wrath.

[Sinclair] It's late, or for Garou, possibly quite early. It all depends on their sleeping schedule. Late or early, though, the night finds Sinclair pounding her fist three times on her Alpha's bedroom door.

[Katherine] Katherine was having her bathroom re-tiled at the Loft, and as such had been coming to profit from there being a shower at the Brotherhood for the last few days. She was just leaving the showers as Sinclair appeared at Lukas' door and began hammering on it. Truth's Meridian was dressed in jeans and a cashmere sweater, her blond hair darker for its damp state as she fluffed it with a towel she'd brought with her from home -- it was Egyptian cotton blend, after all.

Nothing but the best for Miss Bellamonte.

[Wyrmbreaker] The door opens ....eventually. Lukas looks out, rubbing his eye, squinting, hair rumpled.

"What's going on? Who died?" It may or may not be a joke.

[Sinclair] She looks much as she always does, though tonight there's no dark makeup smudged around her eyes, nothing but the innocent clarity that is there with or without the actual innocence to go with it. She's wearing a longsleeved shirt with thick blue and gray stripes, the cuffs hanging over her hands, the piercings and tattoos on her arms hidden. Her hair is down.

She glances to the side, seeing Katherine, then looks back to their Alpha with her lips in a thin line. There is no finesse in what she says when Lukas answers the door. But she's not an artist; she's a Galliard.

"Arthur Strikes With Valor in His Heart," she says, but he may already know this. The graves already hold him in their borders, his name carved into a great stone slab. "By my hand and the Wyrm's spirit."

[Theron Locke] Theron was gradually stirring him from his slumber, his mouth dry he decided to head to the kitchen . He stumbled out of bed in a pair of black silk boxers and a t-shirt. Making his way to the door to his room, there is a trip, a stumble , a "oww.. fuck!" as he makes his way across the minefield that is his new room mates side of the room.

Eventually making it out of the room he hobbles out into the corridor and begins heading to his destination, almost bumping into Sinclair in his half-groggy state, who was standing outside his Alpha's room apparently with something on her mind. "Oh sorry Sinclair....didn't see you." and then a look past her at another figure gathered in the hallway "Oh Katherine too...."

[Wyrmbreaker] "What?" He gives her such a look: not recrimination or horror or anything of the sort, but bleary-eyed consternation. It was a joke. He scrubs his face. Then he gets it.

"...what?" Again; sharper now, more focused.

[Katherine] She hesitated in the corridor as first Lukas' sleepy head poked out of his room, and then Theron stumbled out of his own bedroom and almost ran into first Sinclair and then in turn, Katherine. She let her hands still in their toweling motions over her head and instead focused on what their new Galliard had just confessed to.

Her eyes traveled from her Alpha's sleepy confusion to Sinclair's resolute expression.

She approached with near-silent footsteps.

"Perhaps we should not discuss this in the hall."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Yeah." His eyes don't leave Sinclair as he takes a step back, pushing his room door all the way open. "Let's talk inside. Shut the door behind you, Theron."

Lukas's room is a very plain, utilitarian affair: a bed, a desk, a dresser, a closet, a nightstand, a window, and that's about it. There's a laptop on the nightstand. A clipon lamp on the headboard. A gooseneck desk lamp, and a coffee maker on the desk. There's a single chair, wooden, at the desk; Lukas drops down on his rumpled, still-warm bed, throwing a pillow against the wall to lean against it, cross-wise on his mattress.

[Sinclair] None of them are old. None of them are even full adults by society's standards of lifestyle and behavior. Not one of them should expect to live past twenty-five, will be lucky and glad if they do. They're young. They're painfully, frighteningly young.

Right now, Sinclair is the only one who looks it. She's not short, she's not fragile-looking, but her slope of her shoulders is lower than usual. Her eyes don't look quite so hard. The set of her mouth is firm, but there's the distinct impression that Sinclair herself is not. They do not speak to one another by thought alone, but there is an added level of sensitivity to packmates that is not unlike the preternatural awareness so often attributed to twins.

If they could see her through an aura, there would be lightning flashing, clouds gathering. If they could feel her like a sensation, it would vibrate with agitation against their palms. Sinclair uneasy is a dangerous, volatile thing. Sinclair no longer carries with her that belief that no matter what, they'll see that it wasn't really her fault. Even if it wasn't.

It doesn't really matter anymore, to her, whether it was or not.

She looks at the doorframe for a moment as Katherine speaks. She does not look at Fang or Lord again but steps over the threshold after Lukas, bare feet padding silently and frayed jeans scuffing the carpet. She goes to the window sill and opens it if it is not already, turns, and sits on the sill, the chill wind against her lower back.

[Theron Locke] Theron gives Lukas a nod of his head and follows his new pack into the room, closing the door behind him. For now he just sits and listens.

[Wyrmbreaker] You'd think Lukas was born somewhere southern and warm, the way he insists on leaving his windows open a crack even in the dead of winter. He wasn't, though; he was born not far from Prague, grew up in New York City and Boston. He should know better.

Maybe it's his bloodline, then: mountain lords and dark wolves, vampire hunters, kingmakers, kingslayers, kings. In any case, the Shadow Lord, barechested and in pajama bottoms, doesn't seem affected by the chill in the room.

Sinclair takes up a seat at the window. Wyrmbreaker makes a small, encouraging motion of his hand. "So? What happened?"

[Katherine] As Theron closes the door behind him, the Silver Fang is unwinding the towel from around her neck and systematically opening it and then finding a place to lay it out to dry as they speak. Katherine does this with the sort of precision and over-caution that speaks of the Philodox searching more for her words than some necessity to ensure the towel dries properly. She also waits for the Alpha of the Unbroken to speak first, as was expected.

Towel properly spread out, the Silver Fang watches the Glass Walker and the Shadow Lord through strands of damp hair, her features softened by her lack of make-up or typical decoration. In jeans and sweater, she appears just as young as the rest of them tonight, Lukas asks what happened, and the Half Moon's arms slide over her chest, she remains by the doorway, listening.

[Sinclair] Perched on the windowsill, her feet braced against the wall underneath the sill rather than dangling, there's an immediate mental likening of Sinclair to a monster of legend, or a gargoyle, or a philosopher in contemplation. She is hunched slightly, elbows on her thighs. A great number of people, human or Garou, would overbalance and topple to the floor trying to sit as she does. Sinclair does not. She has an athlete's -- or warrior's -- awareness of her own body, of her center of balance, of the force of gravity and how to compensate for it.

Which is to say: she is not aware at all of this compensation, this leveling of her playing field against herself. She moves as she always does, with an eerie thoughtlessness and unconscious grace. Whatever she is, whatever she's become, however she was trained, Sinclair has long since surpassed the time when she had to consider physical action before taking it... and excelling.

"I'll be giving a report at the moot as well," she begins, "but a little over two weeks ago --" there's no flinch, vocally or facially, to indicate shame that it has taken this long for her to say something to any of them, "-- I came upon Joey, Charlie, and Arthur entering an alleyway in the Cabrini-Green area. I think it was a few blocks outside of Eagle territory. As I walked by I saw something in the shadows, one of which was attacking Joey.

"I jumped in to help. Arthur fell once but rose again. We all took wounds, but Charlie healed both Art and I." She pauses for a moment there, frowns at the carpet. "He's a really good Theurge."

The moment passes, and she lifts her head again, continuing. "Two of the four creatures died quickly. One of them I killed in a single bite. The fourth was wounded, but before we could close on him, he possessed me."

The Walker takes a breath, rolling her shoulders back as she exhales and straightening slightly. "It was... like being in a frenzy. Only I was aware of everything. I remember everything. I even knew why it chose me. Art was an Ahroun but as far as that battle went, I was the most dangerous." She says it without pride. Least of all, pride.

"Essentially... I bit all three of them to death. Charlie tried punching of all things, but Art actually went all-out trying to take me down. I was trying, inside, to fight it off even while this thing was attacking them, but Joey and Charlie still fell. They raged back, both of them, but not enough to rise up and fight back anymore. And then Arthur died, and this time he didn't come back."

Her voice is, as it has been all this time, low. She speaks with more emotion than she will at the moot, recounting the same story. She speaks with the moonlight at her back and the night air cooling her from the outside-in. She does not try to draw them into the tale, painting the shadows that she saw that night or describing what it felt like to have the shadowman possessing her, guiding her fangs. Sinclair is not that sort of Galliard.

Or maybe this just isn't that sort of tale.

"I started biting and clawing at myself, and running into the brick wall, trying to stop myself from killing Joey and Charlie again, too. I drove him out, and he escaped. The next thing I remember is Charlie healing me." There's a pause, longer this time, but the story isn't over yet. She takes a breath. "I left him and Joey to clean up and Cleanse. I took Arthur to the Ritesmistress to be prepared, and then I hunted the shadowman down.

"And I killed him. And then I went to Arthur's Gathering."

[Wyrmbreaker] While Sinclair perches on the windowsill and Katherine and Theron take up positions near the door, Lukas sits on his bed with his back to the pillow to the wall, his knees drawn up and his elbows atop. His hands are folded together, knuckles to his mouth as he listens.

Afterward, Lukas is silent for some time. He doesn't rub his temples, or the bridge of his nose; he doesn't scrub his face. He just looks at Sinclair, frowning faintly, thinking.

Then, "Did he have a pack? Or a prospective pack?"

[Theron Locke] Theron for all this time had remained silent, he had heard of all the recent deaths from a number of people over the last few days. But he hadn't heard the full story until now. He looks thoughtful as he listens to the Gailliards re-telling, not quite ready to try and provide any insight himself.

On Lukas' question though he does responsd "I met a young lady here last night, her name was Lonna. I believe she mentioned that Arthur was linked to another Garou named Liam. I believe it was a pack she was mentioning, although I may be mistaken."

[Sinclair] At Lukas's question, Sinclair looks over at him, but does not answer until after Theron chimes in. She addresses the Theurge first. "Arthur was packed with another Child of Gaia named Liam, but he died not long before Arthur did. The Sentinels were courting him." Her brows draw together for a second, then apart. "That's why they were fighting together."

She rubs her palms against her denim-covered knees, exhaling. "I talked to Charlie about it, since he's sort of the acting Alpha or whatever. I asked if he was going to bring this up at the moot -- a challenge of grievance, a demand for a punishment rite or contrition. But he's not requiring anything of me."

[Theron Locke] He raises a brow at the mention of Charlie's name, and the decision the Theurge had made. The Black Fury continued to surprise him, perhaps he hadn't given the guy a fair chance. After all it was only a couple of nights before that they had fought side by side to bring down ..well whatever the hell it was.

He looks back at Sinclar, watching her reaction and current mood "Perhaps Warcry, Charlie doesn't require those things, becuase it's plainly obvious that you are holding yourself accountable enough as it is ?"

[Sinclair] "To be honest, Theron, I couldn't care less why he isn't demanding restitution," Sinclair says simply. "Though I do know that my feelings on the matter have nothing to do with it."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's brow clears slightly as Sinclair says she's already spoken to Charlie. "Good," he says; listens to the rest, his pale eyes flicking between Theron and Sinclair as they speak.

"You're right," he says when they're finished. "This will need to be brought up at the moot. If you've squared with the Sentinels, it makes things easier. You did what you could to stop yourself, to destroy your possessor, and to drive him out of you before you could kill the rest of them. That's the truth, but it'll have much more weight coming from Charlie and Joey, and if your debts are settled with them they might speak in your favor. We should consider discussing it with them before the moot, though I'm undecided on who should do the talking."

Lukas is right where he's been all along, sitting in his bed. He's frowning, but there's an odd surety about him. He speaks deliberately, thoughtfully, calmly, and whatever they might have heard about him before joining this pack -- words like honorable, like stalwart -- it's utterly obvious where his loyalties and interests lie. It's not with justice. It's with his pack.

"It's possible," he continues, "that the Sept will raise a stink about it when it comes up at the moot. Of all of them, the only ones with a real grievance they can press are the Children of Gaia. Since Arthur was not yet packed, they'd have a right to retribution. Normally I'd say it'd be unlike them to seek anything overly harsh, but with Evan McCollach's death the eldest of their tribe is Andrew now. He's unpredictable, and sometimes he acts more like a Fenrir than a child of Unicorn.

"Still, he's not without honor. He might allow us to deal with this in-pack, particularly if we go in with punishment already handed down. So that's something I'm leaning toward too. Get Kate to judge you, as soon as possible, harshly, and then get the punishment out of the way. If you go in repentant, and having paid a price already and made your peace with Arthur's pack-to-be, it'll be damn hard for Andrew to keep baying for blood.

"That's my take on this. What do you guys think?"

[Sinclair] Something Lukas says early on makes Sinclair bristle. It's in the way her eyes move to him, a slight shift in her breathing, an effort towards restraint. It is not, by the look of things, such a strong reaction that it's particularly difficult for her to rein in. But it's there. She laces her hands together, her forearms resting on her thighs, as the Ahroun speaks his piece. And licks her lips, presses them together.

"I think discussing this any further with the Sentinels might... not do as much good as you think. Charlie was pushing for me to tell what happened at the moot. Kept saying that if I didn't he would. And I bloodied the common room floor with him when he suggested that I wouldn't do so." She says this without shame, without displeasure, without a wine of pretended embarrassment. "I'm a Galliard. I spoke the truth at his Gathering, for Arthur. I'm speaking of it now to you all for the sake of our pack. When I tell this story at the moot, it will be because it is my duty."

She slides off the windowsill, standing smoothly. "If Kate deems that I should be punished for this, then I expect her to lay down a judgement that is fair, regardless of how it might look to the Children of Gaia or their current elder. And if they want more, then like you said: they are the only ones who could reasonably or rightfully press the grievance. If it's fair, I'll take what they give me. If it's not, the Philodoxes of the sept will say so."

Sinclair shrugs once, slightly. "I still need to speak with Joey. She hasn't been staying in our room since it happened. As for Charlie, he apologized for the insult he gave me, and his only wish is that the rest of the sept know the truth of what happened, and how, and why. If they choose to speak on my behalf before the sept... then I will be grateful. But I won't seek it. They lost someone they would have called their brother because my control faltered; if they hold their tongues, they have every reason for their silence."

She quiets. "I didn't want the three of you finding out about this at the moot. I should have told you earlier.

"And I'm sorry." It's almost a whisper, her voice dropping down to the floor as though in its own act of contrition.

[Theron Locke] Theron shrugs his shoulders "Sinclar, you've got nothing to apologise to me for. I can hardly hold you accountable for actions that were made before I arrived or even before I joined your pack. These actions that you speak of may have lead me to ask some questions, but I do not believe they would have stopped me from joining . I think you have shown wisdom in informing us all before the time, at least the news will not come as a shock and we'll be able to control our reactions and provide a united front." Theron shrugs and leans back against the wall, these are only his 2cents. So he turns his attention to Lukas and awaits his Alpha's response.

[Wyrmbreaker] "I know you're sorry," Lukas replies, low, nearly offhand. Wyrmbreaker's lips compress for a moment; something like exasperation. Then he sits up, feet hitting the floor, hands bracing at the edge of the mattress.

"Sinclair, let's set aside this idealistic talk of duty and how things should be, shall we? I want to deal with this honorably and justly as much as you do. I want the Children of Gaia to request a fair retribution, and I want the Philodoxes of the Sept to play their role and keep the balance if they don't. I want Kate to lay down a punishment that's neither too harsh nor too lenient for the sake of duty and honor, and not to put on a show. I want the Sentinels to speak up for you because they want to, and not because we ask them to.

"But the bottom line is, this Sept, like any other Sept, can be an illogical madhouse. There's no telling what will get their blood up, and what might set them all howling for a lynching. I hope to god that doesn't happen. I hope to god cooler heads prevail and justice and honor and all that crap pull through. But if shit goes down, I'm not going in unprepared, with a hope and a wish that all the chips fall my way.

"You're my packmate. We'll do what's honorable. But we'll also lay down the groundwork and present" he points an index finger at Theron, as though recall what the Theurge said, "a united front. Just in case.

"Now, if you think Charlie's not going to stand up for you after you wiped the floor with his face, then we'll get around it. You need to talk to Joey, and then see Kate for judgment. Theron can make a trip to the Battleground Realm, take a look at what happened. Bear witness. Preferably with a neutral party with him to corroborate.

"At the moot, if Andrew or any other Child of Gaia speaks up, I'll ask to handle this within my pack. If that's denied, or if Andrew keeps pushing, we'll be ready with rebuttals."

[Theron Locke] Theron listens and nods, all the points his Alpha made were sensible...a pack protected it's own . His ears prick up when his name his mentioned though and the task required of him is laid out. "Hmm well if that's the case , if you don't mind I'd like to excuse myself so I can start making preparations for the trip."

He steps forward from the wall, waiting for the okay to leave,

[Sinclair] "I'm not being a fucking idealist," Sinclair snaps back at him. "But if you're going to plot and plan and talk like one of the manipulative jerkoffs people think everyone in your tribe is, how the fuck do you want me to react?"

She frowns back at him, her jaw tight for a moment before it relaxes. "Don't talk to me like what I say about duty and fairness is stiff-upper-lip bullshit, Lukas. If I didn't believe it, I wouldn't say it. If it didn't matter to me, I wouldn't try to hold to it. You wanted me in this pack because of your self-confessed habit of overplanning and overthinking things.

"I'm not against a united front," she says, her voice leveling out, "but I'd do what I think is right regardless of how it may affect the illogical madhouse under a full moon. I didn't bring this up to you to seek advice or plan how to present ourselves. I told you because you're my pack, and you should know, so you could decide beforehand whether to back me or not. Nothing more than that."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas turns briefly to Theron -- "Any idea who might be suitable to take along as a neutral witness?"

-- before his attention snaps back to Sinclair as she snarls. For a moment, new moon or not, the rage in the room is palpable. Then Sinclair's jaw relaxed. Wyrmbreaker physically settles back, forcing himself into a mellower position. His back to the wall again, he half-sprawled crosswise on his bed, listening with a frown.

"I didn't think you were stiff-upper-lipping about duty and honor. If I didn't believe in duty and honor, I wouldn't be following Perun. But there's a difference, Sinclair, between doing what's right and doing what's blindly idealistic.

"You did what was right, the best you could, the night you tore Arthur to shreds. It wasn't enough -- you were too weak to overcome, and when all this is over you better believe I'll be all over your ass until you make up for your weakness -- but that doesn't change the fact that you still did what was right. You fought the corruption, you drove it out of you, you hunted it down. That was right.

"Going into the moot ready to fall on your sword in the name of honor, with absolutely no defense against what the Sept might throw out because that's manipulative bullshit in your book, is not right. That's just blind. And idealistic. And stupid."

A pause.

"And you shouldn't be coming to us so we could make an inform decision on whether or not to back you. We're your pack. We'll back you."

[Theron Locke] Theron turns back just as his hand reaches the doorknob "Hmm my only thoughts on that question at the moment, would be the Theurge Elder Joss Lehrer, if she has the time and inclination of course. I have battled at her side when Evan fell, so she knows me, as a Fenrir perhaps she will be the most neutral party. If she declines however, perhaps she will also be in the best position to recommend someone else."

And with that he takes his leave , as Lukas turns on Sinclair.... it sounded like it was going to be a long night.

[Sinclair] She hasn't forgotten Theron. She doesn't speak over him. Sinclair doesn't take her eyes off of their Alpha but breathes deeply while the Theurge speaks. The two of them have chosen for him to go to the Battleground Realm. She hasn't opined on it, while they discuss who to take as a second witness. She hasn't mentioned the supposed trip at all... yet.

Theron walks out. She waits til the door closes.

"So now I'm blind, because my way of dealing with this differs even minutely from yours?" she lashes back. "You're going to call it stupid, because I'm willing to be punished, even unfairly, for the loss of an ally who should not have died?"

This is Lukas's bedroom. This is, in a pack that claims no protectorate, the closest he has to territory. And he is her Alpha. He outranks her. Still, she raises her voice. She snaps at him. It isn't mindless pride; not any longer. It isn't a loss of control; not now.

"You wanted blood from Marrick because she fought, yet failed, to protect Sheridan when you weren't yet bound to her. I was ridden by the goddamn Wyrm your very name speaks of shattering, it was not the first time, and if the sept or the Gaians or the Sentinels want to tear me to shreds because I'm too fucking dangerous to fight alongside, then I. Don't. Blame them."

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker's anger flashes and recedes. He makes a sound very like a scoff; fixes Sinclair with a steady stare.

"Do you want to be lynched for this? Is that it?"

[Sinclair] [WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sinclair] On a worse day, she would scream it back at him.

On the worst day, she would have barely whispered it, unable to so much as hold her head up.

Kate stands and bears witness to this, though, even if Theron does not. The Philodox has not pronounced judgement or given counsel yet, standing silent by the door as her pale hair dries. She and Lukas see how that question hits Sinclair, how she does not have an answer ready to go as she has throughout this entire discussion. She doesn't say anything, for a moment.

And then she nods. And then, quite firmly -- if quietly -- she says: "Yeah."

Which isn't enough. So she breathes, and she goes on.

"When I was tainted before, and I almost dragged Thornton into it, he didn't get angry. He didn't even seem to want an apology. Told me there's no way to get a conviction for 'almost'. Joey argued with me for awhile but then magically got over it like she seems to magically get over everything bad that happens.

"In the alleyway, Charlie could've killed me. And he healed me instead. I asked him what he wanted, and he didn't even ask for a rite of contrition." For a moment it seems like it's going to become hard for her to so much as speak, but then she exhales, slowly, somewhat raggedly, and rubs at her face.

The way her sleeves cover most of her hands makes her look, for a second, like a child who is too sleepy to go on. But then her hands drop. And it's Sinclair again. Warcry.

"I remember everything. I remember putting those scars on Joey's throat, on Charlie's shoulder. I remember watching the light go out of their eyes, remember them twitching and bloody still when they raged back. I remember what it felt like to kill Arthur. And I know it wasn't me," she says more quietly, shaking her head. "But as far as responsibility goes, I may as well have simply frenzied and started attacking my own, and ...I really meant what I said. If the Garou of Maelstrom think I'm not to be trusted as an ally, then I can't blame them for that, and I'm tired of being told that it wasn't me.

"It was. Wyrmtouched or not, they were my fangs, and it was his blood I was spitting out afterward."

[Wyrmbreaker] And there's a silence.

Then Lukas sits up, slowly, taking his time. His eyes stay on Sinclair, neither glaring nor accusatory, but unflinching. Steady. His palms rub for a moment over his thighs, the thin soft material of his pajamas whispering beneath his callouses.

"For what it's worth," he says then, quietly, "this pack isn't protecting you we think you've done no wrong, or because we're forgiving your faults. I think you've been grossly weak, Sinclair. You've let the Wyrm in twice, and no matter what it drove you to do that was beyond your control, you let it in. That's your cross to bear, and your flaw to fix.

"But there's strength in you too. Honor. And potential. That's why you're in this pack. To risk throwing that away because the Sept has a bad day, or because you've decided that you'd rather let them lynch you for your weakness than fight to overcome it -- that's a bigger waste than your killing Gut Song would've ever been.

"You're my packmate. So we'll do what we have to to protect you."

[Sinclair] A few months ago -- even a few weeks ago -- she might have flippantly said that she still doesn't think that killing Gut Song would be that much of a great loss to the sept, nor to the Fenrir.

Tonight, she does not flinch when he repeats what she won't forget anyway: that she let it in. Twice. That she's been weak. She stands still in the center of his room and faces him, facing the words as well. It isn't shame or shrinking that the Lord and Fang in the room can read across every line of her body then: it's relief.

For a little while she doesn't say anything. A thought occurs to her, flickers in her eyes like amusement, but she doesn't voice it. She licks her lips, and exhales, nodding once.

"I don't... always know how to control myself. Or when I should," she says, glancing at the floor. "I think that was the one thing my mentor just didn't know how to teach me. And that's part of why I'm in this pack. Because now I'm just... constantly thinking about how bad it's going to be the next time it happens. What I'll do. What's gonna happen if step one is trying to violate a kinsman and step two is killing another wolf? What's step three? And I'm... scared of it happening again."

[Wyrmbreaker] "You should be scared," Lukas replies. For words so blunt, his voice is quiet, even gentle. "I don't know what step three is, either, nor how many steps you have left before you end up where you're headed. But I do know where it is you'll end up. So do you."

For the first time since this began, Lukas raises his hands to his face; scrubs for a moment. When he drops them, he seems a little wearier.

"You're the only one who how the Wyrm got in, Sinclair," he says, "and where your weaknesses lie. Tell me how to help you. Or how any of us can help. But ... be careful, Warcry."

[Sinclair] They both know that Sinclair, permanently tainted and seeking the favor of the Wyrm itself by using its gifts and fighting under its totems, would be a lethal enemy. They both know she can and has taken down Ahrouns. They both know, now -- though Sinclair remembers, with vivid and sensory detail -- that she dropped three Garou, one of them an Ahroun himself, in seconds.

It is not that she would be unstoppable. It's a question of how many Gaian Garou she would destroy before stronger ones joined together and managed to take her down. It's a question of how many Kinfolk she would harm, corrupt, or kill before she was stopped. It's about the damage that would be done.

And the potential that would be lost.

She thinks for a long time, silent as he's almost never seen her. She's the sort to open her mouth when a thought occurs to her, and however well-spoken she is or is not from occasion to occasion, it's rare to see her slow down and consider things like this, for this long.

"I don't want to fight without my packmates so much," she says. "If none of you are there to... lead me, or show me when I need to back down... I don't have anyone to look to that I trust enough to follow. I can't think of anyone right now that I believe can or will try to keep me in line. I think, frankly, it's because most of them suck donkey balls at it."

She looks straight at Lukas, blue to blue. "And I think some of them are afraid of me."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's mouth twists in a faint grimace. He meets Sinclair's eyes when she looks at him, but his only response for a time is a slight shrug of one shoulder. His eyes drift across the room, then. The closet; Kate standing silent near the door. Back.

"I've failed you there. If I was with you that night, things may have been different." It's stated as fact; not much in the way of self-recrimination or drama. Lukas is rarely the type to dwell and brood on failures. He gathers his thoughts and goes on, "We'll make an effort to move as a pack more. That's one thing that worked well when we were under the Talons of Horus."

[Sinclair] She exhales. "Yeah, and that's... sort of why my last two packs didn't. Work well, I mean."

Sinclair reaches up, rubs the back of her neck, and drops her arm again with a lazy swing that at once seems potentially dangerous to her shoulder joint and yet a smoothly controlled plummet.

"Maybe Theron can come up with a way we can call each other or something, if we can't speak over the bond."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Caleb's back," Lukas replies -- then, wry, "more or less, anyway. I think our link to the totem is strong enough that we can try to reach toward one another across the bond again. Even then, getting across town could take time. It's impossible and impractical to always move as a collective, but we can make an effort to run patrols in pairs, at the least."

[Sinclair] There isn't much to say after that. Sinclair inhales deeply, exhales it all in a rush. She doesn't try to speak to him with thought alone, doesn't reach out to Perun, either. She has no comment on Caleb, this packmate she's seen flickers of at the moot but hasn't ever spoken to, but at least she doesn't roll her eyes. She looks at Lukas, then over at the still-silent Katherine, and keeps her thoughts to herself.

Which is a change, in and of itself.

"So Theron's going to the Battleground Realm to see what happened," she says, somewhat flatly. "And I'm talking to Joey." She seems tense, bristling even at the repetition of plans, marching orders, whatever they are, though it isn't clear why it bothers her. "And Kate's to judge me."

That part doesn't seem to.

[Wyrmbreaker] "And henceforth we'll patrol in pairs. At least." A pause. "When you tell the Sept what happened, you'll include what penance you've already paid. Whatever goes down after that, we'll face it as a pack."

[Sinclair] "No," she says, but it's not a snap of her jaws in his direction this time. "The tale is not the time for me to defend myself, or to invoke disclaimers. It is not about me."

She crosses her arms over her chest, but loosely. "At the Cracking of the Bone I'll address my penance and punishment and what I've settled with the Sentinels already. But the story of it will stand on its own."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas frowns briefly; it's irritation, but not at Sinclair. "I'm sorry," he says, "I've been misunderstanding the whole time. I thought you meant to bring this matter before the Sept during the Cracking alone. Everything I've said applies only to that.

"Whatever you say during the Songs and Tales is your purview. I wouldn't have tried to opine on that."

[Sinclair] There's a beat. And then: "Okay."

It's simple, and it isn't much, but it's all that's necessary. She does not excuse herself with the care and politeness common to members of either the Unbroken or the Unbroken Circle before it. She turns, and considering the matter settled, prepares to go back to her own den.

She does glance at Kate, though, before she walks out. They'll have to talk later.