new girl.

[Abney] Room 9 has a new occupant. Evidence: There is a duffel bag on the bed. The door is open; the duffel bag is empty. More evidence: Abney has a modest armful -- really, a single arm is all that's necessary -- of laundry.

And, less because she doesn't remember where the laundry room is, more because she wants to scope out the hallway, Abney gets to the laundry room by going the long way. Down the hall, around the bathroom -- she's conscious of the way her steps fall; the spot where the carpet sort've rises in a lump, the house-in-winter smell in the corner, not stale, but disused. Hotel smell, almost, but not quite. And something like mulled spice? Something from downstairs? Something good.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Any which way Abney goes, she'll pass by Lukas's room. The door is open. The overhead light is on, and so is the clip-on lamp on the headboard. Of Lukas, however, only two feet can be seen poking out from the end of a throw blanket. And, at the far end, two arms, a book.

He also has an ipod (5th generation. not cutting-edge.) in an altec lansing dock. It's playing, of all things, Toto's Africa. It can't possibly have nostalgic value for him. He was about a year old when it came out. Still, his bare feet are tapping unconsciously to the beat.

[Theron Locke] Theron had pulled himself out his room, he'd moved into room 6 the day before. Now he could be found in the common, nursing some new injuries acquired when he had the brilliant idea of going on an exploration of the city after Gina had helped him finish. There had been 5 of them...against rats the size of ponies...and yet two of his brethren had fallen.

So here he was laying back on the couch, not entirely pleased with himself. His fingers playing with the pendant that hung around his neck as he looked at it thoughtfully.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Somewhere in the common room the basket Katherine had brought across the previous evening still sat, somebody had shifted it to the low coffee table that sat somewhere in the midst of the open area and it still contained a vast array of food stuffs such as apples, pears, oranges and a couple of bars of Swedish chocolate. From down the stairwell there comes the quiet clinking of glassware being procured and a few moments after that, soft footfalls on the stairwell.

The Half Moon was detectable far before she was visible, that pure breeding was nigh impossible to ignore. She was making her way toward her Alpha's room, a bottle of red wine in one hand, glasses in another when she came across her newest pack-mate, nursing new injuries. The tall Aristocrat paused, her lips twisting minutely as she came to stand looking down upon him.

"Have you been getting up to mischief already, Oncoming Storm-yuf?" She inquired, her person dressed entirely in white, as she so often used to be, once upon a different totem.

[Abney] The door is open. The no moon looks inside. Pauses, even -- and squints frost-rimmed lashes at the reader. The socks; the arms; the cover of the book, title occluded by darkness. But there's this: Not another Get of Fenris or Black Fury. Her gaze flicks (knife) down the hall. Then back; resettles on the doorframe. Abney lifts her left hand to rap on the frame. The sound is sharp: rings of semi-precious stone against wood. And she'll wait a moment, to see if the sound rouses the reader from his book, her gaze sidelong and half-averted. The laundry starts to consider how best to make its trysting time with sweetheart, gravity.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Mm?" It's a distracted sound. Then Lukas shifts the book to one hand, lifting his head to peer out at the knocker. "What can I do for you?"

[Lonna Larson] On a morbid level, there was something cathartic about boxing up other people's things. She wasn't sure how much of it Charlie had and how much of it was dispured elsewhere. The whole of Aquae Sulis was gone. There was no one else that really would have their stuff with the exception of Charlie and...

well... the other residents of the Brotherhood.

As far as the knew, though, there was a guitar that she was claiming tonight, case or not.

The blonde was headed up the stairs, and she was dressed modestly. Sober. Somber. And built like the girl you used to stare at in chemistry class. Attire, however, was something comfortable. Jeans. sweater, and a pair of painfully nondescript shoes. Her hair was back in a low ponytail.

And with that? The blondew was headed up the stairs.

[Abney] "Hey. Is there a chance I could steal you from your book for a moment or two?" He'll likely ask why; Abney adjusts her grip on the laundry, and says, "New kid." A reference to herself, of course.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a beat of consideration. Then Lukas's eyes, pale as glacial ice, blink once. "Sure." He puts his book aside, turns off his headboard lamp, puts his iPod on pause. Toto stops in the middle of

I bless the rains down in Aaaa--

and Lukas gets up off the bed with a creak of mattress springs. He's casual in drawstring pajamas, an unmarked white t-shirt. Somehow the plain clothes make him seem larger, his rage stronger. He comes through the door and quirks an eyebrow.

"What's up?"

[Theron Locke] Startled out of his thoughts, Theron puts the pendant back under his shirt and tries to sit up, only causing himself to grimace. "Mischief perhaps....more like real trouble I think." a pained look in his eyes.

He goes to try to situp again "hmmm nope.. not going to happen. I hope you don't mind if I stay where I am" he apologizes. " looking up at his packmate.

"Went exploring last night after I finished moving in....came across one of us in an alleyway that was about to be attacked.....well things got worse from there on in..."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's blouse is loose-fitted, beneath it she wears a simple camisole, resting around the young woman's neck are, of course, a fine string of pearls wound twice around and left to fall gracefully against her breast. Her blond hair was the shade of golden wheat fields, thick and lustrous; it fell over her shoulder in a smooth wave as she peered down at her pack-mate from behind the sofa, her eyes, such a pale shade of blue, observed the wince as he attempted to sit up.

"You have not shifted to heal?" She asks with a touch of curiosity, circling the sofa as another set of footsteps precede Lonna into the common area. The Silver Fang notes the girl, and her eyes linger on her a beat before she nods once in recognition. She was aware that Theron had moved into the late Gaian's bedroom, but her knowledge ended there. Katherine set two glasses down on the coffee table and helped herself to an apple.

Biting into the fruit, the Philodox sat down across from him, sliding her legs beneath her. "How much worse?"

[Abney] The child of Gaia is snow-fair, Northern-ice fair; when she steps back from the door, her hair falls in her face again, delicate tangles around her ear. And of course she stepped back from the door, further down the hall; back not quite turned toward the common room. The sound of voices filters like dust through sunlight and, new place, new faces, there's the edge that accompanies that. Lukas is presence. A certain kind.

"Thanks. What's the book, anyway?" A beat. Then: "You wouldn't be one of the local galliards, would you?"

[Theron Locke] He shook his head "No not yet, I may do that later...I think at the moment I'm just using the wounds to teach me a lesson and make some necessary decisions." He himself was dressed only in a pair of loose fitting trousers, his wounds closed but the bruises remained.

He grimaced as he was asked the question "As worse as it could get...we lost two of our own in a fight with some wyrm-ridden filth."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hundred Years of Solitude," Lukas replies, and in the same breath, "no, I'm an Ahroun. But my packmate's a Galliard." Seeing that Abney isn't moving in any particular direction, Lukas simply leans against his open doorframe, folding his arms loosely, comfortably across his chest. "Have a story you want told?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] She stops chewing, her posture tightening and sits forward as if better to catch his words.

"Two fell? Do you know what they were called?"

Her eyes betray a sense of inevitably about this news, as if the death of their kind were as inevitable a thing as the oncoming snow.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (inevitability, ahem.)

[Lonna Larson] Up the stairs and soon enough, she found herself making her way into the common room. There were people there. Well, people that she didn't readily recognize. She adjusted her sweater and inhaled slowly. Okay, people...

Up the stairs, looking at the people in the common room and-

Oh, crap, they're talking about something that sounds personal. The blonde blinks, and makes her way across, "oh, crap, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

And, the only kinswoman in the room makes her way to a different part of the room.

[Abney] "Not exactly? I want somebody to tell me a story. 'Bout Maelstrom. 'Bout the garou who're here? Or have been here? New," she says, again, shrugging over-elaborately. The lefthand corner of her mouth deepens, shadow. "Like to get my bearings. And I'm sorry, I'm rude as hell, too: Name's Abney. Tiny Doom. No Moon."

[Theron Locke] He shakes his head "I'm sorry to say I don't know the names of those that fell. All I know is that the one I tried to initially help in the alley way was Dances with Fire-rhya.....a female fell just after she healed me..the only thing about her that has stuck in my mind is that she only had one eye..the other that fell was a red...."

As he was about to continue, he is interrupted by a new arrival. "No it's okay...." stopping as the kin seems to scurry off as fast as she arrived.

[Lonna Larson] She pauses on her way. Someone says it's okay and... well... it's good enough for her. They were talking about someone who had fallen. She stopped, and in a quiet moment she was empathetic. The other that fell had red...

Red... Hmmn. She stops and curiosity gets the better of her. She doesn't ask the question, but she does have intentions of sticking around, it seemed.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Tiny Doom?" Lukas allows himself a small, very small smile. "I hope you gave your mentor hell for that.

"Come on. Let's go to the common room. Maybe you'll hear some stories there." He reaches behind him, catches the doorknob of his door. Abney's view of Lukas's meticulously neat, spartan quarters diminishes to a sliver, nothing. The door clicks shut, and he nods up the hall. "I'll tell you about the packs I know of if you want. Are you going to drop that off in the laundry room?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's brows pinch together as the pack's new Theurge attempts to recall defining characteristics of those that had fallen. Dances on Fire she knew by sight and name, and the Philodox took another bite of her apple, chewing thoughtfully as he spoke of an unknown female, of another who had fallen before he breaks off with the Gaian Kinwoman's presence.

There is a flicker then, some vague suspicion that passes behind the woman's pale eyes. She softens her voice deliberately so that only Theron can hear. "This redhaired one, were they male or female?" Truth's Meridian' expression was rather grim.

[Theron Locke] Theron notices the lowering of Katherine's and responds in kind...noticing the kin's piqued interest ..he turns back to Kate and answers "male"

He shrugs after that, unable to provide any more information. "That's all I know..."

[Abney] "Tiny Doom," she affirms. "Sure did." There. Lukas' smile begets an Echo. Just imagine this: you've got a match and you've struck it but there's a gale and you're cupping it in the palm of your hand and it's only just visible.

But the tailend of the smile turns a lot brighter when he suggests the common room -- and her gaze flicks over to the common room door, 'gain. "Okay! Uh, and, you gotta name?"

Drop that off in the laundry room? Her chin falls to her chest in a nod, eyelashes dropping to her cheekbones, spiky, thorny shadows, and she's edging down the hall toward the laundry room once her clothes've been mentioned, how fast she goes depending entirely on Lukas: if he comes with, if he goes to the common room.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Theron murmurs his answer into the woman's ear and the Philodox nods, a tiny motion. She sits still for a beat and allows the realization to sink in, her eyes flicker to Lukas as he enters the common area and his Half Moon meets his own, her mouth drawn back into a grimace as she does so.

It is the unspoken communication between two who are packed that reads: bad news.

[Theron Locke] Somehow he manages to swing his legs around and finally sit up in the couch. "I hope you don't mind Kate... but I think I'll depart and deal with these wounds." His eyes look over as he sees Lukas enter the room "I think I'll need my strength to start answering questions."

Standing with a soft groan "Lukas, I just gave some news to Kate....I'm heading to deal with these " his hands indicate his several wounds "I'll come and find you later as I'm sure you will have some questions. There is also something I need to talk to you about.". He stands there waiting for a response

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas frowns at himself, shaking his head. "Sorry -- Lukáš Wyrmbreaker. Shadow Lord Ahroun." They're side by side; he extends his hand at her backhanded, thumb down; they manage some sort of handshake.

"So, packs of Maelstrom." He follows her to the laundry room, speaking as he goes. The voices in the commons become more audible as they pass the doorway; less, as they leave it behind. They're indistinct, anyway. Lukas's packmates are all but whispering. Lukas doesn't pay them any mind. "The Grand Elder has his own pack. It's just him and another Glass Walker right now. The Warder has his Guardians, and the Ritesmistress is packed with an unlikely pair. They all tend mainly to their Sept duties; you won't see them much."

He watches Abney load the washer and study the control panel. After a few wrong pushes, he reaches past her and sets it up for her, never missing a beat on what he's telling her.

"The Chosen of Eagle and Obsidian Data are the next oldest packs in town; both keep their own territories. The Eagles are a war pack. Their Beta is the Sept Philodox Elder and their Theurge is the elder of her auspice. Their Alpha's away right now; an adren Fenrir Full-Moon, and about what you might expect from such a combination."

The lid drops on the washer with a clang. Lukas steps back, nodding toward the door and the common room.

"Obsidian Data is more of a reconnaissance pack. Glass Walker in flavor, though I believe their ranks boast a number of tribes. We don't seem to see them often, though.

"The rest of us are fairly new to Chicago. My pack, the Unbroken, and Buried-Hatchet's, the Sentinels, are perhaps the longest in town, though both of us have changed totems and numerous packmates. We're both war packs, I believe, and we're both more interested in results than methods, though that's where the similarities end. I believe in a considered, pragmatic approach. Hatchet's far more impulsive.

"Then amongst the newer packs are the Forgotten, La Familia, the Bogeymen and the Swarm. La Familia and the Swarm are war packs. The Bogeymen and the Forgotten are packs of cunning. The latter's an unassuming lot. Survivors, very Gnawer in flavor, though one of them's actually a very well-bred Fianna. The Swarm's another pack that keeps mainly to itself. A lot of Pure Ones in that pack."

He pauses at the entrance to the common room, turning to Abney, finishing his thoughts.

"I'll be frank. I'm not terribly fond of La Familia and the Bogeymen. So if you want an unbiased opinion, ask someone else. From my perspective, the Bogeymen are a dishonorable lot, a pair of Ragabashes of my Tribe and pretty much every bad stereotype of Thunder personified. They seem to revel in it. And La Familia claims to follow Black Unicorn, and claim to protect their allies, but everything I've seen speaks to the contrary.

"That's just my opinion, though." He nods her into the common room. "And I readily admit -- and hope -- it may change."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] That spiel out of the way, Lukas turns to glance at his packmates. The look on Katherine's face has him turning to Theron, puzzled. He's quiet for a second.

Then, "I'll talk to her and come find you. Which room are you in?"

[Theron Locke] "I'm in room 6 now" he nods at his Alpha's response that he'll come and find him. With that he says his polite goodbyes and exits out of the room headed towards Room 6.

(( thanks for the scene.. apologies for leaving so soon ))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (night man!)

[Abney] (( later, man! ))

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine is discreetly aware of the Kinswoman standing in the common area, though she does not directly look at her face, perhaps for fear pity will dawn in her expression. Rather, she watches her pack-mate gingerly lever himself to his feet and stagger off to heal injuries from a battle that had claimed not one, but two Garou. After a moment, Katherine rises to her feet and disposes of her apple core, dusting off her fingers as she moves toward her Alpha and an as of yet unknown female.

The Silver Fang offers the other blond a tight smile, her tension visible.

"Another new arrival," she guesses, and offers her own introduction of sorts, briefly. "I am Katherine Bellamonte, Truth's Meridian, Philodox of the Unbroken." Here she nods at Lukas, and then pauses. "I have news," her eyes do linger on the Kinswoman a beat before they return to Lukas. "It is perhaps not suitable for all ears."

[Katherine Bellamonte] (*sneaks 'Silver Fang Philodox' into that post*)

[Lonna Larson] She didn't catch the rest of it, though voices had dropped and something seemed... offputting. She turns and there are people coming. It doesn't take a rocket scientist for her to figure out that something is up. She was a fairly empathetic creature, and instead looked at the assembly of garou-

Which lingered on Abney for a second when there was a quiet sort of recognition there. Something shared between matches traded and a picturesque fountain, and back to an even more picturesque blonde.

"... I can come by another time. I just came to pick up a guitar."

It's not like Liam's stuff was going anywhere any time soon.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's pale eyes pin Katherine's.

So tell me like this, he says into her mind.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Very well, comes the cool response. Though beneath it he can feel her unease, more unusual still, her sorrow. Theron was involved in a battle last night, he said that two Garou fell. One female he did not know, and a male.

Katherine's eyes are intent, they narrow fractionally.

A red-headed male.

Lukas, I know of only one male Garou in this Sept possessing of red-hair. Evan Judgment of Sterling Silver-rhya.

[Abney] The child of Gaia cocks her head as she listens, scratching behind her ear. The five rings on her left hand look like wisps of smoke -- of shade; there's not enough light in the laundry room to make them anything other. Abney and Lukas manage a handshake. Lukas helps her with the washer. At least Lukas as the oration gene.

"What do -- "

And a stop of breath and a silence when Theron, clearly wounded, comes out of the common room. Abney looks him over, and then she looks Katherine Bellamonte over, too, and pretty Lonna. Abney's a watchful thing.

This about Katherine Bellamonte: just the mere fact of her -- the way she holds her head when she speaks; the sound of her vowels -- brings a slightly more formal cant to Abney's introduction. "Hi. Yes: I'm Abney Thomas. Tiny Doom. Ragabash o- " [Disconnect] "...of the Children of Gaia."

That wasn't what she meant to say, exactly. But there was a cliff between of: and what she was of: which was nothing at all right now except her tribe and the nation. I have news, Katherine says, and Abney glances at Lukas, folding her arms across her chest -- an eyebrow raised, arch. Go to the common room, he said. Maybe there'll be stories.

Maybe stories not suitable for all ears?

Then: Lonna. "Hey," she says, recognition. "I remember you." No wonder, there, no - wow, I remember you. This is a statement of fact, people.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lonna's position must be intensely uncomfortable right now. First there was the distinct sensation that Kate and Theron were talking about something they didn't want her to hear. Then there's the unmistakable impression that Kate and Lukas were speaking again, this time completely inaudibly, about that same thing. Then Abney says she remembers her.

And seconds later, Lukas's ice-strewn eyes flick unwaveringly to her.

"Lonna and Abney," he says quietly, "when you have a minute, there's something you should know."

And he looks back at Katherine. I don't think there's any reason to conceal Judgment-rhya's passing from his own tribemates.

[Katherine Bellamonte] It was not a question of keeping it from them, rejoins Katherine instantly. It was simply that the girl has just lost her former guardians has she not? I wondered if it should not come from another of her tribe. But, perhaps you are right. It is best they do not discover second-hand.

More silent discussion, before the Silver Fang too, turns to regard Abney and Lonna.

[Abney] She looks from Lukas to Katherine. And the elf-tangled, sunlight-on-ice blonde sharpens. Alert. "What?"

And also, something distant, but wary, crouches in her expression -- she knows that tone of voice. That tone of voice makes her heart leap in her chest like one of those goldfish you scoop up at a fair, trying to make a dash for oblivion, anything except the plastic baggie. Even though she knows that she hasn't even been to the caern yet, so --

Well. What is there that she should know? That she, and Lonna, should know? What do they have in common? Tribe, maybe? What bad news? Somebody important gone? What?

[Lonna Larson] Abney remembered her.

There was no wavering in that. No question, no mirth. Just a statement of fact. She remembered her, too, but it brought a smile to the blonde pretty, pretty face. Something about her was always pristine. She probably didn't have anything wrong with life. She probably had a condo and worked every job from veterenarian to paralegal and all things inbetween... or whatever it was that tall, busty, All-American blondes did for a living.

He needed to tell them something. She looked at Abney and then back at Lukas. The air went from awkward to confused. To awkwardly confused.

She didn't know what it was she didn't need to hear, but aparently she was about to hear it.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] I won't deliberately keep silent until some other Garou of the right blood and breeding shows up to tell them, Lukas fires back, and for an instant there's something of their old animosity there. His drive and her ambition. His honesty and her -- if not deceit, then at least, shaping of the truth.

Besides, this is something of bitter irony, who the hell remains of the Children these days?

Both of them are looking at him now. A kin, and a newcomer to the city. Lukas's eyes move from one to the other, then back. He clears his throat quietly.

"Your tribal elder, Evan McCollach, Judgment of Sterling Silver, is very likely dead. My packmate Theron Eyes-of-the-Oncoming-Storm witnessed the passing of a redhaired male Garou. There's only one in the Sept."

A beat.

"He was a good Philodox Elder, and a very honorable Garou. I..." Lukas falls quiet. Whatever condolences or consolations he had in mind seem empty to him. He shrugs, once. "I thought you should know."

[Ewan Selwyn] (Open?/ If so, locations?))
to Abney, Katherine Bellamonte, Lonna Larson, Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Abney] (( Think so. The common room. ))
to Ewan Selwyn, Katherine Bellamonte, Lonna Larson, Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Ewan Selwyn] *There was no real sound of this one's arrival. A predator by birth and from the first day, he moved stealthily even when he didn't 'have' to. He swam into view as he silently ascended the stairs and paused just inside the common room to look around and take in any there.

Tallish at 6'4" but bony and slender, he moved with the grace of a caged predator. That swift eloquent motion that borderlined on explosive predatory nature. Dressed as he was often seen, black Chuck Taylors with neon green laces. Jeans with a tear in one knee, recently stitched, long sleeved black teeshirt with a green short sleeved shirt over it with Solyent Green is People! on it. Over it all is a Canadian Digital cammo jacket that's 2 or 3 sizes too big. Hanging loosly on the garou. A black ball cap with gold exclamation point adorns his head. Glassy clear clear blue eyes survey the gathered garou.

A pause and nod of respect given to Lukas. *

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine does not respond to him, he can feel her stony silence like whiplash across the totem-link, however. Instead, the Silver Fang crosses thin arms over her chest and regards the pair of Gaians before them. When her Alpha's voice fails him to describe Evan, she picks up the slack as if it were a continuation of his thoughts, as if it were planned between them.

"Judgment of Sterling Silver-rhya was the sort of Half Moon you wished to be someday, for myself he was a just and amiable elder and you should feel proud of his accomplishments." She lifted her chin a little, regal. "I would have gladly called him a kinsman."

[Ewan Selwyn] *The glassy pale blue eyes slip over and to the beautiful Silverfang. His voice, hard with the guttural syntax of one that learned High Tongue before English, and thus sounding like a Klingon speaking English. Still for now he speaks only one word. And that one wasn't loud, but it carried.* "Was"?

[Lonna Larson] It is a notification from messenger to the nearest of kin. Missing in Action, assumed dead. More-than-likely dead. It is professional, but at its core ineffectual. Whatever condolences Lukas offers feel hollow to him; Lonna doesn't quite process them.

They are nice things to say, and they are things that she said recently towards Drew. They were thoroughly imparted to her by that particular Child of Gaia when he informed her that Liam Foster had died in battle.

That he was honorable. [I've heard this before]
That he was a good philodox. [I've heard this before, I don't want to hear this again]

Enough of the rationale, but this was the reaction:

your tribal elder, he says. Evan McCollach, Judgment of Sterling Silver, is very likely dead.

The color drains from the blonde's face almost immediately. She was all warmth and glow and light and that was gone almost instantly. Faded away and made her hands feel as though they were starting to tremble.

Lonna looked at Lukas, mouth shut and her breathing very... very calm. It wasn't a natural sort of calm. Not at all, it was forced, it was telling her body that it needed to breathe. A sudden drop in blood pressure. Lightheadedness that was only associated with a finite number of things.

He says something about his packmate seeing something about a redhead, and she nods weakly. The blonde pulls her arms in close to her body. She folds her arms across her chest in an almost protective manner.

"You'd think I'm bad luck or something," she remarks with a completely non-heartfelt smile. It doesn't reach her eyes, and it only barely comes to her lips. The attempt at humor falls flat.

She looks down, and it's not that she finds the ground interesting, but she needs something else to look at that isn't the messenger. She's not screaming at Lukas. She isn't crying. She isn't even yelling.

Lonna is, however, shaking so badly that she might not stand much longer.

But it wasn't helping, because Katherine was telling both herself and Abney that he was a credit to their tribe, that he would have made a Silver Fang proud to share a tribe with him. Lonna didn't understand the significance of it, if for no other reason than the fact that she did not truly understand the circumstances of his birth.

Ms. Larson looked up, and the look wasn't stony, it wasn't terse or blank, it wasn't a lot of things. But there was this:

"... I am proud of him."

There's the distinct impression that she had always been proud of him. And perhaps, would always be.

Now, if her hands would just stop shaking
[-1 WP to keep functioning]

[Katherine Bellamonte] Truth's Meridian glances at the new arrival, the Alpha of Obsidian Data, if she was not mistaken from the brief glimpses she'd had of him at their last Moot. She nods briefly, her lips compressing at either side.

"Word has come from our Theurge who was present at the battle, two fell, one of whom was Judgment-rhya without much shadow of a doubt." A beat, the Silver Fang adds softer, perhaps for the benefit of the Kinswoman who appears close to fainting. "We all share your loss."

[Abney] Aw.
And there it was.

The bad news. Abney (Tiny Doom) didn't know this Evan. But his packmate had given her aid; his pakmate had said his name with pride. And Abney, well. She's at enough of a distance that, while she gets a spike of adrenaline, she isn't crushed or demoralized. Unhappy, yeah; surprised, also yeah. Discomfited: also yeah. Uncertain: that too.

Lukas and Kate both give their little epilogues on what Evan was, and just like that, Abney's mood crashes, utterly, pieces of wreckage flung all over. The no moon stops hugging herself, and looks at the kinfolk. The kinfolk might, presumably, have actually known Evan; might even be Evan's. And is, apparently, hers, so there are duties. Abney knows. She says quietly, "That would be Gossamer Wing's Evan, yeah?"

Beat. Newcomer. Ewan. Abney's gaze lifts briefly from Lonna to study him, but then goes back to the clearly distraught kinfolk. "Thanks for telling me." The ragabash hesitates on the verge of another question, then discards it.

"Yo, Lonna. You remember what we talked about? I need your help with something."

[Abney] ooc: the 'Thanks for telling me' was to Katherine&Lukas, in case that wasn't clear.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (percep/primal urge -- just to get a sense of ALL ENCOMPASSING GRIEF)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Lonna Larson

[Lonna Larson] ((Yep. This isn't just butthurt, Mr. Kvasniblahblah, this is Advanced Butthurt. She is Pretty Damned Torn up, not only that, but it's... uncertain. About a lot of things, now.))
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Ewan Selwyn] *One black brow rose as Ewan took in that information. A grunt and a frown crossed his features. The glassy killers eyes seemed to mull that over a moment*

Shit...

*A shake of his head and he moved further into the room. One hand raising to scratch the opposite forearm. The thick sleeve of the jacket there catching on something unseen underneath.*

Well that fucking sucks. He was a true Philodox.

*The harsh guttural accent making it sound like, such a creature was very rare indeed*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lonna makes a respectable effort at keeping her head up. Lukas looks at her and ... sees right through it. She wears her grief like a shroud. Like a scent he can all but pick up, and for a second, Lonna can almost swear the Shadow Lord is doing exactly that. Narrowing his eyes and lifting his chin and flaring his nostrils and

reading her from her body language, her smell.

It passes. He glances at Ewan briefly, but Katherine answers there and he doesn't need to. All he says is, "I'm going to go to the Caern and see if they've arranged for Judgment-yuf's Gathering yet. If not, I'll send word in case you want to attend."

This is directed at Lonna, specifically: "You might want to make yourself known to Evan's packmate, Andrew Dances on Fire. As the only remaining Fostern, he might be the de facto elder of your tribe now."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine does not hesitate. "I will come with you." She seems about to say something else, something meaningful to Lonna perhaps, something comforting to Abney, newcomer and already hearing news of death but she stalls, her eyes turn downward, thoughtful and she remains silent.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (i'ma log out, guys -- i got a stack of work and this RP/work multitasking thing isn't working for me *LOL* thanks for the play!)

[Katherine Bellamonte] (i'm with d-dawg here, I gotta go rustle up some dinner! :D thanks for play!)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (oh -- y'all can assume Lukas tells 'em about the Gathering, if you guys wanna post to that thread! *jets*)

[Ewan Selwyn] *Ewan grunted at Lukas' words* Well that's a truly fucking horrific thought.... *He leans aginst one of the pool tables and pushes his sleeves up to the elbow. A shard of bone was protruding from the left forarm. The muscles, like steel cords, parted and the bone extending about 4 inches.

He scratches around it a moment before gripping it in his hand. Taking abreth and wrenching it back aginst the grain. There was a ssickening crunch and slurking sound as the bone broke and was extracted. A grout of blood spurted out and down his arm.

The shard was clamped between his teeth and a red hankie was pullled out to mop up the blood and press to the wound* Mmmm The Obsidian Data will roll out.

[Ewan Selwyn] (( guess I'll catch folks next time! *S*))