking him, while they were making love on the night between spring and summer. They are still together. That is what matters.

[Lukas] So he holds her. Long after his breathing subsides, and his heart stops hammering, long after her trembling ceases, he holds her.

Eventually he thinks he can discern color in the sky; darkest blue behind the black clouds. He stirs, pressing his mouth to her temple, to her cheek. Movement is predicated in the flexing of his body beneath hers, even before he starts to sit up. When he does, it's slowly, giving her time to rebalance on him, to adjust to his new position.

There's dirt on his back. Leaves stuck to his skin, and in his hair. He doesn't bother brushing himself off. He shifts her on him, closer, and his knees come up behind her. In the valley between his thighs and his chest he holds her, tenderly, finds her mouth and kisses her.

Tenderly.

Perhaps he should tell her not to say such things to Katherine again. Perhaps he should tell her what was said after she left, or what happened, or what was decided. These things would seem important to him, only they're so far from the fire, so far from the others, so far from the rest of the world that it doesn't seem to matter out here. When he draws back he looks at her across a small distance, takes her face between his hands and strokes back her hair carefully, carefully, before his hands trace her jawline to her neck, to her shoulders, to her breasts and her belly.

At the end his hands comes back to her face. He cups her face between his hands and looks her in the eye; even now there's clarity to his eyes, a tracery of palest blue.

He whispers, "Já jsem zamilovaný s vámi."

[Danicka] Seconds unfurl into minutes. The sunrise is imminent. They will not see it crest the horizon, and will not see the edges of the sky brighten from indigo and purple to shades of pink, orange, and vivid yellow. They will only see, at best, the sky directly overhead turning a lighter and lighter blue, the light turning the leaves from silhouettes of blackwork to thick, verdant green. It hasn't happened yet, but as her shaking subsides and Lukas's breathing slows, Danicka decides that it's safe to believe that it will happen.

She closes her eyes, and drowses on him for awhile, as the minutes pass by and their hearts slow, as their breathing steadies. She does not quite sleep but she does let herself drift, even as he is laying his lips along the side of her face here and there. Danicka stirs when he moves, feeling the movement like the swell of a wave before it breaks, and she starts to lift as well, using his body as ballast instead of pressing her hands to the dirt. The light filtering in is incredibly dim but by it he can see the twigs and bits of leaves in her hair more clearly. He can see the thin weals and scratches on her arms where branches caught at her skin.

They shift together, Danicka sighing as he moves inside of her, re-settling her weight, re-aligning her hips. It's a slow roll from one position to another, and when he sits up completely and draws up his legs, she starts to curl forward as though to lay her head on his shoulder again -- only to stop herself. He leans forward, kisses her, and she sighs softly against his mouth.

Her fingertips brush his jaw. Fall away.

Her eyes are flickering open as he pulls back, dark green and sleepy in a sated, fulfilled way. She touches his chest thoughtlessly, aimlessly, without the deft and practiced purpose her touches often have. When he touches her face she tilts her head, letting her cheek rest in his palm, and smiles a small, enigmatic smile. Her eyelashes fall, rise again more slowly.

"Jsem šťastná," she whispers in response, without mouthing it, without clapping her hands over her mouth, without tension in the corners of her eyes. She nuzzles his hand, closes her eyes. "Jsem tak šťastná."

[Lukas] Lukas remembers Danicka mouthing the words in an elevator, as though afraid to voice them aloud. He remembers her clapping her hands over her mouth rather than laugh in the common room of the Brotherhood, when she came upon he and his packmates pillowfighting. He remembers these things with a twinge in his chest -- and yet, when she says it like that, openly, without cringing or hiding, something crumples inside him all the same.

Something folds on itself, falls in on itself. The chambers of his heart threaten to collapse.

Suddenly, fiercely, he folds his arms around her. He cradles her head to his shoulder, wraps his arm around her, pulls her into him until her small breasts press into his broad chest, and her belly aligns to his. Lukas holds his lover like he might want to fuse with her permanently, or protect her with the sheer envelopment of his body.

Or like he wants to use her to staunch a wound.
To seal a burst dam.

"Já taky," he murmurs. It's muffled against her hair. He doesn't care that there are twigs in it, leaves. He doesn't care that she smells like the earth, and sweat, and musk, and sex. He likes that she smells like him.

Silence again. By gradual degree his clasp eases until he's holding her gently again, his face bowed gently to her shoulder. His hand rubs lightly, rhythmically at the back of her neck, his fingers buried in the roots of her hair.

"Je to téměř svítání," he murmurs, some time later.

[Danicka] Considering that the last time she tried to tell him that she was happy -- that she was happy with him, that he made her happy -- they ended up getting into a fight about it, and he ended up calling her damaged, Danicka is elated, suddenly and surprisingly, when Lukas all but throws his arms around her and just holds her close like that, like somehow that will communicate what he means and can never quite say because words fall so very short of the truth of it.

That's another reason she lies, really. Because the truth is so elusive to begin with, so evasive when one tries to capture it.

He clings to her, holds her, fuses with her as much as they do at the moment of orgasm, when the boundaries between Self and Self, You and I, drop down and leave them nothing but mingling consciousnesses. Danicka presses to him and shudders at the feel of it, because he's still inside her and she's still sensitive and she still loves every line and curve of his body, loves the way his jaw feels under hands whenever she touches his face to kiss him.

Her head is pulled to his shoulder and she goes easily where she wanted to be before anyway, curling towards him in full. Danicka shifts on him and then wraps her legs around his waist, wraps her arms around his shoulders. She thinks I don't want to leave, even though she knows eventually she will want to and they will need to. She thinks I love him as though this is even more of a secret than saying it aloud to Lukas himself. She closes her eyes, burrowing her face against his shoulder, breathing out heavily.

They bend to one another, necks together and heads bowed like lovebirds.

"Je léto," she says in response, as though this is just like the beginning, just like ritual.

[Lukas] "Ano," he agrees, and lapses into quiet once more.

Time passes, slipping soundlessly around them. His eyes must have shut sometime in the interval. When he opens them again there's a distinct blue glow in the east, lightening toward the horizon -- which, of course, they cannot see from their vantage point in the woods, behind the trees. Before he draws away, Lukas sets his mouth to her shoulder again, his lips parting, his teeth gripping gently at her flesh before relenting.

"Vstávej, lásko," he says. "Nefungovat."

His hands shift to her hips and he lifts her gently from his lap, sighing when he slips out of her. His strength is inexorable and absolutely certain; he raises her to her feet and presses his lips to her clavicle, to her breast, to her stomach as she rises over him. Last, his mouth touches her hip, and then -- when he's sure she's sure of her footing -- he lets her go, leaning back to set his palms on the faintly damp earth.

There's enough light now that they can begin to make out one another's features even at this distance. He looks up at her, unashamed of her nakedness, of his own; unashamed to be looking at her. For a while he merely watches her. Then, exhaling, he begins to get up himself.

[Danicka] "Ne," Danicka says firmly, when he tells her to stand. Damn his strength, inexorable or not. She wraps her legs tighter around him, wraps her arms tighter around him, and refuses to be moved unless he physically forces her.

[Lukas] "Ne?" He sounds puzzled; amused; bemused; curious. He leans back from her, his hands leaving her hips to press into the dirt behind him anyway.

[Danicka] "Ne," she confirms, the word muffled against his shoulder as she clings to him. When he pulls backward she starts to fall with him, then lets go of his upper body, hands sliding to his shoulders. There's a light in her eyes.

"I don't want to go back yet," she confesses quietly. "I like it out here with you."

[Lukas] Dawn comes slowly in northern climes. The quality of light changes very gradually, bleeding brighter by degrees.

The sky is full of storms. The patches of clean between the clouds are turning a deep, luminous blue. Resonant, his eyes pick up the hue, make it their own. Lukas studies her for a moment, and then he twists at the waist, picks a pebble or a rock out of the ground behind him, tosses it aside.

Then he lays back with a sigh. It's contentment, not exasperation.

"Pojď sem," he says. "Polib mě."

[Danicka] This command she will obey. She unfolds her legs from his waist as he starts to lean back, moving back into a kneeling position with the easy flexibility he's seen her display before. As he reclines and looks up at her, tossing that rock out of his way, she slowly leans forward on his chest and kisses his mouth.

This time it's not desperate, or grasping, on the edge of time and reason both. It's soft, and slow, and unlike the way he kisses her sometimes after sex there's a definite reawakening to it, and freshness to her desire as she moves her hips slowly on him again.

"I could make love to you the rest of the day, I think," she says, biting his lip, his jawline. "But if you want to go... I need you to help me find my shoes."

[Lukas] It's not fair.

It's not fair that she looks so beautiful when she's in tears, when other women look blotchy, puffy-eyed, red-nosed, a mess. It's not fair that she can pull into herself so completely, become as inviolate as a stone egg -- though she does this less and less now. It's not fair ...

... that she gives him the choice of leaving while she rolls her hips like that, kisses him like that, lays atop him like that, speaks of loving him like that.

I'm in love with you, he thinks, as though this were in and of itself a sort of surrender. I am in love with Danička.

Danička Musil.
Danička.
Moje.

"I don't want to leave," he murmurs. His hands come to her face; he brings her mouth back to his and he kisses her, kisses her, slowly. He whispers the words against her mouth, "Chci, aby zůstal. Chci se milovat ty znovu."

[Danicka] It's not fair that he's so much stronger than her, either. That if he were to be shot and left bleeding he would just get up again soon after, healed and Raging, and that is if the bullets even stopped him. It's not fair that when he wants to move her, she is moved, because her weight is negligible to him. It's not fair that for all his strength, for the purity of his blood and the honor to his name and the fact that when she wakes up and he's still sleeping he's so beautiful it makes her clench her teeth against making a sound... he's still going to die before she does.

It's not fair that if she wants anything left of him at all, the only way to carry him on would mean losing him earlier than his death. It's not fair that barring that, she has his signature in his books, crayon to pencil to pen, print to script, childhood to adolescence. It is not. Fucking. Fair that they found out what he would become and Vladik became what he was born to be and they did not grow up together, did not know one another, cementing memories that are vaguely clear for her but almost completely lost to him. It's not fair that now her father knows the Kvasnickas' boy is her guardian, and he wonders if they will mate, and he wonders if he will ever see his grandchildren -- those already born, those Danicka or Vladislav might have -- because every day his mind grows dimmer and his body weaker.

None of it, not a day of it, is fair.

This, however, her hips rolling on him and moving him within her. This is something like balance. Danicka kisses him more deeply, gasping softly into his mouth. "You should get on your knees behind me," she says, and moves her head so she can lick the sweat off of his chest, suck one of his nipples into her mouth.

[Lukas] Lukas closes his eyes when her mouth closes over his nipple. He sighs, and when he sighs, his chest drops, then expands again as he inhales.

Light in the sky. Light in the sky and light behind the clouds, and the mad rush, the tidal, seasonal rush of the first loving is past. He remembers his name again; remembers the meaning of names; remembers that there's a wider world out there with rules and restrictions and strictures and ... and ... and he doesn't care.

He closes his eyes to the brightening sky. He lets her lick his chest, suck at his nipples, which are different from hers; flatter, less prominent, vestigial. His flesh is different too, his chest hard with thick muscle, ungiving. His hand comes up to cradle her head gently. Gently, his fingertips stir her hair, comb through the tangled locks, pick free a leaf here, a tiny twig there.

They're never quite parted. He's hardening again. This is as inexorable, as inevitable as his strength. He hardens inside her and she stretches to fit him, and with gentle rocks of his hips he keeps himself deep inside, pushes deeper.

Eventually he lifts her head. Brings her face back to his. Kisses her, slowly and devouringly, eyes closed, losing himself to this. He thinks of her darting through the woods, a wild thing. He thinks of her looking over her shoulder, her hair golden, skin golden, eyes dark for want of light, and for want of this. Him. Union. He thinks of the way her skin glistened with sweat, and the way her eyes were aglitter, like a night predator's.

And the way she hunted him.
And the way he hunted her.
And the way they came together in this natural barricade, this safe harbor, this trap.

"Here," he murmurs, a word of warning before he sits up under her, gets out from beneath her. When he slips out of her it's the first time in longer than he can remember that they're well and truly separated, and that's only momentary.

He moves behind her. Later, the sunrise will give the sky a red glow, an orange, a golden cast; for now, it's pale and blue, dim, leaves her ghostly, lunar. But she's warm beneath his hands, warm as summer itself, and when he kneels behind her, between her legs, he's warm as well. She can feel his warmth even before he touches her, his knees and lower legs alongside hers, shifting as he closes in; and then his cock against her ass, leaving a tracery of wetness, his and hers mingled, against her skin.

Almost immediately, he bends over her. He's larger than she is; his reach longer. His arms come down on either side of hers, planting his knuckles against the earth. His chest presses to her back, and she can feel him inhaling; can feel his mouth at her shoulderblades, at the lee of her shoulder. He nuzzles her, kisses her, rubs his cock against her until he finds the cleft of her ass; until he finds the opening of her cunt.

Like an animal, he bites the nape of her neck when he enters her -- panting softly, quietly against her skin as he pushes into her in one slow, sure stroke. She's wet again, or still wet; it doesn't matter which. There's no line between. He lets go her neck when he's planted deep inside her, kisses her instead, lifts his hand and pushes her hair to fall over one shoulder so he can kiss the skin of her neck, her upper back. On its way down, his hand grips gently at her bicep; at her forearm. His hand covers hers, and then his hands, both of them, slip beneath hers, as though to cushion her palms from the ground.

"Hold onto me," he whispers, and withdraws, pulls out, draws himself out hard and wet and glistening until they're nearly separated.

Enters her again, swifter.

[Danicka] There are rituals older than both of them, older than their tribe, meant to bring gods down by way of a physical act: sex, sacrifice, submission. This was never about that, about summoning anything. It was more about the stripping away of the things that are not and have never been necessary. It's a brutal lesson to look on truthfully, because all that is left is what is necessary... and what is left is not the war, or the pack, or the tribe.

What is left over, out here, is Danicka sliding of of his lap and off of his cock, her hands trailing down his chest, the pads of her thumbs gently stroking upward on his nipples. She moves back, braced briefly on her hands before she turns over, before he turns her over. They are wanting, and wanton, and it is no longer some small part of this that is animal and uncivilized but the entirety of it. There is nothing left but the simplicity of his hard cock and her wet pussy, her breasts in his palms and his breath in her ear, her heartbeat in her veins, his cum in her cunt.

There are rituals, older than they are and older than their tribe, created by their people to remind them of what they are. Rites of the Seasons, for dawn and moonrise, for the hunt and for births. This is not one of them, what they do when Danicka moves to all fours and arches in front of him, when Lukas bends over her and rubs himself against her, seeks her by touch and by memory. This is not so much ritual anymore as instinct, because she smells like --

(didn't he compare her to a cat in heat once?)

-- she wants him, smells like him, like she fucking belongs to him.

The morning he drove her back to her place she hadn't showered. Not quite so intensely as now but by god she'd smelled like Sam, like his sweat, tainted with liquor and eagerness. She's never smelled like that again. Only ever Danicka. Only ever the two of them. When she wakes in his arms even she can smell the both of them, feels her body molded to his as though they were formed at the same time, and for the same purpose.

Lukas fucks her. Again, hands sliding down as he covers her. Hold onto me, he says: and she does, putting her hands on his hands though the ground is not so hard or unyielding that it would do anything but leave the impresions of grassblades across her palms, a secondary set of lines.

"Harder," she says, tilting her head back, gasping at the darkness. "Lukáš, baby, I want you to fuck me..."

[Lukas] Beneath her hands, the backs of his feel immeasurably solid, the knuckles a mountain range, the tendons beneath the skin like belts of iron, like steel cables. She holds onto him as he asked, and he opens his fingers to hers, lets hers between, curls his fingers around hers, holds her fast.

Holds her like that while he covers her, while they fuck on all fours, while they mate like animals out here, in the wild, under the open sky.

He doesn't know how far they've come into the woods. He isn't even sure which direction the bonfire was in; which direction the second, wilder clearing was. He doesn't know what happened to half the buttons on his shirt. He doesn't know where they left his shoes or hers; where she left her dress.

It doesn't matter. Right now, it wouldn't matter to him if they never went back. If they shed their humanity and became wild things, living like Red Talons, living like beasts. He thinks they could manage. He could hunt; she could learn to build a fire, or eat meat raw. He could dig a den, line it with his own fur. They can shelter each other from the storm, from the rain, from the winter, from the world.

Right now, he can't think of any reason why they should not do this.
Right now, he's barely thinking at all.

Harder, she tells him. Fuck me.

So he does. His arms on either side of her are braced and iron-hard: like weight-bearing pylons, like foundations sunk into the earth, like tree-trunks. His chest over her back, his torso gives off such heat, generates such heat with the relentless, ceasing churning of his muscles that he could almost scald her. There's sweat on his back, sweat on his brow, sweat funneling down the midline of his body to smear and mingle with hers every time their bodies brush. Her skin is salty when he tastes her, and he tastes her often, laying hard, sucking kisses against her naked back, against those shifting, sliding muscles, against the slim, hard arches of bone beneath.

Solstice night ends. The day breaks. Blue shadows turn paler; and then there's a reddish glow in the air, brightening to gold.

Gold is the color of her hair, and golden is her skin. She's a golden creature in the summer, made for summer, made for this season of warmth, of heat, of unrelenting violence and sexuality and fecundity. She's a golden creature and he chased her through the darkness and she rode him in the darkness and he rides her now, fucks her now, turns her on all fours and fucks her like an animal, in the growing light.

Lukas doesn't straighten up this time, never leaves her. He stays where he is, her hands over his, her fingers between his. This isn't an inventive, creative fuck. It's not an acrobatic fuck. It is what it is: primal, powerful, merciless. She asks him to fuck her, harder, and that's exactly what he does. He fucks her. Harder and harder, faster, until his cock is slamming her cunt again, until his entire torso flexes with every thrust, until his body is slapping against hers. He plows her cunt; he gasps and pants in her ear, he has words this time; he's forgotten the use of his hands and forgotten all but the most primal positions, motions, actions, but he remembers his words. He growls half-formed phrases --

...fucking hot.
baby, that's it, yes.
don't stop.
take it.
so fucking tight.

-- that amount to nothing at all in the end. The real language is in their bodies. The real language is in the way he pants at the end, the way his chest flexes against her back, the way he pulls his right hand from beneath hers and clasps her against him, curls his arm around her and pulls her against him so firmly that her weight leaves her hands. The real communication is in the savage, thoughtless clamp of his teeth into her shoulder at the very last, the very last; and in the wordless, broken, jagged sound he bites into her when he comes inside her.

His orgasm rolls on and on, splintering him, dashing him to pieces. He fractures like sunlight through a prism. He holds her against him, bites her, penetrates her; and for all that he's not sure she isn't the one holding him up, holding him together, keeping him somehow whole when everything else,

everything else,

falls apart and becomes unimportant.

The light is golden afterward; as golden as her skin. When he opens his eyes the very air seems to have a radiance, a sort of light-dusted brilliance. The sun has risen; the light at the tops of the trees is still reddish and young, and his arm unwinds from around her slowly to set his hand back on the earth, palm to the ground, nudging under her hand as though to invite her to hold on to him, hold on, again.

[Danicka] The thought of staying here indefinitely came to her while she refused to get off of him, when she flat-out told him -- a Shadow Lord Ahroun -- no, she was not going to be moved, she was going to stay right where she was, with him inside and against and around her. She thought how would we eat? and where would we sleep? and came up with answers to all these things. It's summer; she would not need clothes. He's a wolf; she would be safe. She could learn to build a fire, sleep in the earth with his body warming hers. She could live here, with him, until she knew and named all the trees, until they knew how to call her.

The thoughts spun out in fragments, delighted in their own silliness, but as the male behind her moves into her, thrusts into her, fucks her harder like she begged him to, she thinks that they make perfect sense. The ground digs into her knees, the grass tickles her toes, and she gasps as her lover sucks and licks at her skin, opens her legs wider, tells him

"Deeper... fuck, Lukáš, yes...!"

and pushes back against him. Her hands tighten on his, clench down between his fingers like she clutches him between her legs, holds onto him just like the way she fucks him. They didn't do it like this until that night she bent over the edge of her bed and told him with her body, without a word, to get behind her and fuck her like this. Like an animal. Like a goddamned beast. They don't hesitate now.

Let go, she's urged him. Give it to me, she's gasped. Be what you are, she's moaned in her thoughts, arching her back and biting her lower lip against saying it aloud. She fought, still fights, the urge to say explicitly that she wants and loves that he is a savage, a warrior, a Full Moon... that he is everything she is frightened of. Instead she tells him, her voice purring into snarls against the backs of her teeth:

"Všechno. Dej mi to. Všechno. Dej mi to, lásko."

(...Dám ji zpátky.)

His hips swing, again and again, and Danicka cries out -- again and again. The sun continues to rise, inevitable as the end of this, its burning implacable. The night never completely cooled off; the day will only grow hotter again. They fuck like they are racing the sun itself, Danicka turning her head over her shoulder to watch him pound at her, tearing one hand off of his to touch herself when he begins to snarl in her ear, incoherent but understood, meaningless but vital. She encourages him in both languages they share, gasping out yes and ano alike, jo and yeah.

Her skin lightens by shades, the sun pushes down on his back as though to keep him where he is, keep him over her. The day warms by imperceptible increments, swelling into a muggy, moist sunrise. Already spent once, they fuck for longer, even if the way their bodies slam together is faster, is more urgent. She had him at the end of the night. He has her as the day breaks. There is an exchange in this, some kind of symbolism tied in with winter and summer, sun and moon, dominance and submission, male and female, Garou and Kin, force and resistance, but it is is also just

god, that cock.
don't fucking stop.
give it to me.
yeah, baby, fuck me.
make me come.

When he holds her, words turning to panting and her throat flashing with every sharp gasp for air, Danicka grips his forearm with her left hand, her right working furiously between her legs, her cries growing more and more insistent. She throws her head back as he bites her, as her orgasm sparks like a wildfire lighting up the sky in its own false sunrise. She bucks her hips back against him, unaware for two or three interminable seconds that he's coming with her, that he's making that noise because he's overcome by what they're doing to one another: conquered, conquering, shattered, free.

And her body melts around him, her sweat runs down his chest, a drop of his sweat trickles down the side of her breast. She gasps, and when the molten heat between them ceases to burn and begins to glow she suddenly tremors, suddenly clenches down on him inside of her and closes her eyes, her head dropping forward. Danicka makes some whimpering, almost pained cry and thrusts her hips back against his cock faster again, even as he's placing his hand on the ground again and urging her to hold on again and she holds on again, holds on for dear life as another orgasm spirals outward from where their bodies meet. Join. Fuse.

Danicka on all fours, her hair falling forward and her ass pressing back against him, shudders as she rocks on and with her lover. The muscles in her back flex, her upper arms tense, and that helpless cry becomes a groan. Her thrusts start to slow at the end, her gasps seem so shallow but so fast it's a wonder she's getting any oxygen at all, it's a wonder she doesn't lose consciousness, but she survives.

She holds onto him, and trembles again at the end, her cunt squeezing him in soft, slow waves. He cannot see her but her eyes are closed, her lips parted to breathe, her arms shaking from the effort of holding herself up. She breathes more deeply after a few seconds, begins to notice things like the way his chest feels against her back, the way his hands feel under her hands, the way his cock feels inside of her now, gently rocking. She begins to remember the way he looks when they make love, the pull of his face when he comes, the ache in his eyes when he holds her afterward.

Her arm lifts, hand trembling, as she folds back to touch the back of his head, to stroke those soft, now sweat-saturated hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Miluji tě. Ach, jak moc tě miluju," she murmurs, she sighs, she confesses.

=========

In the end he does need to help her find her shoes, wherever she stepped out of them. He dresses haphazardly, his clothes sticking to his flesh, and for awhile she walks alongside him, one filthy hand held in his filthy hand, and sometimes he picks her up to carry her over patches of rock or wood or mud because the ground is vicious and now that the sun is up he can see more clearly the scratches here and there, the bruises, the bite mark on her shoulder. She does not look injured. She does not look weak. She walks without shame, without wanting his clothes even if offered, and when they find her shoes she merely carries them for awhile.

When they find her dress in that wilder clearing she laughs and pulls it on over her head, lets it drop down her thighs, cleans her feet with the grass and slips on her shoes. They look ludicrous in clothing, and the smell of sex somehow seems more evident when they are trying to hide their bodies. Danicka laughs at the silliness of the fabric, the torn bits, the way her shoes feel on dirty feet. She laughs at the grass in his hair, the stains on his shirt, the insanity of modesty.

So level by level they re-acquire civility, or the trappings thereof. They retrace their steps and return to the world like going through gateways back from the underworld. The closer they come to the edge of the woods the more human they look. She combs her fingers through her hair, picks the twigs out of his. He rubs a smudge of dirt from her face, brushes plant matter from his arm. They notice that they are dirty. They cannot and do not even try to make themselves truly presentable.

The clearing remembers the bonfire in scent and ash, in depressions in the ground where tables were, flattened grass where coolers sat.

Danicka does not let go of his hand.

By the time they get back to Chicago his car smells like the outdoors and it smells like Danicka and it smells like making love to Danicka. By the time they get back to Chicago the idea of living in the woods and hunting to feed her and sheltering from the cold in his arms seems very, very far away. By the time they get back to Chicago they remember what it is to feign humanity. By the time he takes her home they remember the illusion of separateness, and believe that this is a way they can survive: apart. She kisses him for a long time before she leaves him, as though to tell him

Vím. Nechci se nechat buď.

But she does. And he does. And when she stands in the shower later, her eyes closed as hot water removes the memorials to the earth and her lover off of her skin, she feels the sting of scratches, the ache of bruises, and she remembers running through the woods with him. She remembers, as though it was eons ago, the drumbeats of the hearts in time, the inescapable knowledge of their own natures, the truth as she's never known it:

I am in love with you. I am in love with Lukáš. Lukáš Kvasnička. Lukáš. Moje.

Moje láska.

Mine.

My mate.