it's nothing.

[Edward] He'd asked for a night out, drinks, two old friends, and now he's getting it. There are nerves there as he sits on a couch around a low table with a drink [barely touched] in front of him . . . chewing his nails. Lukas has known Ed since only a few months after his first change, knows how rare it is that the Ragabash bites his nails where anyone can see him, though the signs are always there. It's a thing.

And now, he waits for his Alpha.

[Lukas] Lukas is running a little late, which for a Silver Fang would doubtlessly be a popularity ploy, and for any other Shadow Lord would be a psychological tactic. In his case, it's simply rush hour traffic.

He comes in, though, and immediately zeros on Edward. Crossing the lounge bar, his rage precedes him as a wave of hushed voices and nervous glances. It's nearly warm in Chicago, and the Shadow Lord is in spring gear: dark jeans, buttoned shirt, also dark, a light coat in pale grey to shield him from intermittent showers.

He shrugs out of the coat on his way to the table, tossing it over the back of his armchair as he holds out his hand to clasp Edward's briefly. "Ed, hey. Sorry about that. Traffic." He sits, snaps up the drink list, skims it, decides, puts it aside for when the waitress came. His pale eyes flick over Edward the same way -- taking in what's noteworthy in a few quick strokes. "What's going on? You look wound up."

[Edward] "Oh," he says, standing and offering Lukas his hand - not for a shake, but to draw into a hug of greeting. It's been a while since he's done this - with Lukas, with anyone. Even Kate. "It's . . . nothing. Everything. I don't know. What are you drinking?"

A great many nights have started with Ed asking exactly that question, no doubt. And for all that he looked keyed up sitting there chewing his nails, he also looks neater, better put together than he has since his return. He's even shaved properly for the occasion, though he's yet to take the time to get a haircut. There's energy there, in him - a bit towards the manic, but not as it has been on some occasions of late. This is the more usual coming-out-of-his-moon sort of energy than the nervous drive to move, be and do.

Only once Lukas has a drink in hand and they're both sitting does Edward speak again. "You met Coraline, briefly. My kinswoman." Not that the Ahroun likely needs his memory jogged, but there it is, anyway. A sort of purpose, and by way of not starting in on his nails again, Ed picks up his glass (scotch, of course, quite fine indeed) to fidget with instead.

[Lukas] A hug, then: hand clasped to wrist, other fist thumping Edward on the back once or twice. Then the men are separating and dropping back into their seats. "Chopin," replies Lukas. "Polskiej wódka, as they'd say."

Everything and nothing and he doesn't know, Edward says, which draws a skeptically raised eyebrow from the Ahroun. "Try to be a little more morose, Ed," he replies lightly, the corner of his mouth turning up. And, "Of course, I remember her. What about her?"

[Edward] "Oh, not morose. Not right now, anyway," he says in nod to previous swings; he knows they've happened, acknowledges them, has been trying to work past them. "Actually, quite the opposite. I'll be moving into the old townhouse."

That, it seems, is random - it has little to do with anything as far as anyone but Edward would be concerned. He hasn't spoken of it until now, at any rate. And of course, it's not far from the loft, so he'll still be close to Kate, to the rest of them. It's just a change of locale. But then, about Coraline, and Ed wraps both his hands around his tumbler to keep one from going to his lips, to keep from gnawing a nail further. "She's." He blushes lightly, clears his throat. "I met her before, in France, between . . . other things." He still hasn't talked of what he did while he was gone, though Kate told Lukas about it, as far as she knew at the time. "There was a thing, at Maman's. We . . ." He shrugs, and he's never been one to talk about such things, though everyone knows he's a womanizer - not the best looking, but he's never had trouble with such things.

"Anyway, I've taken her as my mate." It sounds funny, coming from his lips - a joke, no doubt, except where honor is the one thing Edward doesn't joke about, ever. And then, a smile breaks on his lips and this? This is the Edward that Lukas met in Boston, for a brief, shining moment. "There will be a baby, come summer."

Not, of course, that Ed knows the first thing about babies - but still. An heir, another generation of Bellamontes.

[Lukas] Edward's delivery of the news is awkward, almost stilted, which makes Lukas frown at him unconsciously to try to piece together the incomplete sentences, the backstory that meanders and wanders until he gets to the point:

I've taken her as my mate. There will be a baby come summer.

At that, Lukas grins suddenly, brilliantly. "Really? Ed, that's wonderful." He gets up from his seat again, pulls Edward from his seat and into a tight bear hug. This time it's not just a few thumps: he pounds the Ragabash on the back some five or six times, then lets go and drops back into his seat, lifting his hand to wave a waitress over.

"You sly son of a bitch, I can't believe you kept this quiet for ... what, six months now? Why didn't you say anything? You should announce it to the Sept. Bring her by the Loft and meet the pack. That'll be our first cub."

The waitress is here; Lukas orders his vodka and a bottle of champagne.

[Edward] There's a broader smile then, and it does more than most to lighten his eyes; brown sparkles and Lukas is thumped in return. Edward is pleased (but so very afraid, and not owning up to it), and radiant. "I . . . it's complicated. We didn't think we'd ever see each other again, y'see; she went back to Kenya from France. And it wasn't intentional, per se."

The cub will never hear this part of the story, of course, but that's neither here nor there. "And then her studies brought her here, and we ran into each other again. And now this. And I will bring her 'round, of course." Champagne's ordered with Lukas' vodka and Edward laughs, amused. "I haven't been drinking much, lately. Think my tolerance is still what it was?" He can burn it off, of course, and it won't take much to do so. But not in a club, even early Thursday slow.

[Lukas] "Let's not find out," Lukas replies, smiling. "I don't want to carry you staggering back to your mate. Let's have a toast to your mate and cub, and leave it at that."

It doesn't take long for their drinks to arrive: Ed's scotch topped off, Lukas's vodka delivered, a bottle of Henriot alongside two flutes. The Shadow Lord does the honors, pop!ing the bottle of champagne with effortless ease, tipping the sparkling liquid into one flute, then the other.

"To the new Bellamontes," Lukas says, lifting his glass, "mother and child."

They toast; they drain. Lukas sets the glass down and sits back, picking up his double of vodka. "So I suppose you're going to be situating your mate and child at the manor? Are you planning on living with them?"

[Edward] "As much as I can. She's a willful woman, Coraline is." It's a thing Edward appreciates, when it manifests in appropriate ways - to be frank, he blames himself at least a little for what happened with Gabriella. He'd fostered an independent streak, encouraged it, and then stepped back to let it grow on its own. Before he left, that had started going poorly, and . . . well, everyone knows what's happened since his return.

[Never let it be said that he's lacking in Silver Fang hubris, however he might seem.]

"And my father lived with us as much of the time as he could manage. His was a far more . . . intense . . . presence than mine, and we managed well enough. I want to know my child, and want him - or her," though it's clear what Edward's already made the unborn in his mind, "to know me."

He sips his scotch slowly, steadily; he hadn't been kidding when he said he hasn't been drinking much lately. At Theron's party, he hadn't had anything but soda, and water.

[Lukas] "That's something rare for children of Garou," Lukas says, "and something I envy you. You might need to keep away from your child in its infancy, but I think your rage won't upset it too much for most of its childhood. You could at least go home to your mate and child most nights." The Ahroun's smile is a little rueful, "I couldn't say the same myself."

A few moments of silence. Then, with a trace of hesitation, "And the pack? Are you still with us?"

[Edward] "I . . ." He wants to say yes. Let there be no doubt there - it's writ in everything about him. The pack, to him, is his sister and his oldest friend; he cares for Caleb, Theron and Sinclair as he would for any other packmate, even without having spent one on one time with them as he had the members of the Unbroken Circle. And goodness knows (and Lukas has witnessed, perhaps), Edward needs pack even more than most Garou. "I don't know. We've all changed, obviously."

He means the three of them, but it applies to the broader pack as well - and this isn't a good thing or bad, just something that's happened. That does happen. They're none of them static beings.

"You're still my oldest friend, and one of my best, with Kate. And she'll always be my sister, of course. But I don't know that I fit any longer, and you know I'd rather just about anything than keeping the two of you from your goals."

[Lukas] There's an unfathomable silence -- the Shadow Lord sitting back in his armchair, at ease, at repose, his glass of vodka tipping gently to and fro in hand. It's an absent thing, that. His attention is focused on Edward.

Finally, and gently, "I agree."

He doesn't elaborate: he agrees that they've changed, perhaps. Or: he agrees that Ed may or may not fit anymore. Or: he agrees that he doesn't know.

"A lot changed while you were away, Ed, and I think you've been struggling to find your place ever since you came back. The Unbroken Circle was -- well, we were very idealistic and young, weren't we? I think we talked about to changing the world without really knowing how we might accomplish such a thing, or why we even should. I think in the end we were just kids. Cubs who'd never really known winter or war.

"We've... grown up, I think. There's a lot of responsibility resting on the pack now. A lot of duty, a lot of weight. Kate handles all the law in the Sept that doesn't go straight to the Grand Elder. I'm leading our people against a Hive. Which means we can't go around doing whatever we want. We have to be unified. We have to pick our battles and plan ahead. That's what Perun teaches us: not so much that we should rampage and dominate, but that every battle matters. Every move we make, makes a difference. We have to play to win -- and not for personal glory or for the fun of winning, but for the war."

Lukas takes a sip of vodka, then leans forward and sets the glass down.

"If you think that's still for you, Edward, then I'd love it if you stayed with us. You're my brother; you've been my brother since we met in New York City. But if you can't follow these ideals, then that's no one's fault, and we shouldn't force it. We should part as friends and allies, amicably, with one another's blessings."

[Edward] "Idealism isn't the sole property of youth or inexperience, but yes, we were. And while Perun's ideals are certainly sound, in theory, they don't fit with how I think any more than I truly fit in the new makeup of the pack." He has been struggling, and it hasn't helped with the other struggles he's been having - it's unfortunate, really. And really, Lukas can agree with all three in one statement; they're hardly mutually exclusive, the theories of change, whether or not Edward fits, and not knowing.

"We've all grown up, and we all have our duties and weights. I just think mine . . . may be pulling me in a different way, now. I would still have you as my dear friend, and a part of my life, and my family's - if you want it as I do. I would like my son to know my oldest friend as well, as long as he can." Because of course things happen to Garou, of course they die, or disappear into the umbra never to return. It's a part of their lives, and the same could happen to Edward at any time, quite frankly. "Every battle does matter, certainly. But battle is fought on different planes, and there are different kinds of domination. And," he says with a hint of rueful smile, stringing far too many conjunctions into his sentences, "glory's never been my thing. But if there's no fun in the winning, no joy, then what have you really won?"

Little Prince of the Glad Heart, indeed.

"It's not any of our faults, no. Everyone grows in different ways, and I'd far rather part amicably, if a parting is necessary, than come to chafing and resentment on either side. We know each other well - perhaps we'll still be able to work to each others' aid in the future."

[Lukas] "Of course, Ed." Lukas's smile is faint, a little rueful. "I wish you and new family the best, wherever you're going from here.

"Does Kate know yet?"

[Edward] "About Cora and the baby? Or about our other topic of conversation?" It's a bit wry, the question. "Yes to the latter, no to the former. She helped me pick a ring, and we bought baby things together."

Which explains the whirlwind trip they'd taken to Paris and New York, though those are hardly rare - Bellamonte trips, that is, the sort that happen suddenly and end quickly.

[Lukas] "About the pack," Lukas confirms.

No, Edward says. Lukas nods. "You should tell her, then. Privately, soon. Tonight, if possible, and the pack as a whole immediately afterward. If your mind's made up, don't stew on it.

"The equinox is coming up, though -- why don't you spend that with us before you go your own way?"

[Edward] "I will tell her, yes. And I'd every intention of fulfilling the consequences of my challenge at the moot - it would hardly be honorable to have you number one less and be without a totem because I failed." He doesn't say how he failed, mind; it's doubtful he'll ever see eye to eye with the rest of them about that.

The rest gets a smile. "It would please me to be a part of the Unbroken for a little longer, thank you."

[Lukas] "I never would have expected otherwise," Lukas replies.

Then the Shadow Lord drains his vodka in a quick, neat toss. The glass clinks down on the small table and he stands, lifting his grey coat from the seat and shrugging into it.

"I have to get going, Ed. Congratulations again -- I look forward to meeting your mate properly on the equinox, if not before then."

[Edward] "Thank you," he says, and stands to see his friend off - he's still a drink to nurse before he leaves. "I'm sure we'll see you soon."

pack business at the loft.

[Edward Bellamonte] (Today I feel . . .)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Wyrmbreaker] The Loft again, then.

Not the pool, for once, but the upstairs rumpus room. Lukas is sprawled on one of the beanbag chairs in front of the TV. Until his packmates showed up, he'd been playing the PS3 there: idly, uninvestedly, and with no great skill.

Now they're here, though, and he remotes the TV off; the console. The wireless controller is set aside. He shifts his seat to better see them all, wherever they might sit.

There's a plain cardboard box near him, which he hands Sinclair without comment as she arrives. It's not particularly heavy -- under five pounds, all told -- and when she opens it, it might take her a moment to decipher what's inside. Looks like a pair of ... large staplers, maybe, until she sees the edges.

A pair of folding axes. Lightweight, strong, coated in black teflon. "More discreet than Conan axes, I thought," is all he says about that.

"So," when they've all gathered, "it seems that good old Fons has chosen to disobey Kate's direct order to shun Gabriella. Yesterday night the stormcrow bound to Gabriella sought me out. Since it's only been three and a half weeks, it could have only gained its freedom under the condition that Fons and Gabriella interacted."

[Sinclair] [int + melee]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sinclair] Her eyebrows quirk when she arrives and a box is handed over to her. She takes it, brow furrowing, and immediately opens it without question. True to form as someone who learns by doing -- and by fucking up, as often as not -- Sinclair takes one of the pair out and looks it over, setting the box with the other one down on the couch, though she remains standing.

After a few seconds, after some time spent looking over the Thing and running her fingertips gingerly here and there --

SNIKT!

Sinclair bursts out into boisterously loud, rather delighted laughter as she tightens her grip, flicks the 'stapler', and discovers the mechanism for unfolding and locking the axe into place. "Fuck!" she says, quite happily.

"Dude, that's awesome," she says, rotating her wrist a few times but not quite swinging the axe and certainly not throwing it. "Thank you," she says after that, warmly, and more sincerely than her expressions of Fuck or Dude.

She holds it as carefully and as tightly as a Wii controller lest it fly out of her palm, then realizes: he got her two. "Whee," she says, picking up the other one in her left and doing the same with it. That's what she's doing when the others show up: getting used to the feel of the two axes in her hands, chortling quietly to herself occasionally.

It's with reluctance that she folds them back up and puts them away in their box as the meeting is called to order... as it were. Well. They don't stay long. Lukas talks, and Sinclair sprawls on the couch, taking one of the axes out to play with it idly.

"You know I did read somewhere that the IQ of subsequent siblings after the firstborn goes down," she mutters.

[Kate] Katherine does not sprawl.

She stands, arms folded neatly over her chest, her string of pearls pressed against the sheer white blouse she wore, tucked into a high-waisted pair of matching slacks, with her back pressed against the wall just shy of the black leather sofas Lukas is ensconced between on his bean-bag chair. There's a crumpled piece of paper in her hand and she waits for a moment until Sinclair has finished playing with her new toy before she steps forward and thrusts the letter toward her Alpha with a decidedly disgusted curl to her lip.

"Yes, I wager that is what led to this."

It's Fons' letter of Challenge to Katherine.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Handy, then, that I'm the firstborn. Or I'd be rather put out." So says Ed as he slips into the room, carrying his latest book of brainteasers (sudoku and crossword puzzles are favorites because of course he's a seventy-year-old cat lady - he just needs to learn scrapbooking or knitting to make it official) and a pen. He doesn't need an eraser - he doesn't make mistakes. But that is, of course, neither here nor there.

The axes are eyed, and Ed takes a spot out of reach and at an awkward angle from Sinclair just in case - he trusts her skill, but everyone has slips. Everyone makes mistakes. He also does not sprawl, but sits cross legged in his chair (or on the floor, or . . . whatever, he's not picky) to listen. Because of course when they're gathered . . .

"Oh," he says with a raised eyebrow. "So how long do we think Fons has before she betrays him?"

. . . it's important. Somehow. But then there's mention of the letter of challenge, and Edward sighs. Gabriella is his sister, and he loves her - that wasn't shut off in the process of disowning, doesn't have a switch. But all this fuss over things that are more or less inevitable seems silly.

"Why are we surprised? Just as she had to have known what she got was coming, we had to have known this was coming."

[Theron Locke] Theron is there, but quiet...sitting cross legged on a rug as he leans back against one of the chairs. He watches his packmates as they gather. A small smile curling the corner of his lips at Sinclairs reaction.

On the mention of Fons and Gabriella, he just raises an eyebrow "He's done what?" and then he drifts off into silence. He points towards Edward "that one is wise, that he is." a small chuckle escaping his lips.

And then Katherine mentioned her letter of challenge "Ahh so he is trying that again is he. At least he had the honor.." he then scoffs at that "to make it when we weren't mid-battle."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas watches Sinclair figure it out. He doesn't explain it, or show it to her. He doesn't need to -- and he suspects it's more fun this way, anyway. When the axe abruptly snaps out, the Ahroun laughs aloud, a short burst of mirth.

"They're utility axes," he says, "so you'll need to rebalance them to your hands. If you want a quality, traditional battleaxe, though, you'll probably have to speak to the Get. Or maybe the Furies." He adds after a moment, "We can spar a few times a week. We should probably all plan to spar at least a few times a month, practice our skills on each other."

Then there's Katherine, huffing. Wyrmbreaker snaps the proferred letter over from Kate, skims it quickly, returns it. Snorts.

"Well, that's a clever attempt to dodge due punishment. But it doesn't change the fact that he's disobeyed a direct order. I'd deal with that before you step up to accept the challenge."

[Kate] "Hm," she says, with a dark expression. "Could I not simply shoot him with those utility axes instead and be done with the man?" She moves to seat herself; sinking down into soft leather with a sigh. "No, well, I suppose that will not do. Unless I drag his sorry excuse for a Fang behind before the tribe and publicly shame him before I address the challenge at all."

Katherine leans back, thumb at her lips, mind turning.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Why thank you, Theron," Ed says, bemused (which is oh, so different from amused) as he goes ignored by everyone else. He shrugs, is quiet, and flips open his book - which doesn't mean he isn't listening, just means he sees no need to speak up just now. He's good at that, staying quiet.

[Sinclair] Truth be told, Sinclair is, of all of them, the least involved in all this. She doesn't really know -- or like -- Gabriella. She doesn't know much about Fons, or understand what is so difficult about all this. She thinks differently than most of the pack in these matters. The case was different when she was younger, but that was when she was younger

and not Garou

and not a Glass Walker.

So she toys with her axes, as a letter changes hands. It isn't read aloud. She doesn't ask to see it. Her eyes track from packmate to packmate as they speak up in turn, and she frowns a little. Suddenly she barks out a laugh. "Behind?" she says to Kate, then settles herself. "Sorry."

This is srs bizniz.

"It doesn't really matter if anyone's surprised," she mutters to Ed. "This is ridiculous. This guy can't answer a direct question, lies his ass off to everyone, picks up kin that have been ousted from the tribe, ignores your leadership only to challenge it -- hell, by challenging he basically just submitted himself to the fact that you are the elder right now and so he's subject to your punishment."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Sinclair's got a point," Lukas says. "If he's challenging your leadership, then he acknowledges that you're the present elder of the tribe. So if he acknowledges that much, then he acknowledges that you lead the tribe in the city, and you gave orders, and he deliberately flouted them when he fraternized with Gabriella."

It's not your sister anymore.

"Kick his ass," is Lukas's conclusion. "Lay down some nice Philodox-y punishment. Then deal with the challenge. Those are two separate issues."

[Sinclair] "And if your punishment is that he should lose a finger for every time he spoke to your sister, then I can now take care of that without dirtying the kitchen knives or getting the taste of his blood in my mouth!" Sinclair says cheerily, waving one of the small axes a bit. "Everybody wins. Except Fons's fingers."

[Theron Locke] "You know we could also .. you know work on providing him a reason to leave completely." Theron shrugs, it seemed that nothing they had done so far had spared them from Fons' shenanigans "Or you make it a condition of his punishment that should he wish to stay in Chicago. Due to his crimes he forgoes any right to take any position of power within the Sept. Though I'm not sure how to swing that."

"Or we could just go with Sinclair's suggestion, which does sound mighty fine."

[Kate] For a moment, Katherine is serious, somber, straight-faced and without a sense of humor. "Have you ever seen me try and kick somebody's ass physically, Lukas? It does not tend to end well for me." He explains, and she relaxes a touch. "Yes, I agree, to both things, he is netting himself within his own lies and he will soon find he has backed himself into an untenable corner."

She listens to the round robin of suggestions, and her expression begins to lighten, she actually laughs at Sinclair's idea of punishment, and says, eyes dancing, "It does sound terribly appealing to lash him with a lasting sting of my disappointment in him. And well I shall show him exactly whom he is dealing with." She leans back, stretching. "I have not survived so long and worked so hard in this city for some little niggling worm to come and try to usurp me. No, no, that will not do at all."

[Edward Bellamonte] "I'm with Theron, actually. On the first, not the last," he says with a frown as he crosses off a clue he's answered. "He's disobeyed a direct order - regardless of what it is, that needs to be seen to. If Gabriella is nothing to us any longer, the rest of that particular issue isn't any of our affair." Ed? Doesn't like solving problems with violence - he never has. It's one thing to fight the Wyrm, and another entirely to bicker and backbite amongst themselves.

Kate's bit about not being adept physically gets a snort. "Unless it's me. And I'm twelve." Which comes as no surprise to anyone, no doubt, especially Lukas who's likely heard the story before.

[Wyrmbreaker] Ironically, Lukas is sprawled in the lowest seat: nearly prone on his beanbag chair, hands laced loosely behind his head. He can see all of them clearly and easily from this vantage point, though, and his eyes are sharp and clear as they flick between his packmates.

At times he nods; at others, he frowns.

"As much as we'd love for Fons to just get the fuck out," he's frowning now, "a punishment that essentially forces him out of the city or otherwise prevents his gaining eldership of the Tribe right before he challenges for it sticks in my craw. That's the sort of convenient solution Fons would think of."

And nodding -- "Ed has it right, there. Gabriella's relationship to Fons, whatever it might now be, is of no importance to us except in that it violates Kate's decree and further proves Fons honorless. Undoubtedly he'll shape her resentment and rebellion into a tool, but we're just going to have to live with that. She's not a part of this pack anymore, so at least she's not undermining us from within every step of the way."

[Sinclair] "There have to be consequences," Sinclair intones, almost to herself, turning the axe over and over in her hand, examining every bolt, every plane of it. "There have to be consequences that outweigh the benefit of ignoring or absorbing them. And I don't mean punishment. I don't... I mean it's nice to talk about slapping him down, but I honestly don't think that punishment is going to be very effective with someone like Fons.

"Punishment," she goes on, as though she's reciting something, "is a construct. It's a decision. Consequences are natural. Consequences are inevitable. Consequences are the eventual or immediate reaction to an action."

She clears her throat, then reaches over and grabs the Monster she's been sipping at since she got into the room. Sinclair folds up her axe with a CLAP! and looks over at Kate. "Fons, like Gabriella, is flouting the authority of the acknowledged Silver Fang elder in the city. A natural consequence of that is that the Silver Fang elder no longer cares what happens to him, no longer seeks to protect him or aid him when he's in trouble. That's one."

She sniffs. "Fons is welcoming a volatile, rebellious, untrustworthy and whiny kinswoman under his wing who is no longer rightfully his by tribe alone. Any others who have interest in her can and rightfully should take her away from him, and even if he manages to keep her, he shames himself before all Silver Fangs and looks like a kin-kidnapper and he has to deal with a volatile, rebellious, untrustworthy and whiny kinswoman who will dog his days just as surely as she dogged yours. That's two." She blinks. "Or three. Fuck, I lost count already? I need caffeine."

She grabs the can of energy drink and knocks back a mouthful or two. "Aah. Where was I? Natural consequences. He's earned -- and beyond earned -- the dislike, if not more, from one of the larger and more powerful packs in the city. He's earned the personal distrust and dislike of several Garou who are each individually strong. I'm not saying this means he'll be abandoned in battle or anything retarded like that, but it's just like what happened over time with Gabriella...

"You piss on people enough, and eventually you find a startling lack of people willing to help you, put up with you, or even be around you. It just takes time, and patience, and I don't think Fons has the latter. I think you do, Kate."

A beat. "Anyway. I'm rambling." She shrugs.

[Theron Locke] "It's a shame then that Fons doesn't have a 'good' twin.. then we could do the old Man in the Iron Mask trick and lock the bad Fons away and let him feed on bread and water till the end of days. At least then he'd be under our control and that mouth of his would be clamped shut." he sighs regretfully "Why are all the good options always out of grasp."

He then listens to Sinclair speak... he looks about to say something, but then turns silent. Looking thoughtful as he processes his thoughts

"What are our options then.... do nothing and let Fons reap what he sows? let his challenge to Kate's Eldership stand in place? If so then we should get started discussing the challenge and ensure Fons is at a disadvantage even if that is not discernable by the terms layed out."

"But frankly I want to see this ended once and for all... ."

[Sinclair] "No," Sinclair says mildly, "nothing I said changes what I agree with: he disobeyed the elder of his tribe and that has to be addressed, and then his challenge -- which is an honorable one, even if he isn't much of an honorable Garou -- has to be answered. I was just talkin'."

She shrugs.

[Wyrmbreaker] "Doing nothing is not an option. Kate will seem weak if she allows the slight to go unaddressed. But Sinclair has a point: typical punishment, loss of renown, the sort -- that might mean little enough to Fons.

"Consequences, on the other hand, are nothing we can enforce. But maybe some punishment can echo the consequences of his action. Something that will matter to Fons.

"What has he disrespected? What does he hold dear?"

[Kate] [Sorry guys! I'll post in a sec!]

[Kate] "I will call the tribe together," she says after they have all spoken and she has ruminated in silence for a time. "We will deal with Fons Van der Noot as a tribe, with me as his elder whether he acknowledges it or not. He will bow to my authority or he will find himself in a very cold and unwelcoming city indeed.

I am not elder because I have bested every Challenge that has been set before me, I have lost before that is true, but I am elder because I am the best at what I do, and what I do better than any other Silver Fang in this city is lead them. They know this, or they would not keep coming to me for aid, for council. For a place to sleep at night.

They would not bleed beside me if they did not respect that. Fons has disrespected Falcon, he holds himself so proud and so full of tradition that he does not see that he tramples on nothing but his own honor. Who would trust to an elder who cannot even hold true to himself, who cannot win a challenge without cheating?"

Katherine shakes her head slightly, eyes distant.

"He cannot win."

[Edward Bellamonte] "Of course he can't. He's a douchebag." Ed seldom speaks so, of course, and it's not dismissive, exactly. He appreciates the seriousness of the situation, he really does. But that makes his assessment no less true.

[Wyrmbreaker] There's a flicker of -- what, frustration? -- over Lukas's face. Then he sits up a little, pulling himself up out of the beanbag chair he's mired himself in.

"Kate," he says, low, "I have no doubt whatsoever that you're a far fitter elder than Fons will ever be. I also have faith that you'll think of an appropriate, fair challenge with which to prove it. If you need our advice in that, we stand ready to give it.

"But I'm not talking about the challenge here. I'm talking about Fons disrespecting your word as standing elder of your tribe. What are you going to do about that?"

[Kate] Kate's eyes find her Alpha's, she seems slightly excited by her internal reverie; sweat beads on her upper lip. She licks it away and savors the bitterness there. "No, Lukas. They are interwoven things, his punishment and the challenge. One cannot be without the other. He must see that I am chosen, that I was chosen, by Gaia. To lead us."

She blinks, her eyes refocus and she seems to come back to the moment; raising her fingers to rub at her temples. "Forgive me, I am... not feeling quite myself." She is quiet a moment, the muscle in her jaw leaping as the Silver Fang struggles against a war born in her blood, borne the moment she was conceived. A sickness; an insanity.

"Fons holds little dear but himself, he believes that we are the supreme power in all things regarding the war. He has disrespected his own King's daughter, he has disrespected his elders before a Moot, he has disrespected the mandate of his own elder, he has refused to carry out the punishment set down on him by the elder Philodox of this Sept."

[Kate] "How do you punish a Silver Fang who has no honor, who would take your punishment and twist it into his own sick interpretation of being in the right?"

[Sinclair] Sinclair raises her hand.

"Can I propose a suggestion?" she says. Not quite meekly.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he studies Katherine for a moment, keenly, unflinchingly. When he speaks, his voice is low, but not quite soft.

"I need you with me, Kate, and with this pack. You cannot drift off into the delusions and derangements that plague your tribe. All of us are flawed, but we are weak if we let our flaws rule us. If you give into the madness that dogs your lineage, you'll end up like Fons: twisted, vengeful and insane."

Pause; then he nods to Sinclair.

[Sinclair] "I think," the Galliard says slowly, "we're all just going around in circles saying the same goddamn thing over and over. Fons bad, grr. Fons need punish, rar. Kate's problem but we halping hurr cuz we har pack. Yar."

She says some of this in half-mocking grunts, no less aimed at herself because she, like the rest of them, is included in this 'we' circling round and round the same words. Sinclair exhales then, drops the accented, overblown speech. "I think we, at least for tonight, have hit a wall. And beating our heads against it isn't gonna knock it down. It's just gonna turn our brains into martinis. So my suggestion is,"

said like Because I do have a point, I promise,

"that we break for refreshments and individual brainstorming on the issue of what the fuck to do about this guy other than straight-up kick his ass, because that won't fix or change anything, either." She shrugs. "Basically... let's take a break and talk about it again later."

[Edward Bellamonte] "Martinis . . . actually sound delicious. And Sinclair," he says, slow drawl, "I think your idea is a fabulous one." Because of course it is. Breaking for drinks and frivolity, the better to come back at things in a new light is always brilliant. And therefore, Sinclair is brilliant.

[Wyrmbreaker] A flash of irritation -- "Edward, if you cannot say anything of use, don't open your mouth at all."

-- and then calm again. Lukas shakes his head. "I disagree," he says clearly. "We may indeed have exhausted the subject, but there's no need to return to it. We are going in circles. But that's not because we've hit a wall. It's because I want Kate to handle this herself, perhaps with our advice, but on her own terms. If we talk about it again later, it'll be to the same result. Here's the situation; here are the suggestions; here's the circle we're marching around in because this is not, in the end, our decision to make.

"I could tell you how I'd handle it, Kate. If Fons were a Shadow Lord flouting me at every turn, I would beat him within an inch of his life and remind him who the enemy was. If he turned on me again, I would consider him irredeemable and kill him. If, instead, I stood in your place -- a Philodox of the Silver Fangs -- I would lay a Rite of Ostracism on him and see how he does without the support of those peers he seems to value so very little.

"But I am not you. And my ways are not yours. So we can discuss this as long as we like. You can bounce ideas off us. We can circle as long as we like, but ultimately, the decision is yours, Katherine."

[Kate] At the first, she is angry: "I will never be like that man." She says it in an undertone so steely, so measured and stripped bare of all things but her Rage that they cannot but acknowledge it as fact, as so. She is meeting her Alpha's gaze steadily, without flinching. Lukas can see that the madness, the fleeting, abrupt madness has gone.

Has left her.
[for the moment]

"He does not respect the tribe, he claims that his actions are all for our betterment, but they slap us in the face at every turn. He embarrasses us and in turn, he embarrasses me. His every action is a humiliation that I am forced to endure because he does not believe that he is touchable.

Well, I will make him very fallible.
I will strip him of that very tool that has proven his weapon thus far.
I will take his voice; and replace with that of a jackal.

Let him squeak out his lies."

[Edward Bellamonte] An eyebrow raises, sharp, at the chastisement, but Edward says nothing to counter it. He does, in fact, keep his mouth shut, and his thoughts (or lack thereof, as the case may be) to himself as clearly they are of no merit in this particular situation. He is not one to talk simply to hear himself do so.

[Wyrmbreaker] That makes Lukas exhale a short laugh. "That might actually quiet him down for a while," he says, wry. "Just -- whatever terms you choose for the challenge, take care that he's not handicapped by his punishment. That's dishonorable, and besides, he'll probably twist it into some grandiose conspiracy theory.

"Ed," he turns briefly to his suddenly very-quiet Ragabash, "I shouldn't have lost my temper. But you're a Fostern of this pack. I appreciate your input when you care enough to give it. And if you honestly have no opinion to offer when the rest of your packmates are discussing business, then I prefer silence to frivolous remarks. Not everything is a laughing matter. Do you understand?"

[Sinclair] Sinclair's gone quiet. Her point was taken, and agreed on, and secretly she's rather glad they don't have to reconvene later to talk about this more. She's back to playing with one of her new axes, opening and closing it again and again as she listens to her packmates.

[Edward Bellamonte] "I do believe I offered my opinion," he says with a shrug, eyes on his puzzle of the moment again. "And of course I understand. Your point is taken." He could say more, but instead lets it go. There's no need to dwell.

[Sinclair] [I really gotta go to bed now. Thanks for the RP!]

[Edward Bellamonte] (Night!)

[Wyrmbreaker] "You did," Lukas agrees, "earlier. And I appreciated that. It's just when your opinion dwindles down to smart remarks about whether or not Fons is a 'douchebag', and whether or not martinis are wonderful -- that's useless to the pack. You can do better than that, Ed. You're smarter than most people I've ever met. There's got to be better observations and ideas than those in your head."


(eee, i'ma try to wrap up quick! didn't realize this was gonna turn into a tangent convo)

[Kate] "Mm," she says with a sudden spike in good mood. "What a pity it could not be for all time." Then, she idly curls a lock of fair hair around a finger. "You are correct, however, whatever punishment I set down must not give rise to his sneaking around my rules for the Challenge. I shall have to be very careful not to give him any extra loopholes."

Her lips twist.

"Though I fully expect to be bombarded with insults for my time." Kate falls quiet here, and allows Lukas and Edward to settle their disagreement.

[Edward Bellamonte] "I beg to differ - humor, levity and bonding over strongly mixed drinks are never useless to that pack. Though that's a disagreement we've had before, n'est pas? There's a reason you're the Ahroun and I'm the Ragabash." Ed doesn't smile - doesn't feel like mustering the false one he wears more often than not these days. His eyes, darker, heavier, and considerably more haunted than before his departure don't twinkle with some hidden amusement as they used to near-constantly. He is not the same man as he was when he left - far from it. The scars are not just physical. "Regardless, I will be mindful of my tongue."

[Wyrmbreaker] When Edward reduces it to a difference of auspice, something changes in Lukas's face; turns colder. "There are times when levity is called for," he says. "There are times when it distracts.

"And your auspice is so much more than a pack of jesters, Ed. You're the scouts and the spies and the devil's advocates of the Nation. You're here to give us the view from the shadows -- not the joke of the day. That's why it's crucial for you to actually involve yourself in these discussions. To consider the situation and to advise your packmates from the angle we've failed to cover."

[Edward Bellamonte] "Oh, yes. And I am far more than a jester as well, whatever offhand remarks I may chose to make amongst my pack. My family." Because to him, more than most, pack is family - pack is everything. Without them he is less, diminished, lost. How he'd managed gone for so long is anyone's guess. (Though, fairly obviously, the answer is 'not well'.) "I was serious when it was called for. When it became clear that we were covering the same ground again and again, I was no longer so. Shall I make 'friends' with Fons, then, to offer you this unknown perspective? That's an option I have often considered. I have watched my sister," because disowned or not, one can't scrub away blood - though Ed does correct himself, so there's that, "Gabriella from vantages unseen. She is bitter as any kin in her position and acts out because of it - the proverbial caged bird. I have scouted, I have spied. Do not doubt that I am very good at what I do, Wyrmbreaker-yuf."

Because it's all formality now, as his pen slides between the pages of his book and he stands.

"I am a Fool," clearly capitalized, "but not a fool, whatever I may allow others to think. I am pleased to know, however, that I play the part so well that my oldest friend is deceived."

[Wyrmbreaker] As Edward stands, Lukas makes no attempt to match or exceed the height difference now rising between them. The Ahroun simply looks up at his packmate; this man that is, in fact, his oldest friend.

And his former alpha. And his brother.

Who's all formality now. Who calls him Wyrmbreaker-yuf rather than Lukas, or -- as Sam once favored -- Luke. That alone makes Lukas's jaw tighten faintly. And by the time finishes, there's a unspeakable chill in the air.

"Have you?" Lukas replies; softly. "Have you scouted and spied? What have you learned? What have you accomplished? What have you done lately to aid your pack, your brothers and your sisters?

"What, Edward Bellamonte?"

[Edward Bellamonte] "That," he says, wry, "is a Galliard's job to tell, not mine. I take on the errors of others so that they may bring greater pride to the Nation rather than sing my own praises. But just yesterday I helped to retrieve Hannah and Gregory (insert last name I don't remember here, kin from Harv's oneshot last night and I don't have a complete transcript) as well as Cheryl Danvers and return them to safety from the hands of banes. My darling sister," he says, with an unreadable glance shot Kate's way, "could tell you that. I have fought . . . far more than is in what I would have considered within my skill set of late. And you would question what I've done to help my pack?"

An eyebrow is raised, and yes, that chill is nearly tangible. It's one thing to be dismissed as a Fool (or even a fool), as Edward goes out of his way for that quite often. But this is another thing entirely.

"Do you truly so doubt my Honor, my dedication?"

[Wyrmbreaker] That is a Galliard's job to tell, Edward says, and Lukas cuts him off. "No. It's yours. I'm asking you, Edward.

"Tell me. What have you done. Because I see Katherine struggling daily to hold her family and her tribe together. I see Sinclair learning the honor and wisdom with which she'll temper the sheer ferocity she has within her. I even see Theron, our newest, doing his best to uphold the honor of this pack and to erase the shame of his failures.

"So tell me. What have you done? And I don't want to hear about random encounters on the streets, alone. I want to know what you have done for your pack, which you claim matters so much to you. What have you done to make us stronger? What have you done to make us wiser and more honorable, more fit to face the war? How have you scouted and spied for us, as you say? How have you played the Fool in a way that has benefited us?"

A beat.

"And if the answer is nothing, Edward, then say so. If you mean to do much but have only managed to accomplish little, that's no shame so long as you admit it and strive for better. It's not your honor and dedication I doubt. It's your humility and your ability to face your failures."

[Edward Bellamonte] "....."

Edward is tired. Not in the way that means he needs to go to bed (that doesn't help, really, much of the time), but in the bone weary way they all get sometimes. He is, for a moment, struck dumb at this line of questioning. He closes his eyes, rubs absently at a temple (which shows the faintest signs of not gray, but silver), and then sighs.

"Clearly, it's nothing," he finally says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So little - no, that's not small enough. So minuscule, infinitesimal, that my own packmates don't speak of what I do between themselves. Perhaps I am just a failure. You'd hardly be the first to say so."

[Edward Bellamonte] (We're getting to the point where I'm having a hard time not letting OOC frustration bleed into this! So, to heed the wise words of a friend [yay, Jess!] I'mma have to ask for pause or wrap.)

[Wyrmbreaker] "Enough!"

Lukas's hand comes down on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the PS3 controller on the glass. A second later he's in control again, his tone modulated, level, low.

"Edward, I am tired of hearing either empty pride or utter self-pity out of you. You sound exactly like Gabriella. Only it's worse, because you're the eldest. You're your father's son. You're a Fostern of the Nation, and when you either boast without cause or wallow in self-pity, you shame your lineage and you shame your sister Katherine.

"I don't ask greatness of you, Ed. Not anymore. I don't expect you to reach the standards your breeding implies. I didn't demand a list of deeds because I expect you to have accomplished anything. I did it because you claimed deeds you haven't done, and I cannot tolerate that.

"All I ask of you is the attempt to act for the betterment of your pack. And if you should fail, then all I ask from you is the honesty and humility to admit it, and the courage to move past it.

"All right?"

(I think we're near a wrap!)

[Edward Bellamonte] "Are you . . ."

He doesn't complete the sentence. Of course Lukas is serious - they've talked about this before, as well. For a while, Ed had succeeded in instilling a bit of humor, but that - like so much else - appears to have changed in his absence. He should care . . . more, because he does care, but there's a weight, and water (or blood, or . . . something) rushing in his ears. And so, still wry, and now self deprecating, he shrugs. "Of course. As you say." And with that, there's focusing on his reflection (no, deeper than that, past his reflection and into the shadow) on the glass table and . . .

. . . slipping away.

[Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the play, CC. sorry if you got frustrated!)

[Edward Bellamonte] (Thanks to you! And no worries - it's 4am. Of course I'm frustrated!)

[lwo] And a little ant trying to escape the rain crawls across the floor. Crawl, little ant, crawl! For soon there may be smashings or bugspray. Crawl for freedom!

[Wyrmbreaker] And...

Ed vanishes into the Umbra.

Lukas throws up his hands in frustration and flops backwards onto his beanbag chair. "Wonder if he'll be gone another year," he says. He's only half-joking.

[Kate] They argue.
They debate.

They -- grow frustrated with one another and how much, for Katherine, must this be a glimpse back into the past when it had been them; the core of the pack together, arguing and debating and eventually ... drifting apart. At least in the case of the [then] sole Fostern among them.

Now, his sister merely sits to one side, rubbing at her brow as Edward, forever the little boy lost, vanishes once more. "I hope not," she says with bitter amusement. "I could use him in my corner at the tribal gathering."

[Wyrmbreaker] "We could all use him in our corner," Lukas replies angrily, "if he'd bother to actually get in our corner. Instead he drifts in and out doing whatever he pleases and expects to get by with wits, tall tales and breeding alone when he's called on it. God, to think I used to think he was ... some sort of Chosen One."

The Ahroun lapses into a sort of frustrated silence. It goes on for a while. Then, "Honest answer, Kate. Was I too hard on him?"

[Kate] Katherine is utterly calm now, her anger has passed away, her moment of derangement suffered and withstood until now she was as her moon dictated she ought to be; the Ahroun's safe harbor during the storm of his anger, after the storm itself had passed and now required dissembling, examination.

This then, was her role within the pack and furthermore, within the sept itself as elder of her moon.

"You were harsh, Lukas." She lets that sink in, before going on. "But Edward needs a harsh hand to deal with him, it cannot always be fun and games for him, just as it cannot always be ignorance and turning his back on Sinclair. He is born to push the boundaries of what we find comfortable, but he is also born to see the answers that we miss, in trying to be so reasonable and wise."

She breathes out slowly, tangling fingers in her thick mane.

"Edward is much changed, and yet in some ways, he is exactly as he was as a child. Full of bravado and personality, but so easily swayed." Her eyebrows lower. "I used to think that a great boon for shaping him into the leader he ought to have been, but now I think I did not help him as I could have."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Don't blame yourself for the way Edward turned out," Lukas says, still sprawled in his beanbag chair. "It's no more your fault than Gabriella is.

"Or," after a moment, musingly now, "my fault. Or even Ed's fault, perhaps. We all such potential in him. In that breeding of his. But maybe that's all it ever was. Blood and memories; not true potential at all.

"But goddammit," then he's angry again, a flare of it rising up like a lick of plasma from the surface of the sun. "I'm not even asking Edward to be a hero. At this point I just want him to do a little more than lounge about and crack jokes while his sister runs wild and his other sister is assaulted over and over by a crazed pup of a tribemate. He's a Fostern of this pack, and its only Ragabash. He's given us no information whatsoever; no insight. And the last time we were in battle together, he ignored orders, fell out a window, and spent the rest of the time helping a kinfolk flame a giant blob to death."

[Wyrmbreaker] (er. we all SAW such potential.)

[Theron Locke] ((lol awesome scene guys... if your still going when I am able.. I'll throw in some comments :))

[Kate] Katherine's lips twitch as her Alpha explodes into anger anew -- somewhere around the part about falling out of windows and flaming giant blobs, Katherine's shoulders are trembling with repressed laughter and she covers her mouth with her palm to smother her laughter.

To little avail.

She drops her head down, trembling, laughing softly, shaking her head from side to side. "I - I do hope he managed to kill the blob in the end, or did it come and seek its revenge?" She wipes a tear from one eye, sighing. "He did aid me in combat the night before last though, in his defense. It was simply unfortunate that the Master Fomori blasted him and prevented him from fighting longer beside me."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Do you think I'm kidding?" Lukas sounds outraged. "I'm serious. He fell out a window! And then he was helping that woman, that redhead of Taggart's -- Liadan? -- fight a giant meat-blob."

And then his lips twitch. He bites the insides to keep from smiling.

"They did prevail in the end. It was a great big smoking heap by then time we came down from dealing with the Dancers that had spawned the whole mess."

Humor fades. Lukas pushes a hand through his hair -- jet black, straightish, though it would curve into waves if it were a little longer, or a little wetter. When Lukas was a boy, his hair was soft and curled, often tousled.

"I have no doubt," he says, "that Edward is loyal to the pack. And that he'd lay down his life for any of us, just as we would for him. But it's investment I want. Some sense that he's united in a common cause with us. He's grown so distant."

[Kate] Katherine's humor fades some as he goes on, and she begins to play with the edge of the sofa; tracing her fingertip along the seam, back and forth. "Yes," she admits, "He has. Did he ... tell you anything of his time apart from us?" She asks, her hesitation borne far more of a far of revealing an intimacy her brother might not have wished known.

"Of where he went, or what he wound up doing?"

[Wyrmbreaker] "No. I know only that he was in France."

[Theron Locke] Theron pipes up from where he is sitting "Then perhaps we need to find a common cause ? We seem at the moment to be so busy with personal matters that from where I stand we are barely functioning as a pack. And I know I am as much to blame in that regard as anyone else. But when is the last time we hunted together or even ate together... I discount the other night at that Lounge. I mean even our living arrangements are split.. some of us at the Brotherhood.. others of us here. We all seem to find excuses to busy ourselves day to day ... I know I have been spending time with a new friend. Perhaps we need to make an effort to spend time with each other. I think Kate has shown us all up a little badly.. with the work she has down on that garden. Something good.. something lasting." he sighs a little as a memory of a crazy theurge flew through the air on a swing.

[Kate] Katherine nods, and her brows knits for a moment, her pale eyes lowering for a beat, lashes falling to fan her cheekbones. "He did not remain solely in France, Lukas, he sought out, via means of discovering their whereabouts inadvertently from my Uncle, the Black Spiral Dancers that killed our father, and his pack.

Edward hunted them down, foolishly, as only Edward would, and destroyed the lot of them. He died doing so, but he came back."

She smiles briefly, tightly at Lukas. "I don't think he shall ever quite be the same brother that I knew, I believe whatever his experiences in dealing with them, it has altered him. For the better or worse," Softly. "I cannot tell."

[Wyrmbreaker] There's a small silence after Kate finishes. Then Lukas nods. "Well," he says, "that was a brave and honorable thing for Ed to have done."

He's quiet now, relaxed on his rather whimsical seat: a just-past-college-age young man; a great beast. His limbs trail lazily off the beanbag chair, rather the way they would off one of Kate's pool floats, but they're not in the pool. They're upstairs, near the TV, near the PS3, and Edward has vanished again.

"Better or worse," he says, as though decided, "Ed's one of us. And whether he likes it or not, I'm not letting him sink into mediocrity."

Another pause.

"We should hunt together. Soon. The business with the Marys is coming to a head." He glances at Theron and Kate. "Are you two up to speed on that? Long story short: three dead kinswoman are haunting one of Chicago's cemeteries. They seem convinced that a Wyrm relic of great and corruptive power is on the verge of rediscovery by the Wyrm, and they want us to finish the job their Garou couldn't 80 years ago, and destroy it. I believe Truth in Frenzy-rhya's leading the assault."

[lwo] ooc: Ahem, the spy says... Kate was in the car/came to the cemetery for that whole spiel already/is in the forums thread of pausedom... and didn't Theron show up, too? (LOL)
to Kate, Theron Locke, Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] (LOL. oh right. theron wasn't there though -- it was too early. pretend Lukas only looked at Theron then.)
to Kate, lwo, Theron Locke

[Theron Locke] (( yeah Theron only got the invite to Kemp's meeting later.))
to Kate, lwo, Wyrmbreaker

[Theron Locke] Theron frowns somewhat, some of his comments glossed over. But perhaps the other two had become tired discussing the never ending issues.. no matter

"Hmm a relic you say.. it would be interesting to know what type, it's powers... if it is cursed. Whether destroying it is the worst thing we could do. I think we have a lot of information to gather before we run screaming into the fray. Taking on a battle with such little knowledge...seems rather crazy."

[Kate] "I think our father would have boxed his ears for going in alone and being so dense," she adds fondly, with a daughter's prideful recollection of a parent, before confirming: "But yes, he would have been very proud, I think." There's a few minutes of easy silence this time, not quite so strained before Lukas intimates that they should hunt again soon.

And then he speaks of the Marys, Katherine grimaces and stretches herself out along the sofa.

"Yes, everyone panicked when we apparently ran one of the spirits over at the cemetery, and then I almost fell into an open grave. It's all very exciting." Droll.

[Wyrmbreaker] "There's going to be a meeting to discuss it further. We'll discuss it over with the rest and make sure we go in strong.

"And we should do more as a pack," he adds. "It is different now than it was a year ago -- we have Sept and Tribal concerns. We have mates and personal lives. But we should ... y'know. Hang out more." A faint smile quirks his mouth. "You should bring that new friend of yours around, Theron. Who is she, anyway?"

[Kate] "Some of us have mates," Katherine jokingly corrects, and squints down the line of the sofa at Lukas. "Some of us are just as happy single, thank you very much."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Okay," Lukas rolls his eyes at Kate, "I have a mate. You have an auspice eldership and a tribal alphaship."

[Kate] "Which is exactly as if I had a Mate," she laughs suddenly, "Or perhaps two very demanding, whining mates."

[Theron Locke] Theron blushes slightly then and then looks over at Kate with a careful look "Umm I've been spending a fair amount of time with Lonna...Larson. We just seemed to keep bumping into each other. Then we got talking and well have been for awhile. Sorta why I've been wanting to talk to you Lukas ....I want to handle things properly this time, I even spent the afternoon with Danicka the other day to get her perspective on matters..... she told me to ask you to translate 'Lukáš d&+283;lá mi to radost' for me"

"I was planning on summong a crow spirit to carry a message to Dances-with-Fire-ryha to arrange a meeting to discuss the possibility of me asking her out more formally. Though it seems I have a lot to learn in these matters, I am still unsure of what I will offer him as chiminage. But at this stage I will not be asking for us to be formally mated, I just wish to see where things lead."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Yeah," he replies to Kate, "your tribe really is a handful. I thought mine would give me more trouble, what with Shadow Lords all being conniving, backstabbing motherfuckers, but no; the conniver and the backstabber's coming from Falcon this time."

Try not to sound so smug, Lukas.

A pause, then, as at least one -- and most likely two -- and possibly three, if Sinclair has not fallen completely asleep -- pairs of pale blue eyes swing around on Theron. There's a silence. Perhaps everyone's wondering whether or not to tell Theron of Lonna's reputation: welcome wagon. Town bike. Black widow of doom.

In the end, though, it's the Czech, remarkably well-produced, that breaks Lukas's awkward silence. The Shadow Lord smiles, suddenly, completely, an expression that unfurls from ear to ear. It's possible Theron has never seen him smile like that. To be sure, a moment later he lowers his eyes and ducks his head as though to hide it.

When he raises his face again, it's under control.

"It means Lukáš makes me happy. Why on earth did she teach you that?

"As for Lonna, it's a good idea to express your intentions to Dances With Fire early and clearly. He's a lupus, so he'll be very direct. That doesn't mean he's stupid. He'll sniff out bullshit and smokescreens in a second, so don't even try. Just tell him you like her, and that you want his permission to date his kin. If I were you, I wouldn't mention mating at all if you weren't planning to challenge him for mateship. If someone told me they didn't want to be formally mated but wanted to 'see where things lead', I'd assume they wanted to make a whore of my kin and then leave her by the roadside." A shrug. "Not that I'm suggesting you'd ever do that."

[Kate] Katherine launches a pillow from somewhere at Lukas with a fauxly indignant smile.

"Détestable créature avec aucune honte!" She shouts, half laughing, before Theron mentions precisely whom his special friend is and both Katherine and Lukas, at least, grow silent for a moment. Katherine exchanges a glance with her Alpha, returns her eyes to Theron, stays quiet.

Then Lukas mentions making whores of his Kinfolk and there's a flare of agitation from Katherine, a remembered slight, a snort of clear disapproval.

[Kate] "No," she says, meaningfully looking at Theron. "Not that you would ever do such a thing."

[Theron Locke] "Well I could tell you.. but then I would have to kill you" he smiles, his eyes twinkling somewhat "No but seriously I just phoned Danicka and invited her out for afternoon tea to ask her advice on things. " he sighs somewhat "It was mainly a discussion on the Garou concept of mating .. and if a garou and kin could ever be truely happy in a relationship."

"Hmm you make good points though Lukas, I shall take them on board. I was going to offer him my services for a cycle of the moon, to make talens and so forth. In an effort to prove I was capable and to provide him some recompence."

Then the comment from Kate makes his cheeks flush in embarassment "Thankyou for the reminder Kate, but I am hoping to show that I have at least garnered some wisdom from my mistakes at the very least. I want to show that I have learned and will follow the proper etiquette that is befitting of me."

[Kate] "Good," his Half Moon says to him with a gleam in her eye, "This is all I wish of you from my reminder." She falls back against the sofa, and then adds as an afterthought. "Theron, be mindful of Lonna Larson, she came to me for advice not long after her guardian died. She is more fragile than most would recognize."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Let Andrew name his price. Be respectful and polite, but don't serve yourself up on a platter."

Lukas reaches behind his head, rubs his neck for a moment. "For what it's worth, Theron, I think Garou and kin can be happy together," he says. Wry, "We're made for each other, after all. But ... in truth, I think it's rare, and shortlived, and it takes both enormous amounts of work and extraordinary self-control.

"There's no chance of it ever being a fair or safe relationship, you understand? You're a monster; she's almost wholly human. It's entirely lopsided. You hold all the power; your mate has none. So if you want it to be anything but a relationship built on fear and dread and terror, you have to go against every instinct you have to dominate or possess -- and sometimes even to protect -- so that you don't completely stifle her. You have to let her dictate the terms of your relationship. You have to give up control, give up everything, give in to what's between you and, ironically enough, trust her not to break you.

"And that's hard. Especially for Shadow Lords. We're taught to be strong; to dominate."

He's talking more than he expected to. It comes out easily, if quietly; thoughts that he's never really bothered to set into order even for himself. Truths that he recognizes as true even as he speaks them.

"Then, even if you can manage that much, there's the fact that you'll never be able to raise a family with her," he continues. "If you have children, other kin will raise them. Your own flesh and blood won't be able to stand you because of what you are and what you carry inside you. They'll flinch if you touch them and cry if you hold them. If your anger grows too strong, your own mate won't even be able to stand you. You won't be able to live with her; not without eventually crushing her with the weight of your Rage."

He's quiet now, and not looking at either of them. The Ahroun is looking at the ceiling, his brow faintly furrowed, eyes shadowed.

"And in the end," he says, "after all that, inevitably, you'll die and leave her alone."

[Theron Locke] He nods to Kate "Yes I know .. I've seen it.." "I even saw the after effects when .she was delivered to me after a run in with... some sort of creature. She had bone spikes growing out of her" he shakes his head as if trying to clear his mind of the image.

He just listens to his Alpha taking it all in and processing it "You know Lukas for a relatively quiet man. When you do talk....you are very profound. I think I've much to learn from you." he nods and offers him a polite smile.

"But you are quite the pessimist aren't you ? Who do I need to see to have sunshine blown up my arse, and here that everything will be perfect and romantic ?" chuckling softly as he says it, as deep down he realises his Alpha has only spoken in truth and reality.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas laughs under his breath; there isn't a whole lot of humor in it. "The last optimist in this pack," he says, "punched a kinswoman he claimed to love after he discovered she wasn't in love with him. I think it's better to be realistic. It's not easy. But if you can make it work, it's worth it."

A pause.

"It's worth everything."

And then Lukas is getting up out of his beanbag chair, groaning as he stretches a spine stiffened by hours of lounging in the same position.

"I'm turning in, guys. Anyone need a ride back to the BroHo?"

[Kate] Katherine seems affected by Lukas' words, and falls silent. She allows the pair of Shadow Lords to speak, and eventually rises only to announce: "I am for bed, Gentlemen, I see that you are capable of finding your own ways out, I will walk downstairs with you, come."

The hostess follows them out, and bids them farewell, before falling to her own bed for the night.

a brother's return.

[Keith Sommers] He didn't notice Lonna immediately. Keith, he wasn't the most perceptive creature. But here was a blonde woman -- a lovely one, no, even a beautiful one -- and she was approaching from one side of the street. Keith flung the coin at the fountain. The coin richocheted off of Good Fortune, bounced off of the rim of Love, straight into Long Life, where it fell with a resonant clink. Keith snorted. His breath plumed, draconic, because it was cold outside and wet. Cold enough, wet enough, to bring vapor clouds, to begin seeing people's souls.

And then! Oh yes, then, the (boyish) [ahroun] young man eyed Lonna sideways and askance. Was that? It was. That crazy woman. That crazy kinfolk! Crazy.

[Lonna Larson] The time for irony was a good week from now, at least. The moon still hung in the sky, and a judge's moon had no place for cruel jokes. She is inspecting her quarter, as though it is something fascinating.

Virgina quarter. It was still shiny. Something about it made her smile. Made her expression brighten a little. She looked at it, then up, and at... Keith. A flush came to her cheeks, and for a second she thinks back to the last time they spoke, and the time before that... the moon was waning to half. For some reason, she felt it necessary to be referent on such days. To dance, to move, to feel a beat in her body and realize that she's connected to something bigger.

She looked at him from the side, "hey," she offers.

There is a pause.

"I... umm.. really need to talk to you."

[Keith Sommers] The moon is waning. The tidal pull on the force that, quite simply, has Changed his life and touched his mind (oh, but he's a Silver Fang Prince: of course it Changed him; of course he is tied to Lunacy) is ebbing. This does not mean that Keith is a comfortable person to be around. The air around him is tense, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to break, for somebody to slip. He flexes his fingers, idly.

The last time he saw Lonna he almost beat one of his kinswomen. The last time he saw Lonna the moon was overbrimming with fullness and she was clinging to his neck and pressing her mouth against his. The time before, he danced her into an ambulance. His mouth quirks, and it's sardonic as all hell.

"Right," he says. The Royal Pain Himself.

[Lonna Larson] "I'm sorry," she offers.

She looksa t him, and it's the first thing that comes out of her mouth. The last time she saw him, she was trying to distract him, she knew what his lips tasted like long before she knew what his favorite color was, or even that he was a Silver Fang.

There had been quiet horror in that realization. A three-day stomach ache and nerves that were so on-edge that the Child of Gaia was unsure of what to do with herself. She regarded Keith again, and her expression was quiet and genuine. He's sardonic, and she's apologetic.

"I didn't mean to... you know... disrespect you... or.. your tribe... or... anything like that."

[Keith Sommers] Percept Empathy whuuut?
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Keith Sommers] (AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! LOOK AT THAT!!!!!)

[Keith Sommers] His eyebrows draw together, and his gaze is touched by (what else?) confusion. Lonna perplexes Keith, and Keith, in a rare moment of insight, looks the kinwoman (he doesn't know what her tribe is) over carefully. He notices things. He notices a lot.

"Apology accepted." A beat. Then, he cracks a crooked grin, and both of his eyebrows go way, way, way up. He's an expressive creature, Keith. "Just what did you mean to do?" Even as he asks, his mood sinks downward a little. He wasn't proud (of that). "And who was your friend?" Moira, he means. The Get of Fenris, who'd also, at some point, been standing around his table. He remembers through the haze that there were three attractive kinswomen -- no, four! let's not forget the Fianna -- all there to witness his lapse in judgment.

Temper, temper.

[Lonna Larson] "Distract you enough that you forgot what you were angry about in the first place," she says.

She shrugs a little, and slips her hands into her jacket pockets. She is careful with herself, and instead looks up at the sky as though it would offer her some kind of insight. Breath disappears into the air, and a haze seems content to settle into the area. It's almost picturesque.

"And her name's Moira," she says, "the guy's name was Temple."

[Keith Sommers] "Yeah, well." He huffs. "It worked." He glances down the street, and then brings his direct gaze back to Lonna. Back to Lonna's. "But it was stupid. Next time, don't try to help." That sounded harsh. He couldn't help it -- or, rather, he could. But that would require work. That would require him to gentle his voice, not to decree it shall be so the way he just did; it would require him to be a little less noblesse without the oblige. "I don't even know what tribe you belong to," he says, after a silent (tense) moment. He chuckles. "I thought you were just some stupid human chick." Well, he thought she was maybe wyrm, too, but he's not going to tell her that part.

[Lonna Larson] "Child of Gaia," she tells him, "my dad was a philodox."

She isn't sure why she tells him that, but instead she finds the quarter interesting again. She looks at the well and tosses it in. She misses and, instead, her quarter bounces off into the section for long life. She looked at it for a second and looked back at him.

"Only stupid human chicks come too close when there's trouble?"

[Keith Sommers] "Oh, of course," and he's thinking of Genevre. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to think about that. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and Keith is dressed nicely. He always dresses nicely, unless he's specifically in a tough part of town. The coat is tailored, but simple, and it gives him elegant lines. He wears it simply, too. He just put his hands in his pockets, but he takes one out to run through his hair, silver glints caught out by the light, oh, catch him out: go ahead. It's easy. "But I mean. I thought you were addicted to the thrill. Or something. Uh," hey, check out Mr. Eloquence. "Addicted to feeling scared." He eyes Lonna, sidelong again. Then he offers this: "Are you doing okay?"

[Lonna Larson] [Do you really wanna lie to him?]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 8)

[Lonna Larson] "... there's something about that sort of intensity that has an allure. And... this is going to sound stupid, but... there is a rush, something that's simultaneously comforting and terrifying about it. Safe and dangerous all at once," she told him.

The blonde regards him, and she tries to come up with something to say. He asks if she's alright, and what wants to come out of her mouth is a lie. Something elegant and easy that one told their friends so that they don't worry. The kind of thing that she told Liadan when she first saw her. Her eyes water slightly, and she tries to keep some kind of composure.

"I-" and it's as far as she gets before she starts crying, "my warders are dead, and I went out with my friend and we were just driving and there was this guy who looked like he needed help so we pulled over and-and-and I'm so stupid-"

She choked out half a sob, but didn't stop talking "-and I remember wishing she'd just get back in the car and drive... and everything hurt... and when I woke up-and-and-... they needed other kin..."

She wipes her eyes quickly, enough that she half smudged her makeup.

"And I miss Evan..."

[Lonna Larson] And she just kept crying.

[Keith Sommers] Now she's crying.
Of course she is.

Helena would be finding this hilarious. Keith can almost imagine the galliard's mocking comment now. It makes him smile, a little. (A rake's smile, though -- too easy, too sharp.) Not that he thinks Lonna crying is funny! He doesn't. He's alarmed, and also wondering whether or not she's bipolar or something. Insane, maybe. He'd snap his teeth at the word, if he weren't so focused on the crying girl. He cocks his head, scratches behind one ear. There's noone around to see, so he reaches out and pulls Lonna into a onearmed hug. "There, there," he says.

Wait. "Wait. Everything hurt? They needed other kin?"

[Lonna Larson] "Spirals can't breed on their own, they could but-but they'd all die out, and when you run out of breeding stock you have to go find some," She leans a little into the hug. The sort of half assed-sort of thing.

"And... and I keep thinking about it, and it wasn't... I mean.. I'm okay and... but," and this, ladies and gentlemen, is where she proves that she's a bleeding heart Child of Gaia. She regards him, and finds herself thinking about things like morality and the well-being of others, "how could... how long could that have been going on? Wouldn't someone notice people missing? What happened to whoever else passed through there?"

[Keith Sommers] Lonna leans a little into the hug and Keith strokes her hair. There there. There there. There the- But then his hand stills. For a second, his hand is crushing, his strength is -- just for a second -- intense. But he doesn't hurt her, because he is in control of himself, and that moment -- that second -- was really just the outward manifestation of surprise. A shock of adrenaline, a dilation of the pupils, so dark they're black as winterice. Spirals, she says, needed other kin. And Keith, frowning, says, "People go missing all the time. Nobody notices. We don't even notice. There's too much of all that. What did they do to you? I mean," and he frowns, again. "Did they already know you? Or were you just unlucky?" Keith, Keith ... A beautiful woman is sobbing in your arms, and you're trying to probe her trauma?

[Lonna Larson] He tries. She knows he tries. The blonde leans a little into it, and her hair is soft and her posture straight. For a second the gesture is comforting, and would be lost on her. But, for a split moment his strength is almost frightening, and the rabbit inhales sharply. Lacking the necessary self-preservation instinct, she doesn't run.

"I was out with my friend, and.. she's Fenrir kin, and noticably so... so... I guess they figured..." she shrugs, and he lets a half hearted shrug come, and for a second tears pull down to a minor trickle, "I'm just unlucky, I guess."

She takes a second to bend her neck forward a little, and pulls the collar of her shirt to the side enough to reveal some particularly nasty bruising. She adjusts herself again after a second. What did they do to you?

"That."

She pauses.

"We got help, things didn't.. get that far.."

[Keith Sommers] "Jesus," he says. And then, "I'm sorry."

There's a moment silence. He is aware of how inadequate an apology is. Didn't Lonna apologize to him tonight? He already doesn't remember, or brushes it off, or... Lonna didn't do anything that an apology was necessary for. Not to him. He doesn't know that she was in agonies over it. He doesn't know that she went to Kate and apologized to her, too. For disrespecting their tribe.

(Royalty.)

What he doesn't know could fill a book. But so could what he does know. "But you got help? Good." A pause, and then, a lopsided sort've smile. "We should go dancing, if you think you're well enough to manage it without a collapse."

[Lonna Larson] "I've eaten today," she announces, as though this makes all the difference.

It does make all the difference, actually. It had made all the difference the first time that they met. But she remembers that, and something about it made her smile. She is a woman who has done many things. Who has kissed royalty and not had it taken out of her hide.

She's one of the few women, or people in general, who seemed to use the phrase you're a Silver Fang as something indicative of being royal instead of deranged. Reverence, in a strange way, but neither here nor there.

"We should go dancing," she announces.

[Keith Sommers] He stared at his hands. They were bloody. They'd been bloody before, but usually, in truth, the blood was dripping from claws; from talons. They weren't usually bloody, not like this, not in this shape, and as the Monster subsided again -- retreated, a dull roar, an echoing in his head, hammer, hammer, hammer -- Keith's eyes widened in horror. He looked from his hands, to Lonna. From Lonna, to his hands. To what was left of Lonna. "Wake up," he shouted. Commanded. He was a FANG, and she WOULD listen, she --

[Keith Sommers] (( LMAO OH FUCK. *sweeps that PM under the rug* ))

[Katherine Bellamonte] (*points and GASPS*)

[Keith Sommers] They're by the wishing well. They've both tossed coins over their shoulders, and those coins have both landed in the bucket with the writing for Long Life. The wishing well has a sense of humor, and is also a liar. Lonna, judging from her taletelling today, is about as likely to live long as Keith is. But look, she is no longer crying, and Keith smiles (hopefully) lopsidedly. "Then let's go." He spreads his arms, wide. Magnanimous, the young prince. Oh, Lonna, with your reverencing: he'll just take it as his due. As they all will. Take, and take, and take. "Let's go right now."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Go where?"

Lukas and Kate, entering stage left: the tall Shadow Lord with a steaming cup of ... well, it's actually hot chocolate, but it looks like coffee. Both of them are bundled up against the cold: the Ahroun in a wool overcoat that falls past his knees and gloves and a flat cap, a white brushed-wool scarf the only non-black article of clothing visible. With the brim of his cap low over his eyes, the angles of his face are accentuated; so too, oddly, is his surprisingly personable smile.

"Hi, Lonna," he greets them then, gently playful, "and you too, young sir, Mr. Sommers."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (ok, i declare chilltank defunct. we shall proceed chill-lessly.)

[Keith Sommers] Keith meets Lukas' eyes. No he doesn't. Lukas' cap is pulled low. But Keith swings his head in the Unbroken packmates' direction. His arms are still spread (hail, for I am your savior!). He drops them, after a heartbeat, and a smile flickers into place. "We're going dancing. And this time? Lonna has promised that she's not going to faint. You guys want to come?" He's energy, now. See it? He's restrained (barely) energy. He doesn't quite look at Kate. Perhaps he's still remembering that cuff? Perhaps he's trying not to remember it. Either way.

(( *jumps post order* ))
(( also, the chilltank just died i think, totally and completely, LOL))

[Lonna Larson] She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist and offered Keith half a smile. "I look like shit," she announces.

No, actually, she doesn't look like shit. Her hair wasn't a mess, her makeup wasn't too bad, everything that she wanted covered was covered, and her fingertips weren't daring to freeze off. By and large, Lonna Larson looked pretty damned good. It was her default.

And stage left, two new actors enter. They cross to stage center, and neither of them block out. It's the first time she's seen Lukas playful. In fact, it's the first time she's seen Lukas not delivering horrible news or looking incredibly intense about something. By and large, this was a surprise, and her expression- with brows raised and eyes wide for a split second, indicated as such.

"Hi, Lukas," (she secretly hopes she got his name right. No, not so secretly hopes) "evening Miss Bellamonte."

Because her name is not Katherine. It's Miss Bellamonte.

"And yes, we're going dancing. I'm trying my best to keep my word."

No fainting. She promises nothing.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine also carries a hot beverage in her gloved hands but her own is darker in appearance and taste than the Ahroun's; dark chocolate with a dash of white mixed into it. In a startling contrast to the man beside her, the young Half Moon is dressed entirely in white, a knitted cap tugged down over her immaculate waves, and her fingers housed in the only splash of black on her person; leather gloves.

Unlike Lukas, Kate did not smile (she had been doing so less and less of late, her stern demeanor not lessening the creature's outward beauty but keeping it somehow isolated; frosty as the weather) but rather remained a silent fixture at the Shadow Lord's side; her pale eyes traveled from Savage Dawn to the tear-stained cheeks of the Gaian Kinswoman she'd spoken to before the Moot.

The moon was Waning, and Truth's Meridian felt her moon approaching; it prickled her skin like the kiss of a snowflake against hot flesh.

[Katherine Bellamonte] As she's greeted, her chin lifts, she nods at Lonna; Keith.

"Evening to you both," she said softly, in her young girl's voice; it was so odd to imagine that the owner of that voice sprouted fur and claw and ripped things apart until they bled.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The two packmates are an arresting pair in dark and light. There have been jokes made within and without the pack. Katherine's been called Her Majesty, a virgin queen, the white queen. Sam used to think of himself and Lukas -- when he wasn't thinking of them as Superman and Batman, or whatever else his comicbook mythology implied -- as the white and black knights of the pack. It's hard not to note that every one of the pack has pale blue eyes right now. It's also been noted that most of them are wellbred, and every last one of them is, quite frankly, rather beautiful.

It's hard not to feel just a little underwhelming in their presence. Though that's not, one suspects, something Keith will have trouble with.

And for what it's worth, at least one of the pair looks affable tonight, smiling, a charming savage in a fine coat. Lonna gets Lukas's name right -- so far as the spelling goes, anyway. She doesn't get the emphasis right, nor the long a, nor the aspirated s; but then, outside of a very small number of native Czech speaks in this country, not many people have gotten that right in his entire life.

So he forgives her. And he gives her a long, piercing look -- piercing, because that's the color of his eyes, and he can't help it any more than she can help the bland americanization of his name.

"You all right, Lonna?" Lightly enough, that. And then he glances at his packmate, eyebrows up in silent question, before looking back. "Sure, why not."

[Keith Sommers] You all right, Lonna, Lukas asks, and Keith shakes his head -- faintly, almost imperceptibly. The young man (oh, no) doesn't look at her. He doesn't look at her in a way that is Very Very Obvious. He doesn't look at her, and oh, his shoulders've gone slightly tenser, as if. Well, as if something.

"How are you, Katherine?" Lo! Polite deference. Sure, why not, Lukas says, and Keith rubs his hands together. His breath steams. "Excellent." A pause, and then, "Does anybody have any suggestions? That club last time," this is to Lonna, who he turns to face more directly. "I just found it by sheer chance."

[Lonna Larson] She didn't call him Daniel. Or Stephen. For the most part, she got it right, and it was as close as she could get without being intimately familiar with the Czech language. The woman did beautiful things with Gaelic, but that had taken years of practice. Alas, Lukas might not live long enough for Lonna to be able to pronounce his name correctly.

But, instead of trying to lie and say that she was fine, she simplifies things and takes the honest route with the Lord. "I had a horrible weekend," she admits. It is the understatement of the year.

In comparison to her company, she is nothing outwardly special. Not well bred, no notable parentage to speak of. Just a pretty, pretty blonde with pretty, pretty curls who looked like a very good dream.

Attention back to Keith, and she shrugs, "I don't know anywhere on this side of town. I heard there was a place a few blocks from here, but I wouldn't be sure that.. you know... you wouldn't end up getting stabbed on the dance floor if you aren't careful."

[Katherine Bellamonte] How are you, Katherine?

Her lips quirk faintly, her amusement rising in tandem with the sudden light in her blue eyes at the question. She raises her steaming cup of chocolate to her lips and sips from it, the liquid staining red, red lips for an instant before a pink tongue licks away the traces and she lifts a shoulder in a very light, unassuming manner. "I am quite well, Keith, I thank you."

Lonna's been crying, and it is to her that the Royalist's eyes tick toward as suggestions are made over where they should go, and the Silver Fang chimes in with: "I know of a place not far from here, it is somewhat more ... refined in terms of whom it admits but I know the owner, he would let us through on my word. It's called Spiral."

A little laugh there; silvery and playful all of a sudden.

"Don't take the name too much to heart, though."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'm sorry to hear that," Lukas replies. He means it. The matter also ends there for him. Lonna isn't his kin

Lukas laughs under his breath. "I don't think we'll have any trouble with getting stabbed on the dance floor." He sips hot chocolate, then nods at the street ahead. "Lead the way."

Lonna or Katherine. He doesn't appear to have a preference.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Spiral was a Nightclub located on the outskirts of Chinatown and had stuck to the theme when it had come to designing the outside of the venue, at the very least. A gigantic dragon's head was propped above green and gold lights fitted beneath it above heavy double doors; a pair of bouncers stood before them; arms crossed over their chests, sunglasses on despite the hour.

From inside the venue came the muted but steady thrum of bass and a long line of revelers stood weaving their way down the block, awaiting the moment when the red tape was drawn back and they were admitted within. The Silver Fang leading the way in her knee-high white boots did not stop when protesting girls in the line yelled their objections at her as she by-passed them and stepped up the stairs to lean across the red tape and and speak into the ear of Bouncer A.

She murmured a few things, and the Bouncer pressed a hand to an earpiece fitted into his left lobe, a wire spiraled down beneath the man's jacket, and there was a sharp burst of static as a response was given, and he jerked his head in the positive at his co-worker. They unhooked the barrier, and waved the Philodox's party through.

"Hey, NO FAIR!"
"Think she's famous?"
"I been waiting an HOUR!"

The shouts died away as they entered into a darker establishment, divided into levels. The first floor was mostly comprised of dance-floor and room-length bar; above them on all sides were a second level of seating; red sofas scattered around the complex, offering a balcony view of the dance floor beneath it. Katherine pointed toward the stairwell, and made a bee-line toward the metallic stairwell.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas doesn't look too impressed with the way Katherine gets them in, if only because he's, well, used to it. Rolling with Fangs has its advantages, after all.

Keith was here to dance. The young Fang breaks off from the group and hits the floor. They get glimpses of him out there as the rest of the group heads for the stairwell, Lukas hanging back to motion Lonna up ahead of him. He brings up the rear, undoing his overcoat as he goes, unwinding his scarf, shedding his hat and his gloves.

There are empty sofas up there, but none in prime spots. Not a problem. Lukas's grin is lopsided as he leans down to murmur -- or rather shout, though it comes through as a murmur -- in Lonna's ear:

"Watch this."

[Theron Locke] Theron was sick of sitting at the Brotherhood, he was tired of keeping a low profile after the events of several nights before. He had sent a message out via totemphone enquiring what people were upto. He had received a few mumbles, but Lukas and Kate had replied about some nightclub. So he was out the front when they arrived, he greeted Lukas and gave Kate a curt nod.

He had followed them inside . Trying not to draw much attention to himself he moved through the large gathering of people. Eventually though he had slid Lonna a small smile in greeting, but seemed to not take it much further for the minute.

[Lonna Larson] The question of whose kin Lonna was happened to be a difficult one. She was a penny- ubiquitous. She's passed through so many hands that, for awhile, her actual value was doubted. The copper was worth more than the actual coin, no matter how tarnished it got. Either way, it didn't matter her value, metaphorical or otherwise, because she was in someone else's purse. And that someone had VIP access.

Lonna Larson didn't normally get into these places unless she was attached to someone's arm.

Supernaturally so, she paled in comparison to her company, but on a mundane level, Lonna gorgeous. It's up the stairs with her, making up park of Katherine Bellamonte's entourage of pretty, pretty people. Theron gets a smile and a little bit of a wave.

Watch this, Lukas syas. And she perks up and, with curiosity that shouldn't belong to her, and a half of a grin, she watches. She's not sure what she's watching, but she watches.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Beneath her winter's coat and gloves, Katherine is wearing a modest, yet appealing long-sleeved dress in palest pink, cut to just above her knee with a V-neck that revealed the tiniest of glimpses of the curve of her chest and finished at her elbow, leaving her lower arms free but for a small wristwatch that loosely hung from her left wrist.

It wasn't a question of whether or not eyes followed the Silver Fang as she reached the top of the stairs and crossed toward the lounge chairs affording the best view -- it was a question of how many did, how many watched the frontal and rear attributes on display as she reached her destination and leaned in to the gaggle of half-drunk office girls out for a fun time.

Only Lukas can overhear her words, feel the unspoken menace beneath that sugar and spice voice: "Move. You're in my reserved seating."

The women exchanged startled glances, a flustered choir of chickens in a disturbed roost, they began to cluck at her: "But I didn't think there was reserved seating here?"

Katherine stared.

"...okay."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas laughs aloud, a single ha!, as the office girls gather their things and wobble to their feet. His coat over his arm by now, the Shadow Lord stands aside, smiling politely at the ladies as they take their leave.

Only one of them manages to meet his eye. And not for very long.

Then he's tossing his coat over the back of a recently-vacated sofa, scarf and gloves tucked into a pocket. The newsboy cap he sets atop the coat, running his hand through his hair to unflatten it from under his hat. Then he pulls his thin sweater off as well, leaving himself in dark-wash jeans and, as it turns out, a casual blue-and-grey striped buttondown, slightly and deliberately rumpled.

Lukas's ancestors ruled from mountaintops and cliffsides, in stone halls and rock caves: blackfurred monsters with white teeth and vengeful memories. For all that history, he's startlingly urrah -- accustomed to living it up on the town. He flops down on the couch and stretches out, slinging one arm over the low back, lookng around to see who was still on their feet.

"If someone else wants to get the drinks," he says, "I'll pay for this round."

[Theron Locke] Theron the last one to arrive, and still on his feet "Yeah I'll go.". His eyes were scanning the crowd as if looking for someone, but when they didn't find their target they returned back to the group in front of him.

His black jacket was removed and placed on the back of a spare chair, revealing a lithe body so unlike the Ahroun - his Alpha. "Anything particular you want Lukas" he asked, then took orders from the rest of the group.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas shifts his weight to one side, getting his wallet out and handing Theron his trusty AmEx card. The name stamped on the bottom reads LUKAS KVASNICKA.

"Just get me a double of Glenlivet, neat." No fluorescent-blue drinks for him tonight, apparently. "Kate? Lonna?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine liked cocktails; her favorite was a martini, with plenty of olives in it for her to stir and slowly pluck off the toothpick, one by one. This is what she orders tonight from the Theurge, her pale eyes meeting his darker for a brief moment of sharp interrogation, perusal as if the female Garou were hunting his form for something; some tell-tale sign.

It is most almost certain that their Alpha knows of what had passed between the pair in an alleyway, that Lukas was aware that the strain that kept Truth's Meridian mostly quiet tonight had much to do with the repercussions of that same revelation from her new ward. Tense was not an unsuitable definition for Miss Bellamonte's state of being this night, even the manner she placed herself on the sofa, legs crossed and body turned so that she could keep an eye on the dance-floor below them spoke of her avid awareness of everything and everyone about her.

When Theron has departed to fetch the drinks, Katherine, a hand idly tousling through her thick waves of hair turns to regard Lonna. She has not forgotten their last conversation, and her lips discover a smile as she remarks casually: "I see you have made your peace with my Cousin, Lonna."

Silver Fangs often used the term for their tribalmates. Most everyone seemed to be a cousin, or a sister, a niece, a nephew -- someone whose blood tied back to theirs, eventually.

[Lonna Larson] She thinks about this. Lonna is trying to figure out what she wants to drink, and instead of ordering something nice and pretty and sophisticated, she orders.

"May I have an amaretto sour, please and thank you?"

Possibly the girliest drink known to humanity. Something that would, as she had been told once, knock her on her ass without having to feel it. Lonna wasn't thinking about Isaac right now, though.

[Theron Locke] Theron shifted uncomfortably as he felt the icy cold eyes of Kate fall upon him. She would have to be satisfied though, that Theron had at least not scene her kinswoman since they had parted company last night. It had not been out of choice....it was out of necessity

"Martini, Amaretto Sour....double of Glenlivet... got it' he answers as he pockets the Amex card and proceeds towards the bar.

[Lonna Larson] Did she make piece with Kate's cousin.

"Well, Miss Bellamonte, he didn't seem particularly phased," and, by the sound of her voice, that seemed to surprise her. She paused for a moment, then spoke up, "which was kind of a relief, I suppose."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, curious: "Was there peace to be made?"

[Lonna Larson] Lonna's cheeks turn bright pink in response and, instead, she decides to get herself out of her coat and what-have-you. She dresses nicely, or as nicely as finances can afford. Though, admittedly, when one has curves like hers they shouldn't dress as conservatively as she was at that moment.

This also said, Lonna Larson did not make a habit of keeping well-covered.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas rather automatically gets to his feet, holding Lonna's coat as she slides out of it. His eyes flick from Katherine to Lonna; his bemusement has a touch of humor to it, as though he were waiting for the punchline to a joke that everyone else seems to have already intuited.

"What am I missing here?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Mm," Katherine; amused. "No, as I said to you previously, I believe he was simply startled by your methods of keeping the peace." She fiddles with one of her drop earrings as Lukas fishes for the information to make sense of the Kingirl's blush, Katherine's continuing smiles.

"Miss Larson here put a rather, well, intimate halt to Keith's temper toward Genevre the other day in a cafe. She kissed the boy, and distracted him from making a very bad decision."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Across the totem-link, she goes on: Genevre provoked him, he lost his temper and intended to strike her. I intervened, as did Lonna and dragged Savage Dawn outside for a dressing down on his actions.

[Lonna Larson] "And we've established that it was a bad idea and I didn't know who was going to do anything and-" she exhales and is still blushing.

"Next time, leave the situation diffusing to professionals."

A pause. She didn't need to say that she felt bad about it. Given her reputation, it was a strange thing to be upset about doing.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas bites back a burst of hilarity; perhaps in the darkness they can't tell. Instead, as Theron returns from the bar, he reaches out to accept his drink and his credit card with a thank-you.

His only comment, "Genevre is a handful, isn't she?"

-- or rather, that's his only verbal comment. Across the totemlink he continues, You need to sit that kin down and spell it out for her, Kate. She'll be nothing but trouble for you otherwise.

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Elle est la nouvelle épine dans mon côté," Katherine murmurs back beneath her breath as her drink arrived and she cradled it in her hands, idly stirring the olives about it. Her fair brows knitted together as she seems to focus on something in the distance. Experience with their kind would note it was the expression many adopted when conversing with their pack-mates.

I have tried, Lukas. I have spelled, I have laid it out, I have all but hired a sky writer to inform her, she believes that her position as the daughter of a King gives her leave to do as she wishes, despite my informing her that is does nothing but the contrary.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (irk, it, not is.)

[Lonna Larson] Lonna Larson was a smart woman, and an observant one. She does catch that Lukas is trying not to laugh, brows raise and she lets a half grin cross her face. Instead, the blonde takes a drink and thanks Theron. The conversation switches languages and enters a realm that she can't quite understand. So, instead, she's content to drink and debate with herself.

[Theron Locke] Theron returns and a small statement is directed his way verbally.. then it is added too. A small flicker of...pain crosses his eyes..he goes to respond but fails to find the words. His mind running through a series of thoughts, looking ever so briefly at Lonna "I'm beginning to think nearly all kin are."

He was aching to add his two cents to the conversation, but it wasn't the time or place. He doubted that his pack-sister was ready to listen either. So for now he just noded in response to the thankyou's he received and then found his seat. His face turning to look out over the other club goers.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (they're all convened at a nightclub, CC if you wanna bring Eddie in! Sitting on the second level. First floor is dancefloor and bar.)
to Edward Bellamonte, Lonna Larson, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Theron Locke

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's mindvoice betrays his impatience with the subject: She may be the daughter of a King but you're the chosen of Falcon. And the tribal elder in this city, which is the city she's chosen to reside in. If she doesn't want to do as you say, she can move. Or go home to Daddy.

[Katherine Bellamonte] If she doesn't do as I say, Katherine returns a might sharper than before, I'll be sending her home to her father with a penned note of every infraction she's committed since arriving and you know I am nothing if not a sucker for detail.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas abruptly bursts into laughter, so suddenly that he coughs on his sip of scotch.

"So Lonna," he diverts the conversation, "forgive me for prying, but what's the story with you and Edwin? Last week at the moot both he and Joey were rather keen on warding you."

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward . . . generally only does nightclubs if there's a game room involved. And maybe there was, at some point, but he's trying for something akin to responsible, to wearing his big boy pants. Just because he'd done what he had to do didn't make the way he did it right, after all. His presence over the totemphone, since re-pledging, has been scarce at best. Now, there's something akin to amusement, and it spells a nightclub, really? and Edward's close, and coming closer. It's not long before he's topping the stairs and moving towards their table.

"Bonjour," he says as he pulls up a chair next to Kate (or near her, anyway), and his smile, while there, bears little resemblance to the bright, open thing he'd once worn. It's not much, but he's out of the loft (the times he's left since returning can be counted on one hand) and speaking to people. It's a start, and a Good Thing. Now, he plays catch up with what he hasn't gotten over the pack intercom, as it were.

[Lonna Larson] "Well," she starts. And all good stories begin with stalling to find words, "Edwin's... well... we have a lot in common. I... we're friends. We have a lot of the same priorities, it seems. I used to..."

At this moment, she was trying to figure something out. There was a blush on her cheeks again, but something more spurred on by nostalgia than anything else.

"I used to be friends with one of this old packmates. We were close, he was kind of the reason I decided to come to Chicago... as it turns out, said packmate is dead and... well, I suppose that could be a contributing factor."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Edward seats himself beside his sister and she turns a face suddenly aglow upon him; as if lit subtly from beneath her very skin. She seems to soften, the Philodox, as soon as her brother's presence makes itself known across the link. Katherine's mental projection of pleasure such that he could almost feel her greedy fingers tracing outwards over the club in search of him.

Demanding he be closer already.

When he seats himself, a flood of delighted french trips lightly from his sister's tongue, she leans in to briefly tug at a lock of darker hair before reclaiming her drink. "Did you win or lose tonight, my brother?" She teases.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Truth be told, Lukas has trouble focusing on what Lonna's saying. If she knew the history between the Ahroun and the Ragabash who's come to join them, though, perhaps she would forgive him.

There's something a little familiar about this. The bass, the booze, the Bellamontes and Lukas in an exclusive club somewhere. Once upon a time, when they were younger and a little less concerned about their responsibilities and duties, the pack used to go out like this all the time. Hit up some club in Boston or NYC. Take over a couch, a sofa, a cluster of armchairs, a VIP booth. Carouse all night. Party. Live the good life, because they were young and damn near immortal... except of course they weren't, and they had duties and responsibilities, and sooner or later they grew up.

Or most of them did.

"Ed," Lukas says, and while there's surprise there, and perhaps a little concern, there's no shame at all in the way he looks at the man he would've once called his best friend. Before he and his best friend's sister conspired to take Alphaship from him, anyway. "Hey."

The rest is totemic, and give him this much: the concern is genuine. How have you been?

[Edward Bellamonte] He's actually dressed well - the sweats that cause his sister to twitch have been left at home. The suit is well tailored but artfully rumpled, his hair mussed, his tie undone. He almost looks like him old self.

Almost.

He's still too thin, but his cheeks are already filling back out a bit - eating regularly will do that to a person, it must be said. "Lukas. Good to see you," he says, and it's genuine even if it does lack the smile that they're all (well, Lukas and Kate) used to seeing. He's even less ready for that than he is to be out and about, really, though there's a definite sense of relaxation and right as he joins his packmates.

He, more than most, doesn't deal well without them.

I've been better, frankly. But there are more interesting things to speak of than that. At leas he doesn't say 'I'm fine' when it's obvious he isn't really.

[peek] (Going to grab coffee and switch to an IC hat)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (I'm still here -- AIM just crapped)

[Katherine Bellamonte] (I noticed! It's like an exodus on AIM right now)

[Edward Bellamonte] (.....mine too.)

[Eleanor Courtenay] (ugh...same here)

[Theron Locke] Theron watched the new arrival and offered him a polite nod in greeting "I guess your Ed...nice to finally make your acquintance. Rather than just hearing your sister scream." a small smile is given.

"Unfortunately I don't think I'm that good a company tonight. So I'll take my leave of you all. Thanks for the invite out anyway Lukas...I'll speak to you later"

"Kate..Edward..Lonna." he tips his head as he stands , turns and begins to head towards the nightclub doors.

[Theron Locke] ((Looks like AIM auth servers died.. just reconnected just then))

[Edward Bellamonte] (One of my accounts is working, the other isn't. So weird.)

[Lonna Larson] She gives a bit of a nod and a polite smile, "keep safe, okay?"

It was a valid statement for Lonna Larson to make. Given her track record, it made sense

[Theron Locke] Theron stops and turns and offers Lonna a genuine smile , it was the first one he had managed since he arrived "Only if you do" and with that he continues on.

[Edward Bellamonte] "....." Edward is noticeably biting his tongue - but he controls his mouth like a good boy, at least for the moment. "And you're Theron. Good to meet you, and enjoy the rest of your . . . is it night or morning now?" There's a wry smile, and then an earlier question answered. "Won. I always win."

At cards, anyway.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (AIM's been crap all night >:!)

Lukas gives Edward a long searching look at that, but says nothing more on the subject. For now, at any rate.

"See you, Theron," Lukas says as the Theurge takes his leave. When he's gone, he says for Edward's benefit, "Our new Crescent-Moon. Of my tribe. And this is Lonna Larson; have you met? She's one of Unicorn's."

[Eleanor Courtenay] Fate had a funny way of manipulating things. Situations. People. She'd find the irony in that later. Now, the kin to Silver Fangs is skating past the main entrance after flashing a very good fake ID to the burly, wide shouldered door man. There's an obvious lack of braces and knobby knees this evening. Ellie's thin frame is draped classically in a dark silk shirt that hangs with a threat of suggestion off one slim shoulder. It is too cold in her opinion to wear anything but a fashionable pair of black pants that almost look leather and fit snug against a pair of legs that seem to go on forever.

Once again, her hair falls freely in pale brown waves to just above the bend of her knees. It is long and thick and lustrous against the darkness of her clothing. She is not alone tonight. There's a boy and two girls with her, and as the trio start to make a push for the bar and the liquid courage behind it, Ellie's eyes are squinting against the flashing then dimming lights searching for, maybe, a table.

[Theron Locke] ((okay guys that's me out... thanks for the scene..sorry I was so sparse ))

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine is studying her elder brother's wardrobe choices for the evening with a frown. She does not go so far as to lean over and fuss with the collar, to adjust as she sees fit but rather makes a brief tut as he greets the others and takes one of the olives from the stem in her martini and chews it, her voice joining in the totem-phonic discussion of his current state of health.

You are still far too thin, and I am making a note to include more red meat in your meals.

Theron excuses himself, and the Half Moon's pale eyes watch him depart, she nods briefly at the Theurge before her attention strays back to the Gaian Kin still seated with them. Beside her brother, the Bellamonte ancestry seems all the more reinforced, both Katherine and her brother bore the same proud noses, the same high cheekbones and that aura of the just; of the privileged and the Royal.

Bred to rule.
Destined to lead.

The remark about her screaming, and her brother's expression of innocence draw a vague scowl, and she leans over and lightly doffs the back of the Ragabash's head. "La terreur d'un frère," she murmurs and then Katherine's head is turning to inspect the wide expanse of the dance-floor beneath them as if something had caught and held her notice.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (gonna be slowish, folks, STing!)

[Edward Bellamonte] I've hardly been avoiding food, you. I'll be fine. Not is, but will be - there's a difference, even if he's not as firm on the latter statement as he should be and there's dark in his eyes where once, there'd been little but light regardless of what happened.

Theron leaves, and Edward shrugs; they'll speak later, he's sure. Then Lukas is introducing Lonna, who gets a charming nod of his head, and a quirked up half-smile. "It's a pleasure, Miss Larson, and one that I haven't had yet, no." He offers a hand for a shake, and he is, in some ways, the closest to human a Garou's likely to come. "I'm Edward." Ed is reserved for packmates and other people he knows well, and Eddie is the sole purview of sisters and mother. And then Kate's attention is caught, and his eyes follow hers to land on long legs and longer hair.

"Nora's here." The 'Knobby Knees' is dropped for now, and no longer apt anyway.

[Lonna Larson] "It's nice to meet you, Edward," she tells him. The blonde takes his hand and gives it a shake. She's normally a more confident sort, but for today all she has to rely on are the drink and the sheer desire to seem put together. She is nothing if not personable.

[Edward Bellamonte] (Showering really, really quick. Back in 10!)

[Eleanor Courtenay] The trio return to the long haired young woman, frilly drink in hand. The way that Ellie drinks it is the way that someone in need of a little shoring up of their foundations would drink. There's a shared laugh as the two girls with Eleanor drag the male with them off to the dance floor - she herself having begged them off. Eyes rimmed in smoky shades of grey and charcoal lift up toward the second tier of the club. If she sees Edward or Katherine it shows only in the faint drawing up of one edge of her mouth.

The girl with the long legs and even longer hair disappears into a sea of bodies that moves like the ebb and flow of a tide. Soon enough she reappears at the top of the stairs, her direction undoubtedly the Bellamonte table.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (pinged you back in CotB!)
to breeze

[Edward Bellamonte] (Back! And Jacqui fell offline. Hmm.)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] ...which isn't so much a table, really, as it is a cluster of low, modernistic couches around a coffee table already littered with drinks. Most of the glasses there aren't theirs. There's lipstick at the rims, and the Garou don't look like they've been there long enough. Nor do they look drunk enough.

"Who's this Nora, anyway?" Only two of their number are Silver Fangs. The one who speaks -- the one who sits sprawled on the couch, one arm slung over its low back -- is one who would traditionally be considered a Fang's worst enemy. His eyes are pale blue and his hair is black. Every inch of him breathes Shadow Lord.

Or would, to one who could sense such things.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Her family has an estate that borders on Mother's, in France," Edward says, and gives the girl a nod - she may approach, it says. "Eleanor Courtenay. About Gabbie's age? Maybe a bit younger. She's here for university, and has taken an apartment near the loft."

He smiles for her - and adjusts his sprawl on the couch next to Kate so that there's room for his kinswoman to sit as well - but the smile doesn't meet the eyes darkened by whatever he's been through in the months he was gone. He'd been in France surely enough, but that sort of look doesn't come about one who frittered away months at blackjack tables.

"Eleanor, this is Lukas. Lukas, Eleanor."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's eyes flick up to the Fang kin as she comes within earshot. The Shadow Lord stands; a flicker of manners that he surely didn't learn lounging around clubs like these.

"Eleanor." His hand is strong, warmer than a human's would be. He grips firmly, though not cruelly, and his smile is genuine. "Good to meet you."

Seating himself again, "Did you come over with Ed, or is this a chance meeting in Chicago?"

[Eleanor Courtenay] Eleanor would never be considered Garou. Her breeding is as exquisitely fine as any aged French wine - and as heady. Her blood sings with the deeds and deaths of heroes long since perished and remembered only in songs and tales around campfires on sacred grounds. To men, she's simply a beautiful young woman. To Garou she's much more.

Her own eyes are blue, though they lack the icy coolness that fills Lukas's. Instead, hers brim with both wonder and curiosity. The bareness of her shoulder is pale and is obscured only by the softness of extraordinarily long hair. The Shadow Lord sprawls like a big cat, relaxed and sure. Her eyes focus on him first before lowering as he stands. His hand envelops her smaller, cooler one and she nods. "It is nice to meet you Lukas." Her voice bears the faintest hint of a washed out accent from the South of France.

When Edward adjusts his position to afford her seating, Ellie edges onto the couch. Her drink - half empty - is sat on the table and her hands gather her hair so she doesn't sit on it.

"No, actually I was in New York working and studying. I'm in Chicago for University...that the Bellamonte's here is a great struck of luck for me..." Blue eyes cut toward Edward before returning to Lukas. "Are you a native of this city?"

[Eleanor Courtenay] (Ahem. Should say: that the Bellamonte's are here is a great stroke of luck for me)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "No," Lukas replies with a shake of his head, laughing. "I'm was born just outside Prague, in the Czech Republic. Grew up in New York City, like Ed and Kate. That's where we met.

"Are you at the University of Chicago?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward is, for the most part, pleased to let conversation flow around him for a bit; once, younger and prone to pranks, he'd likely tied knots in Eleanor's hair. Now, he absently pets at the end of it, once, twice, testing the texture with his fingers. It's the touch of someone who'd known her once, but since has spent most of his time away, elsewhere.

"One of the gents at the table was from U of C. What a mess - I think he was gambling his tuition money."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (I'm was born? I was.)

[Eleanor Courtenay] "Yes..." It's said with a nod, her hands bringing her drink to her lips. As Edward pets her hair there's a soft redness that slowly rises at the apple of her cheeks. She does not look at the Ragabash, her eyes instead remain focused on Lukas - or as much as they can given who he is and the Rage that churns in his soul.

"I'm majoring in psychology with a minor in biology..." Her accent changes the way the words sound, even if only slightly. Edward mentions he might of met a student gambling away his tuition and she shakes her head slowly. "He'll regret that next semester..."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "My mate just started there," Lukas replies. It's likely Edward didn't even know Lukas was seeing anyone, much less mated to someone. "Give me your number, and I'll pass it on to her." A faint quirk of a smile, "Maybe you can cram together."

The totemlink opens. After so long, it must be strange for Edward to hear Lukas's voice speaking into his mind again. They used to be very close, these two; best friends, brothers. There's a distance there now -- an awkwardness of time and space that Lukas doesn't really know how to bridge.

This question, which would've been thoughtlessly teasing a year ago, bears a sort of forced cheer now -- So, am I talking to your new girlfriend here, Ed?

[Edward Bellamonte] The touch is light, and only in the last inch or two of her hair - there's old friendship there, certainly, but it lacks the awkwardness of one that had been truly close and messed by time and distance. And it is strange, that voice in his head, but not unwelcome - there is, in fact, a hint of smirk and a slight, brief lighting in his eyes that even Kate hasn't been able to bring yet. He's very close with his sisters, of course, but brothers are different.

I hadn't seen her in years, until a couple days ago. I . . . wasn't always kind to her. Edward is hard on himself - he's kind to nearly everyone, as much as he knows how to be. As much as he can be. And it's with the mental equivalent of a shrug, followed by, .....mate? So much he's missed, so much he doesn't know. And once, not so long ago, he'd been front and center.

[Edward Bellamonte] And added, a distracted afterthought, "Yes, I'd imagine he will. I won his car, but he'll find the keys in the pocket of his sport jacket." And some of the money, though Edward doesn't say that - it simply hadn't felt right, taking it all. Even if he had won it fair(-ish) and square.

[Eleanor Courtenay] "That's a wonderful idea, thank you Lukas." Edward's voice off to her side and back brings a small smile to form on her lips. "Hopefully he'll have learned a lesson." Is her reply. Edward could have been far more cruel and if he had been it's very likely she would have still thought he set the moon. Now, there's a chasm of space between the two, though the comfortableness of friendship - or at least of knowing one another - remains. Eleanor has blossomed in the last six or seven years. She isn't gangly or too tall and her body is no longer flat in all the wrong places, her mouth isn't cluttered up with bulky braces.

"I gambled once in Atlantic City on vacation." Her head turns slightly to the side, her eyes cut even further to take Edward in through her peripheral vision. "I won $100." This is said proudly, as if that $100 was $1000.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] And like that, Lukas remembers something of the rapport they had; what sort of man Edward was, and still is.

The Shadow Lord laughs under his breath. "You're too nice, Ed," he says, but there's affection in it. "He'll just lose it all again to someone else who won't give it back." And, he adds, silently, I seriously doubt your 'unkindness' amounted to much more than a passing prank.

He's getting to his feet, downing the last of his scotch. "I'm going to head out," he says, pulling on his outerwear one at a time: gloves, scarf, flat cap, sweater, overcoat. "It was nice meeting you, Eleanor."

And, as he's descending the stairs again, he answers over the totemlink, Dani&+269;ka Musil, kin to my tribe. Apparently an old acquaintance of your family in New York as well. You'll meet her sooner or later, I think.

I'll see you around, Ed. It's good to have you back.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the scene, guys, but i'ma catch a quick nap and then go to work! *LOL*)