genevre and fons.

[Lukas] Genevre would've received the following voicemail on her phone this morning:

Genevre, it's Lukáš. I would like your help on a matter related to your cousin, Fons, and his rampant lies. I think you may have some questions on what happened between Fons and I, though, so we should talk. I'll be in my room tonight at the Brotherhood. Come find me when you have a moment.

The Brotherhood is relatively quiet; all its residents elsewhere or sleeping. This is a house of kin and Garou. Circadian rhythms don't matter here.

[Genevre de Provence] As much as Genevre hated the Brotherhood, she left the Bellamonte Loft and headed there just after dark. She was dressed casually, seeing as the neighborhood she was in, and took a cab. Like hell she was leaving her precious car in an area like this.

She bundled the long white fur coat around her (she was still Fang), and made her way into the Brotherhood. She paused, after reaching the second floor, and stared at Lukas' door a moment. Then she knocked heavily. "Lukas, iz Genevre."

[Lukas] The door opens before her third knock falls. The way the lights and furniture in the room are positioned, the tall Lord's shadow falls across Genevre, and his face is cast into darkness.

"I know," he says. And then he steps back, smiles, and the darkness falls from him like a shroud. The overhead light is on, bland and stark, a light that mercilessly reveals the smallness of the room, the bareness of its furnishings ... the physical flaws of its inhabitants.

Of these, however, Lukas has remarkably few. Garou, gifted with powers of regeneration, his complexion is rich and swarthy, his hair thick and dark, no sag or pallor to his face. If he has scars -- and he does -- they're hidden beneath his plain white t-shirt and his charcoal grey lounge pants: his casual, stay-in clothes.

"Come in. Have a seat. Want me to take your coat?" If she does, he hangs it in the closet, shutting the doors again after. There's only one chair in the room, and it's the one at the desk. The desk itself is bare except for a coffee maker. Everything that's personal, all his personal effects and belongings, are shut away somewhere. There's absolutely no mark of Lukas in this room, except, of course, his scent; his presence; the dominance of his bearing.

That's everywhere.

He sits on the bed, scooting back until his back rests against the wall, relaxed, one knee drawn up with the heel at the edge of the mattress; the other foot on the ground. He waits until Genevre situates herself, then begins.

"Before I ask anything of you -- if you have any questions about what happened between Fons and I, ask them now."

[Genevre de Provence] She looked a bit startled when her knock was abruptly stopped. But then he stepped away, and he smiled. And that actually made her feel a bit fearful. She stepped inside, looking around as she slipped her coat off, and gently handed it over to Lukas. "Merci" was given softly. She moved to the chair and sat down slowly, half expecting something to jump out at her.

But her attention goes to Lukas at his last comment. "I....would like to 'ear your side, if zat iz alright?"

[Lukas] For a moment the Shadow Lord simply looks at her, inscrutable. Then, without preamble, he begins.

"At the December moot, my packmate Sinclair was under judgment. Some weeks earlier she'd been possessed by a wyrmling and, while under its control, killed a Garou of the Children of Gaia.

"It was a matter for the Philodoxes of the Sept and whomever they might choose to call upon. Most of us respected this and held our tongues. Fons didn't, choosing to stand up and orate about the broader issues of the Sept, using my packmate as his object lesson. I told him to save it for later. He grew incensed and challenged my right to command him. I reminded him of my rank. He insisted my rank meant nothing, as he was neither Shadow Lord nor Ahroun, nor a member of my pack. I then reminded him of our shared blood in the Nation. He denied that he could ever have anything in common with me, and attempted to intimidate me. I returned the favor, and at that point a challenge was ruled between Fons and I.

"As the defender, I set the terms the following night: we would fight until submission in the challenge ring, and all further terms would be set by the Grand Elder. Balance-rhya chose to disallow gifts and totem benefits, leaving us to fight not as Shadow Lords and Fangs, Ahrouns and Galliards, but as Garou.

"My first strike took him to the edge of defeat. I gave him the opportunity to submit then. He spat invectives, called me an usurper. My next strike could have killed him, but I held back. He was unconscious in the circle, so I healed him and demanded the submission that was my due. Again, he refused dishonorably.

"Then he attempted to taunt me into a Frenzy. Over and over, he cursed my tribe, my blood, my lineage, my deeds. I bit back Frenzy three times and warned him that if I should fall to it, I would undoubtedly kill him. I asked if his pride was worth death. He replied that it was.

"So I tore his throat out, leaving him speechless. Held back again to leave him alive. Healed him again. He had yet to land a single blow. A third time I demanded submission, and a third time he refused me, snarling where he could no longer speak.

"At that point I gambled. I suspected, but did not know for certain, that his great rage would keep him from death. I knew for certain that if he raged back, he would be in a frenzy, and I could cow him into submission.

"So that's what I did. I killed your cousin Fons. I did this knowing there was a chance he would not make it back, that I would have killed him for his refusal to submit. This was..."

For the first time, Lukas quiets; troubled.

"This was a risk I took knowingly and coldly," he admits finally, quietly.

"Fons did make it back, though. I did not strike him again after that, choosing instead to intimidate him. Even in the depths of frenzy, he resisted with his will as long as he could, trying to tear me to shreds. Such was the depth of his hate. In the end, though, his will gave out, and he fled."

A quiet.

"That's what happened. And I would tell that story again exactly like that whether you put me before a philodox or fifty."

[Genevre de Provence] She sat quietly in the chair, legs crossed ladylike, and her hands clasped at the knee. She listened, intent and at times, confused, but she never took her eyes away from the Ahroun. Even hearing that this garou in front of her killed her cousin, she didn't flinch, but actually looked a bit pleased. When he was done, she sat back, with that lawyer look of hers.

"I 'ave no doubt you are telling the truth, Lukas. I would non ask you to stand before anyone and say zis all again. I will non apologize for mon cousin. 'Is actions are 'is own. I do apologize for zee fact I am related to 'im. 'E 'as been a zorn in mon side since 'e could talk. And I am non afraid to admit I wish 'e 'ad stayed dead. 'E 'as always been able to make me...submit."

She clenched an angered fist as past memories flood her mind.

"But I doubt zis is why you want me 'ere, non?" She tilted her head. "You wish what? For me to spy on mon cousin?"

[Lukas] Lukas's eyebrows flicker together at that; it's nearly a flinch. "No." It's almost snapped. A belt of muscle flashes in his jaw. Then, lower, "No. I appreciate it, Genevre, but I will not stoop to your cousins' tactics.

"No; I asked you here because I've looked into Fons's eyes and seen the flaws of his spirit. He's vengeful beyond reason, and since the moot, he has been spreading relentless slander against my pack, against Kate, against Theron, and against myself. He told the Ahroun elder outright lies and half-truths to try and turn her against her. He also told you, I believe, lies about the things Theron were supposed to have done in order to turn you against him.

"I'm going to take Fons before the council of Elders and demand a reckoning for his slander. We're born to die, but our renown is what will live on after our deaths. For another Garou to slander our names is a grievous insult. For a Galliard of the Nation to do that -- a wolf whose purpose is to keep the histories and the tales -- is inexcusable.

"All I want from you, Genevre, is to stand before the elders and tell them -- as precisely and truthfully as you can -- what Fons told you about Theron. Don't opine; don't call them lies; don't try to make conjectures on why he said what he said. Just tell them the bare facts of what Fons said to you." A flicker of wry humor, "I suppose you could say: I want you to testify."

[Lukas] (turn her against us, even)

[Genevre de Provence] She actually gave a bit of a chuckle, and looked a bit relieved. "Oh merci, Lukas, because spying on Fons? 'E 'as already told me 'e would kill me if I....'ow did 'e say it....'Dirty myself again by even being near another Lord.' But testify? I'm a lawyer, mon ami, I am both Galliard and Philodox in kin form. If it will teach mon cousin a long deserved lesson, then I will do as you ask."

[Lukas] Lukas's head cocks a tiny fraction of an inch at that, and his pale eyes gleam a second before he laughs aloud.

"He said that, did he? Well, that's good, because I have no doubt that if allowed to speak for himself, Fons will claim he lied to you for your own good. Keep that up your sleeve. I might ask you to repeat that, too, if he uses that particular defense."

A pause, then, growing serious. "You're staying with Kate now, correct?"

[Genevre de Provence] She gave a nod. "Oui, mon ami. To keep me safe from Fons mostly. Did....you still wish me to return to Paris?"

[Lukas] The corner of Lukas's mouth turns up, wry again. "Only if you turn into a shrieking harpy again."

Then, "Genevre, I know it seems unfair that your bloodline means there are restrictions on whom you may or may not date. But the truth is you're the daughter of a very prominent Garou, and if you want all the benefits and respect that comes from such a position, then you must also be prepared to accept all the strictures and restrictions that come with it. Or, you can disown yourself from your family and your tribe, give up all your privilege, and live as you like -- that is, if they will let you.

"Regardless, you can't have it both ways. You can't demand the respect of a daughter of a King if you refuse to behave with the grace and decorum expected of your position. Do you understand?"

[Genevre de Provence] She looked down and gave a slow solemn nod. "Oui, I do. It .. was just nice to be with someone who wasn't scared away by mon père. I..am very sorry for everyzing zat 'appened. And I 'ope you aren't blaming Theron (which comes out funny with her accent). I did non tell 'im about mon 'eritage. I am to blame for zat. And I will do better to 'old mon tongue. I was just angry. 'E made me 'appy, even for zat short time. I still think I can be useful to you and zee pack, if you will let me."

She looked back up to the Lord, her eyes on his, and very sincere as she spoke.

"I 'ave owed you and zee mon apology. It will non 'appen again. Would..it be possible if 'e and I were just friends? Nohzing more?"

[Lukas] "I don't dictate the private lives of my packmates unless it becomes a problem for the pack, and I trust Theron to make his choices with the pack in mind. Therefore, what Theron chooses to do is his business. He is his own man, and will accept both responsibility and consequence for his decisions.

"What you do, however, is not my business. It's Katherine's. And if she chooses to forbid it, I won't speak against her."

[Genevre de Provence] She nodded. "Zen you and I? We are.....amis? Oui?"

[Lukas] Lukas laughs under his breath, and then sits up. "I hold nothing against you, Genevre. We are 'amis'."

[Genevre de Provence] She smiled, and slowly got to her feet. "Merveilleux! It would 'ave been very awkward to give you your Christmas gift were we non." She took a step and offered her hand. "When you want me to testify, let me know. I will make sure to keep mon schedule open for it."

[Lukas] "I will let you know," Lukas promises, and then stands to see the Fang kin out. "Have a safe trip back."

[Genevre de Provence] Once she retrieves her coat, and steps out of the spartment. "If you ever want somewhere nicer to stay.....even for a weekend wit your Danicka, you can use mon empty apartment." She gave him a card from her pocket, and scribbled the address on the back. "Just let me know so I can get you zee keys." Knowing the Fang, it's probably a very elaborate apartment at that. "Bonne nuit, Lukas."

[Lukas] Lukas laughs under his breath, taking the card. "It's appreciated, Genevre," he replies.

He holds her coat for her as she slips into it, and then the door as she exits. Broadshouldered, dark, filling up the doorframe, the Lord raises a hand in farewell as the Fang kin departs. A moment later, the door to Room 2 clicks quietly shut.