winter solstice.

[Joey] [Bonfire begins, woosh!

Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other]

[Joey] [um, replace Main Fire with Main Fire]

[Wendy Berber] [food set up in the longhouse?]

[Joey] [food is being cooked around the cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats]

[Wendy Berber] *Its nearing on Christmas, that diluted christian celebration wherein a fat man breaks into houses and leaves presents under a plastic tree. The air would be nippy, were it not for all the fires crackling about the campsite. Its warm enough near the cooking fires that a toothpick kin can get away with a bulky sweatshirt and baggy bluejeans, rather than her dreadfully warm tweed coat. She'd come with the kin from the brotherhood for the third time this year, helping once more with the preparation of food and site. This time however, she's surprised to see a Longhouse has been erected, and she's taken a moment away from helping to scout the interior, wondering if it were some specific purpose, or just for shelter. Her voice echoes though the structure.*

Um..Hello?

[Joey] [Other]

The arrival of some of the Sentinels in the parking area is heralded by the rumbling roar of Cassius' engine. Their youngest member, the slight, athletic blonde Rotagar is behind the wheel. She's been quieter in recent weeks, her smile all but forgotten. Her freckled face is drawn, and there are dark circles beneath her dark brown eyes. It's almost as if having taken over Charlie's old bed, Joey has inherited his disfigurement. She sleeps rarely, if at all lately.

Regardless, she takes curves and turns too fast, and guns it on the straightaways. Despite any complaints from her packmates, who may not yet be accustomed to her style of driving.

She pulls into the parking lot, and the others pile out. Joey is dressed in jeans, boots, and her puffy, bright red winter coat. The hood gets pulled up over her blonde head, her hands are shoved into her coat pockets, and she looks around.

Snow has fallen on the clearing where they built the longhouse and helped set up the bonfire areas. The kinfolk of The Brotherhood have been hard at work, cooking meats and laying out platters here and there. There are vats of warm cider. Bonfire attendees are encouraged to grab their food and take it into the shelter, where another fire burns for warmth.

Joey leaves her football in the car this time. She doesn't feel like playing sports, but she wants to stay near her pack. So she keeps close to Daniel or Echo, and she watches others arrive silently.

[Hatchet] The Alpha of the Sentinels took one look at the Camaro, took another look at the two Fenrir and the Walker, then simply laughed and walked away. He arrives shortly after they do, but not at the parking lot. He's in the longhouse when he comes out of the penumbra, a thick-furred wolf with bright gold eyes sniffing the air for his packmates.

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward needed to relax. He needed some drinks and a few games of cards. To that end, he packed up a card table (he'd helped with long house and benches, but didn't remember if there were going to be tables or not) and nudged at Gabbie until she agreed to come. Now, with said card table, sister and several not-yet-mentioned decks of cards, he's pulling into the parking lot nearest the clearing of which they're availing themselves.

"Are you going to play," he asks, once they're parked and out and he's pulling the table out of the trunk, "or just hang out somewhere?"

[Drew Roscoe] Drew Roscoe had discovered a new Kinfolk that lived in her area, one that she'd actually known for a little while but had no idea of being involved in the same topsy-turvy world of monsters and bad guys that she'd been dropped abruptly into. But she had a way to contact him by phone, knew that the bonfire was coming up by way of Kinfolk Phone Tree (or, more to the point, Lonna and Gina), and decided she'd extend the invitation. He could be her anchor of normalcy if everything went way too far south. So she'd called up the Bradley residence, asked for Keron, and told him that she was picking him up, to be ready at such-and-such time.

Drew was waiting outside his front door in a truck that probably belonged in a scrapyard. It was overlarge for a girl her size to be driving, a massive hunk of forest green metal on wheels that had rolled off the construction line in the mid nineties. She grinned big at him when he opened the door to climb in, patted the seat beside her invitingly. He'd climb in, no matter how reluctant he might be of the death trap, and they were off.

They'd pull into the parking lot with her stereo blaring, creating a hum of noise inside the cab that was kept muffled because of the windows being rolled up. The windshield was clear, but everything else was fogged over, the poor old truck just couldn't defrost like today's cars could, and had no chance against two Kinfolk singing at the top of their lungs to a variety of music found on shared iPods connected to the stereo by way of cassette adapter. The truck would turn off, the music would silence, and Drew would pile out of her truck laughing and stuffing her keys into her pocket. "I have no idea how we're going to prove it, but I'm pretty sure you deserve an award of some sort for that Mariah Carry note. Well done, Mr. Bradley, well done."

Drew was dressed in what she thought would be the most functional. She had on a red sweater that hugged the thermal undershirt beneath it, a puffy white vest, along with a white scarf and white earmuffs. Her hair was wrangled in a ponytail, and her jeans were tucked into the ankles of her heavy brown hiking boots. She moved around to the back of her truck to grab the two large cases of beer (Budweiser, of course) that had been sliding around, holding one out to Keron for him to take before shouldering hers and marching the route that she'd fled sobbing the last time she was here.

[Jeff Pyeon] Jeff actually took a day off work - the Korean Glass Walker's been 'out in the fucking woods freezing his ass off' for long enough to accept large deliveries of firewood and booze, all of which he wrestled back to the long house either by himself or with help from whatever kin and Garou happened to be gathered early. Now, he's hanging out at the main fire, rubbing hands together and keeping an eye out for people he knows.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Wendy Berber] Inside Longhouse -- *There's the soft rush of air rushing to fill a vacuum, and Wendy twitches where she stands, a gold eyed wolf suddenly appearing inside the longhouse, where none had been before. A hard swallow, and a forced nervous smile to the creature as she plucks at her sweater and tilts her head.*

Oh my. Oh. Uh - Hello.

*A wiggle of fingers from the hand not worrying a thread, Wendy tripping over herself to be pleasant. Hoping against hope that this Bonfire would be better than the last one.*

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Other

Gabriella had been talked into leaving the Loft by her older brother, which she thought was perhaps one of the biggest plot twists of the month. Edward Bellamonte had returned to the city a changed man, a recluse, someone who was wary about answering the door just because he didn't want to have to talk to people. Now here he was, dragging a playing table out of the trunk of his car, pockets full of card decks, all ramped up for the biggest social events of the season for Chicago's resident Gaians.

Gabriella stood with a crocheted hat and scarf on her head and about her neck to keep her warm, a plethora of golds, purples, reds and browns and almost delicately soft to the touch. She'd wrapped herself up in her heavy black peacoat and worn sturdy black boots that came up to her knees, pants tucked into them so she wouldn't be walking on soggy cuffs when she finally went home.

She was applying a coat of chapstick to her lips before helping her brother with the card table.

"I'm uncertain. It depends, I suppose, on who's there and what's said."

[Hatchet] Longhouse
He's met her before. The last solstice, the first bonfire. Hatchet tips his head at Wendy as she stammers and tugs at her clothes, blinking once. Slowly. Lazily. It makes him look more threatening, strangely enough, as though he's considering eating her.

He does not eat Wendy, though. He stretches once, paws splayed out in front of him and back arched, tail in the air, then rises up -- and into homid, a single smooth motion from one form to another, all fours to two legs.

"Hello, Wendy," he says. He remembers her name. She's Boy's mate. He remembers that, too.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse - interior *She's looked over like an appetizer, a thread suddenly jerked a little too hard from her sleeve, unravelling in her hands as Hatchet slides from wolf to man as easy as can be. A trick that gets a more genuine smile despite herself. It was Taggart.*

Oh! I didn't recognize you sir. Um.. are you well?

*Twiggy fingers slip to scratch under her hair, other hand laying flat across her stomach as it grumbles. The beanpole looks down with a slight purse of lips. Always so hungry lately. Damn Parasite.*

I just put some ribs out? They probably aren't going to be so good once they cool.

[Keron Bradley] Other
"We could have taken my truck, you know," is all the ever-cheerful Child of Gaia said as he climbed up into the truck, and then there'd been chatting and signing along with the radio (Keron's remarkably versed in many kinds of music, R&B to country, rock to rap, and more) all the way out. This is a part of Chicago that he's not witnessed yet, and it pleases him to see the woods, though, "Jesus, it's cold. Shoulda worn another layer."

His light brown curls (it's totally dye, as his goatee and mustache are black) are tending a bit towards the long, and he's dressed in a lot of layers already - down coat on top of everything else, obscuring everything but his ears and hair. His feet are in sturdy, if inexpensive, steel toed work boots.

"This just like Thanksgiving, where everyone hangs around and talks?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse
"Well enough," he says, and he might say this if his packmate had not just died. He might say this if the Apocalypse were tomorrow. You do what you can, when you can. You move on. Hatchet shrugs one broad shoulder and looks at her hand falling to her stomach, then at her face.

"Are you sick?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Other
"Well, ye, of course it depends," he says with a roll of his eyes; it would appear talking's done him a little good, at least, if not as much as one might hope. He is, of course, focusing quite intently on the possibility of gambling, be it for chocolate or coins or cars, he doesn't care. Were it not for that possibility, he'd still be in the loft, hunched up in whatever sweats or pajamas he'd happened to be wearing all day. Who knows? There might be someone, or something, interesting that he'd miss if he weren't here, and he can always leave if not.

He wears nice slacks, fine shoes, and a deep purple-blue (almost black) shirt with a lighter tie, with a navy peacoat over the top. His hair is neatly brushed, though he hadn't bothered with a cut - he is, in fact, looking the most together he has since he returned to Chicago, though he's still far from at his best. He still looks like he should eat two meals for everyone else's one, at least for a week, and his brown eyes are still too dark, too haunted.

"Stay with me until we know who's here, yeah?"

And then it's for the longhouse.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse

There's more snow out in the mainland than there is butted up against the lake, the vast expanse of water offering some measure of protection against the brutal winter the Midwest provides, and the ground crunches and protests when boots and sneakers trounce upon it. It's an announcement to those who are near enough to hear footfalls echoing in the distance; those inside the longhouse are not aware of the presence of a newcomer until his form appears in the doorway.

Not a speck of breeding flows through his blood, but neither is he a scraggly, unwashed sort. He's tall, over six feet so, his build trim and hidden beneath a black peacoat, with dark, closely-cropped hair and blue eyes. His skin retains some of the vestiges of summer even in December, not a deep bronze yet still somewhat golden, and he carries himself as though he knows what he is getting into. There is no timidity or fear in his stance, nor is there the bulge of a firearm on his person. That may be of some comfort given the events that have transpired as of late, for those who have heard about the reason why the Caern is now off limits to Kinfolk.

He stands still for a moment, looking around the interior of the recently-constructed building, and takes a deep breath. His breath steams when he lets it out, and disappears when he steps over the threshold.

[Drew Roscoe] Other to Main Fire

"Thanksgiving?"

The Kinfolk looked perplexed, tossing a glance back over her shoulder to the other Kinfolk that marched along with her up the path. She blinked once, then shrugged, adjusted her hold on the large case of beer bottles (it was a mercy none of them broke, but then she wasn't a terribly aggressive driver), and looked back forward. "I don't know. I was with my dad on Thanksgiving. But that sounds about right. There's massive fires--" duh. It's called a Bonfire for a reason. Plus, they can already see the flickering red of firelight against the skeletal winter trees. "-- and lots of food. Usually some sort of roughhousing. Someone'll probably flip their shit and go running off into the woods--" hopefully not Thomas this time around "--and everyone drinks and eats and has a jolly old time."

Keron had bundled himself up in many layers, sweater upon long sleeved shirt upon winter coat, and yet he forgot to wear a hat. Drew was one of those kids that played out on snowpiles and went skating on ponds behind some neighbor kid's house. She understood winter, and all things considered this wasn't too cold, compared to the single digit temperatures they were experiencing a few days ago.

"The last one wasn't too great, but I'm hoping this one will be better." She nodded her head as they approached the clearing, and blinked at the establishment that had been erected since she'd last been here. "Oh... That's new. ...Where do you think we should put the beer?"

[Wendy Berber] [Inside the Longhouse]

Just a little hungry. I'll eat something soon. There's alot of f-food out there.

*She winces over top of her smile, shrugging narrow shoulders in response. Shifting awkwardly on stork legs. Wendy uncomfortable despite herself. Hatchet was a creature in possession of an impressive and terrible rage. He didn't put her at ease anymore than Marrick did, and lacked the familiarity to offset his ominous presence. Figures appear at the door of the longhouse and Wendy looks up at Edward and Ethan, hand raised in shy greeting.*

[Broken Hammer] Daniel gets food. Then Daniel goes into the Longhouse. Behind Edward, his lack of breeding all but disappears into the walls. For the Garou, anyway. For the kin, his Rage is something else altogether, out of proportion with the lean, glum-faced, somewhat stoop-shouldered young man.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Other to Longhouse

The card table wasn't very heavy at all, it was just large and awkward to handle. Edward seemed to have a hold of it just fine, which oughtn't be surprising, considering he handled things like monster's jaws and the unimaginable killing devices of Umbral denizens while he was away. Gabriella was left without much to do with her hands, so she slipped them into her pockets and moved alongside her brother as he marched toward the clearing.

There was a building there this year, something that looked like it may as well popped up from a couple centuries ago, and it had Gabbie lifting an eyebrow in interest, but saying nothing. She simply nodded to her brother when he asked for her to keep with him, flashed a small bit of a smile, and went so far as to agree verbally as well. "Of course."

And then they were crossing the threshold along with a handful of other faces she'd never seen before, all of which she'd glanced at curiously. Chicago went through its citizens quickly, didn't it?

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Hatchet doesn't ask anything further of the Glass Walker. He looks over as Edward and Ethan enter, then Daniel. A thin smile appears on his face when he sees his packmate, and he heads over.

"Ribs," he says, and grabs Daniel's shoulder to propel him towards said meat-covered bones of sauce-drenched goodness.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
The man does not hover in the doorway, but rather strides into the longhouse and goes not to the first Garou he sees, not to someone who might be able to point him towards the leader of his tribe in this city, but to the twig-like young woman who waves to him. She gets a brief closed-lipped smile, and he does her the benefit of not looking straight at her as he walks.

There is an incredible press of Rage at his back, but he doesn't look over his shoulder or walk any faster than is absolutely necessary.

When he comes upon the dark-haired kinswoman he shucks a hand out of his pocket and extends it in greeting.

"Hi there," he says, his voice a warm baritone with trace elements of what used to be a strong British accent. It still colors his speech, but it does not leap out and tug at one's attention. "I'm Ethan, nice to meet you."

[Keron Bradley] Main Fire
"Spent most of the day with family," which means at the Mission, of course, and is not limited to his dad and grandma, "but went to the Brotherhood in the evening. Couple people told me I should check it out. And I think there's a table there, by that guy. Holy shit, do people here drink a lot or something?"

He's gesturing at a table over by Jeff, which is flanked by kegs and covered with various kinds of wine and liquor. There are also quite a few two liters of pop, for anyone who'd rather go without the alcohol for the evening. "D'you know how to cook? It's the only think I'm any good for other than singin' and talkin', and I didn't bring anything. I should probably help over there."

He'd spent some time helping build the longhouse when he'd heard it was being done, but he hadn't thought to bring anything.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse

*Wendy Berber certainly didn't dress to impress. Which was unfortunate, as she had a long thin frame that was altogether devoid of curves. Well tailored clothes could do a good deal to help her. However, she had neither the money, desire, nor the confidence to invest in a snappy little suit to make her scarecrow form more substantial. Instead she drowned in a large grey knit sweater that washed out her features and made her look small despite her height. Faded jeans that were a shade too short at the ankle complete the mess that is Boy's mate. Rage tickles at her senses and sets her on edge, her attention on the folks entering the longhouse. Gabbie she recognizes. The rest she does not, nearly jumping in alarm when Ethan extends a hand in greeting.*

Oh! um.. Hi Ethan. I'm W-wendy Berber.

*Her hand is thrown out awkwardly, grasp weak and disgustingly twiggy as she shakes. A quick smile. She glances to Hatchet as he moves off, offering a wave at his back before turning her attention to less terrifying company.*

I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new in town sir?

[Joey] Longhouse
Joey trails quietly behind her brother, standing out only by virtue of the bright red of her coat. Her blonde head is hidden by the black faux fur-lined hood, but those who know her will recognize her. Her gait is not that of a seasoned warrior, but that of an athlete.

Her eyes are down on the snow crunching beneath her old black work boots. It's not as pretty and fascinating and wondrous as it was before. Joey keeps her eyes down because if she looks up she'll see the clearing where she played football with a handful of others, and she'll remember. And even now, weeks after they laid Charlie in the ground, she remembers him with a pang of sadness.

Just before she and Daniel reach the longhouse, Joey stops at one of the smaller fires for a cup of warm cider. She doesn't rush to catch up to the Forseti, but when she gets to the doorway into the longhouse she helped build, Joey looks around. It's warm enough inside that she knocks back the hood of her coat. Hatchet is steering Daniel toward ribs. The corner of Joey's mouth quirks just a little. Her stomach grumbles, and she heads in the direction Hatchet directed Daniel.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
He sets the table in an out of the way corner easily, and just as Hatchet pays him no mind, he pays no mind to the Fianna. Daniel gets something that might be an attempt at a smile, a nod, and a, "Hi," that does more to convey sympathy than a Hallmark card would. Ethan he doesn't know, Wendy's a stranger and so he gives his sister a raised brow.

"You remember what I taught you? I'll let you pick, blackjack or poker."

To start with, anyway. It may well change over the course of . . . well, however long they spend here.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
"I am," he confesses. "Just moved here from New York a few weeks ago. Saw an advert for the bonfire at the Brotherhood last I was there, thought I'd come check it out."

There is not much of a height discrepancy between the pregnant woman and the kinsman; maybe an inch or two. If he's put off by this, he has the manners not to act like it. His eyes remain on Wendy's face, doing her the courtesy of glancing away every so often so her nerves aren't further frayed.

Whereas Wendy looks slapped together, Ethan appears to have put some time into his appearance. His boots are not scuffed, his jeans are clean and free from frays and fit his lower half; his peacoat, while not new, is also not covered in stains and falling apart at the seams. His skin is clean and clear. His eyes and hair shine with health. That might make what he says next seem a bit incongruous.

"Are there any Gnawers here tonight, do you know?"

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire to Cooking Fires

"Heheh. Come on, Keron. They're monsters. They regenerate pounds of flesh hourly, how fast do you think they burn through booze, huh?"

He gestured toward the tables at the fires where all the roasting and cooking was being done, with concessions laid out and lined up, lighter things covered with lids and weighed down so that the wind gusts didn't whip them up and tear them away from the scene. They'd already lost two bags of chips before deciding to just put those away and go with salads instead. Drew adjusted her hold on the big case of beer once more and started to march over to the cooking fires.

She flashed a grin at St. Jenny here, plopped her case down next to many others, and tore the top open so that she could access the contents and get herself a beer. She'd offer one to Keron, and hand him one if he accepted. Either way, she would twist hers open (because she bought the twist-tops, bottle openers were too big of a pain in the ass to pass around and often wound up missing) and take a swig before shivering and glancing about.

"Huh, looks like everyone's going inside."

[Broken Hammer] Daniel's not the only glum Sentinel tonight. All of them present -- all of them remaining -- seem quite determined not to enjoy themselves. The Forseti takes ribs as directed. He chews on them silently. He looks around with his dark, sharp eyes, and then -- well; then, perhaps more for his packmates' sake than for his own, he nudges both Joey and Hatchet.

"In the Sept I was born in," he says, "Winter's Solstice was a time both to contemplate endings and a time to cast them off. It's about... death, and the promise of renewal that comes in spring. We celebrate it. By drinking and fighting." A faint smile. "A lot.

"You guys want to start a drinking contest? And maybe some wrestling?"

[Broken Hammer] (right, that was in the longhouse.)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse

Gabriella trailed along after her brother as though she was his shadow, eyes slipping from one face to the other, examining, trying to place in memory. She did not know Daniel, his drawn features were new to her, but he was with Hatchet, and Hatchet she knew well. ...Or, more to the point, she knew him well once upon a time ago. At least she'd thought she had. There was a tall and rather attractive man speaking with a taller and rather scrawny Kinfolk she recognized vaguely. Joey was a face without much of a name to her, though that face looked distressed. She must have been a packmate of this Lights Out guy that Edward told her had died.

She shivered a little, adjusting to the difference in temperature between outdoors and the lodge, which was doing a fine job of keeping heat from the center fire inside, and hovered near the playing table with her brother.

"Hm. Poker, I suppose."

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Joey is in mourning, a grieving process that is going on its second week. In mortal terms that is no time at all to get over the death of a friend, nor even enough time to begin to come to terms with it. They are not, however, mortal. They said goodbye to him some time ago, put him in the earth and told stories and howled farewell and dropped a slab of broken concrete on top of his grave with his name and who he was carved into it. Since then, Hatchet's hardly talked about him, or his death, or his deeds.

Daniel was there when Charlie died. Hatchet and Joey were not. Echo was not. And if anything still weighs on the Philodox's mind concerning the end of another Theurge's life, that is it.

He is going into the ribs with apparent gusto, heaping them onto a plate until he has enough food for three people. Which is, in the end, how many it turns out to be for, because he holds the plate close to Joey and Daniel to share what is on it. He's nudged. He lifts his eyebrows at the Forseti, mouth full but beard untouched by sauce -- so far -- and gives him a curious look.

"Daniel," he says firmly when the Fenrir finishes, "I take the very question of whether or not I would like to start a drinking contest as an insult to me and all Fianna. On behalf of my own glory, and in the name of my entire tribe, I accept," he finishes ominously, shoving the plate of ribs at Joey and licking his fingers.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse

New York huh? I was in New york for a little while. Before I came here. Battery P-Park is really dangerous at n-night. *Ethan is doing her the courtesy of not staring at her like she's a circus freak, and Wendy is showing her appreciation by not twitching like a neurotic whippet. She folds her hands in front of her, glancing about the longhouse as she tries to keep track of everyone at once. Refocussing on Ethan and shaking her head with a wince.*

Not that I know of I'm af-fraid. My mate is packed with the b-bonegnawer elder. Doodle. But Doodle is p-probably at the bawn with Boy. P-parties aren't really his sorta thing, I don't think.

*Someone begins setting up a small... poker table? And Wendy's eyes light up. Oh please let there be boardgames or cards or something. She looks to Ethan before gesturing to the card table behind him.*

Th-Think thats for cards?

[Keron Bradley] Cooking Fires
"It's crazy cold out here. Can't say I blame them," he answers with a smirk as he takes the offered beer and gets to work with the food. "I'll put in some time out here and then offer to spell anyone who wants or needs a break. You can go in if you want - I don't know anyone other than you, anyway."

Though he hasn't been inside yet, and thus can't say that for sure - he just needs to feel helpful before he relaxes into partying, is all. The more he helps now, the less he'll feel guilty if and when he slips off with someone later - because that will happen. It (almost) always does.

[Joey] Longhouse

Joey tilts her head at Daniel, at his suggestion that, essentially, it's time to move on, to prepare for the spring and the advent of new life and nature.

With drinking. And wrestling.

Joey is still mourning the loss of her friend. She has not, however, let it hinder her in her duties. There are dark bruises beneath her eyes, lines carving their way into her face that weren't there before two weeks ago, but when she goes on patrol, she fights what she finds with everything she has. She guards The Brotherhood with fierce determination. She's just quieter about it, and she doesn't smile as often.

She perks up a bit when Hatchet accepts Daniel's challenge. Reaching out for a rib, she looks from her alpha to her brother and back again.

"Can anyone get in on this action?" she asks, somewhat hopefully.

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
The young woman's eyes light up, and when she gestures, Ethan turns to survey what it is she's talking about. His eyes find the card table and the pair of siblings manning it, and he watches for several seconds as Wendy asks her question. When he turns back around, there's a smile in his eyes.

A scant distance from the two Kinfolk there's talk of the meaning of the winter solstice and the possibility of a drinking game. Ethan briefly glances towards the packed Garou, then looks back to Wendy.

"Might be," he says. "You play?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
"We'll go hold 'em," he says with a smirk, and pulls a deck out of his pocket to start shuffling - the table he's brought is big enough for four comfortably, or six to eight if people want to get friendly. He notices Wendy eying the table and gives her that attempt at a smile - it's not much, but it's enough to be able to tell that his smiles are usually warm and friendly.

"Yes, it's for cards," he says. "You want to play?"

[Drew Roscoe] Cooking Fires back to Main Fire

"Oh, it's not that bad," Drew insisted with a grin that looked just a touch too sharp at the corners. Just a short while ago she'd toughed out temperatures only a handful of degrees higher than this inside of a shed, with nothing to keep warm with but a shirt, panties, and another kinfolk to huddle up with. On top of that, in a few very short days (she wasn't sure exactly when yet, but soon) she'd be tasting a whole new flavor of cold as fuck.

But Keron wanted to be helpful, wanted her to go have fun. So she grinned and clapped him on the shoulder with a nod, sucking back another chug from her beer bottle before nodding, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and turning to go hover by the main fire for a bit to warm up, calling over her shoulder as she went. "Alright, I'll grab you later." But certainly not to sneak off into any bushes. It was far too cold for nonsense like that.

[Broken Hammer] Longhouse
"That's the point," Daniel replies to Joey. And then, mock-thunderous: "More glory for more foes defeated. Are you wrestling or drinking?"

[Joey] Longhouse
Joey's mouth cracks in a small smile. "Duh.

"Both!" she shouts, waving her rib above her head.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse

*Ethan asks a question around the same time edward invites her over to play with them, Gnawer's query answered as Wendy blurts.*

Oh My goodness yes please If I may Sir!

*Most polite squee ever. Wendy all but claps her hands. She likes all the strategy and counting involved in cards. Oh yes, rest assured. The toothpick might not be much to look at, but she could play the hell out of some cards. Though from the rare look of barely restrained delight on pointed features, she'd need some work on her poker face. A look of shy inclusion to Ethan, before the nerd strides towards the table with a blush.*

Heh. Um. I mean. Yes please. Thank you. Um.. I'm W-Wendy. This is Ethan.

[Broken Hammer] Longhouse
"Okay, you can't do both -- " he begins. Halts. And then, unexpectedly, grins. "Well. Wait. Let's do this. First we drink. Then we wrestle. While drunk.

"Rhya?" To Hatchet. "You want to announce it?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse
The next thing those in the Longhouse -- and some outside of it -- know, there's a sudden, sharp clap of two broad hands in the air, followed by a booming baritone voice.

"MY PEOPLE! THE TIME FOR TALK IS DONE! THE TIME FOR ACTION IS NIGH!" It's overblown. He hams it up, throwing his arms out, his face a mask of faux fury that is, nonetheless, somewhat uncomfortable to witness since it is so very close to real wrath from a Garou with that much rage. "TONIGHT WE CELEBRATE DEATH AND CONTEMPLATE RENEWAL." A beat. "Or the other way around! I don't fucking know! WE'RE DRINKING NOW."

His hands drop. One of them, at least. The other he plants firmly on Daniel's arm, shoving him to one side in a show of affectionate brotherly abuse.

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
Jeff is just hanging out. He's dressed tastefully, but casually, and his shoes? Well, he has some really great shoes. And thankfully, it's cold enough, and been cold enough, that there's not a lot of mud to mess them up. Drew approaches and he smiles, wide and reasonably friendly, though it lacks the warmth of Keron's. Jeff is . . .

Well, Jeff keeps his distance. He's a bit on the short side for the average American male, but then, to look at him? He's not really the average American male, though when he speaks, his accent would say otherwise.

"Hi, I'm Jeff Pyeon. Glass Walker. Nice to meet you."

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
Wendy nearly explodes with joy, and the Gnawer's lips split into a grin as a quiet strain of laughter leaves his throat. It smoothes out and quiets down when Wendy herself does, and as she introduces the pair of them, Ethan starts to unbutton his peacoat, strong fingers popping the buttons through their holes without visual assistance.

"Nice to--"

MY PEOPLE!

Maybe it's the Rage, or the volume of the man's voice, or the fact that he conducts himself in a manner befitting a Garou of some rank within the Nation, but the kinsman turns away from the card table to listen to the bellowing man--a Fenrir, perhaps; he has the look and demeanor of a Fenrir, as do the two he's standing with--as he makes his proclamation.

Peacoat is bisected, the halves pushed out of the way as Ethan slides his hands into his pockets, and though the Rage is powerful in this one, as it is in the brother he shoves, the kinsman whose breeding will not grab anyone's attention for any reason other than its nonexistence does not shrink away or flinch or try to make himself appear smaller so as to not be noticed. He stands, and listens, and when the announcement is over, he gives the card table a moment's consideration.

"Well, hell, who can say 'no' to that?" he asks no one.

[Wendy Berber] Longhouse - poker table

*Wendy nearly trips over the table as there is a thunderclap inside the longhouse, and an announcement hollered like a battlecry. A high squeak swallowed into coughing as she folds an excess of long limb into a seat awkwardly. Covering her mouth as she makes to regain her composure.*

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire

There was a solitary figure at the cottage-sized blaze, features and shape thrown into sharp relief by the rage of flames that danced and threw light upon the entire clearing, melting away the snow nearby so that the green-brown grass underfoot surfaced to taste air once more. Drew strolled up with the confidence of someone that knew how to operate in social situations, smiling brightly at the man who looked down at her, smiled, and greeted with a name and tribe attached.

She supposed that's what she was supposed to be doing, so she followed suit. Her smile stayed on her face, even if it wasn't always in the form of curled mouth corners and pretty flashing teeth. It danced in her eyes just like the firelight did, and she lifted her beer in greeting to him.

"Well hello Jeff Pyeon, I'm Drew. Get of Fenris Kinfolk. Pretty good to meet you too."

Someone roars inside the longhouse, something about celebrating beer and drinking death, from what she made of it. Her nose wrinkled some, and she decided she'd hang out outside for a little bit, give them time to drink death and get that out of the way so she wouldn't have to witness it. Her beer returned to her lips, she tipped it back and took another swig, then followed up with what Jeff might find to be a funny question.

"What's a Glass Walker, Jeff?"

[Echo Quinn] There's a sudden cacophony of noise across the totemlink -- that could only mean one thing, Echo Quinn was in the area, or at the very least, awake. Where are my bitches at, I come with beer and I come with an awesome amount of me.

[Joey] Longhouse
Daniel starts to say Joey can't drink and wrestle. Her reply is a downward tip of her chin and an upward arch of one darkish brow. He amends, and Joey finishes off her rib before looking for a place to dispose of it.

Her back is turned when Hatchet's voice booms within the longhouse. His voice, the pitch, the false rage, makes the building suddenly seem much smaller than it really is. Joey starts and turns. A corner of her mouth lifts when Hatchet shoves Daniel.

She doesn't wait for instructions, if any were even to be given. She searches for a cooler, a jug, a container of some kind that's being used to hold alcohol. She finds what she's looking for in a trio of kegs set up just beyond the fire pit in the center of the longhouse. She unzips her coat and tosses it onto a bench, revealing a plain black sweatshirt. She's wearing black and lilac arm warmers that, with the sleeves of her sweatshirt down, look like just another pair of fingerless gloves.

"Guys! Over here!" she calls. Her voice doesn't carry nearly so well as Hatchet's, but it doesn't need to. Her brief smile is gone, but there's a lightness about her, a sense of excitement. She flags down a kinfolk and tells her to bring them a lot of mugs. The Rotagar straddles a bench, and waits for the others to assemble around her.

[Hatchet] Hatchet's voice, through their bond, is just as booming as it was a moment ago in the longhouse. ECHO. LONGHOUSE. DRINKING CONTEST. MOVE YOUR SKINNY ASS.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
Edward, ever the gentleman, stands when Wendy trips and offers her assistance into a comfortable seat, then gives his introduction.

"Edward 'Silver Jester' Bellamonte, Fostern Silver Fang Ragabash, and this is my sister, Gabrilla," he says, then gives Ethan a smile. "To poker, or to drinking, or both?" A pretty flask, quite possibly gold, is pulled from an inside pocket of his peacoat, which hasn't yet been set aside in deference to the already rising heat in the longhouse. "Because I plan on that last. You in? And nice to meet you, Wendy."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse, Card Table

Gabriella was doing a rather fine job of being a wallflower, albeit a pretty and irrevocably well bred one. She had taken up a seat at the card table beside her brother, removed her coat and folded it over the back of the chair she was occupying, revealing a pale yellow-and-gray sweater with a cowl neck that scooped low enough to cause scandal if there were herds of old, clucking women occupying the longhouse instead of Garou and Kin that simply didn't give a damn.

Hatchet and his posse were gathering a crowd after all of their yelling about death and drinking and renewal. Gabbie watched him for a few seconds longer than she probably ought to before she heard her name and pulled her attention back to the table. Wendy, the stork-like Kinfolk that she remembered vaguely and Ethan the handsome young man that she'd never even seen before, had joined the table, and Edward was introducing himself and her as well.

Gabriella put on her best polite 'nice to meet you' smile and nodded at both, but for now seemed content to hold her tongue, as she had nothing compelling to say.

[Ezra Turk] A glass walker...

*Gravels a low voice behind a Fenrir kin.*

Is a techno-savy monkey playing dress up in a wolfskin.

*There he is in all his smirking glory, black hair mimicking the general shape of the Bonfire. He lifts a bottle of beer to his lips, eyes on the entrance to the longhouse.*

Nice to see you again, precious. Happy Belated Birthday. MmmMMM?

[Ezra Turk] [ahem. at mainfire]

[Broken Hammer] Longhouse, Drinking Contest
Daniel stumbles sideways with the shove, but only for half a step. Then his usual lightfooted grace kicks in, and he simply takes a seat next to Joey, grabs a mug, and looks around for alcohol.

"I propose these rules: each round, we all down a drink of approximately equivalent alcoholic value. The first one to slam it down -- this does favor shot-takers -- gets to then propose a task or feat that everyone must then perform. Anyone who fails, or if no one fails, anyone who does most poorly," which is to say, sucks, "is eliminated, and then the next round progresses.

"That sound fair?"

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
"A Glass Walker," he says, at the same time Ezra speaks up, then pauses to listen with a raised eyebrow. Then, when that's done, he continues with an amused smirk. "Well. I wouldn't necessarily say it that way, but I've heard similar, and worse."

He has a red plastic cup in hand and, for the moment at least, it just smells like pop - he'd come alone and will likely be heading home alone, so drinking doesn't seem like the best of ideas.

"Regardless, I'm just a monkey with a credit card, and I don't play dress up. Much."

[Echo Quinn] Oh yay, I'm just in time for the good stuff.

There she is, by the by, appearing over the crest of the hill, or the rise, or just appearing like a tall skinny streak of Glass Walker cool. Echo Quinn was still dressed in her flight uniform, though she'd pulled down the overalls to her waist and tied the sleeves around it, leaving her flat belly on display, the shirt she wore beneath it bear reaching to cover her small breasts. There was a hoodie half-zipped over this, and the pixie-cut hair was spiked upward in a mohawk, the tips (tonight, at least) frosted a very vibrant shade of red so that she looked something like a pretty girl with a rooster's frill atop her head.

"Check this out, I come bearing foamy beverages and just that extra dash of cool that was missing beforehand."

End Transmission announced, balancing what looked to be an impressive amount amount of beer on her shoulder.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Echo Quinn] [oh yeah. Echo -> Longhouse]

[Hatchet] Longhouse, aka The Boozery
"Fabulous!" Hatchet agrees, and does not bother to sit. He has too much energy. He has too much rage. He has too much, period.

When Echo walks in, he walks over to her, grabbing her sleeve and half-hauling her over to the bench where Daniel and Joey are sitting down. "Echo. C'mon. S'drinking time."

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire

Drew was awaiting a response on exactly what a Glass Walker was (she assumed it was a tribe, but she'd never really heard of this one before) when a voice that sounded like gravel being ground up in a burlap sack sounded behind her. She startled (could she not go to one of these things without having the wits scared out of her?) and twisted to look back at the source of the voice, though she already knew who it was.

Fucking Ezra Turk.

Her eyes narrowed a little as she scrutinized him, jaw setting into something displeased and determined, and she curled her fingers a little more securely about the neck of her beer bottle before glancing to Jeff near the tail end of his retort to what a Glass Walker was. Techno-savvy with a credit card. Okay, okay, so... computer programmers and business men? She licked her lips, took another swig of her beer, then spoke, though her words were a response to Ezra rather than a question about Glass Walkers for clarification to Jeff.

"And how the hell did you find out when my birthday was, creepazoid?"

[Broken Hammer] (btw, if anyone needs to know what a longhouse actually looks like inside:

http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/daily_living/text/longhouse.htm

that's a good reference. the 'benches' can (and do, if you're actually living in one) also double as narrow beds.)

[Wendy Berber] Poker Table

*Oh holy crap onna crap. Silverfangs?! She was playing Poker with Silverfangs. What if they actually bet? Oh holy crap was that a gold Flask?! Wendy pales a little, looking from Ethan to Edwin and Gabbie, and back, shyly venturing a question as she nods thanks Edward for helping her into her seat.*

Um.. will... Will we be b-betting sir?

*A thin finger gnawed worriedly at the prospect.*

[Wendy Berber] {ahem. ETHAN. friggin E' names]

[Broken Hammer] (oh and! some slapdash drinking game rules:

- Roll Dexterity per drink vs diff 6 (mug o' beer), 5 (glass o' wine) or 4 (shot o' something). Highest roll downs it first.
- Roll Stamina to "soak" every drink. "Damage" starts at 3, goes up by 1 per drink. As you take "damage" from being drunk, you lose dice accordingly.
- Whoever wins the dex contest gets to set the feat (and dice rules, if applicable))

[Ethan Yates] Longhouse
The man who is not easily identified as anything, be it Kinfolk or Garou, Shadow Lord or Silent Strider or Glass Walker or something else entirely, waits until the Garou have made their way over to one side of the longhouse before he answers the question posed to him.

"I play better when I've got a bit of liquid courage in me," he says.

With that, he walks over to where the Garou have gathered and addresses the one who'd been doing the yelling. One has to wonder if he'd be this bold on the full. He's got the paleness of Luna's face on his side.

"That an open invitation," he asks, "or is this a member's only affair?"

[Hatchet] [...Can we use RP? *G*]

[Echo Quinn] Longhouse

"Whoa, easy there tiger, there's plenty of me to go around," the girl protested lamely as she's tugged down somewhere between Daniel and Joey. She gallantly relieves herself of her burden and yanks three beer cans out of the pack she'd trudged up the hill with and slams them down before herself.

Then some unknown dude is questioning if it's an open invitation and my-oh-me, isn't he a little side of mother-may-I? Echo tosses Ethan a beercan. "Sit yourself down, hotpants."

[Broken Hammer] (whatever! *dies* i don't care, i'm going home! back in a while, guys!)

[Ezra Turk] Main fire

Why you told me Frauline. Devil's in the details..mm?

*At 5'10 and around 170lbs, Ezra is not one to stand out in a crowd. Black eyes, black hair. Broad shoulders on a lean frame. His features are vulpine and sly, his eyes intense and glinting with manic energy. His hair waves uncontrolled atop his head, and his features include a prominent nose, trim goatee and thick, darkly arched eyebrows. There's something of unhinged malice about Ezra Turk, coupled with unshakable confidence and sinister charm. His voice a low rasp, as though the man had swallowed glass and was too stubborn to cough it up. Black eyes fall on Jeff for too long a stretch, before Ezra raises to his feet, fingers trailing over Drew's shoulder before extending to the glasswalker.*

Ezra Turk.

*He levels a cheshire smile, before taking a long drink of his beer.*

[Hatchet] Drinking Contest
"Hardly," he argues with the Walker, tossing her towards her other packmates. "You weigh a buck nothin' and if I cut you in half nobody would want either piece. "Now," he says, looking around, "who has scotch?"

Ethan walks over, and Hatchet looks at him for a moment before answering. "Do you have vodka?"

[Joey] The Boozery
Joey slides to the edge of the bench and drags a keg forward, follows it with a cooler and arranges everything as best she can in front of the bench. Hatchet doesn't sit, but his packmates do. Joey fills a mug, offers one to Hatchet, then Daniel, then fills a mug for herself. She settles herself on the bench beside Echo, close enough that her shoulder brushes the Fostern's.

"Ready?" she asks.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
The man easily catches the hefted beer can with the assistance of both hands, glancing down at it briefly before wiping off the mouth of the can. There's a question after a moment's consideration, a moment that passes by without an aversion of gaze or a sense that he's cowed by the blond man's Rage. He may very well be. If he is he's doing a passable job of acting composed.

Does he have vodka.

The nameless no one's lips threaten to tug into a smile, but nothing comes of it. Holding the beer in his left hand, he dips into an inside pocket with his right and pulls out a small metal flask, giving it a sloshing shake.

"Gin," he says.

[Echo Quinn] The Den of Drink and Debauchery

"That," the pretty Walker retorts back with, "is a huge serving of horse poop, everyone wants my jelly."

Ready, Joey asks, and in reply Echo pops the tab on her first beer can and toasts it against her fellow No Moon's. "Let's show them how Ragabash do this."

[Drinkin'! Dexterity]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Edward Bellamonte] Poker Table
"Depends. You have chocolate or strawberry Twizzlers on you?"

One thing can be said for Edward - he can read people reasonably well, and even if he couldn't, he could look at Wendy and tell that she doesn't have much money to spend. Like he hadn't taken the kid at the club's car or (all of his) money, he wouldn't clean her out. Ethan decides to go drinking, and Ed says, "Have fun," then starts shuffling in earnest.

"Hold 'em good with you, Wendy?"

Assuming she agrees, he's dealing before he takes a drink.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
He ignores the mug of beer Joey pours, watching Ethan, then lifts one eyebrow in an exaggerated expression of deep consideration. Then: a slow, heavy nod. "That'll do," he says, and goes to grab a sleeve of plastic cups that, in lieu of shot glasses, shall have mouthfuls of gin poured into them a bit at a time for slamming back.

It means he's going for the easier liquor. On the other hand, no one in Chicago has ever seen Hatchet drink beer from a can.

Hatchet pours his shot, smirks at Echo, and tosses it back.

[Shot +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4)

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey glances at her sister from the corner of her eye, a corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

As soon as she hears the pop of the tab, Joey lifts her mug.

[Glug glug!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Joey] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hatchet] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Echo Quinn] [Stamina -- hurr, how drunk faced did that make me already?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
"Jeff Pyeon," he says, offering his hand for a shake as he would in a business meeting or at a consult; he is well dressed, he is cool, he is not-quite-distant. "Glass Walker. Kin, to be exact."

He hasn't been to a lot of this kind of party - in fact, he can count on one hand the True he's met face to face. Or could, before he moved to Chicago. Face time between him and the furry cousins has been nearly nil, and, though he'd liked it that way, it doesn't seem to be how things are done here.

"Nice to meet you."

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Drink +1 - Beer]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wendy Berber] poker

*Wendy's eyes grow wide. How did he- maybe he could smell them. Her hand dips into her satchel and pulls out an already opened package of red twizzlers with a look of amazement to Edward. These only thing that seemed to stay in her stomach lately long enough to be digested. *

Wh-whoah. Um.. yeah. Holdem is fine. Thank you.

*A blink, and she looks around, glancing after Ethan as he gets up, only to set her twizzlers down in his now empty place.*

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire

Drew muttered something utterly incoherent under her breath in regards to devils and details and iron-wrought crowbars, but muffled most of it with the mouth of her beer bottle and tipped her head back along with the bottle so she could finish her drink and have nothing but an empty glass bottle to dangle between her fingers (and possibly smash on someone's face if the need arose).

Since she'd last seen Ezra she's had a chance to collect herself, to sort through her thoughts and decide to remain very cautious of this Ezra guy. His arriving here confirmed what she was half-hoping for, though, that he wasn't one of the Bad Guys. Not with capital letters, at least. Still, his being on this side of the warlines didn't make him automatically climb to the top of her 'people I like' list.

His fingers danced on her shoulder for a moment before diving forward through the air to grasp Jeff's hand, and Drew rolled her shoulder irritably in a shrug to chase the touch away.

Her body language said don't touch me, but her mouth was pressed closed and quiet for now.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
That'll do.

The man leaves the flask in the Philodox's capable hands, holding onto the beer without opening it and taking a cup of gin when it's handed to him. When the Ragabashes start on their beers, he tosses back his shot; it's been a while for him, apparently, for it takes him two goes to get the entire shot back, and he gives his head a sharp shake as the alcohol stings his innards. There is no vocal complaint, however. He just takes it.

[AUTOFAIL]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse, Card Table
Edward started to shuffle away after tucking his flask back into his jacket, then toss out the cards to deal them. Gabriella waited until all of her cards had been dealt before straightening them into a pile, picking them up, and arranging them as she pleased.

Wendy had tossed down licorice on the table, and Gabriella surveyed this for a moment before turning around, reaching into the pocket of the coat she had slung over the back of her chair, and pulling out an unopened package of Starbursts, which she slid out into the center of the table beside the Twizzlers.

If Wendy glanced up, she'd get a small smile that curved only half of Gabriella's mouth up before the Silver Fang Kinfolk dropped her attention to the cards in her hand.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Hatchet's shot of gin is down so fast his packmates have just started chugging their beers when he's done. He smirks as the newcomer, the kinsman, almost misses his own mouth. Looking around to confirm his win, he lifts his finger to set the feat: "Everyone... stand on your heads."

[Dex + Athletics! Don't forget your damage penalties!]

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Dex + Athletics, -1 (Health)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Echo Quinn] [Dex + Athletics -1 drunky]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Ezra Turk] Main fire

Glasswalker mmm? My condolences for your loss.

*Jests the Theurge with a smirk. Ezra's eyes slash to the side, resting on Drew as she mutters darkly. Grin growing wider, more pointed. A slow "you know better" shake of his head as he hunkers down beside Jeff. His gaze remaining on Drew though he speaks to the GW kin, rasping.*

What is your profession, Jeff Pyeon?

[Joey] [dex + ath - 1 (wound), diff - 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Echo Quinn] Echo smacks the table with her palms, and clambers to her feet, she doesn't wobble but shows a great amount of fixed concentration before flipping herself over and balancing upside down. "You're just doing this to take funny pictures, I'm on to you."

[Keron Bradley] Main Fire
"Interior designer," he says after his hand's withdrawn and a sip of his pop taken - it's Mountain Dew or similar, for those with the noses to be able to tell such things. "Mostly corporate or commercial, occasionally residential if the money's right."

The bit about his Tribe gets a smirk, and a shrug. "We are what we are, I guess. Isn't so bad, really, being a Glass Walker."

[Keron Bradley] ((Err . . . *posts that from the right character, with the right color tag*))

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
"Interior designer," he says after his hand's withdrawn and a sip of his pop taken - it's Mountain Dew or similar, for those with the noses to be able to tell such things. "Mostly corporate or commercial, occasionally residential if the money's right."

The bit about his Tribe gets a smirk, and a shrug. "We are what we are, I guess. Isn't so bad, really, being a Glass Walker."

[Hatchet] Longhouse - Drinking Contest
The Philodox is not shy about laughing as two Fenrir, a Walker, and a hot kinsman without a drop of decent blood in his veins all go about their attempts to stand on their heads. Not surprisingly, though Echo and Daniel put on good efforts, Joey is the one who is upside-down with her feet straight in the air despite the effect of the mug of beer on her vision.

Ethan, however, just falls right over. And Hatchet laughs harder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Echo, I don't even have a camera."

He does. It's on the cellphone that Jenny got him that he has used twice since it arrived at his bedroom. He does not realize that it has a camera. He would not be terribly impressed even if he did know. He looks at Ethan as one by one the Garou drop back down and right themselves. "You leaving the gin?" he asks, eyebrows up, since it goes without saying that the kinsman is disqualified.

[Joey] De Boozery
Unlike most Garou, Joey's physique was not honed by rigorous training for battle. She's an athlete. From the moment she could stand on her own and hold a ball, she's been playing sports. She's a natural.

Echo plants her hands and flips herself up. Joey is right behind her, figuratively speaking. There's some grace to the younger girl's movements, but mostly it's all power. Her arms don't shake when they find themselves supporting the weight of the rest of her.

Joey holds the pose for about forty-five seconds before dropping her feet back to the ground. Immediately, she slides the mug aside and grabs for a can of beer and plants her butt on the bench. A shake of her head rights her blonde bangs across her forehead. And she looks on expectantly.

"C'mon, let's go!" she says, showing more enthusiasm than she has in weeks. It may have something to do with the alcohol. Or it may have something to do with the distraction of the game.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Ezra took up a habit of his that Drew was starting to think was about as permanent a feature as his impossible-to-tame hair. But then, hair could be shaved off and staring eyeballs could be plucked out, right? Drew glared right back at him, but paused to blink and glance up when Jeff said he was an interior designer. This was precisely the same look of questioning that he probably got every time he revealed his career choice. That uncertain 'for real?' one over.

But Ezra's eyes refused to stop boring into her, and Drew couldn't help but rise to the challenge and glare right back. A few seconds passed, and she decided she didn't have nearly enough booze in her system for this. So she excused herself with a muttered-- "Who wants a beer?" and, with orders or dismissals at her back, she headed away for a moment to grab herself some more booze.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
The kinsman doesn't last two seconds against the Garou. As he stands back up and dusts himself off, he picks up his beer and gives it a moment's consideration before the first smile comes across his lips. He leaving the gin?

"Along with what's left of my pride," he says, setting the beer down on the nearby bench with a muffled hiccup.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
"Oh, just because you're out doesn't mean you can't stick around and drink." A beat. "And watch." Another beat. "And laugh."

Hatchet grins. "All it means is you don't have to do what I tell you when I win every. Single. Time." He shrugs, and pours more gin into his cup, looking at his packmates. "Ready?"

[Shot +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 9 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Drink +2: Dex -1 (uggh)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Joey] [beer +2, dex -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Echo Quinn] [Drink +2 -1 drunky]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 4, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Hatchet] [Soak vs. 4B]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Hatchet] Daniel
[Soak vs. 4B]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Edward Bellamonte] Poker Table
Two cards to each player, round of betting - Edward comes up with gummy worms in a bulk food store bag - two cards burned. Then comes the flop, and it's time for another round of betting.

The flop is ten of hearts, nine of spades and five of hearts.

[Joey] [Soak vs. 4B]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
The Philodox grins, and the kinsman pushes his tongue into the back of one unseen incisor, a pensive expression coming across his face as he meets the other man's gaze for a moment. It's an expression that looks at home on his features; there's an intelligence in his eyes that speaks of usefulness beyond the donation of genes.

"Twist my arm," he says, and picks the beer back up, resting his weight on one hip as he stands back to watch the packmates booze themselves into oblivion.

[Echo Quinn] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 2 (Botch x 2 at target 6)

[Ezra Turk] Main Fiah

*An interior designer. He manages not to look as disgusted as he felt. Trust a glasswalker kin to choose so useless a profession as "styling" the nation. But perhaps it made decent coin. A slow shake of his head, Ezra's fingers begin to jab a rhythm against the log he'd taken up a seat on. Rat. tat-tat-tat-tat. Rat. Tat-tat-tat-tat. Drew gets up, and his eyes follow her a moment, before he turns his attention to Jeff.*

Interesting.

*Ezra did not have rage that crawled up your spine and made you wary. His threat was more insidious, his smile too predatory to be anything but insincere. He seems content to nurse his beer for awhile. Finally rasping.*

Does the connotation bother you Jeff?

[Lonna Larson] Entry and Main Fire!

Eventually, she does show up.

Eventually, she does manage to make her car cooperate and get on off to the bonfire. The blonde bundled up, expecting the worst of the weather and finding it to actually be tolerable. The blonde is content with this, and parks.

She heads to the main fire, as that she doesn't really waste time finding drew and latching on.

[Wendy Berber] Poker

*The bookworm offers Gabbie a timid curve of her lips, before Edward is dealing cards and dragging out gummy worms. She smiles brighter yet. Poker for candy, with silverfangs. No one was going to believe her. EVER. She considers her cards, screwing her face up in disapproval. Bubkis. But then... it was only candy. She pushes a twizzler into the pot, as it were.*

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Lonna would find Drew lingering at the edges of the main fire, a good ten feet or so away from Ezra and Jeff, watching them like she was weighing the pros and cons of going back over. She had two beer bottles in her hands, one open and pressed to her lips, the other dangling from the fingertips of her left hand. She'd pulled off cute Midwestern girl with the sort of flair that one expected from her, dressed in a red sweater with a fluffy white vest overtop for insulation, a white scarf and white earmuffs, hair in a ponytail, and sturdy jeans tucked into similarly sturdy brown hiking boots.

Her cheeks and nose were rosy, but otherwise she seemed unbothered by the chill. After all, life was about to get a lot colder for her real soon. The Get of Fenris Kinswoman glanced over to Lonna when she came up by her side, and immediately she held out the unopend bottle of Budweiser to her, speaking in a voice that sounded... braced more than anything else, though at least a touch of Drew-brand humor and cheer could still be found underneath. She was irritated on a shallow level, but not bothered deeply.

"Here, you're probably gonna need this."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Poker
Gabriella had picked up on something that wasn't the most flattering for her, but seemed to be serving her well these days, and that was having a bland expression by default. She looked at her cards, nipped her lip thoughtfully, and tossed a single lemon Starburst into the pot after ripping one end open.

Her eyes shifted expectantly to Edward, and light colored brows lifted upward in a small flick of expectancy and humor-laced younger sibling style impatience.

Hurry up, Eddie, before we turn to dust.

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
Jeff's used to people looking down on his profession. He's used to people thinking he's gay because of that, his tasteful wardrobe and kick ass shoe collection. He honestly doesn't care any more.

"It pays my bills and a lot more," he says with a shrug, amused, and a tone that says look down on me if you want, but you'll be happy for it when I'm bailing your ass out of some shit. "And there're nice clothes and pretty people. I'm not complaining."

He keeps an eye on Drew, who seems like a nice enough girl (if young), and his eyes drift back to Ezra when he sees that Drew's found a friend.

[Echo Quinn] Al's House of Beer

Echo takes her time with her next beer, as a matter of fact she takes so long over it that by the time she's done, she's feeling more than a touch inebriated. Not that this is shocking to anyone who has seen the girl, she was barely 100 pounds if she was that, and there was absolutely nowhere on her skinny body for the alcohol to go after she'd consumed it but to her head.

"Holy God," she burped, and leaned her head heavily on Joey's arm. "Thissiz like... the best beer in the world of beers to be made into a beer. This," she holds it above her head, sloshing it everywhere. "Is the God of all beer."

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey cracks open her can of beer and attempts to knock it back. She's slow this time, with some of the alcoholic beverage spilling over her cheeks and down the outside of her scarred throat. Glancing around, she's not the only one. Glancing around, Joey quickly realizes moving her head right now is not the smartest thing she could be doing. She has lost no small amount of her alcohol tolerance, because as soon as she turns her head, the room tilts.

"Whoa what the fuck?" she asks, blearily. Astounded and confused.

[Broken Hammer] Daniel is suddenly, and without quite understanding how, very fucking drunk. He slams down his... shot, or mug, or whatever the hell he was drinking, and then flops backwards on his bench. The ceiling -- which is a ceiling crafted by his own two hands, and the hands of his packmates and septmates, which would normally be a point of quiet pride but currently feels utterly awesome -- is blurry. The Forseti laughs at himself and then closes his eyes.

"Hey. Hey Joey. Guess what."

Pause.

"I think I'm going to sleep here tonight."

[Edward Bellamonte] Ed's Kandy and Kard Kastle
Another card burned and a four of spades turned up; Ed doesn't so much have a poker face as he's across the board indifferent most of the time these days, since his return. Which isn't to say that he couldn't have a poker face if he didn't want to. For this round of betting, Edward puts in five gummy worms (as he had with the initial.

Playing poker for candy with Silver Fangs is fun, really!

Another card is burned, then it's the two of diamonds, a last round of betting (another two gummy worms) and the reveal. Wendy, unfortunately, has nothing. Each of the Bellamontes has a pair, but Gabbie's is higher, and thus she wins the hand.

"Want me to keep dealing, or should I pass it?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse - Drinking Contest
The Sentinels are not lightweights. Even when that skinny narcoleptic claustrophobic Theurge was among their numbers, no one would imagine them to be the first ones drunk under the table. No one would see them as the ones giggling madly after one puff of a joint. One of them is a pilot and a Fostern. Two of them are Fenrir.

But Hatchet is a fucking Fianna. He might argue that he was not born with blood in his veins but whisky, and that his mother's milk was laced with beer, and that he hasn't tasted water since he was twelve because it simply fails to hydrate him properly.

They drink again, this time just the Garou, and there's coughing and sputtering and choking rather than smooth swallowing. Hatchet just shakes his head as he lowers his empty plastic cup. "You all just stacked the deck against yourselves, that's what it is," he says, sighing in mock disappointment. There's not even a gleam of intoxication in his eyes yet. He blinks slowly and with evident amusement as Joey, normally so good at taking the punishment of booze, wavers alongside Daniel and Echo. "Which... you should never have done, when entering into a drinking contest with a member of a tribe that learned to drink by hanging out with the Little People." He blinks. "Who, as I hear it, cut their every concoction with pure, unadulterated madness. Which probably explains how I turned out like this. Anyway!"

The Rotagar, the Forseti, and the Walker are suddenly, incredibly drunk. Hatchet looks at the flask of gin sadly, as though he would have liked more. But then, brightly: "Who wants to wrestle?"

[Lonna Larson] Main fire

She looked at Drew, then the offered beverage. The blonde wasn't one to really refuse these sorts of things, though, and she took it and opened the bottle. She took a long drag, cocking her head to the side at her friend. Jeff gets a small smile, and a little wave.

Ezra gets a look. A genuine, slightly lingering look. Her stomach turns for a second, and instead she finds herself purposefully looking at Drew instead. She's gonna need this

"... did they cancel Survivor?"

[Echo Quinn] Longhouse

Echo surges to her feet [read: wobbles comically] like a politician in session about to announce her objection to some bill in the process of being passed and yells, absurdly loudly: "I, will wrestle you!"

[Broken Hammer] Boozeland
Daniel makes some sort of unintelligible mumble. His arms are over his face now, shielding his eyes from the glow of the fire.

[Joey] De Boozery
For the first time in weeks, Joey laughs. Or rather, she giggles. At Daniel.

"Yer drrrunk," she says, and she slaps her can of beer down.

She swings her head around to look up at her alpha. "You learned how'da drink with the Littles?" she asks in a stage whisper that is supposed to be an internal monologue, dark eyes narrowing slightly at the Fiann.

And then her face brightens considerably. Her freckled face splits in a grin, and she raises her hand like she's in school and she's just been asked what the capitol of Uruguay is and she just knows the answer is pie.

"Oo. I do!"

[Wendy Berber] POKER

*Wendy gives a sheepish sort of smirk as she loses a twizzler, speaking lowly across the table to Gabriella.*

um. I'll trade you a t-twizzler for a w-watermelon starburst.

*She looks to Edwards and nods for him to keep dealing, rubbing the back of her neck.*

I t-trust you.

[Ethan Yates] The Boozery
In rapid, almost record-breaking time, the young women and the Forseti find themselves completely and utterly drunk under the table. The rooster-haired woman declares the beer she's drinking to be the God of beer, the blonde can't figure out what's going on with the longhouse, and the Forseti announces that they're going to sleep here tonight.

He manages not to laugh at them until their Fianna leader makes his speech, at which point a full-bodied, incredibly amused rush leaves his throat. He is not completely hammered, but he is close to feeling no pain at this point.

And then the rooster-haired girl shoots to her feet and announces her intent to wrestle with the Philodox. The kinsman glances at the pack's Alpha with quiet amusement on his face, and takes a sip, not a slug, of his beer.

[Joey] [Please tag your posts with the following handy dandy color-coded chart:

Longhouse
Main Fire
Cooking Fires
Other

Food is being made around those smaller cooking fires and can be taken into the long house for eats. There are benches inside for sitting.]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse
Gabriella grinned a small smile of victory when she laid down her two aces and collected the pile of candy. A Twizzler was stuck into her mouth to be chewed on, a watermelon starburst slid without protest across the table to Wendy, and she looked to Edward when he asked if he should keep going or if any of the ladies wanted to deal. Gabbie was about to answer when bellows about wrestling sprung up on the other end of the longhouse.

Her eyebrows lifted, she glanced between Wendy and Edward for a moment, then half-sighed and stood up, licorice still hanging out of the corner of her mouth like a brightly colored cigarette. She tugged at the scarf around her neck as she edged around the fire to infiltrate the Sentinals, speaking up just from just behind Joey and Echo.

"I don't suppose you'd like to take the roughhousing outside?" She snapped the candy out of her mouth to gesture toward the door with it, eyebrows lifted in an expression that was more thoughtful than anything else. "Less risk of rolling into walls and knocking them over. I personally would rather die in a manner other than being crushed by a log roof and fire."

[Ezra Turk] main Fiah

MMmMmm.

*As thrilling as the conversation with the asian man was, Ezra found his attention wandering. Turning as he felt eyes upon him, a wave of the fingers not tapping against the log he sits on. Ezra stands, looking down to Jeff with a quick manic flash of teeth.*

Stretching my legs.

*With that, he moves toward the cooking fires and the delicacies waiting there.*

[Hatchet] Longhouse - Wasteyland
Hatchet just gives a flat stare to Joey. "No," he says, with exasperated venom that is, like almost everything else tonight, affected. "My tribe did. Learn to listen!"

And he reaches over, flicking her in the forehead. Then ruffling the top of her head. "You wrestle Daniel over there, if you can get him to move. I'm going to beat the shit out of Echo, now."

He glances over at Ethan when he laughs, eyebrows flicking once, then back to his pack. "Shall we take this outside?" he suggests.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
"Nah," Drew countered with a small grin from around the mouth of her beer bottle and cast her gaze back up to Lonna when Ezra stood and harmlessly (or at least harmless as far as Drew could hope) made his way over to the buffet tables to scrounge himself up some food. "Survivor just moved. They're tired of islands, decided to go for the desolate wilderness of North Illinois."

That thumped a thought through her mind, and she took another swig of her beer bottle that had her throat peeking out from over her scarf since her head was tipped back and the bottom of the beer bottle was kissing the sky. "That reminds me," she added, dropping her hand so that the beer bottle rested near her stomach, lifting the other hand so she could wipe her mouth.

"Did I tell ya that I'm headed outta town for, like, a month?" It was a month, right? She found herself searching her memory trying to recall if there ever really was a specific return date set or not.

[Joey] De Boozery
Hatchet reaches over to flick Joey in the forehead. She doesn't flinch or jerk her head away, but she squeezes her eyes shut and dips her chin down slightly. Rough fingers muss her hair, and she laughs that drunken giggle again. She can't remember the last time she was this drunk. Then again, right now, she can't remember yesterday.

Someone suggests they take their rough housing outside lest they destroy that which they spent two weeks building. Hatchet tells Joey that Daniel will be her dance partner, if she can get him to move.

The Rotagar turns to her Fenrir brother and shoves his shoulder. "Hey. Hey Dan. Daaaaniel. Get up, bro. It's time for me to kick your ass."

[Jeff Pyeon] Keron's House of Gourmet Goodies
The tall, lean, light skinned black man with light brown hair and a heavenly voice (a deep, chocolate smooth and velvet rough bass which was lifted as he worked, singing out Lady Gaga, of all things) was working over the cooking fires, turning a spit with what appears to be the better part of a pig on it. Ezra approaches, and he gets a wide, warm, and far more genuinely friendly smile than he'd gotten from the Glass Walker back at the main fire.

"Hey," Keron says, interrupting his singing. "There's more than enough and everyone's drinking and about to be fighting, from the sounds of it. Help yourself." There's a pause, and then the smile widens a bit; his accent, thick and southern, makes the bass seem richer and slower, a beautiful thing. "'m Keron."

[Ethan Yates] Boozeturbia
Somewhere in the process of logistics and planning, something in the kinsman's pocket buzzes. Loudly. He glances down, then reaches into the pocket of his peacoat to pull out an antiquated cellphone and flip it open. A few clicks of keys, a furrowed brow, and he pockets the phone again.

A suggestion to take it outside, and the kinsman hands off the barely-touched beer to the Philodox.

"For good luck," he says. He doesn't go so far as to wink, but the jest is in his voice.

[Keron Bradley] Keron's House of Gourmet Goodies
The tall, lean, light skinned black man with light brown hair and a heavenly voice (a deep, chocolate smooth and velvet rough bass which was lifted as he worked, singing out Lady Gaga, of all things) was working over the cooking fires, turning a spit with what appears to be the better part of a pig on it. Ezra approaches, and he gets a wide, warm, and far more genuinely friendly smile than he'd gotten from the Glass Walker back at the main fire.

"Hey," Keron says, interrupting his singing. "There's more than enough and everyone's drinking and about to be fighting, from the sounds of it. Help yourself." There's a pause, and then the smile widens a bit; his accent, thick and southern, makes the bass seem richer and slower, a beautiful thing. "'m Keron."

[Lonna Larson] Main Fire
"You did not tell me that.. where are you headed?" there is a pause at that thought, and the blonde took a second to let her mind wander, "do you want me to watch Basil while you're gone, or is someone else going to dogsit?"

She is, as usual, the personable sort.

She takes a second and puts her hand in her coat pocket while she drinks. The blnde seems to take a quiet joy in beer, to taste it, to feel like she's drinking a damned loaf of bread, but that was not the important part. She liked beer. Something about it was painfully uncomplicated.

"Who're you going with?"

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Gabriella gets a long look when she comes up to Joey and Echo to suggest they go outside to wrestle. He doesn't hear what she says. Or pretends he doesn't hear what she says. Either way he ends up taking his eyes off her and stays behind while Echo, Joey, and Daniel either get out of the longhouse or lie around on the packed-dirt floor groaning because the fire makes things too shiny and the beer makes things simultaneously very very pretty and very very loud and difficult to cope with.

He's watching to make sure they make it out alive. Or to make sure they fall in neat piles rather than in the fire or on top of one another. And then there's a beer in his hand, pressed there by a guy in a peacoat. Hatchet looks over at Ethan and hands the flask of gin over.

"Didn't you hear?" he says, and points to his face when Ethan takes the flask. "Fianna. We are luck."

He doesn't offer a name, or ask for one. He turns back to his packmates, drinking the given beer and laughing as Joey tries to tug Daniel upward.

[Ethan Yates] [NIGHT FUCKERS]

[Broken Hammer] Booze
Daniel refuses to move the first few times he's prodded, mumbling something that's not even English against his arms.

The third or fourth time, though, he abruptly sits upright, opening his eyes wide to peer owlishly around the longhouse. Then: "Okay. Let's do it." And he smacks his hand into the bench under him, stomps his foot on the hardpacked dirt floor. "Right here."

[Ezra Turk] Cookin fire to LOGGIN OUT

Sincerest pleasure to meet you Keron. If you'll excuse me...

*Crackles the vulpine featured man in a voice better left to silence and horror flicks. A pale knobby hand lashes out and captures a plate of some sort of meat. It makes no matter to Ezra as he tips a hand to crazy hair in a salute, and disappears into the woods.*

[Edward Bellamonte] Poker (that's what she said)
Gabbie's up talking to someone and Wendy's looking nervous, shy. I trust you, she says, and instead of dealing, he offers a smirk. "Thanks," he says. "Trust's a hard thing to come by, sometimes. And you don't have to stay for another hand if you don't want. I just don't generally like drinking just for drinking's sake, is all."

[Echo Quinn] Longhouse!

Echo is already on her feet, she's just been, you know, sort of staring off into the distance with a slightly unfocused sheen to her eyes. She snaps back to the moment now, and with a big, vibrant grin untangles herself from where she's been sitting next to Joey and Daniel.

"Yeah! Come on, dude! Try and kick my ass!" She starts hopping up and down, her fists jabbing left and right at the air.

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey is still drunkenly pushing at Daniel's shoulder when suddenly the Forseti sits bolt upright. The Rotagar rocks backwards a little, and then a little more as the room takes a sudden twist. Her arm snaps out to clamp a hand onto Daniel's shoulder to steady herself.

Then. "Nooo. We should." She stops, frowns, and looks at Daniel. "But, I don't wanna go outside, it's fuckin' cold as balls out there, y'know?"

[Wendy Berber] Poker

*It was the rage and the smell of watermelon doing it. Wendy was turning a vaguely olive color, hands going clammy as she fought to deny the nausea curdling her stomach. The thin kin looks to the card table with a frown, before glancing back up to Edward and Gabbie in turn. *

S-sorry. I'm a little q-queasy. Um. Thank you though. So much. F-for the poker. Edward, Gabriella. Nice m-meeting you b-both.

*Its with that the GW kin stands to her full 6 ft, and makes her way rather hastily out of the longhouse. She'd fine a tree and hold it up until she felt well enough to help the kin with food once more, leaving later in the night, twizzlers forgotten in her haste.*

[Echo Quinn] Den of Sin

Echo snorts and points at Joey.

"You said balls."

My, you can just see the maturity level slipping.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew shrugged helplessly when Lonna insisted that Drew didn't just inform her that she was going to be heading away. What could you do? That's what that shrug said. A nod of her head indicated that she intended to move closer to the fire to thwart the chill, and she followed through with what her motion suggested, taking a few steps closer to the fire, rubbing at her sweater-clad arms, then taking another drink of beer.

"Fucking Alaska," she informed Lonna, and allowed a few seconds for that to sink in. That's right. Alaska. In January.

"It'd be freaking great if you could watch Basil. He'd love it, he'd much rather that, in a place that's, y'know, more like home than out at the Youngs' house. It saves me having to explain why I'm gone for so long and all that to them."

Another drink of beer, and a bit of a half-shrug. "Joe and Thomas." Who else?

[Joey] De Boozery
Joey looks at Echo, and giggles. The hand on Daniel's shoulder slides away so she can piont at the Fostern No Moon.

"No, you said balls, haha!"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse
A long stare was all that Gabriella got from the Fianna before having him turn his back on her and return attention to his troops. The Silver Fang frowned softly, the expression some cocktail of negative emotion, and folded her arms over her chest and took a few retreating steps back.

A glance was cut back to the card table, where Wendy was standing to excuse herself rather hastily, looking an uncomfortable shade of pea-green as she bustled on out the door, leaving Edward alone at the card table. She made a bit of a face and sucked in a breath, then retreated a few more steps until she was beside the card table once more. Standing still, however, rather than sitting.

[Lonna Larson] Main fire
"You had better put hats on them," she said. Matter of factly.

Joe and Thomas were Fenrir. Joe and Thomas were warriors of the nation. They were strong and proud to the point of hubris at times. They were powerful, they were many things... but they were also distinctly lacking in hair. Which, of course, meant that they were more than likely going to lose a lot of body heat if they were going to be in Alaska in the winter. And, proud warriors though they may be, they were Fenrir.

Which meant, of course, that they would, if necessary, fight naked in subzero temperatures if need be.

Ergo, they needed hats.

"And I wouldn't mind. I could use the company, Basil could use the company. He's a good dog, I love him to death."

Funny, Lonna Larson mentioning that you could love something to death.

[Thomas] Main Fire

The wind crept up across the clearing for several moments, setting a dance in the fire's stretch. It brought with it moment's shadow on the clearing's edge, the puff of breath as herald to the coal ash wolf that pushes through shrub and undergrowth a small ways back from the treeline. A moment later and the wolf is a man, draped in hoodie, cargos and boots, snow crunching underfoot and gaze pushing through the foliage, squinting at the limbs that snap back into his path.

He grunts with it, ducking beneath a waving bough to emerge onto the Bonfire's scene, gaze arrested by the sudden presence of a Longhouse, a brow quirked and a flickering curl at one corner of his mouth (as if to say 'Well look at that') brought up. He rolls his jaw, gaze flicking from body to body, present outside, before finding the familiar presence by the large fire.

Snow crunches as he makes his way over, tucking hands into hoodie pocket and brow further beneath the cap.

[Hatchet] Longhouse
Daniel tries to insist that the packmates wrestle here, right here, thumping the floor for emphasis, and Hatchet gives him a considering look. "Fuckit!" he announces, quite loudly. "We built this motherfucker, we can wrestle in it."

And he launches at Echo.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew laughed out loud and nodded, swigging down the remaining quarter of her beer bottle and letting her weight settle on her left leg, that way her left hip wound up jutting out further than the right, while the right knee relaxed and popped out a little more. This posture said that she intended to be standing here for a while, talking and looking at her empty beer bottle like she wished it would fill itself back up and soaking up the heat from the monstrous blaze that she found so accurately represented the feeling she got standing next to either of the Boys on a full moon.

"Man, Lonna, I already bought them hats. I never see 'em wearing them." The empty bottle was tipped up for examination, then she glanced around like she might find some trash bin had manifested beside her. Instead she found Thomas, a dozen feet away, boots tromping from where snow existed to where it melted away under the oppressive heat of the fire. "Oh hey," she said in a tone that was pleasant and light enough to suggest that she drank both beers a little too quickly, even though she wasn't swaying or anything. "Speak of the devil."

And Thomas got a nod of a head and a lift of an empty bottle in greeting. "Hey."

[Joey] De Boozery
Hatchet gives the okay to fight inside the building they spent so much time making. She stares at her alpha thoughtfully right up until he launches himself at Echo. Then her face splits in a grin.

Joey lurches to her feet, and lunges for Daniel.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse
"Yeah . . . you want to go, Gabbie?" Edward no longer finds much need to stay. He'd appeared, been somewhat sociable, and now he's done.

[Jeff Pyeon] Main Fire
Jeff, new and known by few at best, eventually fades into the background and takes off. He'll be back to help with the clean up tomorrow.

[Keron Bradley] Cooking Fire
Keron's in the swing of things now - he talks to the other people manning the food, shares smiles and laughs and songs, and when Drew's ready to go? Unless someone else snags him, which is unlikely, he'll head out with her. Or, if she has other things going on, he'll hike out to the road and make his own way back home. He's resourceful that way.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Longhouse
What she would call mingled advice with a request was left completely unheeded and four full grown adult Garou start grappling and wrestling in the lodge, which had Gabriella making a face of twinned distaste and apprehensive uncertainty of anyone's safety. She took a step back closer to her brother, who seemed to have grown silent and a little less than amused by the antics now that his poker buddy had gone out in the bushes to vomit.

"Yeah," she responded, and did whatever was asked or necessary to pack up and dodge around the wrestling group and make her exit as hastily as possible.

Haughty, uppity Silver Fangs anyways.

[Edward Bellamonte] Longhouse to Outta Here
It didn't take any more help to get the table down and out than it had to get it in and up, and so, with a new haul of candy to split between them, the (impeccably bred) siblings take off, depriving the masses of their continued presence

[Thomas] Main Fire

He doesn't say it. Doesn't need to really.

He just offers a nod in reply. A pause. Then a lift of his hand to tug on the winter cap he's wearing beneath his hood. Then, he settles himself a place alongside Drew, normally grim expression a little less so tonight. Hands remain in pockets and his eyes go into the fire, the stretch of thoughts long in his face, lips pressed firmly together and the lines of War as smooth as they're going to get in his eighteen years.

[Lonna Larson]

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew watched Thomas for a few moments while he responded to the greeting with a simple nod and eased into a comfortable, relaxed stand next to her, then smiled an expression that was a genuine sort of happy that most people forget about when they're seven years old. She rolled her shoulders under the thick fluff of her puffy white down vest, and settled for silence for a minute.

All three of them did, Kinfolk and Blessed and Skald alike.

Drew would, of course, wind up breaking the silence though. This should be expected of her. But at least she did so pleasantly, in an easy, mellow voice rather than yelping when a thought occurred to her in her excitement to share it with everyone else, as she sometimes had a tendency to do.

"Thomas, when're we coming back? Lonna's gonna be watching Basil, and I've gotta finalize things with Eustace."
Eustace was her boss, she may have mentioned that.

[Thomas] "When we're Strong enough."

Enigmatic and distracted, or maybe just simple and without qualms, it is perhaps the first time Drew might have heard Thomas without that hint of...zealotry beneath his tongue. The fire of Fenris burned almost constantly in his wake and head and to have him offer something without a hint of oratory was...well, normal. Perhaps a little odd. His gaze remains in the firelight, hands dipping to pluck up twig disturbed from beneath the snow by his settling, snapping it into portions and tossing the bits to the fire.

"Plan for the winter season if you have to."

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
"Mmkay," is what Drew has to respond to Thomas with initially, and she looked at her beer bottle and contemplated tossing it into the flames to see if they were strong enough to make it crack and strain, possibly even melt. But then she didn't want to be one of those assholes that winds up on every single camping trip she's been on, the ones that throw their beer cans into the fire and their twinkie wrappers as well, as though it was a trash can and not their source for everything they needed over the next few days.

She held into it instead, nipping the inside of her cheek with her canine teeth before nodding. She'd been doing some mental math and drawing some conclusions. Confident that her savings account was still sturdy enough to hold out, she decided she wouldn't have to worry too much about bills in her wake, she'd just pay everything in advance and leave account numbers and the like behind for Lonna, just in case.

Her eyes flicked over to the Skald again, and that smile crept back onto her face. "Good to see you rediscovered the hat, but what about the coat?"

[Hatchet] The Silver Fangs empty out of the Longhouse, drifting off to other affairs. The night is bitterly cold, the fires the only source of warmth beyond whatever rage warms the Garou themselves. Inside the longhouse it's warmer, though none of the Sentinels take off their coats or jackets or what-have-you when they start wrestling. Hatchet and Joey move first, tackling their respective opponents, but in an eyeblink, Echo goes from wavering on her feet to snapping into reaction.

It's because she's a big bad cheaterface, calling on a Gift to keep her body and reaction times from remembering that she's drunk. She's faster than he is, moving to tackle him before he gets to her, but either his size or his own speed keep her from getting a hold on the Philodox. So instead she throws a punch at him, which he takes hard in the jaw.

"Ow!" roars the Fianna. "Fuck!"

In the next second he activates the same Gift, grabbing Echo by one elbow and yanking her in, toppling with her to the dirt floor and pinning her there, slamming his forehead into hers. Echo's head bops once against the dirt but she doesn't lose consciousness, nor stop fighting. She twists her arms, trying to reverse the hold he has on her, but he's quite big. And he's quite strong. And he has a very, very tight hold on her.

Which he takes advantage of, tightening his arms and cracking their skulls together a second time. This is not quite wrestling, but it's hard to say whether or not Garou of their Rage could simply roll around in that sort of struggle without doing some kind of damage eventually. Control is one thing. A certain need for ruthless violence is another. There are no witnesses but other packmates, anyway.

Hatchet is about to squeeze Echo til she loses consciousness when he looks down and realizes she already has. He lets out a laugh. "Well!"

Another laugh. "Fuck!"

[Thomas] "Coats are restrictive."

His hands rise to pat at his shoulders, murmuring quietly, something restless creeping into him. A sudden surge of energy pulls him to his feet, the Skald taking a final look at the flames before turning to glance down at Drew.

"Get your things packed away. You should be on the road in a couple of days. Joe and I leave tomorrow morning." That said by way of good bye, he turns from the fire and over the log he'd been sitting on, drifting over snows and ice. There would be a lone wolf howling someways into the distance in a little while. Contemplating and introspective.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew blinked when Thomas suddenly rocketed up with some burst of energy that seemed to come out of nowhere, and her eyes jerked down for half a second to see if he'd sat on any embers from the fire or anything. Nope, didn't look like it. Just Thomas being Thomas, she judged, after he half-snapped for her to pack and finish tying up her ends because she was supposed to head out in a few days.

He and Joe were leaving in the morning, and that was all he had to say, because she got shoulders and back two seconds later, retreating into the trees. Drew blinked after him, then sighed and muttered after him.

"Well, bye then."

And hunkered down to sit on the log he'd been at, elbows on her knees, empty bottle dangling precariously at her fingertips while she went thoughtful for a few minutes.

[Echo Quinn] Echo is out of it for a few seconds, and then she coughs, peels open her dark eyes and glares up at the world. "Ow, you fucker, I think you broke my head." She groans, hisses and half-heartedly bucks her body to throw her Alpha off. "Gerrof, you giant Moose."

[Hatchet] "I totally broke your head," Hatchet says, observing the bruising across Echo's forehead and face. He chuckles and starts to get up, planting one hand on her breastbone and shoving her back down to use her body as leverage. He looks around once he stands, wondering what happened to the beer the cute guy pushed into his hand. He frowns.

"Where the fuck's my beer?"

[Kate] (Phobia Check for Woods with their germs and creepy crawly things and probably unwashed Bone Gnawer types.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joey] Joey lunges for Daniel, face split in a wide, drunken parody of her old smile. Along the way she suddenly shifts. She's taller, broader of build, and a lot less pretty. Her hair is shaggier, and her nails have grown, hardened into something more like claws. She bunches her right hand into a fist, and swings for Daniel's face. It's too soon yet for the change of forms to have given the Rotagar much of an advantage. Her swing is wild, and she misses her packmate completely.

Daniel is on his feet a second later, trying to take advantage of Joey's momentary imbalance to knock her down. He manages to bounce off the Glabro Fenrir, knocking himself to the ground instead. When Joey feels that enough of the alcohol has been burned out of her system to give her an advantage, she shifts back down to the grinning, smallest member of The Sentinels once more.

She drops to one knee briefly, punching Daniel in the chest. It's an awkward hit, with little power behind it. Daniel doesn't even feel it. He kicks Joey's legs out from under her, knocking her to the ground.

And, quite suddenly, that's it. Joey doesn't hit her head on a bench or crack her skull on the floor, but when she goes down she drops into unconsciousness. It's not the oblivion of too many injuries taken, of her body shutting down so it can try to begin the healing process. At two beers, somehow, she's past the point of ordinary inebriation. When she falls, her head lolls to the side, and the Rotagar drops into a drunken slumber.

Not more than a moment after Joey hits the floor, Daniel follows her into unconsciousness.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew watched Thomas for a few moments while he responded to the greeting with a simple nod and eased into a comfortable, relaxed stand next to her, then smiled an expression that was a genuine sort of happy that most people forget about when they're seven years old. She rolled her shoulders under the thick fluff of her puffy white down vest, and settled for silence for a minute.

All three of them did, Kinfolk and Blessed and Skald alike.

Drew would, of course, wind up breaking the silence though. This should be expected of her. But at least she did so pleasantly, in an easy, mellow voice rather than yelping when a thought occurred to her in her excitement to share it with everyone else, as she sometimes had a tendency to do.

"Thomas, when're we coming back? Lonna's gonna be watching Basil, and I've gotta finalize things with Eustace."
Eustace was her boss, she may have mentioned that.

[Thomas] "When we're Strong enough."

Enigmatic and distracted, or maybe just simple and without qualms, it is perhaps the first time Drew might have heard Thomas without that hint of...zealotry beneath his tongue. The fire of Fenris burned almost constantly in his wake and head and to have him offer something without a hint of oratory was...well, normal. Perhaps a little odd. His gaze remains in the firelight, hands dipping to pluck up twig disturbed from beneath the snow by his settling, snapping it into portions and tossing the bits to the fire.

"Plan for the winter season if you have to."

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
"Mmkay," is what Drew has to respond to Thomas with initially, and she looked at her beer bottle and contemplated tossing it into the flames to see if they were strong enough to make it crack and strain, possibly even melt. But then she didn't want to be one of those assholes that winds up on every single camping trip she's been on, the ones that throw their beer cans into the fire and their twinkie wrappers as well, as though it was a trash can and not their source for everything they needed over the next few days.

She held into it instead, nipping the inside of her cheek with her canine teeth before nodding. She'd been doing some mental math and drawing some conclusions. Confident that her savings account was still sturdy enough to hold out, she decided she wouldn't have to worry too much about bills in her wake, she'd just pay everything in advance and leave account numbers and the like behind for Lonna, just in case.

Her eyes flicked over to the Skald again, and that smile crept back onto her face. "Good to see you rediscovered the hat, but what about the coat?"

[Hatchet] The Silver Fangs empty out of the Longhouse, drifting off to other affairs. The night is bitterly cold, the fires the only source of warmth beyond whatever rage warms the Garou themselves. Inside the longhouse it's warmer, though none of the Sentinels take off their coats or jackets or what-have-you when they start wrestling. Hatchet and Joey move first, tackling their respective opponents, but in an eyeblink, Echo goes from wavering on her feet to snapping into reaction.

It's because she's a big bad cheaterface, calling on a Gift to keep her body and reaction times from remembering that she's drunk. She's faster than he is, moving to tackle him before he gets to her, but either his size or his own speed keep her from getting a hold on the Philodox. So instead she throws a punch at him, which he takes hard in the jaw.

"Ow!" roars the Fianna. "Fuck!"

In the next second he activates the same Gift, grabbing Echo by one elbow and yanking her in, toppling with her to the dirt floor and pinning her there, slamming his forehead into hers. Echo's head bops once against the dirt but she doesn't lose consciousness, nor stop fighting. She twists her arms, trying to reverse the hold he has on her, but he's quite big. And he's quite strong. And he has a very, very tight hold on her.

Which he takes advantage of, tightening his arms and cracking their skulls together a second time. This is not quite wrestling, but it's hard to say whether or not Garou of their Rage could simply roll around in that sort of struggle without doing some kind of damage eventually. Control is one thing. A certain need for ruthless violence is another. There are no witnesses but other packmates, anyway.

Hatchet is about to squeeze Echo til she loses consciousness when he looks down and realizes she already has. He lets out a laugh. "Well!"

Another laugh. "Fuck!"

[Thomas] "Coats are restrictive."

His hands rise to pat at his shoulders, murmuring quietly, something restless creeping into him. A sudden surge of energy pulls him to his feet, the Skald taking a final look at the flames before turning to glance down at Drew.

"Get your things packed away. You should be on the road in a couple of days. Joe and I leave tomorrow morning." That said by way of good bye, he turns from the fire and over the log he'd been sitting on, drifting over snows and ice. There would be a lone wolf howling someways into the distance in a little while. Contemplating and introspective.

[Drew Roscoe] Main Fire
Drew blinked when Thomas suddenly rocketed up with some burst of energy that seemed to come out of nowhere, and her eyes jerked down for half a second to see if he'd sat on any embers from the fire or anything. Nope, didn't look like it. Just Thomas being Thomas, she judged, after he half-snapped for her to pack and finish tying up her ends because she was supposed to head out in a few days.

He and Joe were leaving in the morning, and that was all he had to say, because she got shoulders and back two seconds later, retreating into the trees. Drew blinked after him, then sighed and muttered after him.

"Well, bye then."

And hunkered down to sit on the log he'd been at, elbows on her knees, empty bottle dangling precariously at her fingertips while she went thoughtful for a few minutes.

[Echo Quinn] Echo is out of it for a few seconds, and then she coughs, peels open her dark eyes and glares up at the world. "Ow, you fucker, I think you broke my head." She groans, hisses and half-heartedly bucks her body to throw her Alpha off. "Gerrof, you giant Moose."

[Hatchet] "I totally broke your head," Hatchet says, observing the bruising across Echo's forehead and face. He chuckles and starts to get up, planting one hand on her breastbone and shoving her back down to use her body as leverage. He looks around once he stands, wondering what happened to the beer the cute guy pushed into his hand. He frowns.

"Where the fuck's my beer?"

[Kate] (Phobia Check for Woods with their germs and creepy crawly things and probably unwashed Bone Gnawer types.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Joey] Joey lunges for Daniel, face split in a wide, drunken parody of her old smile. Along the way she suddenly shifts. She's taller, broader of build, and a lot less pretty. Her hair is shaggier, and her nails have grown, hardened into something more like claws. She bunches her right hand into a fist, and swings for Daniel's face. It's too soon yet for the change of forms to have given the Rotagar much of an advantage. Her swing is wild, and she misses her packmate completely.

Daniel is on his feet a second later, trying to take advantage of Joey's momentary imbalance to knock her down. He manages to bounce off the Glabro Fenrir, knocking himself to the ground instead. When Joey feels that enough of the alcohol has been burned out of her system to give her an advantage, she shifts back down to the grinning, smallest member of The Sentinels once more.

She drops to one knee briefly, punching Daniel in the chest. It's an awkward hit, with little power behind it. Daniel doesn't even feel it. He kicks Joey's legs out from under her, knocking her to the ground.

And, quite suddenly, that's it. Joey doesn't hit her head on a bench or crack her skull on the floor, but when she goes down she drops into unconsciousness. It's not the oblivion of too many injuries taken, of her body shutting down so it can try to begin the healing process. At two beers, somehow, she's past the point of ordinary inebriation. When she falls, her head lolls to the side, and the Rotagar drops into a drunken slumber.

Not more than a moment after Joey hits the floor, Daniel follows her into unconsciousness.

[Hatchet] Looking around, he sees that Joey and Daniel haven't gotten up from their own brawl. And he starts laughing so hard tears come to his eyes.

[Echo Quinn] End Transmission kind of joins in the laughter when she can sit upright, her head pounding so hard it feels as if it might crack down the center like a bird's egg. "Oh -- ow -- my god, they killed each other!" She howls, and sort of half stumble, half crawls toward them to make sure they're both still breathing and all that.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] When Ed and Gabbie step out of the smoky longhouse, they find Lukas at the main bonfire, coat open, scarf undone.

Their presence flickers in his mind before they're close enough for him to have heard their footsteps over the roar of the fire. He turns to look at them. With the flames at his back, his face is in shadow. They can still see him smile.

"Hey," he says quietly. And he turns back to the fire.

(annnd i think we can just assume gabbie's being quiet and tagging along since kenna had to zonk.)

[Broken Hammer] It's not that he can't get up. It's not that he's knocked out, or injured, or even particularly exhausted. He's just drunk. And the ground feels good. And...

Daniel lies where he dropped. Not too long after, he's asleep.

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre hadn't quit moved into the Bellamonte loft fully yet. But she asked Katherine if she could attend. She tried to dress down a bit, but for Genevre, this still meant a pair of those $100 blue jeans every teen wants, A plush lilac sweater that felt like a cloud when you touched it, and a tan fur jacket buckled with toggles. And lets not forget those boots that cost a McD's worker a full paycheck. She had her hair all hidden under a knitted lilac beret.

As she made her way, she kept a lookout for the one person she was doing her best to avoid. Fons.

[Hatchet] "Truly," Hatchet says, feigning seriousness through laughter. There's bruising across his jaw and forehead, too, as he abandons his search for his beer and heads over to his auspicemate.

Which is interesting, since Joey was in the pack first. He does not check for Daniel's pulse or breathing. He just chuckles and picks the Fenrir up, taking him to one of the narrow benches that counts as a bed. There's a blanket there. He throws it over Daniel, covering all of him, including his head.

"Buttheads," he says fondly of both Cliaths, and goes to his own narrow bench to -- not sleep, but -- drink more.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Hey," Edward answers, and takes up his (once) customary place at Lukas' side - or perhaps it had been Lukas' place at his side. Regardless, Silver Fang Ragabash and Shadow Lord Ahroun (it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke) stand together, contemplating the fire.

Since his return, Edward's been even quieter than usual, more internalized than usual. His laugher's been more rare, and quieter, less open, when it does come. His eyes are shuttered (lights are out but someone's home) and he keeps himself to himself - listens when chatter comes through the totem-lines, but doesn't often speak up himself.

[Echo Quinn] Eventually, or maybe instantly, Echo follows in her Alpha's wake, scooping Joey up in her arms and carrying the drunk No Moon to another of those narrow benches so she can snooze without getting walked on. Then, most likely, Echo goes to challenge Hatchet to another drinking contest -- after she's healed some more, y'know.

Whatever.

[Genevre de Provence] So far so good, and quietly she enters the Long house. Her eyes glance around for a moment, before she made her way to get a drink.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Winter solstice is a time for internalization, though. A time for reflection, and quiet, and contemplation. Preparation. Summer's barely imaginable right now, with the land locked in ice and cold. Spring is a dream, so far on the horizon as to not matter. The coldest months are ahead of them.

Were they wolves, now would be the time to dig the dens deeper, to grow out their coats, to feed the cubs and make them strong enough to survive the winter. There would be a glut of prey at the start of the season, when all the leaves are fallen and the deer and the hares are easy to see. Then comes the bitter moon, the starving season, the time when the pack whittles down to the bones, cleaves close, stays near, finds strength in one another.

Lukas finds a sort of strength standing next to Edward, though they don't speak much. They haven't spoken much since Edward came back. Since he left. But after a moment, Lukas nudges the Ragabash with his shoulder.

"Let's go in." And he tips his head in the direction of the longhouse.

[Kate] Katherine was ... reluctant to attend.

It wasn't that she disliked the notion of gathering with her fellow Garou, it was more the idea that to do so she had to come out to the middle of absolutely nowhere and sit around fires in the freezing cold whist every last known germ-ridden thing in the Universe hovered in the shadows, awaiting its moment to pounce and smear her with its ungodly grime and -- one could only imagine -- slime.

Now, the queenly figure cloaked in a white winter's coat and matching boots was trekking a pathway toward the Longhouse, her breath misting out before her, nose pink in the crisp air.

[Edward Bellamonte] Even more than most, Ed is not quite right (in many ways, really, but that's aside from the point) without the company of his pack. There's a deep breath, holding it, as Lukas bumps his shoulder and turns, and Edward shrugs. "Alright," he says, and goes back into the longhouse with his youngest sister tagging along behind, quiet. She, too, will likely find a bench while the Garou talk, or . . . well, do whatever it is they end up doing.

Genevre had had to walk by (though, had she passed on the fire, missing the two members of the Unbroken is understandable) them, though Ed hadn't noted. He only notes her now because she's the only one inside standing.

"Genevre," he says in a tone that's impossible to read aside from the crushing weight of polite; this is paired with an incline of his head by way of greeting.

It's not much, but he's out and about and talking to people. It's something.

[Genevre de Provence] She offered a touch of a smile as she saw Lukas and Edward enter the LongHouse. She stood alone, off to the side, and sipping whatever it was alcoholic she could find. "Bonsoir, mes amis."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas quickens his step to catch up with Kate before she enters the longhouse. He reaches out as he nears, putting his hand on her shoulder with a sort of easy familiarity that Edward, at least, might find strange. When he left Chicago nearly a year ago, Lukas and Kate could barely speak to one another without bickering.

It's different now. They've come to some sort of odd accord; a kind of peace, or at least truce, that's underlain with something unexpectedly close to trust.

And Genevre is there, too, when the three Unbroken -- the core, as it were, of the pack they were before this -- duck into the longhouse. Where Edward is unreadably polite, Lukas looks at her with a sort of wry humor. "What, no screeching defiance and hurling of invectives tonight, Genevre?"

[Genevre de Provence] Her eyes fell to the ground at Lukas' comment. "Non. And I am very sorry for 'ow I acted last week, monsior Lukas. It will non 'appen again."

[Kate] Lukas sets his hand on Katherine's shoulder, and she turns to cast her pack-mate and Alpha a briefly warm smile before her features settle back into their more atypical non-expression, she tweaks her elder brother's little finger with her own in a gesture not lost from when they were young children together and she wanted his attention fixed on her -- now she does it purely out of fondness.

Lukas baits Genevre, and Katherine's pale eyes narrow fractionally at him, a silent request for him to behave himself, it would appear before her lips quirk slightly at either edge when the Kinswoman bows her head and offers him an apology for her behavior. Katherine, have no doubt, looks quite satisfied with herself, the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary.

[Danicka Musil] Her cab -- not her car -- comes late to the parking lot, as it always does to these bonfires. She is always busy on the equinoxes and solstices, and has been since she was nine years old, since before she was nine. Tonight, especially, it's amazing she's here before dawn. It's amazing she's here at all. Danicka leaves the taxicab alone, and the driver asks her again if she's sure, if she's absolutely sure. He doesn't know there are people out there who she knows, people more dangerous than any stranger could be to her.

Danicka assures him, laughing, that yes, yes, she's sure. She's absolutely sure. And she gives him double her fare. "Veselé vánoce," she says, then translates: "Merry Christmas, if I don't see you again."

As though they are old friends, and so he knows that it is a gift, and not a mistake.

She exits the car and he watches her walk towards the path as though expecting her to come back, to come to her senses. She does not. She heads into the woods, and emerges some time later where their are bonfires and the leftovers of food, of drink. No one is sleeping on the ground with blankets this time, and no one is running off into the trees to fuck against the bark or against the mud. Danicka smiles to herself, because no one who really knows her is outside to see her.

There's shelter. She heads towards it, and a little while later comes in through the entryway, looking... incredibly out of place, as she takes off the black overcoat she's wearing as though it is much, much warmer inside the longhouse than it really is. She looks like she should be somewhere else. And, quite simply: she looks stunning.

Danicka rarely wears black. Even her coats are usually different colors. Tonight, though, she's drenched in it. The hem of her off-the-shoulder dress is becoming ragged and dirty and wet from dragging across the ground, but the filth is hard to see in the dark fabric. The neckline is straight across her chest, the bodice fitted. The sleeves, too, hug her arms down to the base of her hands. There are faint impressions on all her fingers as though she was wearing rings that are no longer present.

Her hair is down, thickened with curls at the ends, which rest on and over her shoulders, falling into place as she removes her coat. But what ultimately looks the strangest is the wreath adorning her head, all dark leaves and dried roses that look, in this light especially, as black as her gown. At her feet -- where she set it down when she reached up to take off her coat -- there's a basket, its contents covered by a white cloth.

Danicka thoughtlessly tosses her coat onto one of the benches, picks up the basket, and walks to the fire, setting it down by her feet again and peeling back the white cover.

[Edward Bellamonte] This easy submission gets a raised eyebrow, and a smirk. "It seems my little sister has been good for you, Genevre," he says, taking a moment to grasp the pinky finger that tweaks his, and to slip his sister something that's . . . well, as close to a smile, maybe a hint closer than, any other expression his face has borne since his return. Then there's Danicka and her entrance, and Ed falls quiet again.

She's vaguely familiar, of course - he remembers the trouble that had occurred between Lukas and Sam, and all the angst over her. He'd wondered then if she was worth it, as he does now, but where he might have (and maybe did) asked before, he shrugs it off now.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A more gracious man would accept the apology and brush off the incident that spurred it. But Lukas, though often courteous, almost always unfailingly polite, is not a gracious man. He's not a man at all.

He's a Shadow Lord. And his pale eyes pin Genevre for another instant. "See that it doesn't," he says evenly.

And then he smiles. "But let's forget about that for tonight. It's the longest night and the beginning of the coldest season. Blood ties matter." He nods at the bench behind her. "Sit."

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre took a sip of her drink, and still smiled some. "She...'as been re-educating me." Her eyes shifted to Lukas, nodded politely, then took a seat on the bench behind her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] -- and then Lukas's attention shifts away. The small door to the longhouse opens again, and a brief gust of cold air cuts through the warmth within. The Shadow Lord turns, looks, pauses for a beat. His eyes follow Danicka all the way to the fire.

When she's done with her basket, he doesn't look to see what she's brought. He looks at her. At her hair, actually.

"Co je to ve vlasech?" He sounds vaguely baffled. Then, switching to English, "Dried roses?"

[Genevre de Provence] She glanced to Lukas. "Oh, and congratulations on defeating mon cousin." There was a more glinting smile at that comment from her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The congratulations slices through Lukas's attention, bringing his eyes snapping back to Genevre. He's not smiling, though; nothing close to gloating. He frowns at the Silver Fang kin.

"You heard?" And then he looks at Kate, a question in the lift of his eyebrows.

[Kate] Katherine cannot help the laugh that tinkles from her lips, a light and pleasing affair.

"I have done nothing, oui it is all her, do not believe these lies." Then, as she rids herself of her scarf and white knitted cap, her pale eyebrows rise at the expression on her pack-mate's face. "She was informed." Katherine responds with, her own voice level.

[Genevre de Provence] A nod given. "Katherine told me 'ow foolish mon cousin was, and 'e ran away with 'is tail between 'is legs." She looked to Kate. "Is zat wrong? After what 'e did to me?"

[Danicka Musil] The first thing she takes out is a napkin-wrapped hunk of bread that smells richly of honey. She breaks off a piece and tosses it into the fire as Lukas is asking her his bewildered question. That she does not look over immediately to answer him is a far cry from her behavior at the start of the year, when the three of the current Unbroken met her for -- in each of their lives -- the second time.

The next thing she removes from the basket is a piece of hard cheese, which she crumbles in her hands as she's dropping it into the flames. The fact that she is not answering the Shadow Lord now is less of an issue, less noticable: he is dealing with Genevre. They all are.

Danicka brushes her hands off in midair with two deliberate sweeps, then bends again and takes out a wine bottle, utterly unlabeled. She twists the already-removed-once cork out of the mouth, then pours out a single splash of the red, causing a brief flash of reaction from the fire.

"Holly listy, hloupé muže. A ano. R&+367;že," she answers, belatedly, a bit distantly. Then brings the wine bottle to her mouth and takes a drink before offering it to -- not Lukas, but Genevre.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked a touch surprised at Danicka's offer, but accepts it, taking a drink from the bottle, then giving it back. "Joyeux Noël, Danicka."

[Kate] The politics at play amongst a noble tribe.

Katherine merely smiles beatifically at Genevre's words, and remains silent on the subject, instead nodding her head infinitesimally at the young woman to indicate she was not incorrect before turning her eye on Danicka, and leaning in to greet the Kinswoman in her traditional manner of cheek to cheek.

"Well met, Danicka."

[Danicka Musil] "Veselé Vánoce, Genevre," she says, taking the bottle and turning then to Katherine, holding the bottle out to her, now.

Or she was about to. Katherine leans over to greet her familiarly, and Danicka's rather bright eyes flash cold. She jerks her head away, staring at the Philodox. "Don't ever touch me, Katherine."

Still. The bottle is offered.

[Kate] An eyebrow rises at that, she retracts the offer of greeting instantly; her demeanor closing off; cooling off in seconds.

"As you wish," she lifts her slender shoulders dismissively. "It makes no difference to me."

[Danicka Musil] The bottle held out is not taken. Danicka drinks as Kate shrugs off her refusal, licks her lower lip, and holds it out to Edward next.

[Edward Bellamonte] As quickly as his sister was denied - which wouldn't be so big a deal, perhaps, if done in another way, by another person (and, oh, yes, now that he looks her closer he remembers her from before earlier in the year as well, though when she'd been around, he'd been knocking between this boarding school and that, and then at Harvard) - and started closing off, Edward does the same.

It makes no difference, except that it does.

The Ragabash, who has needed a pack since before he changed, and called his sister so (if not in those words) since they were children, stays at her side and watches, quiet. He used to be a lot louder. A handful of months ago, he would have tried to make his sister laugh, to get her to take the bottle. Now said bottle is offered to him and he shakes his head. "Merci," he says, very polite, "but no thank you."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The frown flickers deeper. There's an uncharacteristic flatness to Lukas's tone. "That challenge is over," he says, "and as far as I'm concerned, the matter's been laid to rest. I'm happy to leave it at that."

Then --

Don't ever touch me.

There's an audible inhale from Lukas; no exhale until after Katherine replies. And then it's slow, measured. Lukas sits a little straighter, calling attention with his very posture.

"Katherine," he says quietly, "I apologize on my mate's behalf."

[Danicka Musil] This time when the wine is refused Danicka gives a small nod, but again, she takes a drink herself as though to replace the one that Edward would have.

...on my mate's behalf.

Danicka lowers the bottle, looking at Lukas a moment. And then holding it out to him.

[Genevre de Provence] She felt as if she insulted Lukas somehow. And her eyes went to the drink she had had in her hands. It was taking great feats (ie thinking about work, her cousin tied to train tracks in front of an oncoming train, wondering if she should bring her own coffee maker to the loft) to hold her tongue. "Still, I believe 'e needed it." Then shuts up quickly.

[Kate] A lick of anger to her smile when Lukas offers an apology on Danicka's behalf. "Merci, Lukas. But I do not believe she agrees with the sentiment. Still," Katherine leans into Edward a moment, leeching strength from his solid presence against her. "I believe I will fetch something to drink.

Genevre, prenez garde, elle peut être une poignée." Her Guardian's smile widens, then she wanders down the Longhouse in search of a beverage.

[Genevre de Provence] She nodded quickly. "Oui, Lady Katherine. Je ne dirai pas un mot de plus maintenant."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] And he looks right back at Danicka, his eyes direct, glittering, their clear blue nearly lost in the oranges and reds of firelight.

"Pro kurva boží, Dani&+269;ka," he murmurs. The bottle slaps firmly into his palm. He upends it, swallows, hands it back, and by then Genevre has spoken again. When his head turns toward her, the gesture is quick, powerful, a twist from the shoulders, animal.

"I killed your cousin," he says, deliberately, quietly. "I thought he would probably come back, and if he did I could use his madness against him. But I didn't know he would survive. He could have as easily died. I was perfectly willing to take that chance for the sake of victory.

"Now; what part of that do you believe he needed, Genevre? The death, or the reminder that Shadow Lords are every bit as ruthless as he believes?"

[Genevre de Provence] She blinked a bit in surprise at Lukas' comment. Her words came out slow. "A..good..kick..in..ze..ass?" Was what she meant Fons needed. Her eyes moved to Kate, apparently Kate left a few details out.

[Theron Locke] Theron arrived to the bonfire a little than everyone else it seemed, he headed towards the group of people that had gathered. A polite nod here and there to those he only knows in passing. Soon though he finally reaches those of his pack "Evening Lukas, Danicka... Edward, Kate.. Evening Genevre" a polite nod to them all , as he moves towards the fire warming his body and hands. His eyes gazing into the flames, his expression unreadable.

[Edward Bellamonte] Kate leaned into him and an arm went around her automatically - she leaned in for support and he gave it, even when he wasn't sure he had any to give, when he thought he may well topple over himself.

Like now.

But these things are subtle, and don't necessarily translate well over totem lines, even if Edward were broadcasting. And regardless of them all, Ed stands on his own, somewhere in the middle, when Kate goes in search of a drink. He has a drink already with him, and produces an old flask, one that Kate would recognize as having been their father's, though Lucien'd laid claim to it last. Whiskey can be a lovely thing.

Then there's talk of a challenge that Edward hadn't heard about, and an eyebrow raises; he looks over towards where his sister browses the beverages, and figures he'll wait and ask her later. It's over and done now, after all.

[Danicka Musil] To whatever it is that Lukas says to Danicka, she has no reply. She watches him drink, takes the bottle, and listens as he talks to Genevre about her cousin. Danicka has no context for the conversation. She does hear, though, and she understands what's being said. She stands there in front of Lukas, watching him in profile as he asks Genevre if this cousin of hers needed to be reminded that Shadow Lords are ruthless, underhanded, and vicious.

The basket is left uncovered near the Garou and the Fang kinswoman, filled with more of the honeyed bread and hard cheese. Danicka sits on Lukas's other side, the bottle set next to her, and reaches up to remove a couple of pins and take the wreath from her scalp, lowering it to her lap.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Surprisingly, Lukas doesn't fly into a rage at that. He stares for a second. And then he laughs -- a harsh, soundless exhale. It's the only reply Genevre gets.

The bottle of wine is still in his hand, unless Danicka had physically removed it from him. That seems unlikely. He lifts it, drinks; wine sloshes back to the bottom as he lowers it and, finally, hands it back.

"Enough. Ask Katherine about it later if you want. This is the winter solstice," he says, again, as though this mattered somehow; made a difference, "and I don't want to see battle lines drawn everywhere I turn."

Danicka removes her wreath beside him. She's beside him. Somehow he hadn't really expected that. He looks at her; not at her face but at her fingers, at the rose and holly wreath that she lowers to her lap, the flowers dried, the holly dark. He reaches out and takes it if she lets him, turning it over in his strong hands for a moment.

Then, gently -- a gesture that's uncharacteristically and undeniably intimate, and private -- he sets it back atop Danicka's hair. "To pat&+345;í tam," he says, quieter still.

[Kate] At some point, Katherine returns with a glass of red wine in hand and sips from it. Perhaps she has missed the remark her pack-mate made in regards to the Challenge, perhaps she was deliberate in lingering in her decision-making regarding the beverage until talk had moved onward.

"This construction is something of a marvel, is it not?" She remarks idly, following the line of timber up to the ceiling. "I wonder if it will be allowed to remain."

[Genevre de Provence] The laugh from Lukas surprised her but not as surprised as seeing Theron. She felt her body tense up, and for some reason, she can't get her body to breathe again.

Her drink was put on the bench, and she quickly went for the door.

[Danicka Musil] She lets him. Keep the wine. Take the wreath. When he hands it over she takes the bottle and puts it on the bench next to her without another drink. So far. If she has any reaction when he says he does not want to see battle lines drawn everywhere he looks, it does not tighten her jaw or spark in her eyes. Kate brings back red wine not marred by the potential germs lingering on the mouth from other drinkers.

She glances over and watches her wreath turn over and over in Lukas's hands, and when he moves to set it on top of her head again, she lets him do that, too. Her eyes are slightly downcast, her head lower than his by default, as he speaks. Then she lifts her head, and looks at his eyes for a half a heartbeat.

They drop to his jaw for the second half, then away completely. She glances over as Genevre heads out like the devil is on her heels, cocking a brow, then leans over and takes a bite of honeybread between her fingers, tearing it off and bringing it to her mouth.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (okay i know i just botched this roll in the other room, but... EMPATHY.)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] [Danicka is hurt. The overriding vibe is just ow, but she also has some lingering anger. She feels humilated, and is growing more submissive now out of resignation.]
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's smile is a little wan, and rather lopsided. "I suppose," he replies to Kate, "we'll find out come spring." A pause. Then, gently teasing, "If you really like it I'm sure Theron can find a way to build you a miniature at the Loft."

Humor fades, though. Warmth doesn't last long, this time of year, though paradoxically it makes him want to stay closer. He wants to stay close to his pack. He wants his pack to be close. He wants everything to be close, and warm, and secure tonight: mate and pack, all of it, as though by doing so he could shield himself from the weather, and the winter, and the cold.

As though he needed a shield. As though he were primitive, and an animal.

But he's not. And after another moment, he reaches out to his packmates, this time to grip Theron's shoulder briefly. Then he stands.

"I'll catch up with you guys later," he says. And he holds his hand out to Danicka. There's assurance in the gesture. The question, though, is in his eyes.

[Danicka Musil] She's chewing on that bite of bread slowly, tastelessly. There were things she wanted when she came here, a smile on her face to see the flames in the midst of the cold, to see the stars overhead through curling tendrils of smoke. There were hopes she had when she brought bread and cheese and wine to share with mate, with his packmates, with the fire and whatever gods or spirits might benefit from the gentle ritual sacrifice.

Or be amused by it.

The presence of the longhouse had pleased her. Shelter from the cold, from the darkness, and somehow wrapped up in the posts and the walls and the roof a bizarre feeling of promise. It's cold in here, and her overcoat is across a bench by the door, ignored. Her shoulders are bare, her winter-pale throat, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose are both pink from the exposure. Yet she does not shiver. Heat from the fire is near enough, the heat of rage is near enough, and the similarity between the two is obvious and fanciful.

There were things she wanted: to share mouthfuls of wine and simple food in peace, regardless of emotion, because tonight is the winter solstice. Because tonight is the longest night, the darkest vigil, and no one should be alone. Because peace does not always mean forgiveness, and civility is not always friendship, but they do not need to be.

Lukas wanted to be close to his pack and his mate, to gather them close to both protect and to be protected, to be warm and to be safe even as they rest in a longhouse built in part by a once-rival who is, at the moment, sleeping and breathing quietly on one of the benches with a blanket over his broadshouldered body. But he gets up after touching his tribe- and pack-mate's shoulder, reaching out then to the woman who is not really just kin to his tribe nor even remotely a member of his pack, who can neither be set aside like the one nor entirely brought in like the other.

She looks up at him, wreathed head lifting, and meets his eyes though her own don't hold any answer for his unspoken question. The black of her dress is stark against her skin, the dark of the leaves and dried flowers intense when laid over her golden hair. Nothing about her is regal, or royal, but there's a savage and ancient honor in her bearing that is brought to the fore by the way she's adorned herself.

He may remember her naked through the trees in summer. Or windblown and eating from a plate on his chest in autumn. Nothing quite like this, as though she does not quite belong in this time or place.

She does not want to take his hand, but she does, and her own is cold. She does not want to let him help her to her feet, but she does, using his strength as leverage she does not strictly need. She does not want to go with him, let him help her with her coat, speak to him, hear his voice, be peaceful, be civil, forgive.

But Danicka goes where he leads. Where he takes her.

[Theron Locke] He raised an eyebrow as he heard his name mention , having obviously missed the majority of the conversation.

Theron smiled at Lukas as he feels the hand on his shoulder. although he didn't turn. His eyes fixed on the door that Genevre had departed from