don't be a freshman.

[Katherine Bellamonte] The Fianna are dancing.

Well, Riverdance and such, Truth's Meridian cannot say she's truly shocked by this turn of events. She glances out at them in passing at one point as if prepared to see them with their arms linked, feet kicking at lightning speeds. There's no such cliche to be seen, and then Danicka approaches; all beauty and bringer of the blood of Thunder's children. Katherine turns her body toward the Shadow Lord Kinfolk, this action may surprise some of the newcomers, the interest and consideration she casts the other blond female.

Almost, Falcon offer forgiveness, she mattered.

Katherine nods, and her eyes follow Danicka a moment before she swings back to face her tribe-mates, all glossy waves of hair and sparkling blue eyes. "My friend has invited us upstairs to recline in comfort, you are all more than welcome to join us there." She gestures toward the staircase, and begins to thread a pathway through the throng of revelers toward it.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Augh, typo! 'as if she mattered' that should read]

[Christian del Piero] To Cordelia: "Sí...por favor."

Nothing Matthieu says seems out of the ordinary to the Ahroun. Of course, to look at him, the first thing anyone thinks isn't that he's intelligent, or perceptive, or cunning. They think he's hotheaded and bitter. He wasn't hugged enough as a child. He only had one nanny. He didn't make the rugby team in boarding school. He doesn't know what people think when they look at him. When he looks at Matthieu, he keeps his thoughts to himself.

"Thanks," he says when Matthieu finishes speaking.

What the Galliard says to the kinswoman makes him bristle. Cordelia doesn't understand a word of it. She has to glean his intent, though. Muscles in Christian's shoulders and face harden, and his Rage suddenly becomes heavier. It isn't that there is more of it...it's that he suddenly isn't as capable of controlling it. That impulse tamped down, it's hard to think clearly now. He breathes through his nostrils. The air is too hot and sticky and there's a red haze where before there wasn't one.

"She doesn't speak English," he tells Matthieu...practically snarls. He catches himself. Takes a deep breath. A smile is forced onto his lips, and he says, "It was nice meeting everyone. I've got to...go."

He doesn't storm off, exactly, but neither does he wait for proper farewells before he's turning and cutting a path through the crowd.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Well, the Ahroun almost-snarls and stalks off through the crowds, except -- "Christian, a moment." His elder somehow overheard, or was not quite as departed as prior believed. She follows in his wake and stands, waiting for him to turn. Her expression is now devoid of any good humor, if ever the humor were true to begin with.

"There are some things I must say."

[Christian del Piero] Now he's gonna get it. His elder, in every sense of the world, tells him to wait a moment. He doesn't keep moving. He does get a few more steps before running out of steam, but he stops, takes another breath, and turns back around. He grinds his teeth a few times. Normal people are looking at him. He doesn't look comfortable right now.

"I'm listening, -rhya."

[Danicka Musil] Upstairs now, the blonde in the short skirt -- that sways like it wants to flirt, like it wishes it could wink, as she walks -- lowers herself to one of the plush couches of the booth she procured and settles in to work on her second drink. It's not electric blue, but some other brightly flavored and ridiculously strong concoction. She's barely danced. She'll dance more later, perhaps. It's hotter up here but doesn't feel quite as much so, without the crush of bodies below.

Her thoughts move, perhaps bizarrely, to a rite of cleansing she refused to witness. She sips her drink.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Kate never takes a night off.

Not so for Lukas. Lukas takes nights off here and there. It's a good thing. He met his future mate on one such night. That story isn't quite the roses-and-chocolates romance it seems.

Nevertheless: the Shadow Lord is on the second floor, the vast steel-railed balcony overlooking the dance floor. He's leaning against that rail. It hums with every thunderous beat from the wall of subwoofers across from the bar. There's a drink by his elbow. It's not his first. There's absolutely no one near him for six feet in every direction, and he's lazy, leonine, yawning though it's early for him.

Below him, a tide of humanity. A few islands of his own kind. Here, there. His packmate, who looks busy. Their totemlink crackles with shared energy, but he doesn't use it. Some others;

and his mate.


Not too long after Danicka finds herself a booth, someone joins her. This isn't unusual. Lovely young women alone at clubs will instantly get hit on: it's a law of the universe. Perhaps she's readying a choice sendoff of two when he leans back, and the light catches his face, and suddenly the dark shape across from her is her mate, crisp and clean in a silvery shirt, expensive jeans.

He smiles at her. It's a lazy, drunk sort of smile.

"Hi," he says.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Honor's Compass was packed beneath a totem of War. Her Alpha was an Ahroun, and not simply one of the many but the General of them for the war effort against their neighboring enemy in the Hive. She was, therefore, accustomed to the swell of Rage bristling from Christian del Piero's every pore and she was not in the slightest deterred from her task by it.

Or by his reluctance.
She understood the discomfort he felt, even sympathized with it, but her tone brooked that despite this, he would hear her out.

"It is honorable of you to watch over our Kinfolk, it should be the duty of each of us within this city, but remember this: the duty of fighting, or reminding another of her place, or theirs remains mine and mine alone so long as I stand as our leader in this city. Do you understand the point that I am making?"

She waits, and if acknowledged, presses on.

"Good, I also stopped you to say that my home in Lakeview known as the Loft, it is marked Umbrally so you can track it if need be, is something of a safehouse for all Silver Fangs in the city. My maid knows to admit any who come calling in need of a place to sleep, or simply to call upon me. You are welcome there, as is Cordelia, though I shall make a point to tell her myself."

This said, Katherine tilts her head, to the outside world, they might have been a pair of young people flirting beneath the lights. But their Rage made it a difficult fairytale to honestly believe. "Do you have any questions for me in return?"

[Danicka Musil] It's the last night of the weekend, and in summer -- in late July -- every weekend counts. Not everyone has to go back to school come August or September, but the days are already getting shorter. Before anyone is ready for it autumn will turn the air crisp and make every breath feel like a faint gasp of desperation, clinging to warmth before the city is plunged down into winter.

Sunday night, and Double Door is crowded. Hot even after dark, and Double Door is full of people who dance so hard they sweat, as though they can make the harvest fruitful and the winter mild with this clandestine, carnal worship. Lukas has been watching them. The Fianna who move like the music is coming from the very marrow of their bones. The Fangs who stand out everywhere they go, who rule everyone they meet, who leave a wake of madness and victory in every footstep.

And his mate.

She comes up the stairs on the west side of the building, and he's leaning on the railing that's closer to the east stairs. He's closer to the DJ, to the source of the music, the bassline. The booths are in her direction, where it's a little easier for the people who sit down to talk. If they got the booth in order to talk, that is. She didn't see him before she sat down, or before she ordered, but she isn't startled or surprised -- or coming up with a excuse me, that's my girlfriend's seat version of get lost, douchetard -- when Lukas slides into the bench beside her, all lazy smiles and pleased warmth.

Danicka, sipping her drink, turns her head and looks over at him. The look in her eyes and the particular curve of her smile is patient. And fond. "Hi, honey," she says gently, and squeezes his knee.

[Christian del Piero] He's breathing heavy. Standing still, listening, being respectful...these are things that are difficult for him normally. He's young. Depending on how you look at it, he either has room to grow into a mature leader worthy of Falcon's grace, or he is completely hopeless and not to be bothered with. They're at war. They have been at war since before he was born. If he doesn't learn to control his Rage, he's not going to live to see Fostern, let alone the end of the war.

Honor's Compass bothers with him. For now, anyway. She asks if he understands, and he actually thinks before answering. His answer is a slow, simmering nod. His hands try to curl up, but he forces them to remain straight. They are not relaxed. Not at all. After she corrects him, she tells him about the safehouse. He fidgets, but he stays where he is and listens. Katherine is his height. That can't sit well with him.

"I don't...really..."

He blinks, breathes.

"I'll stop by. Um. The Loft. Soon. Can I...can I go?"

Either she dismisses him, or she doesn't. Either way, the conversation comes to an end, and he turns, again. There is less fervor in his steps this time. He isn't calm...but he isn't on the verge of frenzy, either. He glances back to see where the bespectacled kinswoman is, and then he slams out into the night.

((Thanks for the scene, all!))

[Cordelia] She purses her lips and listens. Katherine either dismisses him or she doesn't, but she does watch Christian go. They share a look. It's not a long, lingering sort, but it is an intentional one. One that made promises she may or may not have been able to keep. Cordelia wasn't certain, but she did nod. Once, twice, and she left it aside.

He was gone, for now.

And, soon enough, she gives her goodbyes and her appologies about leaving. If given her leave, she makes her exit.

((Mindy has to be awake in five hours, sorry loves! Thank you for the play!))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Mm," he says, a low, warm sound that could mean just about anything at all. His pale eyes glimmer: he studies her hand on his knee. Then he tips his head back, throat moving as he swallows the last of his

electric-blue

drink. The glass is set aside. The low table is too far too reach, so he puts it on the seat instead, to be knocked over later when he forgets and leans. Then the Shadow Lord is leaning his head against the back of the seat, slouching down, looking at the world through alcohol-hazed, half-lidded eyes.

"Did you come here with Kate?" He sounds mildly surprised.

[Danicka Musil] It doesn't occur to her to comment on the drink he is drinking tonight, which is the drink he was drinking the first night, which is the drink she was drinking not so long ago. She sips at her own. This one is magenta, as though bartenders figured out people are willing to spend more for things that are brightly colored, regardless of flavor. It's probably true. This thing cost her a tenspot, and it would cost seven at most anywhere else.

Danicka does not clean up after him. She doesn't reach past his lap and pluck his glass up to lean forward and put it on the table. She does glance at it, though, then back to him, taking her hand back to herself and watching him with some kind of vague, warm amusement. She nods.

"I did."

[Teodora Krutova] This is called a cameo.

Observe.

There is a nightclub. The nightclub is the crowded sort of nightclub -- and there is a lot of dancing done in said nightclub. There is also, beelining out of the women's restroom, or the dark and crowded hall leading down to the women's restroom, or the dark and crowded hall leading down to a lower level, a kins(girl)woman named Teodora Krutova. Even from the balcony, when the lighting glances just so, her eyes are very, very blue.

Also, it is worth noting this: bees don't actually tend to fly in straightlines. They sort've dance this way and that, so that someone deathly afraid of bees has a difficult time truly avoiding a bee that is 'beelining' all over the place, and once they see something, they lift off, all entranced, and go in just that a direction.

So, Teodora. She is beelining, out of the restroom (or dark hall), and around the main edge of the dance pit (or floor, or amorphous crowd), and she hasn't yet reached that entranced straight line point of a standard beeline. The teenager (uh, 21er--totally, totally, 21er) looks like she's in fairly high spirits. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are bright, her dress is probably something her sister has never, ever seen in her closet, and her Dad sure as hell doesn't suspect she owns something called 'clothing' with so little fabric.

(Really, she told the spy-masks, Just so you know, it's not that there's not a lot of dress, it's just that what dress there -is- gives an -impression- of being less than a lot. Okay? So you can pass that on, IF you're shy of passing things on today, being spies and all. Do you hear me in there? And then maybe she'd tapped the mask a couple of times before Ted paged her and she ran downstairs with her purse, gleeful.)

Speaking of Ted, where the hell did his cute friend go?

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hm." He blinks once, slowly, as though anything more than monosyllabic hums takes time to process. Then he turns his face toward her -- toward the inside of the booth, and its shadows -- leans into her; sets his teeth gently in her shoulder for a moment.

Then he kisses the very spot he has just bitten. It's a strange, unspoken sort of tenderness, quite feral, quite mindlessly so. The Ahroun sits up, large body moving bonelessly, all muscle and warmth and liquidity tonight.

"I have never," he observes, "danced with you."

[Danicka Musil] They don't speak further on the matter of her inviting Katherine out to get some drinks and dance, however odd -- and it is odd, very much so -- that may be. Lukas is drunk, or else he might ask more questions. More probing ones. Danicka quirks a brow as he settles in deeper to the cushions, turning his head into the shadow. She is about to ask him if he's going to lay on her shoulder and sleep when she breathes in, spare and quiet but sudden.

He's heavy, and even in this form his teeth are straight and sharp and strong. A year ago, maybe more, she would have felt suffocated by the way he leans to her, would have felt her heart racing for reasons wholly separate from the fact that she sleeps with this guy. On occasion. And he's heavy and warm now, but it doesn't frighten her. And his teeth are straight and sharp and strong but he doesn't tear her flesh from her bones.

She reaches up, her hand cool from holding her drink, and touches his temple. That's all. He kisses her shoulder and moves away, and her hand falls away, and her eyes are mostly on him but they flick away

just long enough to catch sight of the darting Dora.

danced with you he says, and she hears him, but instead of musing on this or searching her memory for its verity, she nods at the young kinswoman. "Somehow I doubt Jesmond is chaperoning tonight," she says mildly.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hm?" There it is again. Catch up, Kvasnicka. He follows Danicka's eyes; after some time, spots what she's talking about.

And laughs, "The first time I met you in Chicago, you'd managed to sneak Gabriella into a 21-and-over. So. More power to Shadow Lord miscreants."

He waits until Teodora happens to be looking their way, and then he waves. Big, slow, arm-wave from up on the balcony, a ways back from the railing, in a booth. Questionable if she can even tell who that is from so far away.

[Danicka Musil] "Hear, hear," she says blithely, and takes a long pull from her drink. She waves as well, with a small smile and upward-lifted brows at Teodora. The wave turns into a beckoning gesture.

[Teodora Krutova] And, lo, the cute friend of Ted appears just as Ted also (unfortunately) appears. Ted is a man of dopey grins, sad basset hound eyes and redgold hair. His cute friend is a man of hazel eyes, glasses and brown hair, and also, of great, great height. The Jolly Green Giant would be glad to shake cute friend's hand. So would Teodora.

Sadly, Ted: Ted is the one who appears, and it is when Teodora grabs Ted's arm to say something that will get him to introduce her to cute friend, when she Turns On The Charm and turns to give him a look all sparkle-eyed and beam-y (and maybe a little vacuous, too - it's a nice touch, right?), that she glances in the direction of Lukas and Danicka and there's some GUY waving all big and slow and Teodora pauses and instead of doing the Charming Winsome Eyes Guaranteed To Get Her What She Wants From Hapless Yet Not So Bright Ted she shields her gaze and squints.

Was someone waving at her? Were two people waving at her? And beckoning at her?

Is Teodora self-absorbed enough to think that, yes, yes someone was? Out of all the other dancers and would-be dancers on the dancefloor?

Yeah. She is.

So this is what the Shadow Lord couple up above see: the fifteen year old (shhhh, twenty one year old, guys) in quick conference with some guy with a dopey smile and redgold hair. They'd see her place her hands on his shoulders and turn him around then give him a gentle push in a direction. And once he's in motion, Teodora heads to the stairs, for to beeline toward Danicka and Lukas.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Even drunk, Lukas isn't the type to slather on the public displays of affection. As Teodora beelines over -- which in her case, may well mean a sort of meandering, indirect circuit that takes her from her basset-hound friend past some random Cute Guy on the dance floor, up the stairs and across the upstairs bar and, finally, to the purported Shadow Lord Alpha's booth --

As Teodora beelines over, Lukas sits a little straighter, no longer leaning into his mate or, for that matter, nomming her shoulder. He makes a valiant effort to look alert and, well, sober. It is, however, rather apparent that the Ahroun is -- how do we put this delicately?

Smashed.

"Teodora," he greets her with all the gravity of the truly inebriated, "aren't you out a little late?"

[Danicka Musil] Danicka is not drunk. Danicka takes a very long time to get drunk, for someone so seemingly frail. And it doesn't matter how often she goes to the gym or how much less stress she has in her life sometimes, she's never going to look hearty. She's never going to give off the picture of health. Teodora has that. She has a certain sweetness to her appearance, and part of that is just looking so goddamn healthy and young and vibrant. Danicka, at twenty-six, looks closer to thirty. Or older.

Life is very long, sometimes. Danicka will never be one of those people who wishes there were more hours in a day. The days are long enough.

Danicka glances at the men-boys Teodora has abandoned and tips her head to the side as the girl comes closer. Lukas intones what he does, serious and rumbling, and Danicka rolls her eyes slightly. They were like this at Teodora's house the last time they met the girl, though Lukas did not get this drunk and Danicka had far more clothes on. That skirt wouldn't survive a stiff breeze. Her legs are crossed at the ankle, tucked demurely to one side, rather than at the knee.

"I just wanted to make sure everything's alright, and you're enjoying yourself," Danicka says, to explain why she beckoned to her. She glances at the boys, then Dora, and smiles. "If yes, then I have no intention of tattling next time Jesmond and I see each other at class." Self defense class. Well. Not really. It's not a self-defense seminar for women. It's a flat-out learn-to-hit-someone-til-they-beg-you-to-stop class. "If no, then you could come sit with us and we'll make sure you get home safe later."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Behold, Katherine.

She's been -- where has she been -- no doubt milling about by the bar, securing herself a glass of expense champagne that cost more than most young people made in a single paycheck to uncork but she'd insisted -- and speaking to her newest additions. Now, she arrives not so long after Teodora, Teodora who is canted a brief, sharp little once-over and the questioning rise of an eyebrow.

This from the girl who was barely a year over the age limit, herself.

"I decree," the Silver Fang says as she takes a seat, her top sparkling and her leather pants affixed with a gold buckle that held her initials [really, Kate, really?] "that I have earned this," and sips from the flute.

[Teodora Krutova] "Hi, Lukas, sir," Teodora says, with a half-shy, half-pleased smile. "Danicka," with a smile that shades toward friendly, with less shy. "It's not that late," she adds, and also, "Besides, nothing to do tomorrow but," and here, an artful stretch, "sleep in. Are you guys on a date?" And there, the kingirl, she's pretty shameless. Or just happy. "Aren't you going to dance?"

And then, Danicka, she explains, and Teodora scrunches her nose a little. Teodora smiles again - impulsively, blushingly - at that whole 'no intention of tattling' and shifts her weight from one foot to another. Says, with dignity, "I greatly appreciate the concern, Danicka, but I'm okay. I mean, Ted's not as hot as his friend, but Ted's still a lot of fun. Uh, fun that is safe," this, with a sidelong glance toward Alpha Lukas. "Besides, I am a badass with the taser. Which is in my purse. Hello!"

The Hello! was all for Kate. Whose outfit is totally being oggled.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [MAKE UP YOUR MIND, SPIRITS!]

"Class? I didn't realize your sister was back in college, Teodora. What degree is she pursuing?"

Look at him trying to maintain a respectable facade. Because in truth, it's rare for Lukas to get this drunk in public. No, not in public: out where those of the Nation can see. That said, he's not terribly concerned. He likes the Krutova sisters. He thinks Teodora is harmless.

He hasn't really heard about the staring matches yet.

Katherine appears, sailing into their shadowy Shadow Lord-ness like ... the full moon into the night. Or something like that. Some silly metaphor that Lukas's brain is too pickled to put together right now, which makes him laugh under his breath before stretching his hand up and out toward Katherine.

"Gimme," he says. "First share of the kill and all. I demand."

Pause. He seems to be latching onto portions of conversations entirely at random. "I don't know," he says, and it's anyone's guess what he's replying to until he adds, "why aren't we dancing, Dani&+269;ka?"

[spirits] =P

[Danicka Musil] A nod is given to the Silver Fang when she sits down, acknowledgement though Danicka is still in the process of another conversation. Things have changed. There was a time she would have excused herself and left. There was a time when she would have made sure to give Kate -- dangerous, dangerous Kate -- her full and adoring attention. Now, she focuses on the sister of her friend.

"Martial arts clas," she corrects Lukas gently, when he asks about Jesmond being in college. "Remember? I asked her at the dinner party if she'd like to join me. Learn together." A faint smile to him. If there's meant to be reassurance in it, it's hard to see in her features. Just... an easy warmth, and fondness.

Well, after all. This is Katherine, who is Lukas's packmate and someone Danicka has -- for some reason -- reached out to for the evening. And this is Teodora, who saw Lukas hold Danicka in the crook of his arm on her couch while they listened to Mila sing, who held her in one of the rare displays of what is normally so private between them. It is alright for them to see this, that she is warm to him. That she is affectionate towards him, and fond even when he is ridiculously drunk.

She hasn't heard of the staring matches, either. Wait, what? Staring with who?


He demands champagne. Danicka shakes her head and turns back to Teodora. "Well, good, then," she says, concerning Ted and his more-hot friend, Dora's taser, and so on. And so forth. "No, we didn't come here together, but just before you came over, I think he was working up the nerve to ask." She turns and looks at Lukas past her shoulder. "As for your earlier observation, no. We've never danced. I think the one occasion we came close was that night we raced to the club, do you remember?"

She sure as hell does. She won. "But we got distracted. And in any case: we are not dancing because you haven't asked, hloupé láska."

If Teodora can translate that, she might be surprised. Kate, even, understands instinctively the tone Danicka uses. So tender. So endeared. So utterly not-how-she-has-ever-acted-around-Lukas-in-front-of-Kate-ever.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's eyes dance as she regards her Alpha down the slope of her aristocratic nose. "You are drunk," she declares, and holds the flute out of his reach. "As your pack-mate I am duty bound to keep what remains of your senses about you." It's fond, this teasing that they engage in, if Lukas makes a swipe for her drink, she does not prevent it.

Clearly, Lukas germs are not those that frighten Katherine Bellamonte.

"Bonjour, petite," this toward Teodora, who the Half Moon knows enough about to know she is protected, even if she was not allowed by human law within the nightclub. Danicka notes they are not dancing for Lukas has not asked her; Katherine tsks at him. "Wretch," she scolds warmly. "Go, dance with your mate."

[Teodora Krutova] "Yeah - stop acting like a freshman, Lukas," Teodora says, happy to join Danicka and Katherine in(gently) teasing the Shadow Lord Ahroun. You'd think she'd be a lot meeker, Teodora. Alas. Alack. She is not. Hopefully he won't be too mad.

"I'm Teodora, by the way," she says, to Kate, after that bonjour, petite. Because it is polite; because she was raised properly. She even offers a hand for a handshake with an air which does not even begin to approach gravity. "Are you family?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I was not working up the nerve," Lukas protests, mock-offended. "I was dropping hints. With masterful subtlety, I might ask."

Katherine informs him that he would not be having her champagne for his own good. It is possible that another packmate saying these words would suddenly find themselves on the receiving end of a level, cool stare; a show of dominance suddenly and utterly shorn of all amusement. Not tonight, though. And not Kate. She gets a laugh, low, slow, and he neither grabs for her champagne nor stares her down.

He gets to his feet, then, spurred on by (gentle.) teasing all around. "All right, all right." Turning to said mate, he holds his hand out, "Would you care to dance, milá&+269;eka?"

[Danicka Musil] "This is Katherine Bellamonte," Danicka says to Teodora, since Lukas is too fucking drunk to introduce his sister, "Lukas's packmate, half-moon, and elder of the Fangs."

Someone was paying attention in social studies class.

"Katherine, this is Teodora Kr&+367;tová." It is unnecessary to say what tribe she belongs to, and she gives the girl's full name though Teodora politely offers her first one. It is perhaps beneath Kate's notice to introduce her as Jesmond's sister, presumptuous that Katherine would even know the woman, or know of her. So simply: her name. No Garou relations mentioned, because Danicka does not remember who they are. She should correct that. She makes a mental note of it, and finishes her magenta drink.

Which is when both the teenager (21ager. right. yes. so sorry.) and the Philodox begin chiding and goading at the Ahroun. Wretch! Freshman! Danicka is smiling with her lips tight together, as though restraining a larger grin, as she sets her glass on the table. "Oh yes," she says mildly, agreeably. "Utterly masterful, darling. I should take lessons."

He gets to his feet. The glass he set on the cushion tips over promptly, unsettled by his movement, and leaves several drops of blue liquid to soak into the plush. Danicka does not pay it any mind, her eyes following Lukas as he swings up to his feet and turns to her. She travels her eyes from his fingertips up his arm to his face. And his eyes.

For a moment that seems longer to a drunk man, she regards him as though telling him something the others can't hear. And then her hand lifts, and floats down lightly onto his palm. "Ano. Chci se," she says, and rises to her feet.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [EMPATHY! +1diff: drunk.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [SHADOW LORDS DO NOT FAIL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine and Lukas have, perhaps, of all the Unbroken save their ex-Alpha and Katherine's oft-absent elder brother, the longest and strongest of histories. They had gone from enemies to reluctant partners in over-throwing Edward to friends to -- what, now -- the truest perhaps of siblings, bonded by totem and by a kinship forged in battle and tested by time and hardship.

There were few in Chicago that Katherine would call her most trusted. Few she would depend on if her life hung in the balance. There was pack, then there was Sinclair and Lukas above this again in degrees of intimacy and nuances of understanding. There had been her siblings, but that closeness had begun to dim as the years wore on -- the sadness of this tugged at the Half Moon's heart, she could not bear yet to rid her home of their things -- so when Teodora asks if she's family, Katherine smiles, before and after Danicka makes the introduction for her.

She takes her hand, and the Kingirl feels the little zap of the Fostern's Rage, Katherine pats her palm, once, then sets it free. "Oui," she adds with Champagne-flushed sincerity, "I am family in a certain manner, and in another perhaps I am one of a tribe you are often told to mistrust." She winks at Teodora, her pale eyes sparkling. It was difficult, when Katherine was all charisma and smiles, to remain untouched by it.

"But your Elder puts up with me, so perhaps I am not so very bad, hm?"

[Danicka Musil] [Ano. Chci t&+283;.]
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Charisma + Etiquette at Teodora, don't be prejudice little girl, I'm so SHINY and PRETTY.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Teodora Krutova] Teodora can fill in the Garou relations. Father yadda yadda blahdeeblah of the Sept of nifty name. And she does, too! Because Kate is a Silver Fang, and therefore distrusted. And also, best behavior time. Relatively speaking.

Teodora has her own views on a lot of the things that happen in the Nation: sisters are sold in marriage or become warriors, entitled, quicker to hit than before, angry, fathers occasionally just don't come home, and every time, when the days start to add up, mothers get that look, and fathers have 'co-workers' who mostly stay young, and the young have faces that don't stay, and there is a war, and the war is against monsters, and it is secret and fought in the shadows, and it has something to do with her blood, her blood is a sign that ensures she is part of it.

She has her own views. They're not things she talks about very often with the adults in her life. They mostly wouldn't approve, although she is loyal to her tribe, loves her family. This is all to say that: while Teodora has thought some things over, made up her own mind, in other ways, she's very much a creature of they told me to be this way and so I am.

She doesn't like Silver Fangs. They're not Fenrir level yuck, of course, but she doesn't like them. While Danicka and Lukas go off, go off to dance, Teodora gives them a little waggle-fingered wave, and pays all of her attention to Kate. Who is it is very hard not to be charmed by. (Teodora manages.)

"Oh! Well. I don't know; you could be so bad that he puts up with you just to check your total badness and keep it from getting bad all over everybody else." She smiles, shyly. "But that would be a lot of work." Beat. And, sincerely: "Your shirt is pretty. It makes you sparkle just like one of those big round - uhm. You know, a mirrorball. I like the belt, too. And I'm going to go find the boys again; if you want to come, you can. If not, it was nice to meet you, Katherine!"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a moment -- which seems long because he is drunk, and because he's a man holding his hand out to a woman who has now the choice of acceptance or rejection -- there's a moment where Danicka is simply regarding Lukas. And Lukas, drunk as he is, lazy and relaxed and enjoying the company of blood-relations and soul-brethren as he is, becomes a little sharper. A little more alert.

The answer, in the end, is yes. Danicka takes his hand, which closes gently around hers. There's a startling gentleness in Lukas sometimes, so rarely glimpsed. And a quiet, in which he's simply looking at his mate: as though the rest of the club, the music, the sound and the fury, had simply fallen away to

absolute clarity.

Then he's turning to smile at Teodora, his hand firming around Danicka's, fingers intertwining. "Don't drink too much," he chides her; one might notice he does not attempt to tell her not to drink at all. And, passing Kate, he simply bumps his packmate gently, shoulder to shoulder, and winks.

Ahroun and mate are winding their way down the staircase, then, and while Lukas's stride isn't in the least bit unsteady, he does walk a little slower. He takes every step with deliberation.

A wall of bass reaches out to swallow them when they hit the ground. The DJ spins something that makes a cheer rise up from the dance floor, makes them put their hands in the air, black silhouettes against the neon green and electric blue strobes. Lukas brings his mate's hand to his mouth, pressing lips warm and firm to her knuckles, and then, smiling, draws her into the crowd.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine is amused by the little Shadow Lord. It goes a long way toward her dainty little twist and laugh when she notes that she might just be so bad that Lukas keeps her nearby so her crazy doesn't, you know, rub off on the rest of the Sept. "Indeed," she says with a tinkling little gasp of laughter, "Perhaps so."

Teodora likes her shirt, Katherine all but glows at the praise, even from such a little thing as Teodora is. "Merci," she says and politely declines the offer to go chase after boys with her. She farewells Teodora with an absent little flick of her wrist, her fingers wiggling in farewell before she takes up a position of comfort, and sips from her flute content, it would appear, to simply watch the dancers below.

If, and when, she departs, she will likely discreetly pass by the couple on the dancefloor to note that she is doing so, before slinking into the night in a blur of sequins, black leather and Rage.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [fhfjhdkd italics! *shakes fist*]

[Danicka Musil] [Eee! Thank you for the RP, folks!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Likewise! :D ]

sunday dinner with shadow lords.

[Jesmond Krutova] [Welcome to Hollywood! What's your dream? Everybody come here they got a dream! Also, yay everyone made it. I'm going to work on a set up post. There's a layout of Jesmond's apartment here: http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=5305 and there's a menu for what will be served/on the table here: http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=6084 ]

[Danicka Musil] [If you quote Pretty Woman again, I'm leavin'.]

[Jesmond Krutova] [What if I quote 'Aliens', instead? :D]

[Danicka Musil] [w00t!]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [i would like to state for the record that i started out pretty convinced Danicka was a high-class hooker.]

[Danicka Musil] [Actually, she was, but then she fell in love and her knight in shining armor rescued her and she rescued him right back! *FLUTTERS EYELASHES*]

[Jesmond Krutova] The Krutova's, such as they were in this city, lived in a neat little apartment in a comfortable, if not of the newest variety, complex just shy of Grant Park in Chicago's downtown region. The street was leafy, great trees towered over portions of the street and with the turning season many of the rose bushes planted in the front most courtyard of Jesmond's building were offering their sweet fragrances to the morning sunlight.

As day progressed toward evening there had been a sort of frenetic hive of activity occurring within Apartment 3A. Chairs were wiped down and furniture pushed out of the path of folding tables, set up across the expanse of an airy living room. Windows opened to allow gusts of air to breeze through the kitchen and carry with them the spices of meat being roasted, of delicacies crisping inside an oven, of pots bubbling atop a stove, tenderising lamb and softening potato.

The aromas of paprika and onion, of simmering sauce and the steam as lids were removed, wooden spoons dipped into pots and consistencies tasted. Watching Jesmond cook, an apron tied around her jeans, her blouse rolled back to her elbows and her feet skidding about the floor, one was reminded of a conductor, wildly turning from side to side, inducing the most heart-breaking or rapturous strains of music from a symphony.

Only, this was a symphony of food.

By the time evening is settling over Chicago, the interior of the young Kinwoman's apartment was spotless. The walls, plain white, had each of their pictures straightened, the magazines atop the coffee table were in perfect stacks, and the dinner table, covered with a cream and black table cloth was laid out with cutlery, candles blazing in the center around a small vase of wild flowers.

The Hostess was moving about it, setting napkins beside each plate, and attempting to tie back the heaviness of her dark hair with one hand.

[Teodora Krutova] "Hold still a moment." Teodora to save the day! Or, at least, Jesmond's attempts at tying back her hair. For a lot of the day, Teodora has been laying low, not because she doesn't want to help, not because she's not willing to do the work, but because Jesmond is driving her slowly mad with her that chair isn't clean enough and did you polish the wall behind those books over there and is that a fingerprint on the window and why don't you chop the onions like this. Teodora loves her sister, wants to be like her (in some respects [not the taste-in-men respects, yuck, yuck, yuck]), looks up to her. But Teodora has her limits.

But it's almost time for none of that to matter, so she has resurfaced. If Jesmond continues to move, her hair'll get yanked; not because Teodora will yank it, but because Teodora isn't going to let it go. "You look pretty," she says, "Are you nervous, Jezzy? Because you totally shouldn't be. You're all Martha Stewart, but hot."

[Jesmond Krutova] "Perhaps I should have put the picture of Ari away," her elder sister says, with a touch of uncertainty that belied that yes, inviting the elder of your tribe to your apartment along with goodness knew how many of his tribesmen [she had cooked for many, though her generous proportions may not last among hungry wolves] was unsettling, even for a woman as even-tempered and docile [at least, from the outside] as Jesmond.

Her sister is tending to her hair, and she stays in one place long enough for her to bind it out of her eyes, her hands busy smoothing down her apron and beneath it, the silk blouse she'd chosen for the occasion, dotted with tiny flowers and laced at the neck. It was the most expensive item in her wardrobe and rarely taken out but for social occasions when she rather felt jeans and sneakers would be frowned upon.

It was hard, repopulating your wardrobe after living among the wilder of men. They had rarely noticed her attire; here, she felt sure it would be at least glanced at.

"I don't know why it would offend anyone, though." She is going on, about the picture of a blue-eyed, dark haired little boy hung on the wall above the sofa. It was clearly a relation to the girls with that shock of near-black hair, and those startling pale eyes, but the smile seemed all his mother's. The one who was glancing at her oven every few moments.

[Danicka Musil] There are a great many Shadow Lord kinfolk who have come through Chicago who somehow came from their tribe, their upbringing, their breeding, and were brash, brusque, arrogant, loudmouthed, and defiant.

Then there are Shadow Lord kinfolk like Jesmond. Like Danicka. Who are even-tempered and docile in seeming. Who, when the time calls for it, will take knife or firearm to fomori without blinking. Who, if pushed, may very well have the backbone it takes to stand up to Modi.


The first guests to arrive, perhaps unfortunately for Jesmond's nerves, are the aforementioned elder of the tribe and his mate. They are on time according to the invitation, 'late' by perhaps two or three minutes. The car finding a parking space outside is a brand new, slate blue Infiniti that positively gleams as the driver -- a slender blonde in tailored, slightly flaring linen slacks and a smoky blue sleeveless blouse that is fitted close along the sides and drapes modestly across her front -- exits, closes it, and begins walking around the front.

The passenger is Wyrmbreaker, unfolding himself from the luxury vehicle and standing on the curb to wait for Danicka. He is carrying a tall, slim bag, the sort one puts a bottle of wine in to bring in thanks to one's hostess, but the bottle inside is not wine. Their hostess finds her roots in the same place that Lukas was born, the same place Danicka's father was born.

As they approach the door, Danicka inhales. She smells sauerkraut. She smells potatoes and pork. Her eyebrows flick, her lashes blinking, her lips parting. The expression is brief, not so much surprised as pleased. Real food, she thinks, and rings the doorbell.

[Mila Davis] The address was checked, and double checked until she was sure this was the right place. And then there came the question of - was she really invited, or did someone just happen to mention it to her to be polite? No matter - she was here.

The door to her dark colored sedan shut with a thud and the sound of heeled footfalls on the pavement echoed a bit against the building's exterior. If there was a buzzer, it was pushed - if there was a phone to dial, it was dialed.. if she was supposed to throw rocks at the window, then - well, she'd do that. No matter the method, those in the apartment were made aware of a guest's arrival.

[Teodora Krutova] "Don't be an idiot," Dora says, twisting Jesmond's hair into a rope, then letting it cloud-out, again, a dark-storm mass of raw silk, tyed away from her face and low. The simplicity suits Jesmond, and Teodora doesn't even look envious [so maybe it doesn't suit her -that- well, or maybe she's just a good person (sometimes)].

The blue-eyed teenager's gaze flicks toward the picture in question, and she un-straightens one of the napkins Jesmond just put down so that it's a little crooked, her eyes limpid pools of innocence. "You had a little boy, there's nothing wrong with that, and it's your house. Besides, it's not like there's a Fenrir glyph or whatever next to him with a heart drawn around it or something and a frowny face next to, like, our Tribe's signature."

Teodora smiles at Jesmond. "Seriously, you look really pretty."

[Mila Davis] Well - apparently she was too busy looking at the piece of paper with the address on it to notice the pair in front of her. But, eventually the blue eyed woman looked up and spotted them. Darkly hued lips formed into a small smile as she hurried to catch up.

The dark haired woman was rather dressed up tonight - a pair of black peep toed heels, a black dress with a dark red belt and a black pearl necklace. She looked nothing like her usual self - which was either a, covered in blood, or b, much, much more casual.

"Good evening.." She spoke quietly, just trying to let the pair know she was behind them, as not to startle them.

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond, who had always been the most placid of the Krutova siblings, had found a great deal of maturity bloomed within her when her son had been born. She would have been the first to admit her relationship with his father had been -- volatile -- at the best of times but there had been true affection in her heart for Eirik Thurstan when the time came that they shared a unique bond to a new person, so tiny and fragile who had tiny chubby palms and eyes already blinking bright, startling blue.

She had also said it to her sister, many times, that trying to raise an infant around Garou was an impossible feat, and she'd spent many nights far away as she could manage with Ari; willing the force of a Sept full of Rage to lessen with the passing moon cycle. So, life had taught her hardship, but it had also brought her a great many joys, and it is perhaps these things both that keep her grounded.

"Thank you, Dora."

That keep her from erupting with tension as the doorbell rings, and she turns and gives her sister a quick once over. Her hair is touched, a hand smooths over a sleeve and Jesmond unties the apron from her waist as she moves to answer it. When it swings open, it's to the pair of sisters and beyond them the picturesque table setting, the softer lighting giving the apartment an inviting, homey feel.

That, and the young Kinswoman greeting Danicka, and Lukas, and perhaps a step behind, Mila. "Welcome," Jesmond says, smiling. "I'm so pleased you could make it. Come inside, can I take your coat? This is my sister, Teodora."

There was a wealth of hospitality and pleasure in the woman's voice that was difficult to resist; her apartment was rich with the aroma of cooking food, and she was standing before it with her apron in one hand, saying: "This is my home."

[Danicka Musil] Someone else might point out: we're not wearing coats; it's eighty degrees out here. Danicka just smiles at Jesmond, rather brightly, maybe even warmly, as she walks over the threshold to get quickly and smoothly out of the way of the two Garou coming in after her.

"Dobrý večer," she says. "It's good to see you again. It smells wonderful," she adds, and steps aside so Jesmond can greet Lukas and Mila. She looks around and sees Teodora, smiling at the teenager. "Hello."

[Simon] Simon caught up to his Alpha. He called out sharply while raising a hand."Mila wait up!"He says sharply before jogging up to catch up with her."Jesus christ you move quick woman!"He says catching up to her and grinning brightly."So umm is this where we're supposed to be?"He asks her curiously before looking cautiously around the area.

He was a Full Moon so it was only natural he expected something to jump out of the shadows at them at any moment. It's probably Ninjas too! It's always fucking Ninjas!

He pauses at the door, and takes the time to smooth over his dark, though sleeved, shirt when he catches sight of Jesmond. He beams a brilliant smile at the kin, friendly, charming and full of youth. The young Full Moon still had that glow about him that most of their kind were quick enough to lose. He lifts a fist to his mouth to clear his throat before pushing his shoulders back and smiling brightly to Jesmond."Simon Zahradnik, I am Mila's pack mate." Dark hair, sharp features, practically ready to burst an a conflagration of passion and fury. There was no denying what this young man was even if one wanted to pretend otherwise.

[Mila Davis] "Thank you for the invitation.. it was very kind. The food smells lovely.." Mila smiled softly, like she really meant it. She'd never met Jesmond before - but, while blocking the door, maybe that wasn't the best time to stop and figure things out.

So, she stepped in a little further - and then proceeded to wait for her packmate, the over-eager Simon. Her got a small grin as he came pratically jogging up. "Nice to see you can dress up a little.." she teased quietly

[Jesmond Krutova] It's a sign of her eagerness, perhaps, or her desire for the smooth run of things that she shall make little errors like the automatic wiring that says: I should ask to take coats, even though it was warm enough to stand without one outside, little-own inside a warm apartment. Danicka does not correct her mistake, she likely understands the root of it, and her smile is returned as she steps over the threshold into the space that Jesmond calls home.

"Děkuju," she says in Czech, her pronunciation precise, if colored by an American upbringing. Then there's another figure jogging up in the form of the Ahroun, and the Kinswoman offers him the same welcoming smile, the same greeting of pleasure that he could attend, and ushers them inside. "There isn't a great amount of space I'm afraid," she says, re-tying her apron and moving toward the kitchen.

"But there is a balcony if anyone smokes, and I've some wine and water and -- Teodora," she calls to the teenage replica of herself, all long limbs and growing beauty. "Would you fetch our guests refreshments while I check on the appetizers?"

[Teodora Krutova] Teodora smiles at Danicka first. "Hi," she says. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?" And when it's provided, she'll light up, blue eyes a mixture of best things dark and bright: "Oh, I've heard about you. Jezzy thinks you are lovely and a good influence. Hi, Lukas! What would you two like to drink?" Tribal elder and his mate first.

Then attention given to Simon (hey, he's pretty cute) and Mila. The same smile: "Hi. Simon, was it? And Mila?" A beat. "Mila Davis? You sing Grey Skies, right? All right. I have a friend who totally," a pause, selecting her words here, "enjoys your pictures. What would you two like to drink?"

"The view from the balcony's pretty stellar. It's the first thing I liked about this apartment, other than my sister."

[Danicka Musil] "Danička Musil," is the answer Teodora is given, mildly spoken, and given the girl's positively startling... American-ness, she might not -- as Lukas once did -- immediately wonder why she introduces herself by a nickname. And Lukas, perhaps, may simply note tonight that she does not introduce herself as Danicka, the pronunciation that led people like Ilari Martin and Sam Modine to call her 'Dani' and 'Danny' and even, from the cocaine addict, 'Danny Boy'.

The way she introduces herself to Teodora does not lend itself does not sound like 'Dan' anything.

The teenager makes her laugh. "That is good to know," she says, smiling. "We brought --" she begins to say, turning at the shoulder to look at Lukas, if he has given Jesmond the bag in his hands yet. Danicka just waves at it, turning back to Teodora. "Show me the kitchen, and I'll help you pour."

[Simon] He looked to be in great shape. One wouldn't have guessed he had been trying to keep his insides from spilling all over the floor just a night or two ago. He looked in peak fighting condition, or... Eating condition. There was food and Simon was young, and in some ways still a growing boy. He needed food, meat, protein! He breathed in deeply to inhale the delicious smell of food that washed from inside the house to tease his nostrils. His stomach almost immediately began to rumble.

Simon leans in to whisper into his Alpha's ear."That means thank you."He says in response to Jesmond shifting to another language. He knew his Alpha wasn't much for conversing in other languages so he handled that much for her.

He then stands and shakes his head."I'm not terribly picky just shove me in a corner and I'll be fine."He says with a nod of his head. He enters with his alpha and glances around the place smiling to himself, It was quaint and pleasant enough he didn't see any reason not to appreciate the hospitality shown by another of their tribe.

Simon might be young but he was tall, at roughly six feet in height and likely weighing in at close to two hundred pounds though there wasn't an ounce of fat visible on the young man. He was every bit the spitting image of the full moon, powerful frame charming smile, tall and impressive to behold. Though not the prettiest boy to ever walk the fact of the planet either... He certainly was worth a look or two.

Simon sniffed at the air, searching it for more than just food searching for familiar scents as well as unfamiliar. Teodora's scent caught his nose before she even got close enough to address them but a smile grew and a hand was presented."Simon with an S."He says with a nod of his head and a friendly enough smile."The balcony sounds just fine to me."He adds with a nod of his head.

Still suspicious eyes wandered about. Paranoia might be seen as impolite in certain walks of society but in their world it was a necessity. If ever there were a time to strike at the tribe within this city it would be while they are all gathered together after all. Strike a fatal blow swiftly and decisively... He wasn't gonna let the thought ruin his night but he wasn't ever going to let it leave his mind. He was a Full Moon before he was anything else.

[Mila Davis] Teodora's eagerness was met with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you Teodora.. " As for the rest of what the girl said - well, almost made it seem like there were lude pictures floating around out there of her - which there wasn't! "Uh - pictures? Well.." She just passed it over with a grin. "it's always nice to have fans. Maybe I'll have to meet this friend of yours sometime.."

She took a few careful steps towards the balcony - just enough to get a look. "Some sort of red wine, perhaps? If it's not too much trouble.." A beat. "You're right, the view is lovely.."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The last time Lukas and his mate were invited to dinner, it was a far more formal affair of black ties and evening gowns. It was also, one must admit, a more stilted affair. There were tensions beneath the surface, and Rosalie Bellamonte's best attempt at gracious hostessing proved inadequate to compensate entirely for Gabriella's obvious and determined unhappiness; for Emile's unmistakable disdain for Thunder's tribe and kin.

This time it's different. A single tribe. More casual. Following his mate, nodding to Mila and Simon outside the door, Lukas wears slacks, a linen shirt, colors and materials both light for the summer season. His sleeves are short, his forearms corded; his skin is not merely swarthy now but genuinely tanned.

They make an attractive couple, the tribal Alpha and his mate. Cosmopolitan. Polished. As they enter, Danicka says hello, and Lukas holds the tall bag out to Jesmond.

"Wódka," he says, a passable imitation of Polish, and smiles. "Thank you for inviting us to your lovely home, Jesmond and Teodora." It's almost a formality, a ritual of hospitality.

[Jesmond Krutova] Eyes wandering around the apartment do not find much that would lend itself to suspicion. There were some curious tribal masks hung on one wall, black, polished wood with intricate carvings and grotesque expressions -- they were fascinating as well as a touch alarming -- gifts, if they asked after, from her father, procured at some point on his travels. Jesmond privately had hopes that he had not had them Awakened so that they would stand as some sort of guardians for his daughters while in the city.

She had suspicions, but she had stopped herself from attempting to address the masks themselves, she had no wish to alarm her sister who already expressed disdain for the ugly faces. Primitive, was Jesmond's mild correction to this description, primitive art. Aside from the masks, the walls were frankly quite bare, over the sofa there was a smaller portrait of a young boy with bright, expressive eyes the match for the two sisters in the apartment and dark, curling hair. The picture looked to have been taken outdoors, with the young boy straddling a log and beaming at the camera, his teeth marking his age with the front most one missing in action.

Inside the kitchen, Jesmond was putting the finishing touches on her svestkove knedliky, potato and plum dumplings, as well as several bowls of steaming chicken noodle soup. She carried the dumplings out first on a small tray, and set them on the table, her motions precise, entirely sure handed. There were signs, on occasion, when she was observed that gave tell to her occupation; her keen eyes, the steady hands, the typically unflappable calm.

It was easy to imagine her at the Hospital, making her rounds, reassuring patients.

[Teodora Krutova] "Oh, don't trouble yourself, Danicka. I like being useful. I will accept help with the corks, though - I'm not very good with them," Teodora says, and she takes a step back, will guide Danicka over to the kitchen if help with corks is forthcoming. The apartment truly is small: the kitchen isn't far at all. Jesmond isn't wealthy, and Teodora doesn't have a job. She won't have trouble pronouncing Danicka's name properly, although when, and if, anyone in the apartment now hears Teodora say anything in Czech, they'll note the traces of an American accent. Not her first language, that other one. A child of Los Angeles, of Dusking Glory.

When Simon offered his hand, Teodora took it, shook, gave him a look that rapidly became somewhat dreamy, because he's reeeeally cute and a girl wants some eyecandy. Teodora: in the presence of [Rage (Full Moon Tonight: Jezzy, what were you thinking?) garou, she is remarkably self-possessed -- she isn't meeting anyone's eyes for longer than it takes to be courteous, however. Not tonight.

Mila, she gets a grin. Her childish cheeks practically shine. "He'd like that. He'd totally be my slave for life if I could swing that. He'd not really be worth much as a slave for life, but it'd be nice to be kind, right? I'll have your drinks in just a moment."

And so it'll go.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, meanwhile, has wandered over to the carven masks on the walls. He leans close to one. He peers at it carefully. Then he straightens up with a laugh, turning to call across the rather small space to Jesmond.

"You've sentry spirits for your home, I see. Your father's work?"

So much for Teodora not finding out.

[Simon] He leans in to whisper into Mila's ear when Lukas says Wodka and his grin brightens as he translates."That means Vodka."He says softly into his Alpha's ear before drawing back.

His eyes snap back to Teodora when the grabs hold of his hand. He shakes it firmly, but not enough to hurt the girl."Umm, Hi again."He says back with a soft little laugh. His eyes flickering to Jesmond and then back to Teodora."So you two are sisters? Cause I can really see the resemblance."He says sharply. Teodora was cute he wasn't about to deny that much, a little young but definitely cute. So when she gives him that dreamy look he flashes back that charming smile of his.

He couldn't help but purse his lips in amusement at the mention of Teodora enslaving her friend. It was a joke, but it still brought a little grin to his face."Rum..."He was a Rum drinker. He was young, but they were Garou the law wasn't exactly on the side of secret societies of monstrous bloodthirsty killers so he wasn't exactly worried about getting caught drinking. No the crimes he worries about getting caught for are of a much higher magnitude.

He watches Teodora go then looks at Mila."We need to have these things more often."

[Mila Davis] The food smelled good. Really good. Even if she couldn't name any of them from smell alone. The lone female Trueborn wandered towards the kitchen - hoping to get a better look at what might be served. She was starving afterall.

"Mm.. Scott's going to be quite sad he had to work tonight. Perhaps I just won't tell him that this dinner smells much better than most things he tries to make.." She trailed off, while listening to Simon. Mila chuckled very quietly and shook her head. He thought he was so useful. And, for now.. she'd just let him think so.

As soon as the young Teodora appeared with their drinks, she'd respond that she'd be more than happy to meet her friend.. anything for family, of course.

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond, returning from her second trip to the kitchen with the first of the bowls of soup sets it on the table and casts Lukas a quick look when he mentions the masks being sentry spirits. She raises her eyes heavenward, smiling, and glances toward her sister to gauge the level of reaction she could expect to endure, be it presently or later when their guests departed.

"So they are, are they? I had my suspicions," the Masks do nothing dramatic at the revelation of their true identities, though for the sensitive among them; they were not, to be polite, the friendliest of sentry spirits. They were very old, and very loyal to the one who had bound them, it appeared. Simon is asking if they're sisters, and Jesmond looks his way, smiling in that manner that was at once amused yet contained about said amusement.

"We are, there's another sister, too. Though she lives at our father's Sept in California, she is a member of their own, now, these past few years. Born under the full moon," Jesmond motions toward the table. "Please, take a seat, the first course is served."

[Danicka Musil] Corks come out of bottles with ease, glasses are produced, and whether Teodora wills it or not, Danicka ends up pouring a few glasses of her own. She does not pour for herself and Lukas, however, notably. The three kinswomen are in and out of the kitchen, and sooner or later the table seems set and everyone appears to have a glass of something-or-other in their hands. Danicka is drinking water. The vodka hasn't been opened yet.

Those two things may be related.

When Jesmond directs them to, she goes smiling to the table, seating herself on the other side of the table and a seat or two to the side of where Lukas places himself; nowhere near him, really. "This looks wonderful, Jesmond," she says, with sincerity.

[Mila Davis] A hand slid her skirt smoothly beneath her as she sat.. somewhere at the table where there was an empty seat beside her for Simon.

[Teodora Krutova] In the kitchen - "Um, do we have rum?" And, "Thank you, Danicka." Teodora, amid all this polite-hostessing she's doing, finds it in her to give the masks a Look. Perhaps later, once the guests are gone, she'll stand in front of them, fists on her hips, and give them a speech about spying, which they will probably ignore, or maybe she'll call her Dad and whine. Now, though -- just a Look.

The Look dissolves when Mila agrees to do Teodora this little favor, and the blue-eyed teenager gives the country singer another smile. "Excellent." Simon got another smile too, when he said that Teodora and Jesmond had a family resemblance. Jesmond is pretty. Teodora takes it as a compliment. In fact, Teodora seems generally pleasant, affable, a happy sort've teenager, not full up on angst.

Of course, she is a teenage girl.
The angst will come.

[Simon] He does as he is asked to. Finding himself a seat at the table and grinning brightly back to her. He wasn't much for formal parties and the like, etiquette just wasn't his thing. That was the beauty of the tribe there were so many and from so many walks of life... Each one fighting in their own way and from their own angle. It could, however, make it difficult when it came to formal little affairs like this. One never knew when a wolf was gonna show up in their birth form... or worse yet a Metis...

"I am sure you two are quite proud of her. I mean, the life of a Full Moon is a harsh one but it has it's rewards. We get to see all kinds of places that most people never would as well as barking orders when people get out of line."He smiles a little, he was trying to make light of their sister's fate because he knew the truth of what the life of a full moon meant. It meant a short, painful life... And an abrupt and sometimes excruciating end. It didn't need to be said though anyone who knew what the Garou did knew what lay before them.

He settled into his seat and greeted everyone gathered with a nod of his head before glancing at his Alpha and nodding as well.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Whoops," Lukas returns from mask-inspection, "I hope I didn't blow your father's cover."

There are no place cards at the table. Danicka takes a seat; Lukas does not sit beside her. He goes, instead, directly to the head of the table. There's no hesitation in this, no pretense of polite deferral or deference. These are Shadow Lords, after all, and in matters of dominance, implied or otherwise, Lukas is straightforward.

There's red wine at Lukas's place setting. There's also a smaller glass, which will sooner or later accommodate polish vodka.

"I wasn't aware your sister was a Full Moon, Jesmond," he adds. "What's her name?"

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond was a careful planner, she understood better than some Kinswomen the importance of things like placement at tables. Especially when inviting a collection of Shadow Lords to your table, especially when one of them was the Alpha. She had set a chair at either end of the table, but was deliberate in taking her place to one side -- giving her clear access to the kitchen so she could dart back and forth between the courses.

Danicka notes that the food smells wonderful, Jesmond's smile is dazzling for a moment, it precedes a quiet laugh of pleasure. "I hope it lives up to standards, I admit it's been some time since I cooked traditional food. My mother is a far better talent than I am at making svestkove knedliky and kureci polevka s nudlemi, though I do try." She sets her napkin on her lap, the dark-haired beauty and turns to listen to both the Ahroun's in turn as they speak; Simon of the pride they must feel -- "Oh, she loves her life entirely" -- and Lukas as he asks after her name.

Jesmond takes a sip of wine before answering.

"Alena," she replies with, then adds with a laugh: "They call her Thunderbolt, and I must say it suits her personality as well as her moon utterly."

[Danicka Musil] The names of dishes float around the table in Czech, and poor Mila hasn't the faintest what the hell Jesmond is saying. Simon's been translating, though, even unnecessarily, but Danicka just looks pleased. She reaches for a serving spoon inside of a dish and looks at Lukas. "Your plate," she says, like an offer and a courtesy at once, yet with a certain efficiency to it: come come now, give me your plate so I can put food on it, the others are hungry, too.

"Is she younger or older than you?" Danicka asks, after Alena.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 8 (Failure at target 6)
to Danicka Musil

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [SHADOW LORDS DON'T FAIL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
to Danicka Musil

[Mila Davis] The young woman didn't even flinch when Lukas sat at the head of the table. It was expected, really. It's just the way things worked and tonight the thought of changing the status quo didn't even enter her mind.

She did eye Lukas when he was slow producing his plate, however. She was hungry! And, even if she had no idea what they were eating - it was gonna be great. Idly she tapped a few fingers on her thigh, waiting.. and there seemed to be a little bit of a sparkle there on her left hand ring finger - something that wasn't there before.

[Simon] Simon leans in to translate as Jesmond speaks. He seems delighted to be doing just this for his Alpha, after all it was just one more reason he was such an amazing full moon. Showing off was something Simon was only ever proud to do in front of his Alpha as well as his tribe.

He tries not to intrude in the conversation. After all the eldest of their tribe was speaking, and he wasn't going to interject himself right into the middle of Lukas' questioning. So apart from translating for his Alpha for the moment Simon simply keeps himself seated and waiting. Watching everyone present and occasionally glancing out the windows just to be safe.

[Jesmond Krutova] "Younger," Jesmond notes with a glance down the table at her youngest sibling. "She's nineteen, eight years my junior, with Teodora the youngest." She speaks openly, the young Kinswoman, with seeming little hesitation, but rather some element of pleasure at discussing her extended family tree.

"My father had hopes for a son, but he received three daughters instead. I believe he finds comfort in having Alena with him."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Sitting at the end of the table, Lukas doesn't look perfectly proper and neat. He doesn't place his feet flat, doesn't straighten his back; in fact, he looks relaxed, casual, quietly pleased to be in the company of blood-relations and good food. The Ahroun sits a little aslant, his weight leaning right, his fingers resting on the base of his wineglass. His eyes follow the conversations around the table; he nods to Jesmond's sister's name, and then looks to his mate as she offers to fill his plate.

There's just a beat, a tiny almost-imperceptible pause. Then he smiles and shakes his head.

"I'll get it myself, thanks. I'm just going to booze up for a bit," he adds, and lifts his wineglass in indication. "Jesmond, do you mind terribly if I'm a rude guest and demand that we open my own gift?"

He means the vodka, of course.

[Mila Davis] A lithe hand wrapped around the stem of her glass and she brought it to her lips for a small sip. Her stomach grumbled. There was talk of booze - which was always good. Maybe that'd help?

Somewhere in her little clutch her phone dinged very quietly. She took a moment to look at it, before turning it off and sliding it away. "My mate ends his regards and apologizes for not being able to make it. I had hoped to introduce him.." A beat. "The wine is lovely.."

[Teodora Krutova] "Aw," Teodora says, all sparkle-eyed, "You have a," brief pause, because it's a word she finds (a) hilarious and (b) distasteful, for all she's heard it her entire life, "mate? Is he cute?"

Also, "Please forgive me if I'm being too forward, but uhm! Simon's a Full Moon. So is Lukas. What are you? And, Danicka, do you like Chicago? Have you been here very long? Does it really get super cold in the winter? One of the waiters at the Brotherhood of Thieves told me that his tongue got stuck to the air it was so cold, so he couldn't, like, un-stick out his tongue. I think he might have been exaggerating."

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond lifts her head, spoon midway to her lips when Lukas asks if he can open the gift he'd brought to the table. There's a brief, there and then gone expression of surprised amusement at the question before she nods. "Go right ahead," she says pleasantly, for what other remark was there to make when the tribal elder asked such a thing? In truth, Jesmond had little mind for the vodka aside from it taking a place among her other liquors so it was likely finding a better home in the Ahroun's hands.

Then, aside to Mila: "I'm sorry we didn't get the opportunity to meet him, have you been together long?"

Then: Teodora. Her sister manages not to look altogether stern, nor totally amused by the younger girl's chatter, rather, she adds as she butters a roll, her eyes carefully lowered. "I also think he wanted you to test out his tongue's durability in the now, didn't he?"

[Teodora Krutova] [Er, what's that Jezzy? omg, you're so suspicious *limpid eyes of innocence* Subt + Manip!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Mila Davis] "He is.." She grinned over the rim of her glass at the girl. Mila only vaguely remembered what it was like to be her age. Everything was about if the boy was 'cute' or not.

Then to Jesmond: "A few months - though it's only become offical in the last few weeks. There were several issues to work around.. including his very protective family.." She made a slight motion to the masks on the wall - as if she was sympathetic to the over protective parent thing.

And then, back to the chatty teen: "Three-quarters moon, I suppose. Gibbous - though not many tend to call it that.."

[Jesmond Krutova] [Per + Alert, Mmhmm.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Ray Ostermann] The man had come dressed in his finest, and baring gifts only appropriate for a dinner party, but as he stood just outside the door to the apartment of a woman he had never met, he had to force a smile upon his lips as if preparing himself for something he did not really want to do.

Things had been hectic of late, problematic for certain and it had left a sour taste in the man's mouth. But he had come....it would have been improper not to, for now at least.

He took a deep breath, before at last knocking on the door.

[Teodora Krutova] Teodora's pretty blue eyes widen at Jesmond in blank incomprehension. "Uhm, I don't know. That seems pretty weird?" There's someone at the door. She says, "I'll get it," and after excusing herself, stands up and opens the door.

FOMORI. No: just another man. Also attractive. It's so nice to be part of the pretty tribe. "Hello," she says, waiting for some indication that he's not a partycrasher before opening the door.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] That instant of pause and surprise is, in the end, all it takes. Across the table, Lukas's crystalline eyes study Jesmond for a moment. Then he shifts, pushing his wineglass a little further away, sitting a little straighter.

"Forgive me," he says. Those are two words no kin of Thunder would ever expect to hear from a trueborn, much less from the one who, by all account, heads the tribe in this city. Nevertheless, there it is, and he follows it with, "I'm treating you like you're my sister and I'm home on break -- when you're my honored hostess and we're not familiar with one another.

"The wine will be fine."

[way belated, sorry! cats sought food!]

[Danicka Musil] Teodora rattles off questions at people, which means that whatever passes in that moment between Lukas and his mate when he waves away the mention of handing her his plate and asks if they can open the vodka is quickly subsumed in the answering of those questions. Danicka laughs lightly at the girl. "I do like Chicago," she says when it's her turn, as she fills her own plate. "I've been here for about a year and a half. It does get rather cold, and you feel it more if you're close to the lake and the wind comes westward."

In a few seconds someone is knocking, and though Danicka has added food to her plate she doesn't start eating yet. Lukas apologizes to Jesmond and Danicka simply ladles soup into her bowl, not so much as flicking her eyes at the Ahroun.

"Oh," she says, when she looks over at the door. "Hello, Ray." With a smile. It isn't overly warm; they aren't close. They've met, though, and worked towards a common goal before.

[Danicka Musil] [correction: she'd call him Mr. Ostermann! not Ray!]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [what happened to my post? there was supposed to be an "altogether" before the "familiar"]

[Ray Ostermann] A pretty little thing opened the door, and on a normal day, not even a month ago Ray would have broken out the award winning, panty dropping smile and charm, but this evening the smile is on his lips, but barely presses in on those eyes of his.

"Good evening." He says to Teodora. "My name is Ray Ostermann, I suppose we could say I am fashionably late this evening?" He asks casually, still managing to slip into something of himself as he does so, holding out a fine bottle of old vintage red wine. "Perhaps this will make up for my transgression hmm?" He asks as he briefly looks past her to those beyond before returning his attention to the girl before him.

"Have I passed the test? Or will I be remaining here in the hallway?" He asks with a friendly rise of his eyebrow.

[Mila Davis] The familiar voice in the doorway caught her attention and her blue-grey gaze shifted that way. "Well good evening Ray.. nice of you to join us." She teased lightly before going back to sipping her wine.

[Jesmond Krutova] There is, in fact, more food to come.

They can smell it where they sit, the delightful aroma of roast pork, marinating in its juices while they dine on the Appetisers. Roast pork, and Jesmond's speciality, or at least one dish she has utter confidence in: Goulash.

But at present:

Lukas apologizes to her, and Jesmond looks across the length of the table at him, her gaze steady, and thoughtful, as if she weren't quite certain what to make of the fact that he felt the need to apologize. Perhaps she had appeared hurt, or distressed by the question.

"You don't have to apologize," she notes this, for it seemed important to make the clarification. "I wasn't offended. Perhaps we can drink it with dessert?"

Calm, careful negotiation. Then: her sister flitting to the door and Jesmond is barely rising before Ray is let in [or held for scrutiny] by Teodora. The elder Krutova excuses herself from the table and makes the short journey to the door, accepting the bottle of red wine with a murmured -- "How kind" -- and indicating he should join them.

"We've just started, you're in time for the main course." She smiles, Jesmond, quite often. It's charming, and oddly comforting. As if she were in fact the sister you came home to spend time with, and could, at points, very easily forget to be proper, or tense, or to be what you were entirely. "I'm Jesmond, this is my sister, Teodora," a hand briefly falls on the teenager's shoulder.

"I believe you know everyone else." A moment, the slim Nurse carries the bottle to the table. "I'm going to check on the roast."

[Teodora Krutova] Ray isn't breaking out the smile. That's just fine: Teodora's personable enough for two. "Since everybody else knows your name, I guess you get a pass," she says, and Jesmond is indicating that Ray should join the collection around the table. Teodora reclaims her own seat, after Jesmond sets the bottle of wine down. Her expression is fond, when Jezzy goes to check on the road. Which is probably perfect. Jezzy: a tough act to grow up in the shadow of, for sure.

To Danicka, with an apologetic look for the interruption, "Why did you move here? With Lukas?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] You don't have to apologize, Jesmond says, and the corners of Lukas's mouth flick.

"Of course not," he replies quietly; there may be subtext there. A beat. "But I wanted to."

She suggests vodka with dessert. His laugh is more open now, relaxed. "You've prepared a veritable feast, Jesmond," he says, which is nothing more than the truth.

And it's a homestyle feast too. No fancy morsels here: good, hearty Slavic food, this, that probably reminds Lukas of, well. Being home on break, whatever a 'break' might entail for a Shadow Lord. More accurately, then: being home when he was young, his family of four gathered around the dinner table with meats and potatoes and breads and cheeses.

Being at the Musil's, too. Eating at the children's table with Danicka and Anezka while the adults ate at the large table, feasting on the food that Danicka and her father prepared.

Another guest arrives. Lukas nods to the kin, and then his name from somewhere down the table -- Teodora, specifically -- catches his attention for a moment before he turns, instead, to Simon.

"I heard you translating earlier," he says. "Is your family Czech as well?"

[Ray Ostermann] "Thank You." Ray says as he gives up the bottle and nods to both the younger, and older sisters before stepping into the apartment proper, looking around casually with some manner of interest as he makes his way to the table. He looked about that the available seating, and moved around to sit with Mila if a space was open there.

"Good evening." He says with a nod and a brief smile to all those present that acknowledged him before seating himself of course, it wouldn't be polite to do otherwise.

[Simon] He smiles back to Lukas when he is addressed."My father was Czech, and my Mother... They both moved to America to find a better life long before I was born. But my mother felt it was important that I remember a bit of my cultural heritage and all. I wouldn't call myself Czech anymore than I would call myself American... I have only one Nationality I am Garou and the nation is the only one to whom I pledge my loyalty and the only nation to which I connect myself."He says back with a proud little smile. He spoke in an almost militant manner there expressing his loyalty without a hint of doubt. There was so very much uncertainty among the Shadow Lords so much flexibility, betrayal, underhanded politics so it was nice to be able to say something with absolute certainty or authority behind it.

"But yes my Mother and Father were originally from Eastern Europe. Other than that I wouldn't say I have much in the way of a family. I was born, raised by a strong woman, and that is about the closest I would say I have to a family. My sept is my family now."

[Mila Davis] Whatever was offered, Mila ate. Her manners were practiced and she didn't rush.. she spent plenty of time savoring everything. It was all new food - and very good too. She made small talk with any of them. Smiled, laughed.. and really just had a nice time. {Aka, I must depart soon.. but Mila will stay and behave.}

[Danicka Musil] Her eyebrows flick upward slightly at Teodora's question. "Oh," she says gently, her voice moderated and a bit low, "no. I hadn't become reaquainted with him yet when I moved here. I came to experience a new place, and keep an eye on a friend who was having some troubles."

That's one way of describing Mr. Martin.

[Jesmond Krutova] While they talk, and drink and [be merry?] enjoy the soup and the dumplings, Jesmond takes a heavy oven dish from its depths, carefully closing it and setting the tray down. She pricks the roast with a knife, and watches the juices run clear down its golden side.

"Perfektní.

Said with quiet pleasure, the cheeks of the Kinswoman flushing with pride. She transfers it to a serving dish, and carefully arranges it, before carrying it out toward the table and setting it, still steaming, in the center of the table. "This is roast pork, with sauerkraut and dumplings," she describes, her eyes focused on Mila, suggesting she's noticed the in-ear translations that her pack-mate has been providing for her.

"In Czech, we call it

[Jesmond Krutova] [Ack!]

[Jesmond Krutova] While they talk, and drink and [be merry?] enjoy the soup and the dumplings, Jesmond takes a heavy oven dish from its depths, carefully closing it and setting the tray down. She pricks the roast with a knife, and watches the juices run clear down its golden side.

"Perfektní."

Said with quiet pleasure, the cheeks of the Kinswoman flushing with pride. She transfers it to a serving dish, and carefully arranges it, before carrying it out toward the table and setting it, still steaming, in the center of the table. "This is roast pork, with sauerkraut and dumplings," she describes, her eyes focused on Mila, suggesting she's noticed the in-ear translations that her pack-mate has been providing for her.

"In Czech, we call it veprova knedliky zeli," she explains as she begins to carefully slice off portions and lay them out on a clean plate. Then, she ventures back into the kitchen again and returns with a large pot full of a thick, broth like dish. She puts this beside the roast, and sets a ladle within it, stirring slowly. "And this is Goulash, it is one of my favorite childhood memories, my mother would serve this every Sunday."

Jesmond glances at Teodora, smiling with the same fondness the younger sibling had cast her only moments before.

"Please," a quiet gesture as she retakes her seat. "Enjoy."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Well spoken," Lukas says, not without a measure of wryness, "but unfortunately, I myself am far too fond of koláče to entirely sacrifice my human heritage."

Then Jesmond is returning with roast and goulash, and Lukas is pushing back his chair to stand and assist. There's a lot of food there. It's heavy. Likely more than one pair of hands reach out to help the platter and the pot down to the tabletop -- a sort of flagraising at Iwo Jima in reverse. When the food is settled, the guests as well, Lukas lifts his glass of red.

"To our hostess," he says, "who has brought the tribe together with warmth, grace, and -- " he grins suddenly, " -- some truly glorious food."

[Danicka Musil] To tell them to enjoy a meal like this is a bit unnecessary. Danicka looks quite happy about the spread. If one looks on her plate they'll see she hasn't had very much of her dumplings or her soup. She takes small bites, does not fill her dishes overmuch. She is stronger than she was when she first came here but to the eyes of those who didn't know her then, she still looks Manhattanite slender. 'Skinny', if one is being uncharitable. She doesn't eat a lot.

She also doesn't tell a potentially embarrassing story about the tribal elder and his fondness for koláče. It wouldn't really bother Lukas. Maybe she even knows that he's just as likely to tell it himself, even if no one here is his packmate. But still. She doesn't regale the table with such things, for whatever reason.

However, she does smile a little more broadly as she lifts her glass to toast Jesmond as well. "Hear, hear," she says. And: "Na zdraví!"

[Simon] He smiles in response to Lukas' toast. His eyes brightening before holding his glass up in Jesmond's direction."To the hostess... The food is delicious but what is most important is to see so many of our tribe gathered in one place. It isn't often we find ourselves drawn together like this but you have certainly made it worth our while."He says with a smile."To the hostess and her lovely young sister."He adds raising his glass towards Teodora as well. Not about to leave any of the kin out.

Simon wasn't much for etiquette but he could still be a nice guy when he wanted to be and right now he saw no reason to upset anyone.

When his glass is settled he smiles and looks towards Ray, and then around at the others and finally back to Lukas. His glass settles and he leans forward."I was born to the full moon... Sometimes it can be difficult to set aside the hunt long enough to remember that I was also born a man. It is nice to be reminded of who I am, and to be given a chance to set my worries aside even if only for a few brief hours. I thank you for having me."

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond would be beaming, were she the sort of woman for grand expressions, as it is, there is a glow to her fair skin and to her eyes as she presides over the course of the meal that suggests she is touched by the gratitude, and the toasts to her honor. They warm her, and perhaps, reassure the part of her that feared that her absence from the tribe whilst mated to another had weakened, or permanently damaged her standing among her blood Kin.

"Thank you," she says, after the words are given, and casts her sister a quiet, meaningful look that meant something along the lines of thank you for behaving, thank you for helping without ever speaking the thoughts aloud. Jesmond turns her focus to Danicka then.

"Last occasion I had to bump into Lukas, he mentioned you were in New York, I take it everything is well that you're back?"

[Teodora Krutova] Simon gets a brilliant smile. And perhaps another dreamy-eyed look. Mostly, though -- she's pleased that Lukas toasted Jesmond. Pleased, indeed. And it shows.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Again, a brief flick of his eyes across the table as his name is spoken. Again, he doesn't interrupt, but instead turns back to Simon.

"I think it's important to remember our human heritage as much as our wolf," he opines. "A lot of Garou seem to be ashamed of it. No surprise, given the disasters perpetrated by our bipedal cousins. But our humanity's what gives us our ingenuity and our capacity for abstract thought. If we could win the war thinking like beasts alone, there wouldn't be a war to wage at all."

[Danicka Musil] They toast, and they drink, and they return to their meals and their other conversations. Danicka sets her wineglass down and picks up her fork once more. She doesn't know the hostess well, and the first time they met was months ago, but she has a long and clear memory. She knows about Ari. She knows that Jesmond will fight savagely for life and for the War, and now she knows that she roasts a rather amazing side of pork.

She finishes a bite of sauerkraut and nods to Jesmond's question. "Well enough," she says. "My half-sister and four of her children --" indicating there are more than four, great Gaia, "were brought to the states by the tribe not too long ago. She's been ill, and needed some assistance moving and settling them all into their new home."

Danicka cuts a bite of potato off her plate and spears it with a silent, deft gesture. "I'll visit again, I'm sure. But I needed to be back here."

Not a glance to Lukas as she says this. They are together, as firmly and officially as though bound in stone, though there is no rock on Danicka's left hand. He is Garou. She is Kinfolk. They are of a tribe, of a heritage together, and of a distant past. Rightful and honorable challenge was made. His name is legally Kvasnicka, as hers is Musil, and it's unlikely that either of them will ever feel a desire or see a need to align their relationship with human practicies.

But they don't sit together at the table. She's not at his right hand nor his left but a few seats down, and they hold their own conversations. That's how dinners are supposed to go: the threads of talk interweave and intersect here and there, but otherwise divert, and flow, and meander around one another. Lukas engages with the other of his moon at the table. Danicka focuses primarily on the Krutova sisters and their questions, their delightful curiosity, their phenomenal cooking.

And so it goes.

"I've been meaning to get in touch with you, actually," she tells Jesmond, after eating the tiny bite of potato. "I'm going to be taking some self-defense classes," she says, as though the sort of classes she means are the sort where skittish white women learn how to stomp on someone's instep and run away, which may or may not be what she really intends, "and thought maybe you'd be interested in going with me."

Some women friends do yoga together.

[Jesmond Krutova] Now, Jesmond wasn't a wallflower all of the time. In fact, the very title may be a mislabeling of her nature from the outset. She was quiet, and she was level-headed and she did not tend to fluster too easily when put on the spot. Had she been born true, she would have been a Philodox -- perhaps this says much for the calm manner she considers Danicka as she speaks, there is earnestness perhaps in the tilt of her head and the slightly widened eyes --

but there is also intellect, a quick wit and deft skill. She has lived among the Fenrir, a fact which is easy to forget upon looking on her, for she did not seem so tough, from the exterior. She did, in fact, look somewhat delicate with her small hands and her lean figure and her pale complexion. It was in Jesmond's gaze, in that steady, strong gaze that you saw the endurance of the woman. That you could see how she could have stabbed a Formori in the neck with a letter opener once, that she had withstood the Rage of a Modi to protect her child.

That she would raise a gun and fire it point blank, if the need arose.

So when Danicka tells her she's going to take self-defense classes, Jesmond looks interested. She looks very interested, and her voice suggests so. "I'd be happy to go with you, I've always wanted to learn some of the 'official' methods for self protection," her smile suggests she's tried less standard ones in the past. Then, her eyes stray toward the others at the table, lingering on the men.

"After all, some of have to do things the old fashioned way."

[Jesmond Krutova] [I hate it when I skip words in a sentence. 'some of us...']

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas has been eating. To be honest, Lukas has been eating quite a bit. The wine in his glass decreases, and then someone passes the bottle around, and he pours, and then someone else passes a platter of meat or a pot of soup or...

He eats. Not messily, and not rudely: but heartily, without embarrassment, tucking away prodigious amounts of protein and starch and almost no greens at all. When he was a child, before his parents knew he was going to Change, they tried to make him Eat His Vegetable. They stopped trying when it became clear what he was. He had an excuse, then. They had a hierarchy to respect, then.

It's hard for Lukas to go home to the sort of hearty Czech meals his mother would cook, not unlike the one Jesmond lays out for them. It's hard because as unforgettable as his position and rank here is, the truth is their interactions over this table are far freer than they would be at home. There, his parents try to serve him. They do not meet his eyes for long, if at all. They call him by his Garou name, respectfully, with downcast gazes.

He doesn't go home very much.

This, though: the food without the stiltedness. Without the keen awareness of how things have changes from his youth. With his mate close again -- perceived and recognized subconsciously even though they hold their own conversations, sit apart, glance at each other only infrequently. It's nice, all of it. Lukas's toast was not an empty courtesy.

As the night winds on, he'll talk to Simon about war, the tribe; they might trade battle stories, laugh over particularly brilliant fights or particularly inept opponents. He might ask Ray about his business, and ask if he still kept in touch with Leslie. He won't discuss Marni or her pregnancy. He'll try to coax Mila to sing something later, and when dessert comes he might eat just a little too much of the sweets. He won't tell them about throwing up when he was five or six, but he will tell them about the night Danicka brought kolaches to the Brotherhood, and how he ate all six of the orange ones at a go.

I think Danička expected me to get sick, he says, and to be honest, I almost did.

Later on, he'll be in no hurry to go. He'll drink some more, relax, talk, pick at the food still on the table. Eventually -- well past midnight, likely -- they'll realize how late it is, and that they should allow their hostess and her sister some rest, and they'll all start meandering toward the door.

On his way out, Lukas will rejoin his mate. He'll take her hand quietly, smile at her, then turn to bid their hostess goodbye.

Next time, he says, we'll do a potluck so you don't have to do all the work.

[Danicka Musil] I most certainly did not, she will say, when he suggests she wanted him to get sick off the pastries she brought. No joke saying she hopes the Spirals never discover his weakness and exploit it. She wouldn't find it funny.

It wouldn't be.

Unlike Lukas, she eats rather sparingly, so that she can have some of everything rather than fill up on one or two dishes and have no room for anything else. But she eats with enjoyment, and the occasional compliment to the cook, particularly over the dessert. When the talk of war and battle gets a bit... on the edge of what a fifteen year-old girl should hear (or perhaps simply what Danicka herself can bear to think about), she sometimes moves in and gently changes the subject, or steers the talk some other direction.

If Ray talks about his business, Danicka is curious. She hasn't the faintest idea what he really does.

If Mila chooses to sing to them, she will most likely have moved to sit with Lukas by then, on the couch or in a chair closer to his, his arm around her shoulders and her body leaned slightly against his own.

It's likely that Danicka, with only a glass of wine and perhaps a finger or two of vodka over the entire course of the evening, is the one who starts stirring herself from the comfort of the evening to look at the clock, to go back to thanking Jesmond. She thinks of such things instantly, automatically. It would be different if she knew Jesmond better. If they all knew one another better.

But tonight was a step in that direction, and the inexplicable companionable ease of it all is what fills Danicka's mind as she and Lukas start to make their way out. She's saying they need to do this again, and she's saying maybe they can come to her apartment next time or another, and saying she'd like this recipe or that. Lukas suggets a potluck. Danicka quips, even as they're heading out the door, her wit sharp but her humor gentle, oh, and what are you going to offer, ham and cheese sandwiches?

Absolutely, he says with overblown and slightly inebriated seriousness, and she laughs as they head towards her car.