Showing posts with label asha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label asha. Show all posts

Sunday, February 6, 2011

simon's dilemma.

[Sofie Janssen] Giving a glance over to Quinn and Amunet who's came in behind the tall woman, Sofie watches them a second and takes in both their expressions before giving a quick look to Hunter. Her voice drops, but it's certainly not a whisper. "One of those your girl?" Unable to help herself, her teeth flash in a sudden and rather fierce grin.

Suppressing her chuckle.

Then John comes in, dumps his jacket and walks out to take Amunet by the arm and off down the hall. "Oooo," she whispers softly, then does make a snicker of a laugh under her breath. "Someone's got to tell that guy we're supposed to have better taste." We being the Get of Fenris, of course.

Quinn gets a nod and an actual smile from Sofie, though it doesn't make her expression soft by any means. Gentle and soft doesn't mix with this Kinfolks features. Her eyes aren't the sort that can get all bedroom nor pleasant either. "Hey," she greets.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The Strider comes from the hallway, freshly dressed. her hair is wet and somewhat tangled, having just showered and gotten her still-healing wounds from the other night cleaned up. She's wearing a black tank top and jeans, and generally seems to be in a good mood. Even if she is walking a bit gingerly. She heads down the hallway to the common room, pausing only briefly when she sees John and Amy heading in the opposite direction. She locks eyes with her half-sister, an unspoken message passing between them before she smiles and nods to John and continues on her way.

Once she makes it through the door into the common room, she looks around at those present and grins. "Hola, chicos and chicettes. What's shakin' like bacon?"

[John] Now, he hadn't made a scene last night though there are plenty of other men, let alone Garou, who would not have taken kindly to being toyed with, whether it was merely his perception or whether there was anything rooted in reality to substantiate the notion, nor being walked away from. John, however, is not a hot-headed young buck who has something to prove. He does not attempt to intimidate or dominate every other male Garou he comes across, though with his height, his breeding and his presence he would likely be capable of it without much trouble. Beyond that, he actually seems like he has a decent sense of humor, takes very little that doesn't require seriousness seriously, and actually has respect for someone other than himself.

It's a rarity, given what has been blowing through Chicago in recent years, but given that he can't talk, he doesn't do a lot of blowing up of his own ego.

So, last night, John had just laughed at what had happened because he didn't understand it and walked out. It wasn't until after sobriety hit him like a bucket of water that it occurred to him that wires were crossed, perhaps. Lord knows what he was thinking.

Passing by Sarita, John looks somewhat amiable considering he's pedaling her sister down the hallway towards their room. He gives her a lift of his eyebrows and a nod, the light in his eyes seeming to say Oh hey what's up! as though they're in a park in the middle of June on a sunny day and not the halls of a hostel.

They continue around the bend of the hall, and a moment later, a door opens and closes.

That's when he lets her go.

[Quinn] She laughs when Hunter says he was telling Sofie about the lack of orgies here. The sound is low, more of a huff through her nostrils than anything so defined as a hah. "Hi, Amy..." is all she gets before Guy strongly insists the other kinswoman head back down the hall with him. She steps out of the doorway, fully into the common room.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks, and heads for one of the chairs rather than the sofa.

"Quinn," she gives as introduction.

[Hunter] Eyes follow the movements of Quinn intently and it wouldn't be an illusion if she saw his jaw clench and his lips press together in a flat line when she drops herself down into one of the chairs. But he doesn't say anything and although that eyebrow of his threatens to raise questioningly, it doesn't.

Sofie has a question, a low murmur as this is all happening, not a whisper at all but not normal tones either. She wants to know if one of those girls is his and Hunter just straight up does not answer her.

"I dunno, depends on ya' point'a view. Orgies in here though? Ain't no place for them sorta' games."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Okay, seriously. If I'm getting left out of orgies, I'm gonna start kicking some serious ass." She grins and moves toward the couch. "S'bad enough that my sister gets laid more than I do, but I gotta at least have the opportunity to be competitive."

She sits carefully down on the couch and sighs. "So we're all exciting, being shut-ins on Friday night, huh?"

[Sofie Janssen] "Well met, Quinn." Sofie doesn't move from where she's sitting in the corner, back to the arm of the couch and knees pressed together, resting against the back of it. The t.shirt she wears is a simple navy blue and it's loose enough to sleep in. Her sweatpants are a lighter shade of gray. Bare feet are tucked in with toes curled between the cushions, separating herself and Hunter.

Looking back and forth between the two, and then to the woman that enters calling them names of another language and talking about shaking bacon, Sofie decidedly stays out of any further talk about orgies and sex, especially with the more explicit talk about being laid. There are some lines she doesn't cross, though these aren't clear cut.

[Asha Singh] Someone is coming up the stairs. Two someones, actually. There is the sound of some - crazy foreign tongue, that sounds functionally like nothing anyone in the room has every heard before. Like a spider-scrawl of a tongue, seventeen accents and an extra umlaut per vowel that you cannot even tell from the consonants.

One of two people is stomping.
The smaller one of the two.
Actually.

[Quinn] "Nice to meet you, too, Sofie," she replies with a polite incline of her head. Quinn draws herself up into the chair, wraps an arm around upraised knees, curls a hand around an ankle. She's friendly, open, not exactly gregarious, but she tries not to leave people out.

"Ah hah, yeah, if any orgies break out spontaneously, Sarita, you can have at it. I'll be the stick making a beeline for the door."

Someone is stomping up the stairs. The Fianna kinswoman lets go of her legs, lets her knees drop down so that one presses into the arm of the chair, and she twists to get a look at the stairway. Before anyone appears, though, she looks back at the gathered, casting about a confused Do you know what that's about? kind of look.

[Asha Singh] And soon enough: a girl emerges. Dark-skinned, slight, with coils of crisp black hair falling in elegant, shampoo-ad worthy waves around her exotic features. She's wearing a strapless gown of bronze sequins that falls perhaps four inches above her knee, and a single gold bracelet liquid around her wrist. Her feet are bare.

She is carrying a doughnut.
It has sprinkles.

In her other hand, a plastic sandwich bag, the kind that ziplocks closed, smeared with a gelatinous red. It could be cherry pie filling oozing out of a deep-fried crust. It could be an ear.

God only knows.

Behind her a tall, well-dressed man in a tailored suit, crisp lines, black and white. A cravat, subtle diamond cufflinks through the cuffs of his monogrammed white shirt. He has a stick.

At the top of the stairs, she takes a survey of the people in the room, checking them off against some mental list. She pauses when she sees Hunter, waves, rather peppily, and turns to the tall, dignified gentleman with gray curling at his blond temples. Says, leaning as if she were whispering, for all that she is perfectly audible to all. "He's one of the ones I need a proper introduction to!"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs a little to Quinn's unspoken question. She seems intensely curious as to who it might be herself, and she glances to the stairwell before she looks back to the kinfolk.

"No clue, but we may wanna call an exorcist. And suggest that they put split pea soup on the menu for tomorrow."

When Asha and her companion arrive, she looks back, examining the two. Each of the participants in the room are summarily dismissed by the newcomers, except Hunter. That brings a cock of the eyebrow, and Sarita leans back a bit to watch with a grin that can only be described as Cheshire-like. And possibly worrisome.

[Hunter] "Yo' Sarita." He throws it out casually with a nod of his head.

Stomping is heard, voices, or what are presumed to be voices. The only thing that marks them as such is the phonetics that vaguely resemble some unknown language and the audibility of it all. His eyes drift past Sofie, past Quinn to the stairs and he actually steps up off the couch to wander over to that exit almost protectively of the kinfolk.

He doesn't get very far though and he stops before she even emerges. Ancestry strikes him like a blow to the head and causes his lip to curl but it relaxes a moment later into a smile for the woman when she makes her way into the room. There is someone at her side, someone Hunter has never seen before and he looks the man over.

He's one of the ones I need a proper introduction to!

One brow lowers, the other rises and his lips quirk at the corners, he crosses his arms over his chest. This is unusual. He waits to see how it all plays out.

[Sofie Janssen] There's little talk that follows the new arrivals into the common room, where Sofie had been listening to her player not but ten minutes ago, alone. Now coming up the stairs is someone speaking gibberish to someone else equally qualified in the language, and moments later Hunter is up to go and see what it's all about after Quinn's partially worried glance and Sarita's quip.

Sofie merely glances over and watches the woman enter along with the man, both of which are dressed in a set of clothes that costs more than her whole closet stuffed in her closet. Its this she notices more than anything else, and the way the woman speaks to the man. Brows raise. Eyes stare.

And her mouth quirks at Hunters stance.

[Asha Singh] "His name's Hunter," Asha tells Thomas. The kinsman - whose blood is rather less fine than his rather young mistress' own - has a certain dignity of purpose about him that makes up for what he lacks in raw breeding. He inclines his well-groomed head to listen as Asha "whispers" to him. "Burnout." And gives her a smile of approval when she manages to refrain from informing Thomas that Hunter Burnout is very common.

Good girl!

The gruesome little package in her hand is sealed firmly, dark against the striking brilliance of her dress, which sends dancing motes of light all across the floor around her as she moves. "Yes ma'am," Thomas says, pronounce it mum in his oh-so-posh British way. Then he smiles, magnanimous, toward Hunter.

And raps his stick, once, against the wooden floor. (Asha loves this part, so much.) As if everyone in hte room were not already staring at her. "Mr. Hunter Burnout, sir. I believe you have been casually introduced before. However, do allow me to make an informal introduction.

"I have the deep, abiding, personal pleasure of introducing you to Her Eminent Highness Arundhati Sunyana Elevarisi Asha Priyamvada Natajaran Singh.

"Daughter of Alexander Harrison, Vision of the Fall, Scion of House Wyrmfoe.

'"Great grand-daughter of Sri Padmanabha Dasa Vanchi Pala Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Dharma Raja Kulasekhara Natajaran Singh, Svatantrya to the Nation, of the Sept of the Broken Sky.

"Descendent of the Maharahajadhiraja Bahadur, Great Prince of Princes, Elder Philodox of the Silver Fangs, House Blood Red Crest."

All this for a "Cliath Ahroun, House Blood Red Crest, kalaratri to the Nation. Which means both night of death, and death of night, in your own human tongue." Asha beams at Thomas, all approving. Apparently, that's all she wanted.

Flashes a glance at Hunter. "Hi!" And takes a bite of her doughnut, the ear swinging casually from her hand, blood contained, but dripping against the sides of the bag. Then, she glances back at Thomas. "I've been thinking about moving in here."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her mouth drops open. There's no other reaction that is remotely attainable for the Strider than a jaw-dropped, googly-eyed stare at the pomp and circumstance of the whole thing. It's not pure shock, though...the corners of her mouth are upward turned. Her eyes are both disbelieving and glittering with mirth. Either her usual grin has been sublimated by the stunning introduction, or the whole sequence that just unfolded is so funny to her that the wires in her head have crossed and she can't quite express it.

It takes several moments before her voice finds her again. "Holy fucking hell, I gotta stop doing drugs. Or at least the ones that cause flashbacks. Because I swear, it looks JUST like that actually, seriously happened."

[Sofie Janssen] The Kinswoman looks like she's swallowed a fly. Her features do this weird contorted sort of thing, where she's really trying to stop her eyes from bugging out their sockets, while trying to keep her tongue from flapping and all the while trying not to do what she really wanted to do and bust out laughing. She is going to give herself a hernia with the effort, to be sure.

She can't be serious. He can't be serious. Sofie looks between them, and sure enough, they are.

Leaping off the couch, like her pants are on fire, Sofie pads barefoot around the back of the couch and takes a direct path towards and through the hallway door. The moment she's out of sight, she's jogging down the end of the hall, biting the heel of her hand as snorting starts to come out her nose.

[Quinn] There is no worry, no concern drawn into the kinswoman of Stag's face, merely confusion. She doesn't recognize the language, not even enough to say that it's one or another. And she doesn't recognize the young woman who steps into the common room with an escort, though she does recognize what she is.

Hunter rising is noted, drawing her attention pointedly away from the girl in the pretty dress that's probably worth more than her bar. Blue eyes travel over the Ahroun, lingering a touch longer than necessary before shifting back over to the girl and her announcer.

An intro begins. Quinn turns in her seat to watch. Though she knows she and the other females in the common room have been dismissed with just a glance, she is patient and respectful and not at all wishing to get up and walk out of the room to read or break into a bottle of bourbon.

Her eyes, though, are starting to glaze by the end of it. These aren't names she needs to know, and yet the kinswoman will remember them, the ones she hears anyway, the ones she pays attention to.

Asha's looking to move in here, well fantastic. "I must've inadvertently shared whatever you had," she quips to Sarita, unfolding herself from the chair and rising. "I think we're having the same hallucination. I think I'm going to go walk it off." And the third kinswoman of the evening makes her exit. This one reappears a few minutes later, bundled up for the winter cold despite the hour and the neighborhood and all of it. She bypasses the Fangs, heads down the stairs, and disappears into the night like a goddamn ninja.

[sorry guys, it's 2am and I can't handle life @_@ thanks for the play!]

[Lukas] The thing about Asha's introductions is -- even if you're, say, in your room, kicking back in your bed, reading a book or writing a letter or something -- you still have plenty of time to get up and get over before it's finished.

So by the time Thomas is done, Lukas is leaning against the doorway that leads out to the halls and the rooms. His arms are folded across his chest. Or well. They are, until he raises one hand -- very gradeschool -- and asks in apparently utter seriousness:

"I'm sorry, your Eminent Highness, but I've forgotten my table of genealogies. Could you remind me of the full ancestry of His Royal Majesty Maharahajadhiraja Bahadur?"

[Simon Zahradnik] Have you ever stabbed your own mother in the back with a rusty knife again and again while listening to her scream I love you so much why are you doing this to me?!? all the while twisting the knife around and laughing? Well neither has Simon and yet why does he feel dirty. Like the kind of dirty that doesn't wash off? The kind of dirty that clings to the soul and cannot be erased. Simon has always done what was necessary... He has always stood ready to put his duties and responsibilities before himself. Yet the stench of betrayal hung heavily around him. Rage coursed through him and yet it was an entirely unsettling kind of rage. A kind of bitter self hatred that he still couldn't seem to chase away.

He could still taste the chill of frost upon his tongue. The kiss of freedom... Of boundless, limitless power wanting to be unleashed only to watch it whimper and fade as the Garou turn their backs upon the very forces that feed their inner rage. Their boundless destructive potential, the churning belly of the mother who gave them life... Her skies, her seas, her beautiful mountains.

Funny... Simon has never been a part of such an impressive victory and yet was left feeling like it was a complete failure. In the end though this was the kind of thing that hardens the heart and helps awaken the Shadow Lord to the true nature of the world right? He was learning that sometimes you had to destroy hope cause... Your elder doesn't like it? What the fuck does that even fucking mean!?!.

"Before you can truly understand what you are fighting for you must stab it in the face Simon! That will teach you the value of... Something something..."He mutters as he swings the door open and makes his way upstairs.

He needed something to calm himself, so why in the fuck did he come here?

Eyes scanned the area. Looking about the Common area. Pool... Pool will help. Right? The darkly clad Ahroun made his way towards the tables. Who in the hell knows what he needed. He should be out smashing something evil's face in that's what he fuckin' should be doing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over when Lukas is suddenly there, and he asks Asha to go through this full ancestry. Her eyes widen to silver dollars, and she looks back. She looks back at Asha and Thomas, smiling like a little kid on Christmas day. It's not often she looks this giddy, 'cause it's not often she gets to be this amused.

...no. No, she's not normal.

[Hunter] A commoner takes part in something he has never before been subjected to in all his years under Luna's smiling face. If there are words to describe the thoughts that run through Hunter's heads in this moment then they escape this writer like sand through a sieve. Outwardly he smiles at first when it all begins, this ageing gentleman speaks like it is an honour for Hunter Matthews to receive this special attention and effort from the undoubtedly royal Ahroun at his shoulder.

But it all begins to fall apart because let's face it, Hunter is no member of the court, he is no Prince of Persia or even the stable boy of such a man. He is a Jackal, a Gnawer of Bones both proud and yet without the restraints of believing that pride is worth anything. His arms go slightly slack, one falls to his side before the other and he stands there lop sided with a hand tucked to his ribs and his mouth slightly open in shock.

It doesn't end, it really never ends. He wants to scream out HELP HELP IM BEING OPPRESSED , but he really doesn't have the energy or the cognitive ability to form words right now. She is the daughter of some Indian dude with a name consisting of more letters than the alphabet and all Hunter got out of it was that somehow this is meant to mean something, that this doesn't happen for everyone.. surely.. she surely doesn't do this to every person she meets. His eyebrows raise in alarm and confusion How does she get anything done??

About halfway through it he stops looking at the man and starts studying the female at his side, she preens and beams and smiles like this is exactly how things should be all the time. No Asha, this is not how things should be all the time. The look is written all over Hunter's face and he barely gets a chance to react before all the kinfolk in the joint go running for the hills, hiding faces and bellowing out their sudden disarray at this assault on their senses.

"I.." He stumbles and then Lukas is there, goading her on. The look Hunter flashes him is not one of kindness at all, it is a look a bro might give another bro when he just set him up with a particularly disgusting blind date in order to score the hottie. Hunter growls and his lip curls but his eyes go back to Thomas.

His face says one thing to Thomas, I swear ta' god if ya' keep talkin' imma' rip ya' god damn throat out. But somehow it is without simple anger, more frustration and amusement and a totally dominating sense of pleading. He begs, don't do it!

[Asha Singh] Asha snorts, part-way through her bite of the doughnut. Which is sugar: with sprinkles in multicolors scattered over lavender icing. Then she chews, with a sort of prim precision, like she were listening to some childhood governess in her ear telling her that it's not polite to slip treefrogs into the folds of your obnoxious sister's sari before she's meant to go meet the the eligible young men of whatever is the latest Sept to which she has been paraded for the purpose of Catching a Man's Eye and Making New Babies for a Dying House while she sits there trying to figure out how to produce more fucking tree frogs now that all the cliath Ahrouns in the Sept slew the ones she had with their stupid little swords (which: mind, were not nearly as cool or bejeweled as her own pata.)

"-rhya" says Asha, with that bored emphasis on the word. "I only wanted an informal introduction. Why, Thomas has his stuck, but he doesn't have his sword OR his hat." Neither of which Lukas himself has ever seen. "Anyway, it takes like three days and nights to recite so it's not very practical, is it? If you want, though," conceding, at last, something to Lukas' greater rank. "I can have Thomas write it down for you so you won't forget. Or he can come by, uhm, if it's three hours every evening, it will take one turn of the lunar cycle, so maybe 8 p.m. tomorrow?"

Then she wiggles the bag at Lukas.

"Has you see the other one of these? I had a matched set."

"Maybe you left it in the car, ma'am," Thomas suggests. Steers, giving Lukas as much of the eye as he dares. "Shall we go have a look?"

"Oh, bother," declares Asha. "I did not. I suppose I'll have to get another one."

AND before you know it, our heroine and her entourage are trooping back down the stairs!

[Sofie Janssen] Down the hall, room seven has busted its door open and partially shut, and a Kinfolk has barely made it to the bed when she's howling out laughter, with sinuses burning from the previous, snorting effort. She knows don't laugh. Don't laugh in front of Garou, which is why she had tailed it out of there the moment she felt it coming on. It's that bewildered laugh that has turned into something hilarious because of the effort of being suppressed. At least she has mind to roll and bury her face into her pillow to muffle anymore and tries hard to get it under control, while practically crying.

What the fuck was that!

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches the whole thing with a look of amazement. This is the most surreal thing that's probably ever happened to her, and considering that her half-sister likes to pretend she's a Garou from time to time, plus other random misadventures, that says a lot. She blinks when they bloody ear is waved about, and she looks around the room, as if asking them if they're seriously seeing the same thing. Then she looks back.

And then, like they were never there, except for the dumbfounded faces, Asha is headed back down the stairs. Sarita is speechless for a couple of moments until finally she nods.

"Yeah. Totally gotta stop doing the flashback drugs."

[Lukas] "I -- "

before Lukas can tell her that no, no, it was quite all right, he doesn't need the full introduction, and no, he hasn't seen the other severed ear she left lying around someplace, Asha is turning and trooping out again.

"If you want to move in," he calls after her, "I think the only room left is nine!"

Also, following her in mind if not in body: Weren't you Her Exalted Highness before? Did you get demoted?

[Asha Singh] Stupid Anchal had a baby. Asha grumbles back in his mind. Maybe she has been demoted. It looks like a wizened monkey's shriveled head.

Then, moments later when he can feel them wandering through the kitchens.

Hey! Do they have a blender down here!

[Hunter] After that storm of names that mean nothing to the Gnawer it is in a flash that her Highness leaves the building. She talks about swords and hats and ears and all sorts of other things before stomping off back down the stairs with her entourage.

Hunter is left with a foul taste in his mouth and a headache.

"What tha' fucks'a Pad man asa Dasi fuckin' Vanny Vichi anyway?" He shouts rather belated and confused like.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hunter's exclamation causes a spout of laughter from the Ragabash. "Wait wait...I know this." She pauses, as if to think. "Vinny Vichi V.D.. I came, I saw, I got gonorrhea."

[Sofie Janssen] After collecting herself and wiping tears from her eyes, Sofie flings her legs off the beds and sits up. She breathes out and double checks she's got herself under control before she gets up and leaves the darkened room, thankful she hasn't even seen signs of her supposed roommate.

In the bathroom she takes a moment to splash cool water on her face to help get rid of the flush on her skin, and wonders where it is John and Amunet had ran off too. At first she's thankful she couldn't hear anything down the hallway, until she reminds herself, with a snicker, that John's a mute. The imagery after that is best left unsaid and even makes herself shake her head and stare at herself in the mirror.

"This weather is driving you crazy," she tells her reflection in a low voice, cautioning.

[Lukas] Over in the doorway, Lukas's eyebrow flicks up. He shifts his weight, straightening. Rage pushes ahead of him like a storm front as he comes across the room to drop down on the couch -- his usual place facing the TV.

"Asha is one of the last scions of a dying House," he says mildly. "Rather than hiding in her ancestors' palaces counting kin and waiting to go mad, she's chosen to dedicate her life and honor to a war she knows her House won't live to win. For this, her House considers her a deserter. And because of her perceived shame, she's sacrificed every ounce of renown she's earned to her tribe's totem for the last year. She'd be most of the way to a Fostern by now if she hadn't."

A beat of pause.

"Laugh at her ways to her face if you want. She's not so proud that she'll mind. But don't mock her when her back is turned."

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon watches Lukas, and listens to his defense of his packmate. Simon isn't about to say anything... Lukas has the majority of the Silverfang tribe under his boot. That means the Shadow Lords run the show in this Town. But he gets so defensive when you say anything about his pet Fangs! Simon's learned the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut. Besides Asha was pretty goddamn nice to look at and Simon... Well Simon is shallow as hell!

"Honestly the Romans were pretty damn clean by comparison to some soldiers... I mean sure they caught their share of diseases off the locals but that's what happens when you let soldiers do whatever they want to the locals as a reward."Simon finally says as he lifts a pool Cue and begins to examine it.

"Hey... Anyone know anything about history?"He asks as he wanders over to the table and begins collecting balls.

[Hunter] Simon is ranting in the corner by the pool table and it bashes on his senses, his eyes are for Lukas though.

"Couldn't fuckin' laugh even if I wanted to, she do that often?"

[Amunet Trujillo] She yelps when he yanks her arms and shirt up, still healing ribs shifting with the movement. Her hips press into his though, and as soon as she catches her breath her fingers hook in the hem of his shirt again and start to tug it upward and over his head to be discarded on the floor.

That done, her fingers curl in his hair and she pulls him to her for another kiss. This one is slower, the frenzy replaced by a seemingly single minded determination to explore every inch of his lips and tongue with hers.
to Lukas

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She's still grinning a little, her mood not dampened by Lukas's shift in conversation to a much more serious tone. She dials back a bit, just as a natural reaction, and looks Lukas over. The man is of course her superior, and she respects that. But she's not not the kowtowing, tail-between-the-legs type, especially when she doesn't think she did anything wrong.

"Couple things, with all due respect. A, I wasn't sayin' anything that I wouldn't say to her face. B, I ain't judging her, 'cause I don't know her. I don't make fun of people until they know my name." Admittedly, the fact that she may have well not existed in the room to Lukas' packmate irked her, and a bit of that shows on her face, but it doesn't factor into the situation.

"And C, I wasn't mockin' her. I was mocking Hunter for his mispronunciation of the names."

She grins, sitting back. "But your point is noted."

[Amunet Trujillo] YOU SAW NOTHING!
to Lukas

[Lukas] "No," Lukas puts his bare feet up on the coffee table. Wry, "I think she was actually honoring you with a proper introduction, since I gave you two an improper one the other day."

He yawns, then -- a big, jawcracking ho-hum, as though his late night was finally winding to a close. With both hands he scrubs his face, then directs his glance over to Sarita. "You ever manage to track Gina down?"

[Hunter] Thoughtful, far too thoughtful for an Ahroun but he is a Gnawer after all. He is still standing there, now with his back to the stairs though both his arms have managed to fall back to a reasonably comfortable state.

"Fought tha' fuckin' Naugh wit' her, she crushed it like'a champ."

A ponderous pause, he licks over a canine then closes his mouth like he has come to a decision about the whole matter before he speaks again.

"Ta' each their own ye'? I'mma grab somethin' ta' drink, any takers?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Simon when he asks about history. "I got a high school education in it...that's about all, though. Why?"

Lukas then grabs her attention, and she looks over at him. She leans back, wincing just slightly, and nods. "Yeah, couple days after. I've been working on her...it's slow going. Pretty understandably considering her history, she's not too trustful of her own." A shadow passes over her face then. Sarita is not serious too terribly often. You don't earn the Deed Name 'Echos of Laughter' unless you know when to laugh at life. But something there is distinctly unpleasant as she mentions Gina's history. And one might pity those others of her tribe that have contributed to that history if Sarita ever found them, if one pitied those who earned their spots in hell.

The shadow is gone quickly though, and she smiles again. "But it's going well, all things considered. Long as I don't get shot in the face by her at any point, I should be fine."

[Sofie Janssen] "Yeah, I'm coming," says Sofie as she appears around the corner, having come down the hall from the bathroom with impeccable timing. She's glad to see Asha is gone and that there's none of that lingering around, because she's not sure how she'd handle it. At least she's composed now. Right back to normal.

She makes a bee line for the stairs to head down.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles back to Sarita."I was just wondering if anyone knew how that whole Nazi thing ended. I mean... Of course they lost blah blah but what happened with the rest of them? You know all the soldiers who were all like... "We were just following orders!" how'd that turn out for them in the end exactly?"He asks with a hint of a smile finally taking shape on his face as he lines up his first shot.

He waits, gives anyone who wants to a chance to answer.

[Lukas] A ghost of pride over Lukas's face. "Yeah," he says, "she's a lot deadlier than she looks."

A nod then - to each his own. Hunter and Sofie head down for a drink; Lukas turns his attention back to Sarita. "I don't know exactly what went down with her," he says, "and it's not my business. But she's not the same woman that came to town a year and a half ago. It's good that she's got someone to keep an eye out for her now, even if it's just temporary.

"If you need a hand getting even, let me know."

Simon's question makes Lukas quirk an eyebrow. "Strange thing to ask," he comments. "What's really on your mind, Bone Grinder?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Ooh, ooh. I know this." She does, actually. She loves pissing off skinheads, and pointing out that you know more of their history than they do is a great way to do it. Especially when you're darker-skinned.

"Three got acquitted. The rest got ten years to death. And one of them was found guilty of asking a rhetorical question. Don't remember his penalty, though."

She looks to Hunter. "Rain check. Totally wanna go drinking with you some day. But on a day when i can get into a bar fight and not have a couple strikes against me."

[Hunter] She is a lot deadlier than she looks, Hunter learnt that when he was hanging from the fist of a giant and she near cut it in half with one bite. It gave him the slightest window of opportunity and that's all it takes. He rumbles a confirmation and agreement of Lukas' words then starts heading towards the stairs though he is looking over his shoulder at Sarita as he does so.

"Ya' sure thing, Joey'll come lookin' for ya'. Night boss." He lazily salutes the Shadow Lord without bringing his hand anywhere near his forehead and then disappears into the stairwell.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles at Sarita and nods his head."You and I gotta go out to the Hangar to test your your skills one of these nights soon lady."He says with a little smile and a nod of his head before taking his shot.

His attention then turns to Lukas."I am just curious when a man is supposed to know if an order is something he is supposed to carry out and when he is supposed to know to stick his middle finger up and say fuck you ya know?"He asks curiously."I mean... We don't challenge our elders in the heat of a battle. I would kill someone for putting peoples lives on the line cause they don't feel like listening to me. But when is an order the wrong order to follow?"He asks, maybe Lukas knew. He'd been around the block a few times.

[Lukas] For whatever reason, this line of conversation seems to strike a chord in Lukas. The interest is immediate and apparent - flickering through his eyes like a shadow. His eyebrows draw together. He sits up, putting his feet flat on the floor.

"When you feel it in your bones," he replies. "When you know you shouldn't follow because the cost of blind obedience is higher than the cost of honorable disobedience -- not to yourself, but to everyone around you. That's when you stop following orders. But the Litany is still the Litany. And if a wolf didn't catch his leader's weakness before battle began, then I say he deserves to be punished for rebelling even if his rebellion was just."

A pause. Then he asks again, quieter, "Why? This can't be just idle speculation. What happened?"

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles a little and shrugs his shoulders."The Snow has ceased falling... The ice no longer collecting on our rooftops. No longer keeping people from wasting their hard earned cash on useless goods. We've opened the way for commerce to continue and for parents to buy their kids junk food to get fat... Everyone can go back to their lives because the threat has passed."He shrugs his shoulders."And yet you don't get to come back from that..."

"The storm is a gift... It brings destruction, and renewal. Standing in the way of that..."He trails off and looks down at the table for a second.

He shrugs his shoulders."Would you stand before Thunder Himself and demand he stand down if it was he who decided our city must be wiped off this earth? Would you fight nature itself in the name of this scab whose very existence is an insult to our creator?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks at Simon, talking in metaphors and then generalities and then like he's composing the Charge of the Thunder Brigade or some shit. It is plain on Sarita's face that while she gets what Simon is saying, she is completely lost on the path of conversations...like, walked into the La Brea Tar Pits behind the Bates Motel levels of lost.

"Okay...did I forget to eavesdrop on a meeting and did the Incarna decide the city needs to be wiped out? Just checking...I need to make sure I got gas in the tank and enough Twinkies to last Amy and I a few days."

[Lukas] Lukas's eyebrow flicks up. He thinks for a moment, eyes flicking briefly to Sarita. Her comment makes the edge of his mouth tug upward for a moment, but then he's serious again, looking at Simon.

"Yeah," he says, "I would. Because Thunder and Gaia put me on this earth to protect it. To fix it. To fight in it, and for it. So if something that looked like Thunder or Gaia showed up and told me to stand aside because he was going to level this city, this city that I know has worth, whose worth I've seen, then I'm going to question who the fuck that actually is and what their true motives are.

"On the night of the eclipse, Simon, I met a spirit that called itself the embodiment of Gaia, and she was powerful. And good. And she gave me a gift that I didn't think I could get, and I am thankful to her. But was she Gaia? I don't know. I don't ... think so. Not really.

"Not too long before that, you and I stood before spirits that called themselves the archangels of the Judeochristian god. And they were powerful. And maybe not so very good. But were they truly angels? No. Probably not.

"My point is this, Simon. When you stand before the Earth-Mother and the Sky-God, I believe there will be no doubt in your heart, none, that you stand before your creator. The fact that you even have to ask this question tells me you doubt. And that tells me you already know whether or not you should listen if whatever you met told you to stand aside."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She listens to Lukas talk. Her head tilts to the right, watching him and taking in the words. She smiles a little...not her usual snarky grin, just a standard sort of amicable smile. She's not huge with the spirits, herself. Being on the road for years, either alone or just with a kinfolk, means that you don't get to spend a lot of time with Theurges, and Sarita didn't have the greatest grounding in Umbral knowledge herself. But it's always nice to hear perspective.

"And knowing is half the battle," she says when he's done. Somehow, it sounds more like a compliment than a joke.

[Simon Zahradnik] He glances at Sarita and shakes his head."It's not that complicated... Bad."He says with a smirk. Had Thunder, or Twister come to this city to destroy it Simon would not stand in its way.

He then listens to Lukas, and once more he hears Adamidas... A different face, and yet he heard Adamidas no less. He drew in a slow and deep breath."So then we're all heroes then... We saved the day and we protected the innocent denizens of Chicago against the wrath of nature. Go team..."He trails off. These were not the kinds of answers he had hoped to hear.

He lowered himself to take another shot before sighing to himself and standing up tall."I should excuse myself Rhya."He says before offering a bow to Lukas and then Sarita and settling the pool cue on the table before him.

[Lukas] "That's not quite what I said," Lukas says -- not quite willing to let Simon leave on that note. "What I'm saying to you is: I don't think it was even 'Nature' you faced but the Wyrm by some other name. Even if the spirit itself did not realize it, to call for the blind genocide of millions of souls, every human in the city, is an act of mindless destruction. And what is the Wyrm, if not mindless destruction?

"Simon, I think it's easy to hate humanity, seeing the havoc they can wreak, seeing how lazy and weak they have become. But if we were not part human, you would not have the drive or the ingenuity we need to win this war. An animal would gnaw its leg off to escape a trap. But a human would dismantle the trap. Don't fall into the trap of thinking humans are worthless and evil. That'll open you to precisely the sort of temptation you faced from ... whatever it was that masqueraded as the storm."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Some people might expect Sarita to be bored by the conversation. After all, she's known more for spouting off pop culture references and the seventy-five different variations of her grin than getting involved in deep, overreaching conversations about the nature of the War and the philosophy of evil. The truth of the matter though, as one who looks closely enough to her expression as she listens to the Shadow Lords debate, is that she finds the conversation deeply intriguing. Not only does it give her different perspectives on the deeper questions that the Nation faces, but it gives her a lot of perspective on the two children of Thunder in front of her. And that is information that Sarita finds far more valuable than any game of banter or "So how do you like the city so far" conversations.

So instead of popping in with a witty quip, she stays quiet for the moment, listening and learning. Her attention shifts to Simon, watching him closely for his words and/or reaction.

[Simon Zahradnik] "It's not about hating humanity... It's about shattering their misconceptions. I bound to twister because I understood why Twister destroys. I understood that Twister shattered the safety and the silence... He brings destruction. But in the wake of his destruction he leavers a shattered world torn to pieces. A world where people had given up and lost hope..."He shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't you see? Twister takes... But in the process Twister renews hope. He takes from those who have nothing to fear and he teaches them not to give up and not to become complacent and to always push and struggle. The destruction Twister asks us to bring is not blind. It is beautiful... It reawakens the dying soul and instills hope. It refreshes and invigorates..."

"Twister isn't about hurting people... Twister is about teaching people to live every moment to its fullest because any second it could be snatched away from you."

"That is what I saw and that is what I felt... It wasn't a Wyrm Creature... It was a force of the Wyld. It did not hold malice or contempt in its heart. It only wished to do what it does. What it brought was a gift, for in the wake of the Wyld's destruction there is new life, there are tears but there is new hope. The weaver doesn't offer hope... It doesn't offer anything but an empty soulless meaningless existence. Nobody deserves that fate."

"I'm not some bloody mindless vengeful asshole... Twister chose me because I understand and feel this. In the wake of destruction... New life arises. These buildings were not intended to last forever. Nothing lasts forever."

[Lukas] Now it's Lukas's turn to listen, and if Simon looks between them, he'll see a startlingly similar expression on the Shadow Lord's face and the Strider's. Interested. Intrigued.

Perhaps it's ironic that of all the wolves in this city, the ones having this debate -- discussion -- whatever it is, are Shadow Lords. Are Ahrouns at that, often accused of being blunt instruments. Blind weapons, rising fast and dying young, brutal and mindless tools for smarter garou to direct.

Simon rebels verbally, explicitly against this. I'm not some bloody mindless vengeful asshole, he says, as though aware -- painfully so -- that that's sometimes his exact reputation. There's a look that skates across Lukas's face then, part wryness and part empathy, gone almost too quick to catch. Nothing lasts forever, he finishes, and Lukas nods.

"I can agree with that," he says. "All of it. I don't ... follow that creed myself, life out of destruction, but I see its worth. But why the doubt, then? You sound so sure of what you've just told me. Why the questions of right and wrong, when to follow and when to rebel?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And her attention shifts back to Simon. Sarita has her own input that she could offer here, her own opinion. But it is her decision to hold back. Her contribution would probably derail things a bit, and she's intensely curious to see how this plays out.

So she remains quiet, looking to Bone-Grinder, to see what his volley back consists of.

[John] Without warning the trio in the common room, minding their own business, in the midst of a conversation, become aware of a muffled thump as what sounds like something bigger than a breadbox is pushed--not slammed--against a door on the other side of the wall.

[Simon Zahradnik] He was a little surprised that Lukas did take the time to listen. It's not like full Moons to do that. He ponders the question himself and shrugs his shoulders."I followed my orders... And yet I am left feeling as if I should have gone the other way. The Weaver won and what do we get to show for it? Nothing... The weaver will hunt us and give it a reason and its minions will actively destroy us without hesitation. We are its enemy..."He shrugs."The Wyld is not our enemy and it is weak... It is our hopes and dreams, and the fuel that makes life possible. It doesn't hate... And next to Gaia it is one of the only pure things left in this world. It might not be our friend and it might never learn to appreciate anything we do for it. But in the end strengthening it weakens the hold of our enemies on the world..."

"People are going to die in our war one way or another... People are going to die. But without the Wyld... No one will truly get to live. With out the Wyld there is only stagnation and death."

"The Weaver won because we took it's side. Now we go back to our lives as if nothing happened... Whatever that thing brought to our city for good or ill it brought change. Nothing more, nothing less. We helped the weaver and the weaver destroyed it without mercy. Whatever potential was there... Is no more."

"I followed my orders and yet... I feel responsible for destroying what could have been. I feel I intervened in a step that could have helped crush weaver and wyrm and open this city up to us and ours."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her head jerks up at that sound, and her eyes narrow. She looks to the wall...she knows what room that is. Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, before doing a literal facepalm.

"Fucking A, bitch," she mutters. It's not a pleased sound. She rises and looks to the two. "Excuse me for just...uno momento, por favor." She slowly, carefully walks back into the hallway, with a purpose.

[Lukas] The thump doesn't even make Lukas look up. He's lived here a long time; is used to odd noises and occurrences at all hours. He does, however, glance briefly at Sarita as she gets up -- offering her a half-smile as she goes.

"We should talk sometime," he says.

Then, leaning his elbows on his knees, he presses his palms together for a moment, thoughtful. When he looks at Simon again he says, "I think first and foremost you need to figure out what it is you're feeling guilty about. If you're feeling guilty because you feel you did the right thing but at a terrible cost -- well, sometimes that's how this war is. You'll learn that again and again as you gain rank, and believe me," there's a raw note here, like a recent wound scraped up again, "every single lesson is a cruel one. We give so much for so little gain, but in the end, it's worth it. It has to be.

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing, because even if you let the Weaver destroy a Wyld creature, you probably saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives. The Wyldling might have had the best intentions, but you know what they say about the road to hell. It might have wanted to break the denizens of the city from the grasp of the Weaver, but that storm hurt far more than it helped. Maybe it's because of our idealistic differences, but ... I say destruction in the name of good ends where innocent lives are lost. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have hesitated to stop the Wyldling however I could.

"That said ... maybe there was another way. However I could doesn't imply letting it die. Perhaps there was a way to stop it that didn't involve destroying it, a way that your war-party overlooked. And if you do feel guilty because you did the right thing but paid too high a price, then you need to take that lesson and learn from it. You need to learn how to avoid that price in the future. How to do better, not do differently."

There's a small pause. Then -- and this is ironically gentler:

"But if you feel bad right now because you feel like you did the wrong thing, and you did it simply because you followed orders ... well. Then you have a tougher question in front of you. You'll have to weigh whether or not you should have done differently. Whether you should have disobeyed orders in a battle, broken the Litany, and suffered every consequence you reaped, all in the name of your principles. You'll have to take yourself and your own self-interests out of the equation entirely and weigh whether or not that course of action would have resulted in greater devastation to your allies and to innocents or not. And ultimately, you'll have to ask yourself, too, if you backed down from that because you decided the cost was too high -- or because of cowardice."

Another short pause. Then -- because this is difficult to say -- "Simon, I hope to god there's never a battle when I lead in such a way that compels you to act against me for the sake of doing what you believe is right -- because if you rebelled mid-battle, I will not hesitate. I will cut you down.

"At the same time, we can never know whether our course of action is truly right or not. We can only follow our conscience and our deepest principles -- selflessly, and faithfully. So while I hope the day never comes, if there ever comes a day when your honor truly and genuinely compel you to rebel mid-battle, I do hope you have the courage to do so. No matter what the outcome."

On that note, Lukas gets up. "I have to go," he says. "It's almost dawn, and I want to see my mate before the new day begins. Will you think on what we've spoken about and let me know what you decide -- whether you were right or wrong to destroy the Wyldling?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Footsteps sound, for those who are paying attention and has good hearing, along the wall on the other side of the common room. The footsteps are not stomping, nor are they particularly light. They continue all the way along, until they reach the approximate location where the thud came from. Coincidentally, it is the wall near the pool tables, where Simon currently is. Anyone who might be fanciful might imagine something terrible, like Michael Myers walking along instead of a very pissed-off Silent Strider.

The footsteps stop suddenly, and after a couple moments, there are three loud pounds upon the door. "No está permitido tener relaciones sexuales en la sala! Y no a todos hasta que hable con nuestros familiares, perra! No creo que no voy a entrar con un balde de agua fría!" A pause.

Then three more pounds, and the footsteps make their way back along the hallway. Sarita appears back at the common room door, smiling again. "Sorry about that." She moves to take a seat.

[Simon Zahradnik] He listens to the words of his elder... Nodding. Call it a lesson. Lukas always seemed a little softer hearted than he which wasn't necessarily bad for a Shadow Lord, after all he was stronger than Simon. Well... Simon wasn't about to challenge him anyway. Simon... Believed Lukas was stronger so it didn't matter if Lukas was softer hearted or not in the younger Full Moon's mind what mattered was that Lukas has strength Simon did not. That meant there was always something to be gleaned from him.

He nodded his head slowly."Always stand up for that which you believe in... Noted Rhya."He says with a nod of his head."Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I will think on the matter."He adds with a nod of his head and a little smile."I will do what I can to put the matter behind me. You take care."He says with a nod of his head before grinning a little and turning his attention on Sarita.

"No problem... Glad to have you back."

[Amunet Trujillo] Sarita is almost back to the common room before there's any sort of answer, which comes in the form of a fist slamming back into the door, then it's quiet again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Have a good evening, Lukas." She nods to him, giving him a little grin as she moves to take a seat on the couch. "Or....morning. Or whatever." She's still got that underlying pissed-offness to her, but when Sarita gets angry, the snark just comes out a bit more. She's not so filled with Rage that people cringe at her presence. Maybe they should, but compared to the other two in the room, she's freaking mellow.

She leans back, wincing a bit, and looks to Simon. "Sorry I missed the end of that conversation. I was enjoying it."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And then she frowns when she hears the bang. "Do me a favor, Simon? Hit the wall there for me, right about lined up with the the far corner pockets?"

[Simon Zahradnik] He smirks a little at Sarita's request. With a roll of his eyes he walks over and hits the wall with enough force to send the noise straight through the wall. At least so it is heard."There happy?"

[Lukas] Perhaps there's some truth in that: Lukas has gentleness in him, rarely seen by outsiders but present.

Though, two years ago he didn't ever show it. Not to anyone not of his pack, anyway. Not to his family, even, except maybe his sister -- certainly not to the woman who became his wife. He was a harder, more vehement creature then, filled with the fearless conviction of youth.

Those harsh, cruel lessons he spoke of has tempered that. Made grey out of black and white. Given him a sort of depth and patience, too, that he didn't have before.

He returns Simon's faint smile, and the nod. "You too, my brother," he says. Then, to Sarita on his way out, by way of goodbye -- "Hope things work out with your friend in there."

His footsteps thud down the stairs, not so much noisy on purpose as by simple dint of his size, his height, his breadth. A little later the kitchen door opens and shuts; a little later that, the BMW starts up in the parking lot, then departs through the predawn blue.

[thanks for the RP, guys! really enjoyed it!]

Monday, December 20, 2010

eclipse.

[Katherine Bellamonte] The moon is all but gone.

It is a sliver in the sky above, and it blackens them all; turns the black Wolf to little but the suggestion of his body and those impossibly, unnaturally red eyes; burning like lava; like the last final drop of blood ever to spill in this War. Sinclair speaks again; and the Wolf finally moves.

It rises; and stands.

It looks from Asha, to Lukas, and finally, finally down at Sinclair.

We must go now. There is no more time. She cannot cross. Her time to choose is done.

It watches; impassive, impressive as the Ahroun Elder says his farewells and steps back. When he says okay, there is a sudden swell of Rage in the air. They can hear the snarl of predators, dead and gone; the clash of blades and fangs and the tang of blood; hot and vital in the air. There is a tidal wave of red; it blots out everything; everyone.

When it is over -- they are gone.

And Sinclair is alone.

You are never alone, the Voice whispers to the Glasswalker; it is full of sorrow. My child.

--

The little girl smiles over at the Theurge when she starts talking about Gaia and Luna and what means what; and its the impression of approval; but she doesn't speak another word. Not to Adamidas, not to Katherine or Gwen, nor to Danicka's question of what she was planning to help her with.

"It's time."

She says, with sage aplomb and lets go of Danicka's hand -- it tingles faintly, when she does -- and before them all there's another pop and Lukas and Asha appear; dwarfed by the massive black Wolf. It looks down at them; then follows in the footsteps of its white and gold mirror; which the others can now see.

The two Wolves, the little girl as she takes ritualized, slow steps up toward a marble throne; sitting empty until now. She moves to stand to one side of it and rests a little palm on it. The Ahrouns are now themselves standing with their brethren in an open field of wild grass; the sun and moon pass overhead at lightning speeds.

Day to Night.
Night to Say.
Light wheels over them; they do not feel the cool of the evening nor the warmth of the day.

There are two crumbling columns framing the throne; and ivy shapes itself around them. Now assembled; the three spirits speak as one; a strange and harmonious blending of feminine, masculine and child.

"Now you will see.
Now we will show you."


[Wyrmbreaker] The crossing is as sudden as any, as jarring as any. Lukas physically staggers on the other side -- wherever he's gone -- and gives his head a single, canine shake. Night and day wheel by. In the ever-shifting light, the Shadow Lord blinks, rubs the heel of his hand over his eye.

Sees Danicka. Sees Katherine. He goes to stand with them, Asha in his wake -- reaches out with his hand and takes Danicka's without comment.

For a moment he looks away from the empty throne. He looks at his mate's hand in his, and he does not question why she's here, in this world so clearly beyond mortal reach. He laces his fingers with hers, squeezes once, gently, and then raises his head to bear witness.

[Adamidas] She waits.

She's standing with Gwen, and doesn't make any overtures to indicate that she would leave Gwen's side any time soon. She's taller than she seems. It doesn't matter if she's five feet four inches tall, she's standing like she's a linebacker. She's standing like she's the President. She's standing like she's a goddamned Fostern theurge in the wake of spirit dealings.

Adam's attention flickers, briefly, from Gwen to those who came with... noting the lack of one particular party. She looks at Lukas, and cocks her head to the side. Her eyebrows knit together, then the right one arches. She doesn't say anything. The look is brief, and her attention goes back to the male, the female, the child.

Now you will see,
Now we will show you.


[Danicka Musil] Danicka and the girl have walked back towards the throne and the dais it sits on. She looks as she did before, in the hotel room, but maybe... a little taller. She holds herself straight, without making herself seem small as she has in the past, at times. She seems unafraid, for all that she doesn't belong here. She seems strangely at ease. At home.

When Lukas appears her mouth flickers with an expression that she fights only for a moment, before it blossoms to a smile. There's relief in it, and maybe even some wariness -- to some extent, Danicka only seems at ease. She notices that at least one of the number in the motel room isn't with them, but doesn't comment.

She walks through the grass, and slides her hand easily into Lukas's, looking at the wolves and the girl.

[Sinclair] They all vanish.

She can still smell Asha's blood, and she can feel Lukas's kiss to her brow, and she can hear an echo of Kate's voice. But they're gone, and she's standing in a fucking Travelodge motel room with the window open, letting in icy air, her hands gripping the windowsill. There's black-mottled droplets on the ledge from her tears.

Sinclair feels no shame. Not for that, at least.

never alone, says the Voice, matching her sadness.

"Liar," she whispers, and closes her eyes.


She stands there, the cold air outside drying black, salty streaks on her face, and waits for them to come back. Waits for something. And if she's honest (she's always honest) she doesn't entirely know what it is she's waiting for, or what it is she hopes for.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, for her part, has been a silent witness to a majority of this. When she crossed over, it was with only the tiny spoken oh and the sudden, burning need to comfort Sinclair, because she could see, suddenly, because she understood what this was. And she opened her lips to express -- what? -- something to reassure the Fostern on her knees but she could not.

Not before she was taken to see.
Not just to see, but See.
But Hear.
Like Voice, it was, it should be, it shall be Witnessed.

--

The three forms around the marble throne lift their heads; then, and begin to shimmer, and glow. The light is a soft blue-green, and within it sparkles like a silvery firecracker rush outward; dancing as the sky dances; wheeling as the stars and moon do overhead. They flow around the Garou; the darker green melding with black; the blue with the golden white; the sparkling, silver orbs with the pinkish glow emanating from the girl child.

The energy crackles the air; sets their hair on end; widens their eyes and draws gasps from their throats.

It is splendor; it is enchantment.

Where Lukas and Danicka's hands meet; the black and pink lights twist like translucent rope. While energy pours from the three creatures around the throne; rising upward to meet in a triad of pulsating; glorious light it rushes back down and hits the throne; setting off a slow, persistent hum; gentle as bees after nectar, then steadily growing in quantity, and quality of sound.

--

you are whole united

Voice says again; and it comes from that great axis point before them; where the pulsating light seems to belong. The pink energy rushes up Danicka's arm; twists around her and explodes forward; a fine mist shaping her form in the air. It adopts the stance of a human. The darker energy repeats this process on the Ahroun holding her hand and explodes outward.

It's the most curious of sensations; not painful but ... energizing. Like touching a lit bulb, and feeling the zap before it can burn.

The black mist rises before the Garou and falls to form that of a wolf.

The blue energy spreads; seeks out the Philodox present; wraps about them and again explodes outward; little pinprinks of light falling like tiny fireworks; born only to burn and die out. It repeats this process on each of those that stand before the dias; the throne and three fine mist forms; like the tribal paintings of old found on cave walls move to linger above the Wolves, the young girl.

The Wolf, Voice says and the mist form opens its jaws to howl; the Humanity, the Kinfolk shape twists and spins in a graceful dance; and the Spirit; the final mist, a free floating Orb gives a single, vicious pulse as it remains suspended there. They are the Triad of Soul, of Beast, of Man.

You are united together; but weaker apart.

Suddenly; with a pop; the light show ended. The stars and moon ceased to spiral and instead hung; perfectly suspended above the throne where no longer where there two Wolves and a Child but a single figure; seated upon it. Her hair was strung fine with the glint of stars; her eyes the golden-red of flame and Sun and her clothing the spun brilliance of the skies above.

When she smiles; the Wolves feel whole; when she looks toward the Kinfolk; they sense only home.

"I gave you each a Gift," her voice was wind, was the rush of spring water and the glory of the re-birth. "I gave you a taste of the Beyond." Her hand wheels upward; and the sky flies anew; ahead. Her eyes burn suddenly red. "You are my children; and I am your Curse, and your Creator."

[Adamidas] This is home, she thinks. How she feels. It lingers in her chest, in the pit her stomach, on her skin and in her mind and in her heart- the real one. Not the one that pumps blood and beats hard and fast. She feels equillibrium- something she's never felt before. Not a pull from the spirits or the nagging insistence of her will or even the quiet ember of rage (and only Alethea could call rage a nagging, insistent ember.)

They are united together; but weaker apart.

She watches, with her shoulders back and her head high. Her attention doesn't move just yet. We were given a gift- a real gift. She takes a second, and her mind wanders. She thinks... she thinks about how glorious it is, how it makes her feel to be what she is. How she'd felt lost, how she'd been confused... how she'd been gone, how she'd felt lost and confused.

Alethea Adamidas has been between the worlds, and is reminded for the moment that they must exist in both of them. About how special this truly is.

She can't come up with words, she just looks at the figure.

[Wyrmbreaker] Three.

The Garou know much of this number. They know it in the Triat: the Weaver, Wyrm and Wyld. They know it in themselves, those tangled forces forever battling it out within their own skins in the form of their will, their rage, their spirit.

Three, the god-spirit on the throne tells them again. Soul and Beast and Man, she says, and instantly Lukas's mind leaps to the three beings, the black wolf and the white, the girl. Danicka can feel his hand tighten on hers for a spasmodic second. Whatever he expected of his solstice night, it was not this.

It was not this.

His eyes sting. There are tears in them, and he can't say if it's the brilliance or the voice or the emotion choking him, too intense to name. He keeps ahold of his mate's hand -- of course he does, and would, whether in the face of the Creator or the Destroyer, the beginning or the end. His jaw works as he swallows, and then he lifts his chin to face the being on the throne.

"If you are our creator," he says quietly, hoarsely, "if you are -- "

the name catches in his throat; after all the times he's invoked it in the motel room, the tiny, shabby little room so entirely dwarfed by this presence that it seems a memory from another life -- after all the times he spoke the name there, he finds it hard to say it in this presence,

" -- Gaia, then you must know that we who stand before you are not the ones who most need to see you. Hear you. We are the ones who came when you called. There is another. My sister -- she -- "

Lukas can't go on. He bows his head, overcome, and squeezes his eyes shut.

[Katherine Bellamonte] The figure; Gaia, or Luna, or whatever impossible embodiment it was stares down at the gathered. She does not sit with haughtier; or with some Goddess' decree of her position above them; her palms lay flat either side of her, resting on her throne. Her face is luminescent, but it cannot be labeled beautiful without being called monstrous. It is the Two Sided.

There is Beast and Man and Spirit in her; and the passion of a million wasted, wounded souls.

"I am not Gaia," three voices speak in tandem within her, "Gaia has no true Voice to be heard, I speak on her account. I speak with the presence of Luna on this Eclipse Night. She has taken your Beast, as I have taken your Spirit from you. Your Humanity cannot be taken." The strange, potent eyes fix on the Kinfolk.

"They live in those you surround yourself with. They are the core of what makes you Human. Created from you, to remind you. Of what must come to pass in the end."

The fire is stoked again in her eyes; her voice dips lower, is violent and rough as the black Wolf rises within her form: The ones who stand before me are examples. The Daughter of Cities refused to be a Prophet. She cannot be shown what she refuses to See.

The red glow fades; and the voice is sweeter; almost child-like: "I am always with your sister."

[Danicka Musil] All the while, as colored lights move along their bodies and dance in the air in front of her, Danicka's eyes are tracking them. She's as curious as an animal cub, in some ways, flicking her gaze here and there, following. Her hand never leaves Lukas's, and she doesn't move from his side. Good, obedient kinswoman. Good, loving mate. But her eyes darken slightly as the Voice speaks to them.

Lukas speaks to the Curse, the Creator, and her hand flexes gently with his, holding it a little more tightly. It is all but imperceptible to those around them, and why not? That she should try to comfort him is as inexplicable as Lukas showing, this openly, how close to overcome he is. How pained.

The grip of her smaller hand on his is sustained.

There's no sudden weakness in her knees in the face of a spirit that speaks for Gaia. She doesn't bow. Nor does she speak, though that's hardly surprising, either: it takes a lot for Danicka to unfurl her thoughts in front of anyone, even those she trusts.

Danicka looks back at the figure on the throne as it fixes its own gaze on her. Words come from the Voice, and her eyebrows tug together slightly. Whatever that look is, it fades a moment later.

[Wyrmbreaker] "But she doesn't know that."

There's tension in Lukas's form. Of course there is: he's speaking to the Curse, the Creator, she who speaks on Gaia's behalf. He's not just speaking -- he may as well be arguing.

"She feels alone. She feels that what you've given her has destroyed everything else in her life. Everything she wants or needs or loves. She said she's tired of being jerked around, of having this ... gift or curse or whatever it is thrust upon her without her knowledge or permission.

"What am I supposed to tell her when I go back to her? What do you want for her?"

[Adamidas] "Wyrmbreaker-" and her voice is even. It is about as calm as she can be in the presence of something that speaks on behalf of the divine (they all do- all are of Gaia, and as such, there is something inherently sacred about all things). She looks at him, but stays where she is.

"She made a choice, and she is not with us right now... when she's ready, she'll listen, and when she's ready, she'll understand... but that's not right now. It's your duty as her Alpha, her friend, and her brother-" the word is more sacred than that of the other two "-to help her become ready. She'll come around, or she won't. At the end of the day, you can't wish this for her. This is, ultimately, an acceptance of the Self. I don't know what your sister has lived through, but you and your brothers and your sisters do.

"We don't ask for permission to exist and Be. The best that you can do is understand why she feels alone, and attempt to remedy that. No matter what you tell her, or the Spirits tell her, at the end of the day she is the one who makes the choice to accept or reject it."

[Danicka Musil] Without taking her hand from Lukas, and knowing full well that this may be the only chance she ever gets, Danicka suddenly speaks up.

"Is that all we are?" she asks the figure. "Made from the leftovers of the creation of the Garou? Are we really nothing more than what we can be to them? Do we serve no other purpose to you?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] When the figure moves; she takes the alignment of this universe; this place with her.

Stars and moon shape themselves around her motion; as she leans to one side of her dais; her throne that is not really hers at all but the impression of one; as she is the impression of gathered Gods and Warriors and the embodiment of all that is and will be. As a figure; she leans to one side, all the better to lean down toward each that address her.

The Ahroun receives the eyes of fire; the voice of his own Rage speaks to him.

"She sees what I have given this day as a blessing; therefore she sees me as her Curse. That is my role to her. So that is what I become after tonight; the Curse of anger." The fire fades; and a softer, warmer glow takes possession and turns her hair to fire-spun gold. "I want her love. I want her devotion. But these things are hers alone to give, you cannot force my hand, as you cannot make her love my offerings."

The Theurge speaks, then, and the figure blends to the world as she shifts; leaning the other way. "You are the Child of the Spirit Self," she addresses Adamidas. "You speak for them, to them. Do not neglect them in these coming days, my Daughter. You are going to need them."

Then, the Kinfolk speaks up; and the figure on the throne straightens, and her face morphs, her smile is the forced manifestation of the girl-child within, plastered atop that of a grown female form; it's more than slightly impossible. But then, they are not on their own plane of existance. "You are the future. When I took their anger, their Gifts from them tonight, there is a reason why they retained only that which they had always to begin with.

You are everything.
You are the stone amongst the grass.

The building block and point of origin.

Without you, they are Doomed souls. You are their greatest teachers; you give them Gifts they do not see, or grasp. But they will, after the End of Things. Your love, your wisdom and your strength will be what keeps this world alight. You are made from them, but you are forged by elements as great as I. Know your power, and embrace it."

The child fades; absorbed back into the whole; the figure rears back.

"Do you wish your Beasts returned now, or would you the remainder of this night without them, as my Gift for hearkening to the call?"

[Danicka Musil] Something in Danicka understands -- knows, intuitively -- why the universe changes when the figure moves. Sees that shift of celestial bodies, real or imagined, and how they correspond to the movement of an arm, the tilt of a head, the sound of the Voice. Danicka notices that the throne isn't really there, that it -- no more than the grass, the pillars, any of it -- never really was.

The truth is, something about the smile of a young girl shown with the figure of a woman below it sickens Danicka in a way she can't articulate, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Even as Lukas looks at her, because he alone has much reason to and he alone has much chance of understanding what he sees, she remains as challenging to read as she was when he barely knew her.

There's no sudden rush of relief in her, no gently burgeoning smile on her lips when she's told you are everything. To call Danicka a skeptic or a cynic denies much of what she is, but there is not a drop of innocence left to her. There hasn't been for a long time. She lacks naivete yet somehow avoids pessimism.

After she's given her answer, she turns to look at Lukas, meeting his eyes for a moment. As she's looking at him, the spirit asks them if they wish to have their wolves returned to them. There's a propecy of motion in Danicka's hand where it laces with his, prophecy that never sees fruition. Her expression does not change.

[Danicka Musil] [And since she's willfully concealing her reactions to Stuff...
Manip + Subt]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] [...SHADOW LORDS DON'T FAIL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] [i gotta take that bait. EMPATHEE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [SHADOW LORDS DON'T FAIL!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Adamidas] [Per+empathy: I LIKE ROLLING THIS! (+1 diff, doesn't know Danicka at ALL)]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Danicka Musil] [Because I'm nice, and she failed her first try, and because she's kinda trying to communicate something to Lukas there in the first glance: she's got some doubts about this experience, and this spirit. It isn't necessarily wariness, but she's not wholly committed to believing everything it says.]
to Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas listens with furrowed brow; listens carefully as the spirit answers him; listens as carefully as she answers Danicka.

At the end he looks away. He looks at Danicka instead, studying her face, her eyes. Once or twice, his hand firms on hers, but he says nothing; makes no remark or gesture. A moment after, he looks to Kate; to Asha; to Adamidas, and then to the spirit again.

"I want to be without my Wolf for the remainder of the night," he says. It's quiet but clear, and without hesitation. "Give me until the dawn, Spirit, and I will be -- I am -- grateful to you."

[Adamidas] This was when there was hesitation. She looks at the spirit, and she thinks. She's obviously thinking. She looked from Danicka, from her nice cheekbones and her hair, to Lukas. She looks at Gwen, at Asha, at the sky, at the vines, at anything she can look at, as though they would give her the answers, or at least give her enough time to think.

Because it takes her time. In the end, it's an acceptance of self, and the Fury has her own answer.

"I want to stay as I am right now," she says, "until the eclipse is over."

Because it's different, now. It's different when it's voluntary. She doesn't hurt to think of it. Her throat doesn't hurt, her stomach doesn't growl, she doesn't feel like she's going to throw up. Nothing has been taken.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Whatever this spirit is, whoever she is the manifestation of in her various forms; she does not seem to carry any personable characteristics; she is at once the giddy joy of a child and the weary anger of a warrior; she was the embodiment of their spirit and the pure joy of their lives. Whatever cause had set Gaia and Luna to meld together in this spirit was untold; and likely never would be.

The Theurge Elder would assure them of this fact; that you could never hope to yield forth the secrets of spirits.

Her question has answers, a yes from the Theurge, from the Ahrouns, from the Philodox females as well. Katherine in particular, seemed most eager to remain without her Wolf; her face reading at once hope and agony at the thought of its eventual return to her.

"It is done, then." The spirit says; paying testament to their replies.

"Remember this night; my Warriors, my Soldiers all of you before me. You are my Prophets; and this is the story you tell. That you saw a vision this night without Beasts, that you know the end is coming for good or not. That you fight for a real cause, and not the idea of one."

There's a crack of light from above, and as reality fades from them; they can hear, distant, called over the fading reach of one reality to another: I am with you, always.

--

The next memory they have; they are standing within their motel room, clocks read but moments have passed since they vanished. There is no trace of Rage among them.

There shall not be, until the new dawn.

[Danicka Musil] Her hand flexes in Lukas's when he tells the spirit -- whatever it is, wherever it came form -- that he wants to remain as he is until dawn. Just a little longer. She has nothing to say to that, no wolf to lose or regain but the one that she's standing beside.

Words flow through her mind, and then her eyes blink, only to open again upon a tattered room filled with the Garou she was with before. Her hand is still linked to Wyrmbreaker's, and she turns her head to look at him. Her voice is soft.

"I'll wait for you in the car," is all she says, before she gives his hand one last squeeze and parts them. She takes his keys, and her shawl, and leaves him with Gwen and Adamidas and his packmates, for now.

[Wyrmbreaker] Questions, questions. Perhaps it's no surprise that the Ahroun, least spiritual of all the auspices, should be the one with the most questions. "Wait," he says, "what does that -- "

and then nothing. A crack in reality, an instant or an eternity, and his only awareness the grip of his mate's hand in his. No pack, no Wolf, no rage, no spirit. Just himself: human, as he never was and never truly could be.

In the next moment his eyes open and he's in the Travelodge again. They're all there, those who made it. The two Garou and one kin who didn't show up still haven't shown up. Lukas looks around, half-dazed, half-dazzled. He sees his packmates but cannot feel them. He looks down at the squeeze of Danicka's hand, then up: finds her eyes, does not find words.

He just nods. And as she's drawing away, he pulls her closer; kisses her once, a quick but firm plant of his mouth to the corner of hers before he lets go.

She takes his keys and her shawl. He takes a breath and looks at the others.

"Adamidas," he says quietly, "can you bring news of this to the Caern? Make certain the Sept knows that ... "

a hesitation; a moment of thought, his mind slow, still awhirl from the events of the night.

"That we've been given a message of hope," he says at last, half-faltering, "to serve as a light on the... longest and darkest of nights. I want to stay and talk to my packmates awhile."

[Sinclair] They aren't gone very long. The eclipse is still in progress, and every so often Sinclair looks at it. She waits. Any other night and she might have gone with them, if only to bear witness. To remember. To do her job. Tonight she couldn't. Refused to.

Then there's a sound, a sensation, and they're with her again. Sinclair is as she was when they were taken away, standing before the open window with her hands planted on the sill. She turns her head and looks at them; they're okay. They look much the same. Unchanged. She looks in herself, as she takes her hands off the windowsill and straightens, and knows the same is true for her.

Her wolf is still gone. Her connection to Perun is gone. The presence of her packmates in her mind is gone.

She watches in silence as Lukas lets go of his mate and as he speaks to Adamidas. Sinclair closes the window and the room is icy, ice cold. The heater finally kicks on, rattling, choking out lukewarm air. Sinclair, who is not sure she is a Galliard right now any more than she's sure of anything, leans against the wall by the window and crosses her arms over her chest.

[Danicka Musil] [And Danicka's out until followup scenage on another date! Thank you all for the scene! Jacqui, thank you sooo much for STing! :D ]

[Adamidas] "No prob," she says. she arrives back at the Travelodge, and goes to gather up her things. Backpack goes on her back, messenger bag goes on her shoulder, and she turns to look at Gwen. She grins a litle at her, the left side of her mouth upturns more than the right. She takes a few steps forward, "c'mon Gwen, let's go be messengers. It's a fine art."

She leaves with Gwen, whether they stay together or not is an entirely different story. Whether she tells the tale with glory and amazingness is a different story. Alethea Adamidas runs on pure charisma. She leaves with little fanfare after that, and the Fury gets to walking.

She takes the door, not the mirror.

strength.

[Booker Abbot] This is a trick question, it's like a mexican stand off. If he says the wyrm and they're BSD's he's fucked. If he says Gaians and they're Gaians.. he's fucked.

He decides to stay quiet.

A shrug is what Gwen gets, and a knowing smile. She's a smart one.

[Asha Singh] Sinclair offers no apology, and Asha doesn't ask for one. There's something direct about the girl's eye contact as they draw apart, something firm underneath, whatever bedrock Falcoln has given his crazed children to see them through the waning days of their influence - that solidity bespoke by blood, by age upon age, measure upon measure, by memories that are not and could never be her own, but live in her nonetheless. Maybe there's gratitude there, whatever strength underscores the girl's wildness.

And she sits, Asha, her delicate jaw set firmly, her constants in the chaos her packmates. The conversation moves on around her and someone says Eclipse and Adamidas mentions times, dates, assures them that their enemies must be affected as well. "I saw the moon," says Asha. "In the sky. It's full." As if they might forget; though there's more weight to her emphasis than just reminding them of the phase. That familiar rush of -

- all gone. "And, it's foolish to assume they're cut off like we are. It makes you complacent. Like a - [xxx]." She finishes with another incomprehensible word that sounds like a curse, some dark, foul, foolish thing, and stands, glancing to Lukas (as ever) for direction. "Thomas is outside. He can put the room in his name. We'll get two with a connecting door."

[Kristiana Coleman] The building rage tickles at the back of her neck, and she looks over her shoulder with slightly narrowed eyes as she scans the crowd, seeking out the source.

[Adamidas] [this is my willpower score!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sinclair] Sinclair nods, and gets up -- without nearly knocking anything over this time -- and grabs Lukas's arm briefly before going anywhere. She stands on her toes to utter something in his ear, then lowers herself down and lets go of him. "My car's outside," she says, but doesn't offer anyone in particular a ride. She hesitates, though, before she heads for the door, and her brows pull together as she looks at Lukas, who drove her alone, and Asha, with her Tomas, and Kate, who probably got here in her own car, too. She can't say what she wants to say to them, not when all that's left of her pack in her mind is an endless silence, but perhaps, after all this time, they can read it on her face.

"I'll ride with you," she says finally to Asha. Her car can just stay the fuck here.

[Bridget Geroux] "How can I help?" Bridget asks without a beat.

She notices the lost, torn, frustrated faces around her. Mostly new ones, all are severely out of their element. She remembers faintly leading the play spirits around with her harmonica and it spreads a small smile to the corner of her pouty lips. The kinfolk isn't about to be left behind, however, since Simon's persistent warnings of the Sept being at war come surfacing up from her subconscious.

Bridget indulges in two mouthfuls of her coffee before raising to her feet.

"I'm not going to bother with introductions. Can I hitch a ride with one of you?" she asks.

[Sinclair] The whisper is quick, and flat-toned, as though to get the bare minimum of information across as quickly and clearly as possible. "Asha's hurt. I don't know how bad, but she was mid-hunt when this happened to us."
to Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] [Folks! We've reached a branch point. Since this scene is moving into STed territory, let's have a headcount on who wants to do what, and most likely we'll be splitting into 2-3 groups. The options are:

1) Roll dice for a oneshot -- i.e. your char gets ambushed on the way to the Travelodge
2) Participate in a cinematic scene figuring out why we've lost our Wolves and how to get it back
3) Keep freeform RPing

There's no pressure to do anything, but if you could let me know in PMs (so as to avoid cluttering up the screen) I'll figure out how to divide us up!]

[Adamidas] [3-2-1 Cinematics!]
to Wyrmbreaker

[Booker Abbot] 2) -- unless you need someone else to ST.
to Wyrmbreaker

[Milo] [cinematic's cool with me!]
to Wyrmbreaker

[Bridget Geroux] 1, because I'm brave.]
to Wyrmbreaker

[Asha Singh] +2 for Sinclair and Asha please!
to Sinclair, Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] As Lukas is moving to stand, Sinclair leans in. A quick whisper. The Shadow Lord's brow furrows; he shoots her a glance, then looks at Asha.

Nods. "Okay. Have Thomas do that." Then he's buttoning his coat, having never even taken it off, bringing up the rear as the group begins to move toward the door. As Asha is passing him, he reaches out and snags her by the arm, pulling her back.

[Wyrmbreaker] A mutter in her ear: "How bad?"
to Asha Singh

[Kristiana Coleman] Hey. I'm a newbie, so if I could get involved with the Garou it would be great, but I totally understand that from a game flow standpoint, there's absolutely no reason why she'd be recognized as kin yet. Whatever you think is best is fine with me.
to Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] heya! glad to see you playing. sorry this is so hectic -- we're doing an event where the Garou have all lost their wolves. check this thread for more details:

http://www.chicagodusk.com/smf/index.php?topic=8005

and -- i'm try to get you hooked into the action in a sec here. do you have a preference on dice or cinematic scene?
to Kristiana Coleman

[Adamidas] She gives Asha a rather pointed look. It's a lot more intense than one would assume that a teenage girl should be able to muster. She does, however, only let the look linger for a second, and she gathers her things. All things gathered up, the Fury counts what she has, and looks at Gwen. She smiles, it's about as reassuring as she can offer.

"We're going to figure this out," she says. She waits to see who is coming with.

[Asha Singh] Some other night, even wild, Asha might look like she belonged here. Might imagine it a game, this place full of people, full of humans, full of sheep to be menaced by the elegant, slinking little wolf in her. Tonight is different. Sinclair is coming with her and her kinsman; Asha nods, a significant glance slipping from Sinclair to the door, looking through the reflections in the windows trying to catch the attention of the kinswoman outside when Lukas draws her back. Her fine little mouth tightens around her teeth, the expression suggests suppressed anger, as if she meant to bare her teeth but swallowed the threat back at the last minute. Tension lingers in her neck, the long slope of her trapezius until it disappears underneath the big collar of that black wool coat.

[Asha Singh] "Not good." Asha says, back, mutters between her teeth. " - but I can walk."
to Wyrmbreaker

[Kristiana Coleman] Cinematic, if there's a choice. Last place I played was largely diceless unless something horrible was about to happen. Thanks, I appreciate it. If it's too much to work me in somewhere, I totally understand. I can be patient and jump in another time.
to Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] [OK - so this seems to be the breakdown:

Oneshot: Booker, Milo, Bridge -- Nomey STing
Cinematic: Adam, Asha, Sinclair, Lukas, Kate, Gwen, Kristiana -- Jacqui STing, unless 7 is too many, upon which it's me and Jacqui STing!

Let's split up into rooms. Oneshotters, go to GC Day; Cinematics, let's head to GC Night and leave this room for latecomers who just wanna RP (or maybe start their own oneshot)]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Okay! Welcome to the finale of Lunar Eclipse Night, version Cinematic! Bear with me as I get myself sorted and type up a sort of intro to pull everyone together for what I have in mind. This scene is probably going to have at most, some perception dice but nothing combat-driven.

If you have to crash out for whatever reason, feel free and I'll figure something out for your character.

So, off we go! ]

[Wyrmbreaker] [btw, if you have AIM, join the chatroom Chilltank -- it's where a bunch of chicago players tend to hang out while RPing.]
to Kristiana Coleman

[Wyrmbreaker] [or just ping me at TheDamonian and i'll invite you]
to Kristiana Coleman

[Wyrmbreaker] [just a headsup: lukas would have called danicka on way from cafe and picked her up en route to travelodge! just in case that affects your opening post]
to Katherine Bellamonte, Sinclair

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Some say the world will end in a catastrophe so large, nothing will live to tell the tale. I venture not, we'll go out in darkness. Fighting nothing but the memory of our own shadows." - Unknown Galliard, Silver Record

--

They all feel it. As one. Not even the Kinfolk amongst them are spared, though for them, the more their blood sings with breeding, the tougher it is to ignore. It's a tugging from their bellies as if a hook were thread by invisible wire and suddenly; abruptly -

wake up

-- whether or not they sleep; as one the voice is there. It is neither a man's voice distinctly, or a female's. It is simply voice; as wind is wind and rain is rain. Voice is here, and Voice is speaking to them; whether they're showering, sleeping, or scrolling newspaper clippings for details about an Astronomical event. Voice finds them in the street, or in the bathroom; it brings with it for the Garou a flare; a flash in the pan sensation.

It's almost painful; the sound of Voice.
It feels strangely familiar though, almost like -- home.

A definition they cannot quite describe but that it makes them start; turn faces, eyes, ears -- all to the windows, to the sky outside. Come, Voice instructs and brings with it an intense tug. To resist seems unspeakable; and the longer they do, the more blinding the Voice sounds, as it returns.

Not angry; not violent -- but here, but now.

[Anyone who resists the urge to move outside must roll WP against Diff 7.]

[Gwen Sullivan] [Willpower]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 10 (Failure at target 7)

[Sinclair] [Willpower]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Danicka Musil] [Willpower]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] It's a short trip from the cafe to the Travelodge, but Lukas is one of the last ones there. He's not alone when he walks in. He has his mate with him, and everyone knows instantly why it took him so long to drive a block and a half.

They've been here a while now. They talked about eclipses, solstices; some grew frustrated; someone threw a pillow across the room. Stripped of their rage, their anger is not so fearsome as it was. The fit of pique was more amusing than frightening.

They've consulted almanacs, newspapers, laptops. They've come up with nothing, and Lukas is sitting on the corner of one of the doublebeds now, one hand on his knee, elbow outturned. He's diminished by that lack of rage. He seems -- younger, perhaps, or perhaps only normal. A young man a few years out of college, good-looking, with crystalline eyes that might smile easily.

"...must be a reason for this," he's saying. "We might not be able to reach our Wolves or our spirits, but it doesn't mean we can't look for a reason -- "

and right there, right then, he breaks off. Sits suddenly upright, face taut and alert. Without another word, he gets up and walks to the window, dragging it open, letting the cold pour in. He sticks his head outside.

[not resisting!]

[Kristiana Coleman] She's obedient. No one can deny her that. Without waiting for her specialized coffee, she moves for the door and out of the coffee shop, looking up at the sky as the door swings behind her.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Kinfolk -- you can roll WP resistance + whatever your PB is. So, PB1, take a +1 Diff.]

[Danicka Musil] [With PB difficulty added: Failure]

[Adamidas] When she hears voices, and when they tell her to move, she listens.

She doesn't really try not to follow along. When one feels the pull of home, the intense urge to go, she goes. It is a voice. It is Voice, just like wind is wind and rain is rain. She pulls her backpack back over her shoulders, and makes sure that her bag is secured.

No one has to say a word. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't explain, she doesn't pretend that this is anything but right. Lukas gets to the word must and she's moving.

Most natural thing in the world.

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was heading outside initially anyways. Lukas had rapped his authoritive knuckles on the table to announce so, Adamidas had smiled reassuringly, and that was enough. Get the fuck out of dodge.

But then came that voice, that tug, that stomach-wrenching thing that felt more... thrilling than painful, more pleasant than disgusting. She paused at the door and stared out the front window, eyes leaping up into the sky, hunting for the moon, searching, needing like it was the key to taking a deep breath that would let her be at ease. That was a lie, though, and the lure to come outside was strong as a mother telling your five-year-old self to come with the urgency that compelled, like a lover gesturing you into their chest after being apart for far too long.

But one couldn't charge blindly. One had to think. This couldn't... It couldn't just be as simple as that. They weren't made to be blindly obedient, or just plain blind. Her brow creased and her teeth clicked at the piercing in the cleft of her upper lip, muscles rigid, trembling along her shoulders and biceps.

But Lukas brushed by and out the door, and Adamidas followed. Gwen felt her feet drag after, and as though she was leaning backward against an unrelenting force that pushed her forward, she too moved out the door, eyes scanning the sky, the street, the shadows-- anything and everything, with one hand pressed on her upper stomach as though to quell or cut off entirely that urging tug.

She didn't like this. She didn't trust it. But she couldn't ignore it.

[Kristiana Coleman] (Oops) She drives to the Travelodge as if guided by something, looking unsure as she gets out of the car.

[Sinclair] The ride in Asha's car is much, much smoother than it would have been in Sinclair's. One is a Lexus. The other is...

an El Camino. A very nicely restored El Camino, but motherfucker, an El Cam is an El Cam and there's nothing one can do about it.

At the motel, Sinclair is preparing to argue with Asha about getting cleaned up and attended to by a Theurge, or anyone who might be able to help her. She's preparing to argue because... well. It's Asha. If everything with Asha weren't tinted with the scent of battle, she wouldn't be Asha, and Sinclair wouldn't have been quite as overjoyed to welcome the girl into the pack.

She's standing by the window, hand on one of the thick, ugly curtains, staring outside. Some people aren't here. Notably, a purebred kinswoman of another tribe and two total strangers. Her jaw is tight, and she's itching for a fight regardless.

Then Voice starts luring her outside, and she remembers when Voice was a little girl in the umbra and she remembers when Voice was a butler leading a charge and she remembers when Voice was something shadowy seeping into her mind, and Sinclair snarls. Out loud, and full-throated, she growls against the tug, even as her Alpha is getting up and coming over to the window.

"Don't," she says, putting her hand flat on the cold glass. It clouds around her fingers. Adamidas is doing it, too, and Sinclair says again, louder. "Don't." Gwen now, too. "Guys, stop!" she snaps finally, and it says something that even now, lacking rage, lacking the fury that backs her authority, Sinclair has the skill to infuse her voice with something like power.

[Asha Singh] Underneath that fashionable military style wool coat - purchased this evening, to hide the exact wounds the rest of those who make it to the hotel will see on her when they get they - Asha's fine white blouse is stiff with blood. She cannot shift, and wounds that would have once been an annoyance - something she could grit her way through a fight with, and then sleep off in a day or two or three, curled somewhere in lupus - are deeper.

In the hotel, the creature changed shirts - something cheap, something handy. Available for $15 bucks from the miniature gift shop run by the front desk clerk: I HEART CHICAGO - the cheap t-shirt reads, with a poor rendition of the Chicago skyline that looks rather more like the view of Shanghai from one riverbank to the other than anything like the actual city in which these Garou have made their stand against the end of days.

Thomas tore her blouse to strips and rebound the claw marks scoring her ribs, and then the girl paced, watching the windows while the rest researched, a shadow behind the front windows every time pale lights from some passing car skimmed across the icy screen.

That's as much tending as she'll allow. If there's anything left in the theurges, says Asha, they should save it. Who knows how long -


- and here, now, a voice rising in the darkness, an urge deeper than meaning that reminds her so much of the link she shares not just with the spirits of her tribe and house, but with the mad spirits of her ancestors, the voices she always wanted out of her head, whom she misses now like a piece of herself.

Close to the door, Asha is moving before she can think to resist or even begin to say why. It's only with the sharp snap of Sinclair's interjection that she pauses long enough to look at the Galliard.

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

[Danicka Musil] The woman that Lukas brings with him into the little motel room at the Travelodge is a stranger to many of them. Even his packmates don't see her often, though there are perhaps several reasons for that. She's dressed as she was when he picked her up -- not at her apartment, but the place where she was 'safely' surrounded by mortals -- and that means that she's dressed very strangely, compared to the rest of them.

Perhaps strange for a Shadow Lord, Danicka wears black only rarely. Tonight she enters the hotel room in a pair of flat-soled boots underneath the long skirt of a black dress. It's exceedingly simple, more than a little old-fashioned. The collar is off the shoulder, the sleeves are long. It isn't velvet, but the fabric is heavy, draping well. Her hair, often compared to gold in at least one mind, is in a single braid tied with a thin black ribbon without a bow. The strands of it cut across her fair skin, over her clavicles, braid resting on her shoulder. She has a black shawl as well, and she smells faintly of woodsmoke and ash.

Since she got here she's been quiet. She's occupied an armchair near a corner and she's not participated in the conversation about how, and why. She's watchful, alert, seeming as much curious as tense. Her eyes have, at some point, watched all of the Garou in the room with equal closeness. Mostly, though, and by no surprise to anyone, she keeps her eyes on Lukas.

When Voice tells them to come, she rises to her feet with a single smooth lift, her skirt falling around her legs again, and follows Lukas.

[Wyrmbreaker] [oFINE]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Adamidas] [WHY ARE WE STOPPING?! wp]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] Something almost like irritation flickers over his face. Lukas stops at the door, spreading his arms to bar it completely, then turns to look over his shoulder at Sinclair.

They no longer have a totem link, a way to speak into one another's minds. They can still communicate without words, though, and the lift of Lukas's eyebrow says, Why?

[Katherine Bellamonte] For those who move to windows, for the Kinswoman getting out of her car and turning her face to the sky, for the Cub; so uncertain to begin with, still so new to all of this -- they see something. The sky is darkening, the shape of the moon changing as shadow creeps across it. Beneath it; sitting in the middle of the street amongst people; amongst traffic and cars and store-fronts that suddenly feel too bright; too artificial --

they see a Wolf.

To Lukas, it is almost nothing but a pair of red eyes. Its fur blacker even than his, its claws sharp and white even with the dimming moon. It is the largest Wolf he is ever likely to see; more the size of some prehistoric creature than that of any wild mortal cousin of theirs; even their mightiest Ahrouns in war-form would pale beside this Wolf. Its eyes are the red of fire; of unbiased anger and they are fixed on the Ahroun at the window. A pair of moon-watchers step off the curb beside the black wolf and through the black wolf and its form shimmers; like the disturbed surface of a pond.

The wolf feels like that which Lukas has lost.

--

Adamidas sees the same Wolf, but it is purely, starkly white. Its eyes are gold, and as a couple step off the curb; they step right through the giant Wolf as if it were not there at all. A car travels past; and the Wolf does not move an inch. It simply sits in the middle of the road as the moon begins to shrink --

and waits.

--

The Kinfolk see neither Wolves, but a young girl. Her shape is blurred but for the suggestion of a dress; of silver hair that dances over her shoulders. She sits, cross-legged and patient in the midst of a street with a ball in her hands; she's looking at Danicka and Kristina as if she's been expecting them.

She holds the ball out.

--

The Wolves stand as one; whether they see it as a black creature with burning red eyes; or white, with warm, golden eyes.

--

For those that resist; they feel a wave of sudden despair; a high keening that grows inside their skulls and pounds like the waves against the shore; there is rhythm with each keening smash against those rocks inside their heads: come, come, come it repeats over and over.

[Sinclair, Asha, ...okay, EVERYONE resisting soak 1 bashing!]

[When they glimpse the Wolves, Lukas, Sinclair, Asha see it as a black form. Katherine, Gwen, Adam are seeing it as a white form. Danicka and Kristiana, see a little girl.]

[Sinclair] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Asha Singh] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Adamidas] [Oww!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kristiana Coleman]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Gwen Sullivan] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [yelp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Gwen Sullivan] Lukas stops at the door, braces an arm within it to prevent others from going out, but he's turned and left his body narrow so he can look back at Sinclair and Asha, demand why he should stop. Adamidas stops short as well, convinced by Sinclair's compelling words to halt her feet and pay mind to what the Glass Walker has to say.

Gwen, though, her resolve is not so great. She wants it, the logic in her mind tells her to stop, had been doing so from the beginning, but it was nothing compared to instinct and what her belly and her heart told her to do. Lukas was easy to look up to, especially for somebody so new to the game, but this Voice, this... this beautiful white wolf with the liquid gold eyes sitting in the middle of the street, waiting so patiently. People pass through it, it is beyond them. It waits exclusively for them. Who was she to keep it waiting?

She felt something thump!. It didn't phase her an inch, it felt like little more than a second cramping, strange and unsure but not quite painful enough to dissuade her yet. She put one hand at the crook of Lukas's elbow and ducked her head some to pass under it, walking out onto the street with limbs and back stiff, expression grim and hard like granite. She needed to be out there, it was going to be too late before long.

[Wyrmbreaker] -- and then that eyebrow lowers; the Shadow Lord's ice-blue eyes squeeze shut. He flinches at exactly the same instant as everyone else in the room, everyone but the very few who are not resisting the call of ...

whatever that is. The Wolf. The girl. Something.

It passes. Lukas opens his eyes, lowers his hands from the frame and turns to face Sinclair steadily. "I think we should follow," he says, quiet but steady. "It feels like ... "

me, he wants to say. He gives his head a quick shake.

"It feels right to follow," he amends.

[Adamidas] Gwen's still moving, she thinks, and the female takes a few steps to catch up to the cub. She sees a wolf, and her hesitance hurts, aches, drones. She doesn't ignore the feeling anymore, and the Fury takes her steps outside, She looks at the wolf, and her head cocks to the side. Its eyes are gold, and it stands purely, starkly white.

"Come on," she insists to the group. She doesn't look back for long, just long enough to catch up to Gwen and just long enough to follow the white wolf. It's waiting for them. Both of them. Her eyes travel up to the moon- it shrinks some and wanes away. If Lukas is still in the door, she squeezes through, or at least tries to. Wyrmbreaker's a big guy, as such he can take up a fair chunk of a doorway.

The sound Alethea makes isn't human, not exactly. A close approximation of a whine of discomfort, though given their state it's more anxious-teen-at-the-dentist than animalistic. The balance is offset. She goes with what her instinct had told her.

The Wind is the Wind.
The Rain is the Rain.
The Voice is the Voice, and who was she to deny it?

[Sinclair] She wants to tell him don't you remember --

but she can't. Something hits Sinclair like a hammer to the chest and her hand clutches at the curtain. That black wolf outside takes her eyes off of her Alpha, and she doesn't try to tell him he can't listen to things that summon him when he's at his weakest, when he doesn't want to resist and isn't sure he can. She looks through the window again, the imprint of her hand vanishing from the glass, and closes her eyes.

They burn.

The loneliness that's been with her for almost as long as she can remember, growing stronger every year, is crushing her now. It was teachers and kids at school first. The boys who freaked out and couldn't stand to stay near her, the friends who drifted away rather than keep her in their lives. It was her parents, distanced by their own inability to understand what was happening to her. It was the Glass Walkers who took her at the beginning, who she couldn't bear to look at because they were the ones who locked her away.

It was Regina, who she could never quite reach. It was Colfax, who she ran away from. And every wolf she knew, every wolf she packed with. Something about what she is keeps her apart even from other Garou, and she's never understood why. She's never understood how it could be like this, and she's questioned a thousand times if this was really how she was supposed to be born.

Lukas is, perhaps, more connected to his nature than any of the other Unbroken. She could hear panic edging his words even when Kate was the one on the phone with him. Sinclair's never been that tied to being a Garou. A part of her has been asking since she woke up if what she really feels is relief. A part of her has been asking if she really wants to go back to being all the many things that separate her from her family, from humanity, from the one who her heart called mate even if she never even managed to say the word love out loud.

It was starting to feel less like living in solitary, with the Unbroken. With Tripoli. There was a world she could reach into that felt like home, but even there the spirits were wary of her.

Sinclair is closing her eyes so tightly there at the window, like she doesn't even hear Lukas anymore, like she isn't aware of him or Gwen or Adamidas or any of them heading out the door. Whatever it was that Sinclair had to say, she isn't saying it now. She's got one hand pressed flat against her breastbone as though applying pressure to a wound.

Gwen goes out. And Lukas speaks but isn't going without them. Adam goes. And Sinclair just shakes her head, slowly, twice, though it's unclear if it's in resistance. Tears come, without explanation or warning, seeping out from under her dark, soot-colored lashes. Right now there's no rage in her, no violence, none of the wrath that changed her so utterly when it began to appear in childhood. There's just a dreadful sense of loss. Of refusal.

She shakes her head again, and turns her head to look at Lukas. Her eyeliner is running, leaving black trails down her cheeks. "I can't be this anymore. I don't --"

Sinclair closes her mouth again, refusing to say the rest. Pain in her chest and her skull or no, she puts her hands on the windowsill and lets her head drop, and does not move.

[Asha Singh] Asha does not articulate what feels right about leaving this cheap motel room, with its scratchy comforters and its faux modernist prints on the walls, swirls of color so indistinct that they could not offend anyone anymore than they might inspire. Someone turned the television on and CNN is in the background, reporting on the weather. Correspondents are parked outside, peering up at the sky, in some cases through thick cloudcover while banal anchors beam white-toothed smiles back to the camera.

- the Silver Fang is still, shoots Adamidas a glance as she urges them onward, making noise in the back of her throat. The cheap cotton of her t-shirt is damp again as the tenuous balance of clotting and bandaging is broken again, and the wounds begin to seep, but by now she has the coat back on, which makes her look larger than she should, which diminishes the strangeness of seeing someone so well-bred in such cheap fabrics.

When Sinclair bends forward, Asha shoots Lukas a look, still and simmering and dark. She feels the urge as well as anyone else; trusts it and mistrusts it in equal measure. If she were going to -

- she says nothing. Stands there, watching her Alpha, edging forward to brush her flank against Sinclair's - a physical promise of presence - utterly animal, that, for all that she has lost her wolf and everything that came with it.

[Danicka Musil] The little girl outside looks nothing like the daughters Lukas saw once in a vision, in a rite, in the underworld. She doesn't feel like a daughter to Danicka. She feels like someone else, someone Danicka knows, though she's never spoken to her except in the recesses of her own mind or in the presence of humans who barely understand what they're trying to acknowledge.

Danicka has lost nothing tonight. She's been sitting here with Ahrouns, with a Philodox who may as well be one in terms of rage, with a young woman who would normally terrify her. She's been watching them all act like... well. Young adults. Lukas isn't even twenty-five yet. They're just people, for once. And they're unnerved and vulnerable and it's so strange to her.

On some level she feels sickened. This isn't right. She knows it isn't right. She worries about the whys, she worries about what's being planned for them. On another level, though, she is comfortable with ambiguity in a way few are, in a way few can tolerate. There are things she has done that even Lukas doesn't and probably shouldn't know about just because he would wonder what kind of sane creature would do that sort of thing. He would be terrified by how at ease Danicka is with some of the most profound risks, and he would hate himself if he understood that very little that the mortal world has to offer frightens a woman who has lived so close to death by frenzy since she was a toddler.

When she goes outside to meet the little girl, she puts her hand on Lukas's side briefly in passing, her palm against his ribcage, but says nothing. The threat of dying tonight inside this room, torn to shreds by the very wolves that are supposed to protect her kind, is gone. There is nothing outside on that street that she finds too horrifying to accept.

Danicka goes towards the girl with the ball, and holds out her hands as though to catch it, once thrown.

[Danicka Musil] [Ofine. "Lukas is only twenty-five."]

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas has a lot on his mind right now. He has his mate to protect. Wolfless and toothless as he is, he brought her here to be with him, so he could protect her. He has younger wolves to guide and watch over. A cub, even. He has another kin he's never met before quietly idling nearby, and he has his packmates, one wounded, all wolfless.

But a constant undercurrent in his mind through all this, all of it, is simply: end this. make this stop. bring my Wolf back. complete me. It was never: I'm happier this way. It's easier this way.

Even if his car wasn't choked with rage when Danicka climbed in. Even if he could feel the difference when he reached to embrace her then; feel how there was no tension in her when he wrapped his arms around her, even when he squeezed her tighter than she would normally be able to bear. Even if humans didn't dart out of his way. Even if people weren't afraid to call him an asshole now when he was being one -- never, not once, did he wish this to be permanent.

So there's something like shock, and incomprehension, when Sinclair collapses in on herself the way she does. When she says what she does. He stares. He startles when Danicka passes him, her hand against his side: warm against warm. He looks at her with wide eyes, catches her hand as she's leaving; lets her go.

Looks past her to the great Wolf. Meets its eyes unflinchingly, unchallengingly.

"I'll come soon," he says: a promise. "And whatever you want to show me, or give me, or take from me... I'll accept it then. But I need some time right now."

A pause. He puts his hand on Sinclair's shoulder, his eyes still on the Wolf.

"Please."

[Katherine Bellamonte] When Danicka reaches out to catch the ball from the little girl; there's a silent gurgle of laughter from the child and even as the Shadow Lord Kinswoman feels the reality of the toy hit her palms; both of them fade. Like the flash burn after a picture is taken; they are at once there; and then not.

Kristiana, too, passes from sight.

--

yes, they hear as this happens, and Voice is happy.

--

The moon vanishes a little more; and one of their fold unravels. She cannot, she will not, she does not want.

--

Please.

The black Wolf only stares at Lukas; and its voice is steel and blood; anger and decay, there inevitability in its voice. It is the rumble of the battlecry; the nature of his heart and soul. There's no pity to Wolf. There's only what is. What shall be.

If you do not come you will not know

--

The Theurge elder is edging toward the white Wolf; and it rises and speaks in tandem suddenly, with the black.

This is transcendent, it cannot be stopped

--

Voice is back, and it wraps around Sinclair where she's fallen like a shroud; at once comforting and insistent.

It is who you are, it cannot be changed

--

Black Wolf speaks again; a rumbling growl.

If you do not come by the time the moon is gone; you will never understand

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen doesn't come close enough to be stricken by the wolf, though she does not believe it will lunge and use teeth on her.

She stops at the curb, aware despite the need to be with this wolf that it was still in the middle of the street, that she was still in the physical realm (she knew that because she tried to pass to the other earlier and she physically, spiritually could not make it happen). She could get hit by a car, and if she couldn't shift, hell, maybe she couldn't heal? She would not go out on somebody's windshield, or worse yet left broken and bleeding out in the middle of the street where her comrades couldn't heal her, while they couldn't put on the strength and swiftness needed to catch the vehicle when it sped away, fearing legal repercussions.

She stood in front of the Travel Lodge, out of the way of traffic, of claws and fangs of this gold-and-white wolf, and waited for it to lead.

[Wyrmbreaker] There's only a single nod, unwavering.

"I understand."

--

Then he's turning away from the black wolf, the embodiment of -- what? Rage, certainly. His own rage? Everything he is? For a moment, Lukas wonders if he will lose himself forever if he doesn't follow. Now. By the moment of totality. He wonders this and he feels a surge of panic, but he bites that back, too, like all the others, and his hand firms on Sinclair's shoulder.

"Listen to me," he says, quiet and low. "Listen to me. No one can force this on you. Not even Perun, or Cockroach, or Luna, or Gaia herself. If you don't want it anymore, there are ways for you to renounce all that you are. To let this cup pass from you.

"But Sinclair, listen to me: that is not what Gaia asked of you. She asked you to stand up and sacrifice yourself, sacrifice everything in the end, so that she can live. So that everything good that you love can live. And she didn't ask this of you to hurt you, or to crush you. She asked this of you because you are strong enough."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Every step brings Gwen closer.

She feels that little pulse again, little surges like electricity at her fingertips; setting her hair on end. It's the same kind of sensation that comes from stepping into the Umbral realm. White Wolf turns its massive head and stares into the Cub's eyes. It has no real mannerisms to suggest its form; it does not wag its tail, nor flick an ear. Its eyes are solid; absolute.

The warmth it radiates is intoxicating.

--

When Lukas speaks; the Voice rushes around him like a blast of wind, rustling the leaves on a wintry day.

[Adamidas] She should be panicking.

She should be clawing at the walls, pacing, screaming, railing, wanting this all to go away. She should want it all back. She should be outraged at the mere idea that someone could take this from her. Take away a very vital, very pivotal piece of her being. Alethea should feel naked, she should feel concerned, she should feel lost. The fact of the matter is, though, that she isn't. She doesn't. The Fury isn't lost or confused or anything.

The path is different, the dance is the same. Some part of her was afraid that some vital, valuable part of herself could be taken away. Her throat hurts, it aches to swallow right now just from memory. But she isn't afraid, instead she moves with the confidence and the insistence that she is used to. It's a strength of purpose that drives her, and without her connection to Gaia pulling her in one direction, without her rage silently clawing at whatever it can get its hands on, all she has is her will.

Resolute.

And right now, it's all she is, and the fact that her connection to that hasn't waned keeps her going. She steps forward and stays with the cub. She is not afraid or nervous because her will is strong, and they will figure out what is going on.

"Lead," she tells the white wolf, "and we will follow."

[Gwen Sullivan] Adamidas is at her side. Lukas and Asha, Sinclair and Kate, they all stay inside the lodge room, stuck for some reason that Gwen isn't paying a lot of attention to. Someone was reluctant, someone was missing themselves. She'd be soaking up every detail in a typical situation, but right now it was impossible to pay mind to the world outside of her immediate proximity and the Wolf. The Kinfolk across the way? All but invisible, lost in the glow of the Wolf.

The warmth is beautiful. It was golden, it smelled heady like wine, beautiful like a bouquet, and tasted sweet and thick like honey. She spoke to Adamidas, and it was lucky she was near otherwise her words would have been lost-- Gwen breathes them more than she speaks them. "Is that Luna?"

From the mouths of babes, they say.

Adam tells the Wolf to lead, and Gwen steps forward after a brief glance left and right for incoming vehicles (some small semblance of sense remained) before stepping out and approaching the apparition.

[Sinclair] Sinclair's shoulder tenses under Lukas's hand, against the way Asha brushes against her. She doesn't jerk away from either of them, but the contact doesn't seem to ease whatever pain comes with being torn in half and choosing which half to let go of. Lukas tells her, twice, to listen to him, and she bristles, looking away.

He gives her a really great speech. A very Ahroun speech, a very leaderly speech, about Gaia and sacrifice and being strong, and Sinclair shakes her head. She shakes him off. She gives him a Look. "Fuck Gaia, Lukas," she says, those tears and that makeup drying on her face.

"Gaia never asked. She made me this, and it took away everything else. If what she wants are willing soldiers, then this is my answer: no. My mandatory tour's over. I'm done," she says, her voice cracking on the last two words. "But you know what? That fucker out there just told me that this is who I am. That it can't be changed. So my thinking is, when all this is over I'm going to wake up a wolf again, whether I understand or not, whether I want it or not. Whether I'm 'strong enough' or not."

Her eyes go back to the window, staring out at that Wolf.

"Go," she tells Lukas. "It's not going to wait forever."

[Asha Singh] "I know what those things feel like. But sometimes things trick you, make you think they're right when they're wrong. And if they're wrong those two are going to get eaten up, -rhya." There's an urgency in Asha's voice; she doesn't have Lukas voice and doesn't repeat his assurance that Sinclair is strong enough. It feels almost - insulting, to reassure a werewolf of her strength, and she cannot bring her throat to make whatever words might be suggested by the idea - renunciation, surrender. Give this up.

"We're stronger together than apart, and we can't leave them alone out there." With an urgent roll of Asha's eyes, suggesting - something of her opinion. "Come - on." With that, a brief, direct look at Lukas. "We need you. Let's go.."

[Sinclair] "To be honest, Asha," Sinclair says quietly, her voice steadier now than it was a moment ago, "you guys are stronger without me right now."

She always tells the truth. No matter how brutal. No matter how shameful.

[Katherine Bellamonte] When Gwen and Adamidas approach the great white Wolf and tell it to lead; it gets to its massive feet; it's chest at the tops of their heads; its paws the size of craters. It looks down on them, and while it cannot be a smile; the feel of one is suddenly around them, they can hear the distant sound of laughter; and intense warmth floods them.

They begin to emit a glow; it becomes blinding in short order.

Standing amongst her pack-mates; Katherine makes a noise, it is a short soft oh; her lips shaping surprise, her mouth rounding around the words. "Sinclair, it's --" she fades before she can conclude her thought. So too, does Gwen and Adamidas.

--

The moon continues to darken.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas doesn't look away from Sinclair, except for a single slice of his eyes toward Asha. He shakes his head.

"We're stronger together than apart," he repeats, affirms, "and that's why we're going together, as a pack, or not at all. Sinclair, you've always told me the truth, even when it wasn't pretty or nice or pleasant. So I'm going to do the same for you right now and tell you:

"You're being selfish.

"You might have spent your whole life so far giving and giving and never asking a thing for yourself, but that doesn't negate that you're being selfish right now. It doesn't make it all right for you to say, fine, I'm done, I've given enough. I quit.

"I'm sorry I'm saying this, but I have to. To give is why you exist. It's why we all exist. Gaia doesn't want willing soldiers. She wants sacrifices. That's why she made us."

A beat.

"But that doesn't mean we can't find good things along the way. That doesn't mean we shouldn't hold on to what good we have. And -- Christ, I know right now it feels like it'll be easier if you just give it all up, throw it all in Gaia's face and go be a ... a human or something, but Sinclair, you have a pack. You have brothers and sisters that love you and need you. You have a family that you need, too. And I promise you, if you turn your back now, you will regret it. Not because of Gaia, or because of fate, but because you'll be severing the last real bond you have.

"You heard the Wolf. You are what you are. You can deny it, but it won't change what you were made to be. And it won't change what your spirit will always long to be."

[Sinclair] "Stop," Sinclair says, like a plea, when she looks at Lukas again. "For fuck's sake, you're not helping me right now.

"We don't know if what's out there is good or bad. Our wolves are gone and whatever this thing is, it's hurting us if we try to resist listening to it. I know that right now you feel like the right thing to do is listen, and go. I know that you don't want to go without me and I know you believe every word about duty and being chosen and sacrifice. I've given you the same sort of speech, Wyrmbreaker. And when I did, you said 'okay'. Every time it feels like a choice presents itself to you, you've made it, and you've done it with all your heart.

"Listen to me," Sinclair says. "Every good thing I've had, every good thing I've found, has gone away because of what I am." She points outside. "If whatever is out there is Gaia or Luna or some spirit thereof, then all I want to say to them is that I am sick of being jerked around. If being what I am means slowly getting so angry and so embittered that I hate the very thing I'm supposed to save, then let me pretend for tonight that I have a choice. Don't tell me what I am or what my spirit wants, and don't be one more shard of Gaia reminding me of how alone I really am."

There's a pause there. He may think that wasn't what he was saying, how could she feel that he's just reminding her of that? And Sinclair, reading it on his face or imagining the question being seeded, shakes her head. "I love you and Kate and Asha, Lukas, but lately I feel just as alone around all of you as I do otherwise.

"So look: maybe when this is over I'll still be Garou. And I'll take my shame with my head up like I always do and I'll live with the consequences like I always have. But I didn't choose to be this. I would never have chosen this life. And I won't choose it now. If the wolf comes back to me, let it come the way it did the first time I Changed. And if it doesn't, then okay: then I'm done. I'll live with the consequences of that, too."

A beat. This is a plea, too, as aching as the one for him to just let be, only it isn't selfishness -- or whatever it is that makes her cling to the windowsill like she does -- but something else. The truth of what she said a moment ago: she does, in fact, love him. "Now go, for fuck's sake, before you lose your soul forever or some shit. Please."

[Wyrmbreaker] There's a twist of pain on Lukas's face, and something else, too: incomprehension; an utterly inability to understand how or why someone could do as Sinclair does. Choose otherwise. Choose to deny ... what? Gaia; fate; herself. The Wolf.

Then she says: I feel just as alone around all of you. And that, he understands. Because he doesn't everything else -- he understands this.

It doesn't wipe the frown from his face entirely. It does quell it a little, though. Lukas reaches out -- wolf or no wolf, his hands are as warm as ever, and he takes Sinclair's face in his palms. Kisses her forehead, firmly, like a blessing or a brand or a goodbye or a see-you-later or --

kisses her forehead, and then draws away.

"Okay," he says. And then he looks at Asha, and he nods as though in affirmation. "Okay. Let's go."
 
Copyright Lukáš Wyrmbreaker 2010.
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