asha again.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is not in the pool for once. He's upstairs in the rumpus room, the furniture cleared to the walls, the rug laid protectively over the entertainment center. In the wide open space that remains, the Ahroun and his Galliard packmate are... apparently trying to kill each other.

Both are stripped to the waist, though Sinclair's in a sports bra for modesty. Or support. Or something. Both are barefoot. Lukas is swinging a twohander sword, his blows slow but powerful, deliberate sweeps and crushing strikes. Sinclair's wielding twinned axes -- both of them matte black and teflon-coated, futuristic with their light, skeletal frames and narrow cutting heads. She's fast as lightning.

There's blood on both weapons, gashes on both fighters: not much care taken not to scratch the other in the course of training. The clash of metal on metal -- and the sounded instructions, left! right! harder! block! block! feint, right! GOOD! -- resound through the loft and down the stairs.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [sounded instructions? shouted!]

[Iona McNevin] She couldn't get to sleep after meeting that girl this afternoon. And she had yet to put herself into a drunken stupor. Sad thing was, the Raggie was bored, which at times, could be scary. And she hadn't heard from Kate yet about her surprise.

So she headed back to the loft, and heard the yelling as she entered. She blinked a bit and started going through the loft, finally making her way upstairs and seeing Lukas and Sinclair going at it. She sighed in relief, seeing it was just a sparring match and not someone breaking in again.

[Theron Locke] Theron arrives outside the Loft at some point, his Audi parked in the driveway as he heads towards the doorway to the Loft. A jingle of keys as he unlocks and opens the front and enters. Eyes searching for his packmates but it seems downstairs is empty, except for the sound of metal on metal that spills down from above.

A shakes of his head, as his lips curl in a smile , that's where he heads now. Stepping up behind Iona who he taps on the shoulder with a whispered "Excuse me, can I get through?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They might all be safer if someone were actually breaking in. The air is thick with savagery. Bared teeth, blazing eyes: anyone who didn't know better would think there was real enmity there.

Yet when it's over -- and quite suddenly -- Lukas lowers his sword and sets it point-down on Kate's polished hardwood floor. There are streaks and splatters of blood there. More is dripping slowly down the edge of the longsword, puddling beneath the point. They've been going at it a while, and the Shadow Lord's hairline is damp with sweat, his back gleaming. The Glass Walker's cheeks are flushed.

"You're getting better," he tells Sinclair. He sounds pleased. He also sounds a little out of breath, wiping his brow on his forearm. "We'll do it again tomorrow."

She takes off to hit the showers. He walks a few steps, snags a towel off the coffee table, then wipes down his sword blade with it. It goes over his shoulder, flat against the skin. Few of his packmates have seen this piece before. He never uses it in combat, but it looks old: muted iron on the hilt, a blade still blazing and sharp despite its age. The crest on the pommel is too far away to see clearly.

When Sinclair is out of the room, Lukas calls out to Iona, "You've some skill at blacksmithing, isn't that right?"

[Iona McNevin] She about jumped, being entranced by the sparring. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Aye, sorry." She moved a bit to let Theron by, then hearing her name, she turns to Lukas. "Aye, ye know I do." Looking confused since she did tell him before.

[Theron Locke] Theron tilts his head with a nod "No worries" as he steps past her and heads over to one of the nearest seats, slumping down into it "Oh Iona , you'll have to forgive Lukas.. he's getting forgetful in his old age" A playful wink given to Lukas, indicating it's all in jest.

"That's some sword you have thee though Lukas... family heirloom." Theron reaching to finger the pendant that he still wore around his neck.

[Asha Singh] No one's breaking in, but there is a sharp knock at the door. The ever-efficient Lucille is there sometime between the third and fourth rap of knuckles against the reinforced wood - or steel. She eyes the visitor, assesses the guest, and then admits her with a direct, "You wait here." into the foyer.

In the absence of her mistress, Lucille seeks out Lukas. She waits at the edge of the rumpus room, eyes on the Shadow Lord Alpha but only - just, so that he will see her, seeking him. When she receives the permission - the unspoken summons for which she is looking - the maid approaches Lukas, informs him - in her direct if broken English - of the name and nature of the guest downstairs.

Well, Lucille offers him the short version of the name. More than that and she would be out of breath.

Once she receives the Shadow Lord's response, she retreats, leaving the pack to its business, welcoming the respite from the rage coiled in the air around them.

[Iona McNevin] ((Post around me for a few, gotta pick up kid from Girl Scouts))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Theron's jest is met with a level stare; not so much as a hint of a smile. Apparently the trespasses of last month weren't quite forgiven yet. The comment on the sword, though, has the Ahroun swinging the weapon off his shoulder, holding it point forward, looking down the straight blade.

"Yeah." Family heirloom. "Several of my ancestors carried this blade. It was one of the first gifts my mentor gave me, and the first true weapon I owned."

To Iona, then, "If you get a chance, Sinclair's been going on and on about giant battleaxes. I think it's the Fenrir blood in her. She'll probably be thrilled if you manage to forge her one."

Then the sword cocks back over his shoulder again. Lucille stands at the top of the stairs, doubtlessly biting back her distaste at what's been done to her spotless rumpus room. Lukas has the good grace to look mildly abashed and to assure her, "I'll clean up and put it back the way it was before I leave. What's up?" Lucille informs him of their visitor. The Ahroun's eyes light up. "Really? Great. Show her up, will you?"

[Theron Locke] Theron winces slightly as just a stare is returned and sinks back into the couch as he watches Lukas swing the blade out. "Hmm interesting ...has it had anything bound too it or is purely just a sword ?"

Watching as Iona and Lukas discuss weaponary, something he knew very little of.

He twists his head as Lucille makes her way up the stairs , before he turns to Lukas "We expecting more company? Who do we have coming up?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Purely a sword," Wyrmbreaker replies; there's some slight relenting in his face. Nowhere close to a smile, but -- something. "Not every prized weapon is a fetish, Theron."

And, "Asha Singh. A Fang Ahroun who was here the other night. Surprisingly laid back for someone with her own personal herald. I'd like to ask her to run with us for a while."

[Theron Locke] THeron gives him a wry grin "So says you.... I would try and call that sword just a lump of metal but I have no desire to see just how sharp that edge is."

"Oh yes I remember that name and story about the herald from the other night. You think she will be a good fit for us? Also I have been wondering, have you heard anything from Caleb...Darkensky?"

[Asha Singh] Asha takes the stairs - some of them - three at a time. She flies, sure on her feet, confident in her body, in her physicality, in the way her legs swing and her arms pump, in the way her feet always find a sure place to land, somewhere beneath her. This grace is thoughtless and native, no matter whose territory she inhabits, she knows where she is going to land.

Still, she has that sense - of place, of space, of the boundaries defined by the edges of things - that she does not run all the way to the top of the stairs. She stops two steps down and takes these one at at time, careful to compose herself. Asha is alone when she enters the rumpus room, dressed rather more casually than she was on the night she first arrived - in skinny black jeans and a crisp white oxford shirt, laundered since the moot, pressed and starched and ironed so recently that the crisp singe of the heat of the iron against the cotton fabric lingers in the air around her, the way some women wear perfume. She's a small creature - for her tribe, for her moon - but young, and growing. Her limbs seem longer than her height should allow. For all that it is dark night outside, she's wearing huge dark sunglasses. There's enough wolf in her - respect the territory of another - that she lifts them off her face when she walks into the room, pushing them back through the black waves of her hair to rest on the top of her head.

"Wyrmbreaker-rhya - " The girl looks from Lukas to Theron, and back again. She's leashed - contained inside her skin, but still already standing on the balls of her feet as if she just has to move.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] To say the least, Caleb's arrival was late. These days Caleb's arrivals were usually late, but the man did have a long ride from the woods to the city proper whenever the pack was congregating.

Even so, Caleb soon found himself parking his vehicle and heading inside. By now whomever was about that wasn't pack knew him on sight enough not to question his presence. To the stairs he headed, walking upstairs. Despite those boots that laced to the knee, his footfalls were silent. A trained, experienced woodsman made no sound. Left no trace.

His three-quarter coat was unbuttoned and hung over an arm, putting on display a crisp pure white shirt. A pendant in the form of House Gleaming Eye's sigil hung over his chest from a silver chain. "Good evening. Pardon my late arrival," he drawled in his cajun's accent.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [fyi ken! this isn't a planned meeting or anything.]

"I do." And then there she is, the Ahroun herself, all huge sunglasses and brilliant breeding made savage by her moon. "Hey, Asha." Lukas's voice is still a ruin. He gestures at Theron, "This is my packmate, Eyes of the Oncoming Storm. We were actually just talking about you.

"Listen," he gets right to it, "do you have any plans for joining or forming a pack?"

As for Caleb -- Lukas doesn't have to answer Theron after all. He just points mutely at the man as if to say, Speak of the devil.

[Theron Locke] Theron stands from where he was sitting as he makes his way towards the new arrival. Dressed in black business trousers and a black shirt , he extends his hand to the Silver Fang in greeting "I'm Theron, Theron Locke... Lukas-rhya has already informed you of my deed name. Pleased to meet you."

He turns to focus his attention on where Lukas indicates and his eyes are drawn to a man he has never met only been told about "Pleasure to finally meet you too Caleb." and then he goes silent as he allows Asha to answer Lukas' question.

[Marni] [Sniff! sniffsniffsniffsniffSNIFF!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1

[Theron Locke] (( Guys hate to do this , but I need to afk to attend an appointment. Theron will just fade into the background till I'm back.))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [np man, later!]

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] A nod of greeting to Lukas was given - the two men knew each other enough to not need much in the way of words. Strange the times where a Silver Fang theurge would look upon a Shadow Lord Ahroun in much the same way as Caleb would one of his own family. But then, after all this time, they more or less were. Except Caleb was the better looking of the two for sure.

Then Theron was addressing him, a man that Caleb has never met and likely not much heard of aside from a name. "I am the Count Caleb Delacourt-Alden de Morres, scion of House Gleaming Eye, theurge of Falcon. Son of Gregor Alden de Morres, Ahroun of Falcon, of House Gleaming Eye. Grandson of Fernand de Morres le Mondeigo and Eliza de Chautillon de Morres, Ragabash of Falcon. Protector of the Tekakwitha Wood."

That was as much for Theron as it was for the others that were present, and it said so as after his eyes left Theron's, they swept around the room.

[Asha Singh] Asha lacks either the manners or the skill necessary to conceal her reaction to Lukas' voice. She cringes - physically, visibly - at the hyena squeak that he admits, wholly at odds with his posture and breeding, particularly tonight, when there is no videogame to distract her from the wretched noise. She is dark eyed, dark haired, and dark-skinned - a stark contrast to her fair-haired, fair-skinned, fair-mannered tribesmates, but there is no mistaking the blood that runs in her veins. Her dark eyes flash from Lukas to Theron to Caleb and back again, wary tonight as she was not the first night that they met - alert with a caution that is imposed rather than natural.

"I didn't bring Thomas with me," this to Lukas, the hint of grievance in her voice uncut by sudden-flame curl of her lush mouth around the words. Then, to Theron, direct, alert - she looks at his extended hand, then looks back up at him - at his face, at his eyes - and finally, finally takes the hand, her own extending to clasp his forearm, her grip surprisingly firm given her size.

" - but!" oh, her eyes dance, from Theron to Caleb, to include her tribesmate in this. "I can call him, if you like. He can tell you everything. Really, he should. It's protocol. I'm Asha, though. Kalaratri to the Nation, cliath Ahroun of the Silver Fangs, descended from House Wyrmfoe and House Blood Red Crest. Now that I've told you that much, you have to promise to listen to Thomas when he tells you the rest of it. He will be very sad if no one listens to him. Then he'll mope."

Then: flash; her smile is curved like a sickle - sudden and sure, but her body language says otherwise, arms crossed over her chest, elbows sharp pointed outward. I am larger than I appear. She shakes her dark head at Lukas, then. "I - " frowns, briefly, thoroughly, passingly. " - hadn't thought of that yet."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [in case you guys need it, these are jacqui's maps for the loft, downstairs:
http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=4850

and upstairs (where everyone is):
http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=4849 ]

[Marni] The little Gnawer girl gets around, she does, and it's actually sheer happenstance that has her on a street that she's been on before. In fact, it's only that she caught the scent of something that made her belly grumble hungrily that has her wandering toward the loft at all.

They throw away GOOD stuff at the loft. And she's still tempted to take a bath in that pool, too. Thus it is, there's soon a Gnawer rummaging in the garbage can outside of the loft, digging for whatever it is she caught whiff off that will serve as dinner. Sure, she could knock on the door - but where's the fun in that? Then some good food would just go to waste.

She's so intent on digging for the good stuff, she doesn't realize she's tipping the can... It's right there... juuuuuuuussssssssssst out of reach...

[b]CRASHbangthudSHATTERcrash[/i]

The can topples over with her in it. Whoops. But she scored the left over finger sandwiches from some fancy tea. Success! She munches on the little bites of (sorta kinda not really at all) fresh goodness as she goes about cleaning up the mess she made.

[Marni] (Wow Lessa. coding fail.)

[Iona McNevin] Sorry I was gone so long. My fucking daughter's car just got impounded while I was driving it. Damon - I did get the post for Iona, no worries.))
to Asha Singh, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Marni, Theron Locke

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "That's quite all right," Lukas says hastily as Asha threatens to call her rather supercilious butler/herald/servant/babysitter. "And: well. If you don't have other plans lined up, I wanted to ask if you'd run with us for a while. See how you fit. You've probably heard we're going against the Hive soon, and it's pretty important that we go in strong packs, rather than as a loose collection of lone wolves."

There's a great crash downstairs, audible even through the Loft's insulated walls and double-pane windows. Lukas's head snaps around, alert. The casual manner, the affability and the relaxation: all evaporate in an instant. He listens for a moment, face stark, all glittering eyes and sharp cheekbones.

Moments pass. No attack seems imminent. Lukas glances at Caleb and Iona. Quietly, "Go check that out, will you?"

[Iona McNevin] After agreeing to make Sinclair an axe she'll be proud of, she was quietly listening the whole time. The crash made her snap her head, and at Lukas' orders, she was down the stairs and out the door. But quietly out the door as the axe she had dedicated to her slipped out of its mystical hiding place and into her hand.

Slowly she crept out and looked around, mostly expecting raccoons or something. She was surprised to find it was a person eating the garbage. "Excuse me?" Coming from the Irish Fianna with a large war axe in her hand.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] A glance to Iona - Caleb nods. Some have described Caleb as a war-theurge; Caleb described himself as Garou. He did his part, no more, no less. "Of course, Lukas," the cajun drawled.

His coat was set aside as he turned on his heels, beginning to roll up his sleeves. Should any notice, there was a heavily detailed tattoo of a sword that seemed to real as if to touch it. Slightly curved, single-edged. Almost like a sarasin sword with an English crosspiece and hilt. Perhaps, coming from House Blood Red Crest, Asha might notice it moreso than any other.

"Let us see if we have a prowler, or larger problems, mon amia," he said quietly to Iona. Unfortunately Caleb hadn't worn his armor - it might of proven useful in the unlikely situation.

Caleb headed downstairs, and outside on the heels of Iona. "Put that away," he said softly. "Someone might notice and I don't think it's necessary."

"Hello," he said pleasantly to Marni. "Are you all right?"

[Marni] There were 3 of those little sandwiches and by the time Iona gets downstairs, she's shoving the last bit of the second one into her mouth, the other held between the fingers of the same hand, as she uses the other to right the garbage can, and scoop the trash up to be tossed back into the can. Helpful little streetrat, she is.

She swallows the bite she had in her mouth as she grins at Iona and quips. "You're excused!" That grin of hers is a bright and knowing thing, and her dark eyes dance with mischief and good fun. "Kick me that bottle will ya? I didn't mean to knock it all over."

As for if she's alright? "Yup, right as rain... you?" As if it's a common everyday thing to be eating out of the garbage cans of the Rich and Famous. Then she leans forward and whispers "That Lucille isn't coming is she? She's kinda scary..."

And they aren't, is what that little wink says.

[Iona McNevin] As soon as Caleb asked, the axe seemed to slither back up her arm and into the celtic tribal tattoo.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] The little wink caused a bit of a smile to curve at his lips. "As well as can be expected, cherie. I don't think, erm, Lucille will be bothering you tonight either. If you are hungry, there is more than enough to eat inside." Quite the helpful fellow, really.

"I am Caleb," he said offering her a hand. A street urchin posed no problems for this high born noble, or even touching one. Some would even venture to say that he got along better with the other tribes more than his own.

The bottle was passed to her, as well.

[Asha Singh] Her head turns - too, sudden, sharp - with the sound of the crash downstairs. Then she watches Caleb and Iona leave, quietly disappearing downstairs to consider the intruder. When his pair of packmates have gone, Asha - arms still crossed over her torso, the starched white man's oxford shirt a sharp contrast to her dark skin, to the softness of her still face, her lush mouth, if not her sharp and narrow body - turns back to Lukas, her head canted sidelong: animal-this.

"Wyrmbreaker-rhya - " she takes a deep breath; sharp-thing that she is, this does not come easily to her. Her mind runs ahead of her tongue, propelled by the live-wire current of her rage. There's a reason Asha drags her kinsman and herald around to speak for her. Her dark features are tucked into a neat little frown. Then, all-at-once. " - you - killed Dirge-of-the-Covenant-yuf. Your packmate told the story at the moot - except it wasn't the story - it was just about how he wasn't anything to remember. How - " no, she's thinking, and that isn't the word she wants. The frisson of frustration is evident on the girl's fine features. She breaks off, her arms open, a sharp physical gesture to match the expression on her face. " - no, why should I?"

[Iona McNevin] She sighed softly, was actually hoping for some action. "Aye, if'n ye be hungry, come inside. Better food, an' company than out here."

[Marni] She takes the bottle first, and tosses it into the can with a crash. "She really should recycle..." Her clothing is relatively clean, just smudged from the days travels and the occasional dive into garbage cans. Doubled up on t-shirts under an oversized hoodie, and threadbare and ripped jeans over dark green long johns - finished off with scuffed up beat up boots. Marni is cute - undeniably so, and she knows it, and works it, from her curly hair to her curvy in all the right places form.

She wipes her hand across the thigh of her jeans, and then takes Calebs in her own, her skin warm to the touch, despite the chill of the night. "Marni." And since she recognizes them from the Moot... "Know as Sticky Fingers, and ya probably don't wanna know why. BG Raggie extraordinaire. Ya probably saw my OUTSTANDING recital of the law during the tales and songs..."

Confidant, isn't she?

They says there's food inside, and she shoves the last bit of the pilfered sandwiches into her mouth, and grins. "Excellent! I'm starved!"

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] (brb.)

[Iona McNevin] She nodded. "Aye, I heard it. Twas an interesting recital indeed." She gestured to Marni to follow. "Lucille has gone tae her room fo' tha night. Ta many trues in tha room." She chuckled as she headed inside with the others. "Na sure if'n ye got mah name befo'. I'm Iona McNevin, also called Banshee. Fianna No Moon an' Cliath o' tha Unbroken."

[Marni] She grins. "Good, she near tanned my hide last time I went for a munch in Kate's can." She swings a hand down to the ground near the can and grabs her backpack, shouldering it easily as she follows Iona inside.

"Pleasure to meetcha. Oh, an' I'm a Spitfire." To finish off the intro. Could there BE a more appropriate pack name? "Who all's here?"

[Iona McNevin] She listened for a few moments, "Leh's see, there be Lukas, an' a girl named Asha. Theron be aroun' here somewhere as well. Then juss me an' Caleb here." She led the other Raggie to the kitchen. "Help ye'self tae some real food, lass."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] This is not the first time a Garou has wanted to know some why or how or how could you about Fons's death. This is not the second, or the third, or the fourth. Each time, Lukas has been patient; has been well aware of his own failings in the whole sorry affair; has been -- sometimes brutally -- honest.

Yet something about the way Asha asks, or maybe the whole framing of it all, rubs him wrong tonight. Prickles up his back. Raises his hackles. Rage gathers around him; he looks down, brow furrowed, thinking for a moment.

Looks up again. Levels his eyes on his auspicemate frankly.

"First," quietly, "Dirge of the Covenant was not your yuf. He was a cub when he died. I'm not telling you this to justify my killing him, but I am telling you because you seem to think you already know what happened between your tribesman and I. You don't. You don't even have the minor details clear.

"Second, Sinclair didn't tell his story at the moot. She wasn't supposed to. She was supposed to find some worth in him. Perhaps she failed in that. But then, she's not the sort of Galliard who spins stories out of hearsay.

"Now, if you do want to know what went down, I'll tell you. Beginning to end. Everything he did, everything I did, how it all went wrong. I have no problem telling anyone who wants to hear.

"But as for your question, I can't answer that for you. To be frank, Asha, demanding to know why you should join us in that tone implies that we're somehow dishonorable and unworthy of you. And that is not something I will deign to respond to. So I will not boast of my pack to you, nor try to convince you to join it if you don't want to. That's beneath my dignity, and at any rate, it would mean little.

"The only way you can decide whether or not to join us, whether or not you fit us or we fit you or any of that, is to see for yourself. Run with us for a time. See what we're really like. See what I'm really like. If you're willing to do that, I'll be honored by your presence amongst us. If you're not, then that's also your choice, and not something I'll hold against you in the future."

[Marni] "Right on." She glances in the direction of the pool as they wander past, a clear longing across her face. Someday? She's gonna bathe in that thing. No ifs ands or buts about it. But right now there's OH so much food in the large kitchen. She tosses her backpack on the counter, and the happily goes about rummaging in the fridge for some leftovers. Rich people eat the BEST shit and have birdlike appetites, so there's always tons left over. Or, at least, that's what Marni think - and she's peeks in different containers and goes about getting herself a nice collection of things to eat.

As for who's here. "Cool. Never met Asha - but met Lukas a time or two." Including the last time she got caught rummaging in the garbage.

[Iona McNevin] She went to sit at a stool there. "Och, strange one tha' be. Her name alone would take up a whole page in a book." She kept her eyes on the girl, more amused than security. It was nice being around another Raggie. "So why ye be rummaging in trash can if'n ye are in a pack?"

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Sorry about that folks )

"If everything is well at hand, help yourself to whatever you would like," he said to Marni. A pointed look to Iona - keep an eye on her? - and Caleb turned for the stairs. "Join us when you're through, Marni. Never let it be said that the Unbroken threw out those in search of a meal and a warm place for a few hours as though they were common street filth."

It did help that Caleb recognized her from the moots. Otherwise? She wouldn't of been invited to stay. Of course Lukas might have something to say about that, but at the moment he wasn't worried about his Shadow Lord alpha. Heading back upstairs, Caleb stepped into the room to find Asha and Lukas in a bit of a discussion.

One that he has heard time and again. It was done, Lukas was punished, and it was over with. That a Shadow Lord killed a Silver Fang was probably more to the point, and if Asha needed any proving of Lukas' worth she need look no further than Caleb for outside opinions. Distrusting of Grandfather Thunder's people like many, he had come to believe that Lukas was like any other Shadow Lord full of schemes and lies. Nearly two years have come and gone and Caleb stands firm in his support of his alpha. The man receives his respect and loyalty.

Like the samurai to his daimyo, like the knight to his lord. "Tell me, Lukas. Where has Katherine gone? I look for her, but never find her" he asked when there was a moment. In truth he hadn't seen his cousin in a long time.

[Marni] She rolls her eyes. "Must be another Fang then, huh? Never did get why they had to name them every damn thing in the baby book. I mean SERIOUSLY one name is enough, right? Aw hell yeah - pasta salad!"

She adds some to the mess of stuff she's accumulating on a plate she'd pilfered from the cabinet. "As for why - I was hungry. I'm a streetrat, don't need nothing fancy and people waste a lot of good shit. Might as well make use of it, right?"

[Iona McNevin] Listening to the girl, she nodded. It made sense actually. "Is some Dahli Lama Sheba Kali Indian name." She chuckled. "Buh her servant?" She grinned and hissed a bit. "Smokin' hot, lass. An' nah Indian. Probably a Brit. Buh aye, both be Fang blooded." She took the rest of the pasta salad when Marni was done, and went to get a fork from the drawer. "Ye do have a place tae sleep, right?"

[Marni] She arches a brow at that and grins. "Really? Oh I do like em hot... was with this Lord just yesterday - real high finance type - right there in his office. THEN I stole his tie." Maybe that's where the Deed Name comes from... "It's a hella sexy tie." She winks, and grabs herself a fork and starts to dig into the mess of everything she has on her plate, inhaling as those of her tribe are known to do. One has to wonder if she even tastes it really.

"Yeah, Max got us a whole damn house - got my own room even." It's said with pride, but there's also the sense that she wouldn't mind curling up in a box somewhere too. Easy going, Marni. "We hang round the Back of the Yards."

[Iona McNevin] "I ain't got even a glimpse o' dick since I been here." She grinned. "So I feel sorry fo' tha lad thah gets me first here. We woh't be walking fo' days." She started laughing. "So ye juss like goin' through trash juss tae see whah ye kin find?" She was a bit confused as to why someone with a pack, and a house and such would still rummage through the trash of others. "Aye, Lukas wants us tae be joinin' him, if'n ye want. Ye kin bring tha food."

[Marni] She just grins. "There's plenty a dick t'be found here in Chicago, Iona, darlin. GOOD ones, too."

She taps her nose though, when asked about the trash. "Can sniff out th'good stuff." She doesn't clarify how. "Round this neighborhood ya can always find good shit. People throw away the BEST stuff..."

Lukas want them to join him, and she wrinkles her nose, wonders if he heard what she said about the Lord kin... oh well. One things certain, Marni's as shameless as they come. She hooks her pack back up and slings it over her shoulder grabs her overladen plate and fork and nods. "Lead th'way."

[Iona McNevin] Iona took up what was left of the pasta salad and her fork, and led Marni out the kitchen and up the stairs to the rumpus room which was now slightly altered since Lukas and Sinclair had been sparring. She gave Lukas a nod. "Here be the reason fo' tha crash outside." Grinning as she said it. "Nah tae be mean, all, but I have had verah little sleep this last week trying tae make Kate's present. An', by all things unholy, nah one damn thing will let me nap today, so if'n ye will excuse me, I am going tae the guest room an' try tae crash."

((I need to get up early, so I must depart. Thanks all for the scenage!))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [night!]

[Asha Singh] The girl is tightly wound, her spine - like a spring that has been too long-compressed, is full of energy that has yet to be translated into motion. Lukas' rage flares around him; her own answers. Half-way through his speech, her defensive body language returns. Her arms are crossed, her elbows sharp, her feet cheated more than shoulder-width apart. There's a moment - passing - when she slips away. It is just this: a subtle surfacing, skimming beneath the great, sure ocean that lives inside of her, the endless and ineffable past.

Asha isn't called by her moon to speak; she is called by her moon to act. The endless drone of names and titles that her herald offered the first night of her arrival means nothing to Lukas - a washed over history, that, thoroughly past - but she is here, along, a dark little thing with sparking eyes and a changeable mind and the blood of ageless, mindless, most-lost kings shining in her.

Caleb returns; Asha lifts her chin once - minutely - tracking his progress through the room, aware. When she speaks again, she is no calmer - but she is much more sure. The change is marked. "Wyrmbreaker-rhya," clearer, this. Her voice is even and - the subtle thread of a British accent more pronounced. The shadow of the past lives in her eyes. In this moment, they are older than she has any right to be. " - no one in my mother's line has ever followed a Shadow Lord as Alpha. There are no Shadow Lords in the Sept of the Broken Sky, in the Hindu Pradesh, where my ancestors have lived since - " and, briefly: Asha, " - before ever - " breaks through the composure brought her by her line, by the past that lives in her.

Her delicate features bends into a cool frown. "And if ever there were - they've been forgotten. I meant no insult to your pack - or your Galliard." She watches him, then - closely. "I like her. My question was inartful, but Wyrmbreaker-rhya, - this is all I know. You are a Fostern and a Shadow Lord. You have earned your rank. Your pack includes my tribal elder. And you still bear the punishment for the death of another tribesmate of mine, at your claws. I - " here, the cool frown breaks into something harder, more immediate. " - I would be honored to hunt with you. I want - to hunt. I need to hear the story, too. It's important. To me."

[Asha Singh] (so, many apologies for taking forever with that, too! heh.)

[Truth's Meridian] Katherine has been at the Caern, more specifically, she had been talking with the Warders, and visiting with her fallen pack-mates at the Graves of Hollowed Heroes. To any that believed that the past had no bearing on the present, that modern Garou had lost sight of what and who they fought for; they had only to witness the Silver Fang's monthly pilgrimage to the graves of Sampson, and Mrena, to watch her lovingly clean the slabs that bore their names, their last known renown, their deeds.

They had only to observe the humility with which the Half Moon spoke to them, of them, and left small tokens of her continued remembrance when she departed. Tonight her home is full, bristling with Rage that has sent even her stalwart and true Lucille to her bed to tend a migraine induced by angry wolves at her door -- so to speak. The garage door begins to hum, a soft electronic buzz and moments after this -- a car door slams.

When Katherine enters her kitchen, it is carrying a basket of cleaning supplies, and smelling like winter's night and disinfectant.

[Truth's Meridian] (hollowed? hallowed! werds r gud.)

[Marni] THIS is the reason for the crash outside. Marni got a little clumsy, as it happens from time to time. Iona doesn't say [...out loud..] that she was eating out of the garbage, but perhaps that can be assumed, since Marni's plowing through a plate that's piled almost as high as it is wide with leftovers rescued from the fridge. She waves a fork at Iona as she slips away to go to bed, and grins at Lukas, completely unashamed to be partaking of food at the Loft once again -no matter where it came from.

"Rhya." This and a dimpled grin in greeting to Lukas, before she looks around to pick a spot and cop a squat, without interrupting.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] When she gets as far as no one in my mother's line has ever followed a Shadow Lord, something in Lukas's regard changes. Loses the burn of insult. Settles: hackles lowering.

"That's fair," he says when she's finished. "For what it's worth, I'm fairly certain very few of my ancestors would have deigned to pack with Fangs, let alone follow them. But I did for a time. Edward, then Katherine. Traditions have their place. They root us in what we are. But drawing tribal divisions now when our entire race is on the brink of ruin is counterproductive."

Talk of Ed and Kate reminds him. He turns to answer Caleb quickly, mindful of the interruption to their guest, "Kate's ridiculously busy, is all. Balance Without Fault pretty much has her handling all but his most important decisions, and your Tribe keeps causing trouble for her too." He's barely finished when the garage door opens downstairs. Lukas nods toward the sound, "And that's probably her right now."

Another enters: Marni. Lukas glances at her for a moment, nods to her greeting, mentions, "Hey -- we should have a word later. Let me talk to Asha right now, okay?"

Then his attention is back to his auspicemate.

[Marni] She grins and waves a fork in Lukas' direction. "Sure. Ain't got no where to be." And she settles in a corner out of the way, plopping right there on the floor, let's her pack fall to the floor next to her, and concentrates on working her way through that food.

Gaia only knows where she'll put it all...

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] A slight nod, and Caleb was leaving Asha and Lukas to their business. It was between them after all, and until it was made his business he would leave it be.

Heading downstairs, following the sounds of doors opening and shutting, he found Katherine in the kitchen and was soon unencumbering her of the things she brought in with her, setting them aside for now. "Good evening, Cousin," he said with a smile. "It has been a while, no?"

[Sinclair] [where?]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [asha marni lukas upstairs. kate downstairs. caleb heading down! sinclair was NPCed earlier, and may be emerging from upstairs shower now.]

[Truth's Meridian] She always seemed moderately startled, Katherine, the way she could turn and exclaim rosy-cheeked: "Caleb!" or "Edward!" in some half chiding tone as if she were actually taken aback by their appearance when they all knew they could sense one another; in one form or another -- or, at the very least, smell the breeding incoming. Still -- still, when she senses her Cousin's approach, she turns, pleased and still a little chilled from the outdoors.

"Caleb Delacourt," she kisses his cheek, a brief peck that leaves behind her perfume and that aroma of something recently scrubbed to an inch of its life and lets him take her belongings from her arms. Katherine looks rather wearied, as she so often has of late -- the recent dramas within their tribe have taken their toll and she has rarely stopped her perpetual motion since she returned from Belgium in time for the Moot. "Too long indeed! Where have you been hiding, no, wait, I want for some wine, and then I want details."

She traipses around her kitchen on nimble little toes, graceful even in her exhaustion.

[Asha Singh] "Do you believe that?" This is inserted quite directly after the word: counterproductive. The question is tinged not by Asha's native asperity, but by a sudden - disarming - immediacy. The girl's dark eyes are fast on Lukas' face, searching as if she had any skill for such things - reading people, discerning truth - and her voice is raw with unfulfilled promise.

Her elbows draw closer to her narrow frame, flat like furled wings. Unconsciously, she rises to the balls of her feet, gaining a good scant inch in height as she does so. Her rage is held back, but still livid around her, it twines with her breeding into a pale haze around her dark, vibrant figure, like a cloud of chalk dust.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Absolutely." That's fired back immediately.

[Marni] OOOOoooooh. It's like dinner and a show. Sure, it seems like she's just minding her own business and eating, but she's very much attuned to what's going on before her with Asha and Lukas too. After all - if they come to blows, she's got a plate to protect.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] The half-startled expression on her face is one that he is used to, but not this newfound weariness. Still, when they both are free of items he embraced her warmly, returning that light peck to her cheeks. "I have been coming to grips with my wife's death. The suggestions you and Lukas gave me helped immensely. I don't hear her voice any more, to say the least. I feel.. more like myself."

A soft laugh as she mentions wine, and he followed after. "As far as details... I have been remodelling my home, for the most part, and patrolling my territory. You must come see it soon." His small, quaint cabin is now about the size of a small mansion out in the woods. Amazing the sort of funds one could have when not paying for one's wife's college tuition.

[Sinclair] "IIII feeeeel fantaaaastic!"

This is sung, rather than spoken, as Sinclair exits one of the upstairs bedrooms, arms thrown out and hair slicked back, combed off her face. She's lying. The shower hasn't helped: Sinclair's eyes are still gaunt and sunken, her flesh pale, the color of her eyes mottled and twitchy. She looks exhausted, and not from sparring with Lukas earlier.

But she tries. She emerges from the long, hot shower she just took and pretends she doesn't feel like utter and complete shit. She gives a bursting grin and fakes glee when a part of her wants to find the nearest Thing That Is Not Pack and tear its face off.

She sees Asha and gives a small wave. Sinclair is wearing a fuzzy bathrobe with stars and crescent moons on it. Shoves her hands in the pockets of it, sniffs. "Sup?"

[Truth's Meridian] She had forgotten about Caleb's Mate. For just a second, her hands pause in their quest for glass-ware and she stills a beat, listening to her heart, steadily beating in her chest. Oh, oh. No, she had not forgotten but there had been to many overlapping events occurring for the demise of the young woman Caleb had lived with in his remote cabin to linger long in the fore-front of her memory.

She had not been elder when it happened.
The fault did not lay with her in this.

Still, when she turns with two glasses in tow, and a bottle of wine in hand, her eyes are full of warmth; commiseration. If any could relate now to his miseries, it was Katherine. "I am glad to hear that you are well, and doing better. We have long since missed your presence. We even have another of your auspice joined with us," her eyes twinkle, a familiar spark of mischief beginning as she lowers them to focus on pouring out two glasses of the red.

"Not that we should ever replace you," she adds, offering him out a glass with a particular little smile. "I should like very much to see what you have done to your home, Caleb," she murmurs with a sip of wine. "Very much."

[Theron Locke] Theron had disappeared somewhere perhaps into one of the spare bedrooms or elsewhere. Returning now to the rumpus room as he rejoins his pack, changed now from the shirt he was wearing previously to a simple white tee.

Heading towards one of the spare seats as he sits back down. His head turning towards Caleb as he tells part of his story, not knowing the rest Theron doesn't comment and listens instead. When Kate mentions another of his auspice, Theron garners his attention wiith a small nod.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] For a few brief moments he had indeed felt as though he had been replaced, when he noticed Theron amongst their ranks. Another theurge? He was the theurge of the Unbroken, since Mrena's death. But then, with his mental capacities not being what they should of been it isn't surprising that they would of found someone else.

A soft sigh, as he shrugged, raising the glass in a brief toast to her. "No, if even you had sought to bring someone else to the pack in my absence, that is all well and good. At the time I hadn't the ability to be of much use. As things stand, I don't know how much use I will be, but rest assured I will do what I can." His hand reached over to trace a fingertip on Katherine's shoulder for a brief instant before lowering. Without family, where were they?

Ana Eliza's death was not Katherine's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault - the one that did it was dead. "In other news, I am close to Fostern," he said. "But what of you? We rarely saw each other even before my breakdown."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Kate and Caleb are downstairs in the kitchen. )

[Asha Singh] Absolutely. He says. Asha takes a sudden, sharp breath, thin shoulders drawn back, her head up, her chin high, and her spine straight along some perfect, invisible axis drawn from the ceiling above to the floor below. There is some minute change in the wary mask into which her exotic features are pulled - a lessening of tension, the flash of something flared and raw beneath the wildness in her wide, dark eyes. Marni's in the room though - watching, eating - and the young Ahroun's black gaze flashes to the Ragabash then, aware of her for the first time since she entered the room. In the end, all she says in response to his rather convincing affirmation is: "Okay." And then: "Okay."

Then: Sinclair. The mask of tension cracks enough that Asha offers Sinclair a neat little grin - strained at the edges, this - which doesn't rise to her eyes, and a coiled forward shrug by way of response to her question. 'Sup? Sinclair says; and Hi and I don't know say Asha's shoulders, right back.

[Theron Locke] (( meh.. ignore my post then.... ))

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Hey give me like 15-20 mins. I gotta run to the store right quick. )

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They have an audience. Though Caleb has gone downstairs, Theron has reappeared, and Sinclair. Marni is standing there watching avidly,

but Lukas watches only Asha. His head tilts slightly, a quick, avian gesture. His eyes are brilliant and clear, cuttingly intense, searching hers for meaning.

"Okay?" he repeats: questioning.

[Sinclair] "Oh, srs bizniz," Sinclair says, slurring the words so close together that they actually do lose a few syllables in the telling. She quiets, then, and shuffles over to the couch, crawling onto it and tucking the folds of her robe around her. She curls up, watching the two Ahrouns. It takes awhile for her to glance over and give a small nod to Marni, but her attention, too, goes right back to Lukas and Asha.

[Truth's Meridian] She nudges her ballerina flats from her feet, and leans her weight against the counter, her wine glass poised at shoulder level, held there as the Theurge of her tribe and her distant blood Cousin, so many times removed, reaches out to briefly trace a line against the soft cashmere sweater the Philodox wears. Katherine tenses, briefly, with the contact, but it is as much a result of the moon growing fat outside in the night sky as anything else.

"Oh, qu'est-ce de moi," she says with a quaint little off-hand shrug, casting off any such pretensions she has of her own glory, or triumphs. "Nothing so grand, I go on, I fight, we all do as we must." She takes a sip of wine, her tongue tasting away the traces before she goes on. "Gabriella is still not forgiven, but she is at least warded now by one of our own, Edward is, well," she attempts levity, fails in favor of briefly bitter humor. "He is Edward, truer than before. The pack is strong, though. Lukas has done well with it, kept us from faltering -- despite set-backs."

Gabriella. Genevre. Fons.
Setbacks, indeed.

"We have new members, new strength to us." A beat, and she tilts her head a fraction. "And, I suppose, I challenged for and was accepted to the elevation of Fostern."

[Marni] srs bizniz, Sinclair says, and Marni chuckles around a mouthful of food, the plate now half empty - and she's still going strong. She grins the Galliard's way, and then watches Lukas and Asha.

[Asha Singh] "Yeah." says Asha, like that word meant something. "I mean," a twisting shrug - inarticulate with her moon, again, without something to kill - the reassuring confidence of her ancestors receding from her mind, leaving her raw once more. "okay. I mean, I think we should talk again." A flashing glance, then, to Marni and Sinclair, on the couch. " - is what I mean. But right now, I gotta go."

[Theron Locke] Theron keeps to himself mostly, intent to just sit and watch the Two Ahrounds have their discussion. Eyes flicking from one to the other.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Wait. One more thing. You asked about Fons. This is all I have to say about it:

"In late November of last year, Dirge of the Covenant came to this city a Cliath. As far as I could tell, he believed himself superior to all around him by virtue of birth.

"At the December moot, a week or two after he'd arrived, he spoke against my packmate Sinclair in a judgment matter that I believed was the business of the Philodoxes and the Elders. As he was neither, I told him to hold his tongue. He refused to obey. I pulled rank. It escalated into an all-out challenge of dominance, the terms of which I set as a fight to submission. The next night, I repeatedly bested Dirge of the Covenant in the challenge ring. When he refused to submit honorably, I drove him into a fox frenzy and won by judgment.

"After that, Dirge of the Covenant developed a blind vendetta against me. I don't know if it was because of my tribe or because I'd humiliated him. I suspect it was both. At any rate, he began to spread malicious rumors about my pack. He told his kinswoman Genevre de Provence that my packmate Theron had ambushed and attempted to murder him the night he arrived in town. He told the then-Ahroun elder, Bones to Dust, that I had ordered Theron to seduce and shame Genevre. He insinuated that my honor was false, and that I had plotted to eliminate everyone I'd perceived as an enemy -- my own packmates included."

It's hard for him to say that without bitterness and anger; he, to whom pack took precedence above very nearly everything else. Lukas controls it, though, and moves on.

"The truth is," he says quietly, "my pack did go through a number of Alphas before I assumed command. And Shadow Lords are known for exactly that sort of ruthless machination. Rumors like these have gone around before, started by a kinsman of my own blood. They are not true," briefly, his eyes blaze, "but I don't blame people for wondering.

"It's different, though, when a Galliard says such things. Galliards are talekeepers and songspinners. When they speak, it becomes history.

"So I called Dirge of the Covenant before the Auspice Council. We stood under examination by Philodoxes. I told the truth. Dirge of the Covenant skirted the questions and answered with smokescreens and accusations. In the end, judgment was passed down: Dirge of the Covenant was to receive the Voice of the Jackal, the shame of which reduced him to a cub again. He was furthermore to be bound into my pack as Omega for a period of four months minimum, beginning at the February moot. He was not to interact with the kinswoman Genevre again.

"I accepted the word of the elders. Dirge of the Covenant protested. They turned him away.

"Not too long after that judgment was passed, I found Dirge of the Covenant and Genevre in a cafe together. You might imagine how angry I was. I dragged them both out of there intending to send Genevre back to Kate for discipline and taking Fons to the Caern myself to ask permission to bind him into my pack immediately. He taunted; Genevre complained about her coat and briefcase and ... god knows what." He's losing his objectivity. Perhaps he didn't have a lot to begin with; if he had, he probably wouldn't be speaking with that hideous voice right now. "I called Genevre spoiled, stupid, selfish, a brat. At that point, Dirge of the Covenant frenzied and came at me.

"I countered with what proved to be lethal force.

"After that we went to the Elders after all. I stood in judgment. The Grand Elder asked me at one point if I'd meant to kill him. I don't think I did. I didn't think consciously to murder Dirge of the Covenant. I didn't think consciously to hold back either. It was a failure of control. It was a failure to lead and teach a younger, weaker Garou. It was a potential loss to the Nation and to my pack. For all that, I'm regretful. It wasn't fair of me to kill him.

"But I will say this, too. It's easy to make Dirge of the Covenant a martyr now that he's dead and his sins growing dimmer in our memories by the day. But that's not fair either."

A beat. Then the corner of Lukas's mouth turns up faintly.

"Let's talk again," he says, "after you've had some time to think on all that."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [sorry folks. i prewrote that. *does not type 3984 wpm*]

[Asha Singh] She says this again, Asha: "Okay." And then: "I'll see you later."

- and she turns, with that unerring grace of a falcon, despite her stiff back and raised chin, and leaves!

(player disappears before laptop dies! apologies and stuff for taking forever. heh. so tired! thanks!)

[Marni] [Night!]

[Sinclair] [NOM!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Sinclair] She's lost count of how many times she's heard that story. Well, that's not true: Sinclair was never keeping count. She was there that night. She knows the story very well, but

she can't tell it like Lukas can. She can't explain what he did, can't say Well, he's very sorry or He won't do it again or even This is why it happened, because even Lukas can't quite say for certain that much. She watches him explain to Asha, gives her something to chew on, and then she waves lightly to the other young woman as she departs.

Her earrings glint as she turns her head to look at Lukas. "What was that about?"

[Marni] Marni waves at Asha as she leaves, while scooping her way through the last 1/4 of her piled high plate of leftover goodness. She tears off a hunk of her last roll, and scoops it across the plate, gathering every last little drop too. It may seem as if the food has her full attention, but she's listening, and listening closely to the story of the Shadow Lord vs. The Fang.

To her credit, she doesn't let loose a little belch into the back of her hand until AFTER he's done, and Asha's gone. Gotta make room for the last of her meal, after all. "Scuse me."

And back to being quiet, until Lukas is ready to talk to her.

[Theron Locke] Theron frowns slightly as his indiscretions are mentioned once more, but then just shrugs slightly. He did what he did and he would have to the put up with the consequences of that night.

His eyes follow Asha as she moves to leave "Good night Asha" he says before she is too far away to hear.

[Truth's Meridian] [BRB all! Dinnertime!]

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Sorry that took so long. What did I miss? )

[Sinclair] [EVERYTHING.]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [scroll down! it's all still there.]

"I asked her to run with the pack for a while," Lukas replies simply. "Maybe join it. I thought she fit in well the last time she was here, and I kind of liked her style.

"She asked why. Why she should pack with a Fangkilling Lord, I suppose. I got a little hot under the collar, told her I'd explain the Fons situation if she wanted to hear it; told her that she was insulting the pack with that tone. She handled it well. Explained herself. So," a small, wry shrug, "I told her the story."

He reaches up, scratches his chest idly. His eyes move over her. Sinclair waxes and wanes with the moon. At first, he thought he was imagining it. Now he's sure.

"Are you crashing here tonight?"

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] (ugh brb phone )

[Truth's Meridian] [i has returned!]

[Sinclair] "Oh," Sinclair says. Then there's a beat. Then she smiles, looking pleased -- well. Looking sick. But looking pleased, despite that, to hear that he's invited Asha along.

The smile falls abruptly upon hearing of Asha's question of why. Her brow furrows, her look stormy. It smooths a second later. To be frank, Sinclair is nothing if not expressive, and nothing if not utterly incapable of hiding what's on her mind unless she exerts profound effort. It isn't effort she finds worth it tonight, and it isn't effort that would get her anywhere, either. She relaxes.

She has her legs drawn up, and doesn't ask any more questions about Asha. Nor, however, does she offer comment on the Fang Ahroun she's met once and played MarioKart with. (And trounced at MarioKart, by the by.) She wraps her arms around her legs and nods, her eyes sharp as razors, threatening without meaning to be.

"Yeah. Nauseous as fuck. Going to make Lucille bring me tea and pretend I'm a fancy lady." She puts her little finger to her lower lip, bats her eyelashes, then drops the act. The fact that she's a Garou who gets nauseous gets glossed over. Everything has a price. What goes up must come down.

Her moon is in the sky, but it's fading. So is Sinclair, in a way.

[Truth's Meridian] "Come," the Silver Fang says at some point, perhaps as Caleb is responding to, or contemplating her words to him.
"Let's join the others upstairs, I can hear voices. Bring a few extra wine-glasses with you, Cousin." And with that, the Mistress of the Loft adjourns up the stairwell, barefoot.

[Marni] Dark eyes, sparkling with mischief even now, flick between the three Unbroken in the room, watching, listening, and FINALLY finishing the mammoth amount of food she had on that plate. She sets it in her lap, and stretches arms over head, spine cracking, back arching, and a softly delighted sigh as she pats her belly - which is quite full now thank ya very much.

For at LEAST an hour.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas smirks. "Lucille's about to kill us after that training bout. I'll bring you the damn tea."

Then he turns to Marni, nodding her over. Finally. "Sorry for the wait," he says. "Just wanted to make sure you knew the rules for dealing with Shadow Lord kin. I heard you'd been showing interest in Ray Ostermann. If it gets serious, you need to challenge me, do you understand?"

[Truth's Meridian] Katherine -- quick as a bloodhound on the scent -- remarks as she reaches the top of the staircase, wine bottle tucked under an arm, glasses in tow in the Theurge's capable hands. "What training bout?"

Her eyes narrow.

If she is surprised to find the Bone Gnawer reclining in one of the plush chairs, the Half Moon handles it well, she offers Marni a brief smile before her suspicious stare returns to her pack-mates.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, in aside to Kate, and rather sardonically: "Do you imagine I'm just standing here barechested and covered in axe scratches because I've been mudwrestling with kittens, Kate?"

[Sinclair] "He was helping me practice with my axes," Sinclair says, turning onto her left side and resting her head on a throw pillow, watching her packmates. And Marni. "It's very loud, and now Wyrmbreaker-rhya -- Fostern of the Shadow Lords, Alpha of his pack and his tribe, Elder of his auspice -- is going to bring me a nice cuppa.

"So I daresay that means I won."

[Marni] She dimples into a warm grin for Lukas, hopes up and wanders over to join the rest of them, plopping down into one of the chairs. Then? Then there's laughter. "Good god - how'd you hear about that so soon? It was just YESTERDAY... Guess the good stuff travels fast.."

Shameless she is. She tips her head slightly, curls bouncing. "No worries here, Lukas. I know the rules well enough. Just havin' a bit of fun with your boy after me and Indira gave him some directions round my neck of the woods." A beat, and eyes sparkle with delighted memory. "I did steal his tie. Should I apologize for it?" Cuz she's totally not sorry. "For the record, he didn't really seem to mind."

And then... then she's outright giggling at the mental picture of him mudwrestling with kittens.

[Truth's Meridian] "Well," she rejoinders with, sniffing. "How am I to know what you do? I've come upon you in stranger states and you've been doing nothing out of the ordinary at all." A beat, she sets the glasses down on the little side table and reclaims her barely touched glass of wine.

"I should like to learn how to an axe," musingly, "It would come in handy when dealing with problematic individuals."

[Truth's Meridian] [ahem, 'how to USE an axe' that should read]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "No. Just as long as you remember, we're fine."

Then, to Katherine, "Don't worry. I'll make sure it's all cleaned up before I leave tomorrow." Looks like Sinclair isn't the only overnight guest. "And, tell you what. I'll teach Sinclair. She'll teach you."

[Marni] "Gotta mind like a steel trap, I do." She'll remember. And he's gonna lose his shirt next time, AND get her into the pool in his building since he had to go tattling on her so quickly.

Sheesh. Men.

[Sinclair] Sinclair lifts a hand, flapping it in midair: "Pfft. You use a sword. I use an axe. We'll get Kate like... a fetish sledgehammer that she can wear as a charm on a bracelet. Whip it out and WHAMMO! WHAM! WHAM! WHAMWHAMWHAM!"

As she's yelling this, she's pretending to smack something in the air above her head. Her arm freezes in place...

then flops downward, and she exhales. "Why am I so tired?"

[Theron Locke] Theron goes to tempt fate and offer a comment to Marni about how Lukas could possibly know. But the thinks better of it, one throating a month was enough.

He stretches on the couch before sitting up, the bruising at his throat still evident but only faintly

He turns to Sinclar and watches her and tilts his head "physically tired, emotionally tired or both Warcry-yuf?"

[Truth's Meridian] "Hm," the dainty Fang says, lifting a brow as she navigates her way to a spot on the sofa and sits down beside Warcry, or near her approximately. She curls her legs up beneath her as Sinclair is WHAMing her way back to exhaustion and flops down again. Katherine reaches out, absently, and pats her leg, or her foot, or -- some part she can reach.

"I have some herbal teas that might help," she offers, and shifts the heaviness of her hair from her face. Katherine had returned from abroad with faint bruising around her wrists and neck and, despite queries, assured her pack-mates that all had gone as smoothly as could be expected when bringing such news as she did before a King in any respect.

[Sinclair] I can't do this because the Gnawer's right over there, but in my mind, I'm giving you the finger right now, Theron.
to Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Theron Locke, Truth's Meridian

[Sinclair] [Nevermind that PM! Forgot we don't have totemphone right now. *L*]

[Marni] She stands, clearly the outsider in the room, and scoops up her pack and the plate and fork she'd been using. "I'll just return this to the kitchen and head home. Thanks for the grub!"

She waves to everyone, and unless stopped, heads back down to the kitchen. Made herself quite at home, the little Gnawer. And she still has yet to take a dip in that pool. Sigh.

[Sinclair] Once upon a time, Sinclair was shocked that Kate allowed her to curl up nearby after a revel. She was also warmed, and grateful, and slept deeply alongside the white-furred Half Moon. She doesn't look shocked this time when Kate sits nearby and pats her on the leg through the thick, fuzzy bathrobe she's wearing. Sinclair's eyes peer down at the Fang, and a faint smile flickers on her lips.

Wiggles her foot and then nods a goodbye to Marni. "Latah," she drawls, and then rolls her eyes over towards Theron as the Gnawer departs. Since now it's just her and her packmates in the room, she wordlessly gives him the finger.

[Theron Locke] "Goodnight Marni" giving her a small wave.

Theron blinks as he is given the finger, so much for trying to show concern for a fellow packmate. He at least wanted to start down the road of mending some broken bridges, obviously he has said the wrong thing again. So he just sighs , shrugs and leans back into the couch.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Later, Marni," Lukas says, heading over to the couch as the little Gnawer departs.

He drops down on Sinclair's other side. Wordlessly, without even needing their totem to bind them together, the two Fosterns of the pack have situated themselves around the one that is -- at least psycho-emotionally -- their weakest member. Closing ranks. Circling the wagons.

"We should start thinking about contrition for Perun," Lukas muses. "He'll listen to us again in a week or so."

He drops his head back, stares at the ceiling a while, idle. Then he lifts it again.

"I'm going to make some tea for the lady here and then go to bed. I might borrow one of your guest rooms again, Kate."

[Marni] On her way out, she passes by a little - no taller than 3 or so inches - glass vase filled with little (SHINY) silver marbles with a pretty glass flower 'planted' in it.

...it isn't there next time someone goes to dust that shelf.

She can't help herself.

Really.

[Truth's Meridian] "Goodnight, Sticky Fingers," Katherine says pleasantly as the young Gnawer rises. "I am pleased that you paid a visit to my home once more, however brief our own encounter within it was," she laughs, and lifts a hand to wave her off as she troops away down the stairs.

Then: Sinclair gives Theron the finger, Katherine muffles her amusement behind her wine glass. "Have some wine, Theron. It's a lovely vintage," she consoles the Theurge with solemnly, and then to Lukas. "Of course, the sheets should all be freshly made up."

[Sinclair] Even at her worst -- and this, these three days when her phase is waning, is as bad as it gets for Sinclair -- she is still monumentally dangerous. Even without Perun strengthening her, even with her moon turning away from her, even feeling things most Garou stop feeling the day they change -- true exhaustion, nausea, dizziness -- she is an utter beast. And not one you want at your throat.

She glares at Theron as he sighs and leans back, daggers in her ice-colored eyes, rage licking the air around her. It's overcome by the presence and authority of the two Fosterns. It's overcome by their rage, their own ferocious strength. She seethes, settles, and though her hackles rise again briefly when Lukas mentions contrition to Perun, she exhales and closes her eyes, burying her face in the throw pillow.

When Marni was upstairs, she didn't shy from showing her weakness. After all: Marni's just a Gnawer. And after all: even at her worst...

Now, though, she just seems to let go, exhaling heavily into the pillow. She lifts an arm, finger held up. This time it's just her index, though. "I like Lemon Zinger, but I'm open to new and exciting non-caffeinated experiences," she tells Lukas, the words muffled.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas snorts a laugh, heading down the stairs. "I'll make whatever's in the first box I see and you'll like it."

Chances are, Lukas will be drinking that tea himself. Chances are Sinclair will be zonked out in one of Kate's guest rooms by the time he comes back upstairs with it. Chances are he'll sip at the tea, set it on Sinclair's nightstand, and then shift into his wolf form and curl up at Sinclair's back.

Even at her worst, she's monumentally dangerous. But that doesn't mean she's not at her worst. And he's the Alpha of the pack. He'll protect them when they're weakened.

[Theron Locke] Theron somewhat frustrated runs his fingers through his hair , as he moves to get himself a glass of wine "Won't mind if I do." The glass fills with wine and he returns to his seat.

Turning to Lukas "Well seeing that it was my arrogance that was cause of his disfavor. Would you allow me to seek out Perun and offer contrition on behalf of the pack. If you don't agree then I'll follow your lead."

[Sinclair] Her finger is still up in the air. "You will make whatever's in the first box you see and I will like it," she echoes, with wholehearted agreement before her arm falls back down to the couch cushions.

What actually happens is this: Sinclair has Kate near her feet, and that makes her warm, and the couch is very soft, and her robe is quite fuzzy, and she is asleep before the water downstairs has boiled. Granted, as soon as Theron speaks up she's grabbing a pillow and shoving it down on top of her head, which probably helps send her in that direction.

The Theurge knows probably better than the rest of them how deeply and how quickly Sinclair sleeps: you could bang cymbals together over her head and and might just mutter and roll over until she's gotten a good ten or twelve hours of rest. At times it has taken physical pain to get her to wake up, a slap or a pinch or something else to rouse her.

That's dangerous, though. Risky.

She's asleep in moments, drowsing first and then just dropping completely under like a stone thrown into water. If left where she is, she'll sleep on the rumpus room couch til tomorrow, motionless and at ease, surrounded by packmates.

With a pillow over her head.

[Sinclair] [And I'm out! Thank you guys for the RP! I really missed it. *L*]

[Truth's Meridian] Katherine gleams, she honestly does that on occasion -- just gleams like a spot of sunshine has appeared and dances off her golden hair, her bright eyes, her tanned skin. She does it because her pack is surrounding her in her home, and she feels comforted by it. She drinks her glass of wine, and she watches her Alpha descend the stairs and she notices the moment when Sinclair lets it all go and releases it into the pillow.

And then falls asleep beneath that pillow.

Kate is stationed near the Galliard's feet as she begins to dose off, and it is Kate then, who answers Theron somewhat thoughtfully. "I can see no harm in seeking our totem out and offering him some sign that we seek his favor once more. Surely the more we show our contrition, the better prepared he will be to forgive us."

[Truth's Meridian] [Night, Kai!]

[Theron Locke] (( No worries Kai ..Night... I've missed it too.. despite Theron being in the doghouse lol :P ))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "We should all go," Lukas calls as he disappears down the stairs, "but Theron should lead the Rite. That's what's proper."

[i'ma jet too! night folks!]

[Truth's Meridian] [night D!]

[Marni] (night ya'll! was fun stealing from Kate again. *LOL*)