who wielded the knife?

lukas
A simple message on her voicemail:

"Which No-Moon was it that wielded the knife?"

It would be wholly incomprehensible if it didn't come just hours after her run-in with Edwin and Joe Holst. There's a pause; then he adds,

"I'm beginning to think your brother was right to lock you away from Garou of other tribes, and particularly those of Fenris. Mind yourself, Agnessa. I have been turning a blind eye to Fell Prayer's edict, but things change."

Click.

agnessa
She doesn't return the message-- because she is already at the building, waiting to Speak with Lukas, as she was the day before when the annoying event happened in the first place.

Nessa knocks on his door, and should there be no answer, waits in the common room, for there is more business to conduct than just his question.

lukas
The door opens after a moment. Lukas looks faintly irritated. It's a full moon, after all ... and from the spread of papers on his desk, he's been going over his finances. When he sees who it is he leans his shoulder to the doorframe, folds his arms easily over his chest.

"Yes, Agnessa?"

nessa
Silky and soft, possibly dangerous, wild where it counts, Nessa holds in her hand an envelope addressed to Lukas with nails painted with a delicately natural pink, wears faded black jeans, a dove-grey satiny camisole and goddamn sexy mules with black leather straps crisscrossing her feet and toes into the heels. She's left her hair to curl where it wishes in an ever-growing mane, watches him with the eyes of a Shadowlord woman,
which is to say, without weakness, and no few storm clouds.

"You wished information.
Was Edwin Morr, of Boogeymen.
If this is not bad time, I would like to update you what happened at mental ward with those witnesses, and to ask what I did which displeased you. If you would prefer, I can return another time."
Before her gaze can be too bold, can offer any challenge, Nessa most deliberately turns her gaze to the pile of bills and paperwork.

Ahrouns. The back of her neck prickles, as she is mindful of every word her rose-red lips might say.
She, and the moon, are far too full of potential.

lukas
The envelope is crisped snapped up. As Nessa speaks, Lukas his thumb under the flap and tears it open raggedly, unmindful of what care the kinswoman may or may not have put into its sealing and addressing.

"I'm not displeased, Agnessa," Lukas says quietly. "My feelings have very little to do with any of this. But if you cause trouble for me as you did for your brother, I will be forced to react in the same way. Becoming the focus of a squabble over kin qualifies as causing trouble." He draws the letter out, snaps it once to open it, and then shifts his eyes steadily to Nessa. "It's not personal, no more than my present lenience is personal. It also may not be entirely fair to you. But the safety and focus of the tribe is my primary concern."

Then he's quiet a while. Ice-clear eyes scan the page, click down line by line. When he finishes he straightens up, folding the letter back into the envelope.

"I see. Thanks for following up on this, Agnessa. Can you find a way to discreetly dispose of this single coherent fellow?"

nessa
The memories of what had happened that night are still with her, are probably while her face greens slightly. A distasteful business and a sick taste in her mouth.

Nessa nods towards the letter and three stray curls bounce around her face. "I have already neutralized him. He no longer possesses memories of what happened. Just druggy haze. Memories of some animals, police found dead ones in pile, and that is muted to what he should be able to handle.
Nothing of us.
Rest of them are... destroyed in their minds, nothing left to fix. Reimbursement for work is through Triarii."

"As for other thing, I will never cause you trouble like that night. I thought then that if i refused to accept insults from garou, I would get in trouble. Not someone else. It won't happen again."

Nessa swallows, the gray satin reflecting the room's light off her rather gentle curves.

lukas
"If you say so, I believe you. But keep an eye on him. If he shows signs of remembering, get rid of him." Lukas is not particularly bloodthirsty in this request. He's worse: thoughtful, but detached; uninvested. "Or let me know."

His eyes rest on Nessa's face for the remainder of the kinswoman's somewhat barbed promise. Lukas is quiet while the words hang on the air, sink into silence. The envelope rustles faintly in his hand as he flicks it against his thigh, thinking.

Then, "Agnessa, let me be frank for a moment. My concern is the war. Almost everything I do, I do because I believe it'll increase our chances -- our chances as a collective, as a whole, as a species and a Nation -- to win the war.

"Oftentimes the concerns of the Tribe and the concerns of the Nation are at odds. It's only natural. A Tribe is by definition insular, possessive, jealous of its belongings. A Nation is by definition inclusive, communal, diverse. But in the end, protecting the Tribe at the expense of the Nation will destroy us all.

"That's why I'll always put the War before the Tribe. That's why sometimes I'll put the Nation before the Tribe. That's why I may do things that are ruthless or unfair or overreactive in order to keep the Sept's focus where it belongs: on the War. Because winning the war is protecting the Tribe. Winning the war is bettering the Tribe.

"Sometimes this means you will have to suffer or sacrifice. But then, that's true of every last one of us."

A pause. Then the Ahroun straightens, raising the envelope in a subtle salute.

"Thanks for dropping by, Agnessa. I'll get in touch with Edwin and sort the rest of this out."

nessa
She listens and listens intently.
And in the end, she nods, her face impassive.
"Mmm.
I thought from how it was explained to me, that winning this war is Everything. Continued existence for kin and garou afterwards would be nice bonus, but not guaranteed.
Different to hear, that maybe some will live through it."

Actually, its not at all a Bad thing to hear, either.
"Have nice evening, Lukas."

Smiling rather sweetly, pleased, she moves out of his room towards the commons, for someone is pulling blackberry tarts out of the oven--again-- and all smart people in the vicinity really Should go mug Jenny for snacks.