"So, revel went well."
Feb. 10th, 2012 02:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretPost Revel scenes. Mouse is briefly weird at the Get. Walkers congregate back at the Tenement. Phone call with Kaz. Texts with Nick. And Riley is very, very high.
The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing, while a carpet of brambles and vines six foot deep fills the space beneath. In the center of the clearing was a fire pit with several old logs polished from use for seats, and stack of firewood at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, but these are overgrown and barely visible even if you know where to look. At the edge of the clearing and extending back a bit into the woods resides a rough wooden structure with a slate tile roof, now cloaked beneath thick, bright green vines and white-striped ivy. A particularly thickly-stemmed bramble overgrows a large stone slab that rests off to one side.
(+view works here)
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
Contents:
Wildfire
Bag-of-Snakes
BJ
Stone slab
Obvious exits:
Forest
Wildfire misses the spectral horn image on the Gaian, still keeping his focus outward. His head is moving at least, like he's scanning the horizon, for all the good it'll do with all the vines. ~You already know how I hit,~ he says flatly.
BJ goes back to her supplies, and cleans her hands with a rag and a pan of water seemingly for that purpose. "I agree with the tactic, though. Nine times out of ten, we're best off with an overwhelming first strike. That's what Gaia gives us rage for. Well, mostly you, but. And then if anyone's still standing, us Raggies can get 'em from behind!"
~I know how you normally hit,~ Bag-of-Snakes comments. ~I also know how you normally behave at moots, and you rather surprised me... Then again, I also know how I normally act and... Oh, to Malfeas with it all,~ she growls. ~We have not done well this night.~ She glances back up at BJ with what seems to be her best effort at an appreciative look, though there's still thunder on her brow.
Wildfire blinks a couple of times, turning his head when the healer mentions she's a ragabash, then nods to himself when he remembers her tribe. He turns back to look into the woods. ~Surpirsed?~ he asks, then shrugs. ~What of it?~
There's the sound of someone blundering through the brambles--whoever it is, isn't bothering to be very quiet, or careful.
BJ twitches noticeably when Viv mentions Malfeas in her curse, her expression briefly going pained, before regaining composure. Her voice is a little off, distracted, when she hears the noise and calls out, "C'mon in, healers and warriors present at the moment!"
~That ugly mug Glass Walker,~ Bag-of-Snakes snaps curtly. She doesn't say any more than that, and a watchful glance at BJ followed by a meaningful look at Wildfire may suggest why she doesn't elucidate in present company.
Wildfire flinches a moment, a wave of irritability passing over him. He seems about to say something, but upon the call of the Gaian and the sounds of someone approaching, he unstead turns that direction with a start, teeth and claws bared in a silent, deadly promise.
Mouse shove-stumbles her way into the compound. Unlike Viv, she doesn't appear to have been injured at all. But she takes one look at the small gathering, and especially Wildfire's ready stance, and something shivery seems to ripple through her facial muscles. Her gun is quite visible too, since she isn't wearing a coat. She's wearing it in a shoulder holster.
You have shifted to Homid form.
Alias removed.
Name set.
Alias set.
BJ gives a very clinical smile to Mouse, "Hello! Do you know if anyone else requires medical attention? Or should I pack it up for now? Looks like this revel was relatively low on casualties." Her tone is professional and practiced, what one would expect from a nurse, covering up anything real.
Bag-of-Snakes twists around and regards Mouse. There is a long moment as the Jarl eyes her fellow elder up and down, not omitting a good look at that weapon strapped to her shoulder. Finally she breaks the silence with ~Greetings, First-Strike-yuf. Thank you for the service you provided to this sept at the moot, and for the service you provided to me as an individual.~ Formal, and as cold as ice, but nonetheless it sounds genuine rather than sarcastic.
Wildfire settles a bit once he realises who the new arrival is. He straightens up a bit and shakes himself out to regain his composure, followed by a stiff bow to reflect his Jarl's greeting.
Mouse starts to nod, and then that ripple crosses her face again, and what ends up is a brief, uneasy grin. "I need to find a Theurge now."
BJ starts packing away her medical supplies into her canvas bag. "Anyone in particular? I can find most people if I know 'em at all. Maybe Zosia?" She seems quite eager to help.
Bag-of-Snakes shifts back into homid now that BJ has finished work on her, and looks around as if taking stock of those present. No theurges. "Jamethon or Norman are probably both around," she suggests.
Wildfire gives Mouse a look that is fairly easy to read, noting quite visibly that she is one. No words though. Instead he turns to face back out into, well, nothing.
Mouse lifts one hand and grinds her palm against her forehead. "Kaz." Pause. "Someone." And then, suddenly, inexplicably sharper, "/Now/."
BJ salutes sharply. "Aye-aye, on my way! Do you want me to bring her here, or call you with where we are when I find her? I'm faster by myself."
Viv stares at Mouse in concern, but allows the uninjured and (presumably) fresher BJ to respond to the Glass Walker.
Well, tha certainly get a reaction out of Wildfire. He turns sharply, lips curled once more. ~Where?~
Mouse waves the hand not pushing against her forehead. "Fast. Or call if you're slower. I need to go home."
BJ nods. "No problem. I'll bring her to the Tenement! Probably beat you there, I bet." And she dashes off - and it's quite a dash! Normally only the Striders can move that quick, and it looks especially strange from her short, chubby frame, but it happened.
"If you can get as far as Edgewood," Viv suggests, "I can give you a ride to the city in my van. But I've a feeling that what you mean by 'home' at the moment may not be what I mean...?"
Wildfire watches after BJ as she darts, then back to Viv with a grimace. He lets out an exasperated noise, hands clenching, but otherwise remaining quiet.
Mouse echoes BJ in answer. "Tenement." And then she moves hurriedly across the Compound, clearly intending to leave.
BJ has left.
Viv doesn't seem inclined to chase after Mouse to renew the offer of a ride. She sits back and looks at Wildfire with a 'Well, what can you do' expression.
It's a slow build up, it would seem, a trembling in his arms, a quirk of the lips, raising of hackles, and eventually a low growl that raises in volume into a frustrated roar as Wildfire vents off once more in his own, renewed, pent-up rage. ~Mother of fucking GOD! Give me something to do!!~ He stomps the ground, snarling once more as yet again he turns away to look out into the forest.
Mouse twists back toward Wildfire at the roar, and for a moment, there's a wild, reckless look in her eyes, not angry but eager, and there's a decided tensing in her muscles as well. But rather than springing, she seems to reign herself in, and force herself toward the edge of the compound again.
Viv just closes her eyes wearily. "You will find relief all too soon," she prophesies for Wildfire.
Wildfire raises his hands to his face, eyes covered but muzzle still peeking through between them, fangs still bared as he clenches his fingers, either kneading his forehead or, unlikely, trying to claw his own eyes out. He takes nine steps foreward, then falls to one knee, eventually sliding over into a seated postion on one of the nearby thicker vines.
----
Tenement Building - Ground Floor(#2451RJ)
The ground floor of the apartment building is taken up mainly by the lobby, an open space with the front doors at one end and the elevator and the door leading to the stairwell at the other. The floor is covered in black and white tile in a checkerboard pattern, and the walls have been painted a neutral grey shade. A couch, two squashy armchairs, and two wooden chairs have been set up in a rough semi-circle around a square wooden coffee table, facing toward the front doors and positioned so as not to interfere with any traffic moving between there and the stairs. The furniture does not seem to be very old, but it has been well-worn in its short lifetime. A few potted plants have been set in corners, to give the old lobby a more welcoming atmosphere.
To the right of the main doors are mailboxes for building residents, and off to the left is the doorway into a cramped rental office (see +view), and other doors that lead to the building's large laundry room.
Contents:
Slug
Riley
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
The Tenement is still buzzing with all sorts of activity after the events of the revel - with the exception of the entrance. That, as far as Riley as concerned, makes it the best place to lay low. She clearly hasn't had the time to clean up after the revel, as her clothing is more than willing to attest. Dedicated or no, it doesn't help if you bleed all over it. She's on the couch with an arm holding her ribs, the other playing with her cell.
Slug comes down from upstairs with a small brown bag, which smells distinctly of freshly fried things. He wanders over near Riley and drops the bag on the table near him, then takes a seat on the floor near the couch. "Comfort food." He offers. "Fried eggrolls, chicken, and some left-over mac'n cheese. If you want some."
"No comforting words, huh? Just food?" Riley scoops up the bag, examining it quietly for a moment and nods to his packmate. "That's the most sensible thing I've seen yet." It's difficult to miss the low note of displeasure in her tone, but it seemed aimed at the situation, not at Slug. She scoops out an egg roll, chomping unceremoniously into it with her brows furrowed.
The rattle of the keys in the lock of the front door heralds Mouse's entry. She already has a cigarette in her mouth, and she smells as though she's been partaking of quite a few more while she's been out. There's a line of tension in her jaw, and one more in the muscles of her cheek.
Flint arrives from the stairwell.
Flint has arrived.
Devon arrives from the stairwell.
Devon has arrived.
"I've already told you enough comforting jokes. Just be glad you haven't lost an eye, or an arm, or gotten all fucked up." Slug reaches into the bag after Riley, grabbing one for himself, along with a packet of soy-sauce. "In a way, you're lucky. I'd trade places with you. Beats my 'battle wound'."
Riley grunts, "You'll forgive me if I don't fall all over myself at my 'good fortune'." As might be expected, she's fidgeting every so often. It's a crappy thing, not being comfortable in your own skin. Riley glances up as Mouse walks in the door, quietly slipping the last of the egg roll into her mouth so she can occupy herself with chewing instead of looking painfully awkward.
Mouse's lips twitch briefly away from her teeth as she shuts the door behind her. She puffs furiously at her cigarette, heading straight for the stairs.
"That's because you're thinking at it like a man, instead of a Ragabash." Slug whistles, tilting his head forward. "A new body. New nerves. New skin. A new identity! Does it bend the same? Does it twirl a knife between the fingers so easily as the last?" Slug springs to his feet with a stomp of his boots on the tile beneath him. "Scars, gone. Old aches, old pain, washed away. Criminal record? Vanished! Fingerprints? New! A new body would be a wonderful thing, and if I could trade flesh and blood like beer and cigarettes, I'd gladly buy one for myself."
There's already people coming down the stairs. A cub who fared pretty well after that adventure in the Umbra. And a much smaller, younger kid who could probably pose for Devon's little brother, if not Devon himself. He at least moves like the Ahroun, same facial expression curling in toward a faint frown.
Mouse comes to a slow stop as she takes in both Flint, and then Devon. Her gaze lingers longer on the Ahroun, but she doesn't say anything. Instead she inhales deeply, and lets a plume of smoke flow from her lips and nose, to drift and vanish ceilingward.
Flint seems to have gotten most of giving Devon a hard time out of the way on the way downstairs, because now the cub's just silent, sweatshirt pulled around his body. A nod is offered to Mouse-rhya, the boy's brows furrowing ever so slightly.
Slug wriggles his fingers at the new comers, then takes a big ol' bite out of his eggroll. He swallows his big greasy bite with an audible gulp, and a pleased sigh.
Devon meets Mouse's gaze, though after a beat he sighs and looks away. "Don't worry, I'm not going to go running around and leaving toys scattered all over the place." It's said mostly in jest, with some self deprecating tones included. He grins over at Slug and Riley, brows rising slightly.
Mouse exhales smoke through her nostrils again. "Well, you can punch /that/ smug asshole." She jerks her head toward Slug. Her voice, however, sounds mellow, with barely any inflection. "Apart from Wyld-mutations, is everyone safe and accounted for?"
"'s far as I know," Flint says, with a shrugging gesture that suggests that what he knows might or might not be certain of the words. He offers a grin to Devon, though, evidently amused by the joke.
"Smug? Envious. I wish I'd jumped on the thing before it blew up. I was going to, but then it died." Slug lifts his hands up at his side, shrugs, and eats the rest of his eggroll.
"An identity isn't something to throw away quite so cavalierly as that. This is a body, not an excuse to do stupid shit." Riley grumbles, frowning as she pops open the container of macaroni and cheese. She is just about to dig in when that word pops up. Poorly considered as only a ragabash can. She should understand, really. Would, under typical circumstances. It rubs her the wrong way tonight, though. "/Envious/?" Slug finds himself with a macaroni hat. "You want to lose your prick too, you let me know and I'll get /right/ on that, man." She stands sharply.
Devon looks at Slug again, echoing, "Envious?" His head shakes slowly, joking aside. "I might actually follow Mouse-rhya's suggestion and deck you. /You/ want to be turned into a chick? Or worse, go through puberty again? Shit." Arms folding over his chest, he looks up at the elder. "I know Kevin's back, we saw him and he wants shades to hide his eyes. Chris came back with him. I'm here, Flint made it back with Riley-rhya."
"Yes," Mouse says very thinly around her cigarette, "Being turned into a woman is either terrible or enviable." Her eyes shift slightly toward Devon. "Good."
Flint gets an expression on his face that says that the galliard cub is going to go with /terrible/, with a slight squaring of his shoulders. "Devon needs some decent-sized clothing," the cub adds, in the tone of shifting conversation and possibly being helpful. "Not even any of my stuff fits him right now."
Slug's head bows forward when he feels the quite warm ( but not all that hot ) pasta being poured over his head, but he doesn't seem to mind too much. He just grimaces at the sensation, then picks some of it off his head and pops it into his mouth. His face screws up momentarily as he thinks about their words, for all of a second. "I already did, once. Philodox cut off my parts with a silver knife, but they grew back." Slug steps up onto the coffee table in front of him and claps his hands, pointing at Devon. "Years added onto my life? Gladly. Riley's case? Sure. I'd do that. I'd take a rat's teeth, a bat's ears, my skin turned black, my eyes turned into a bird's... In all the world, and it's billions of people, you've experienced something few others have."
Mouse snaps immediately at Slug, in sudden, furious tones, "/Shut up/."
Riley's jaw sets, both in response to Mouse's extremely odd response, and Slug's exceptionally glowing outlook on the situation. Her fists and teeth tightly clench, and she's about to respond - but then Mouse does it for her. Slug gets a long glower.
"A few extra years," Devon repeats, nearly laughing at the idea. "A few extra years my child-sized ass. You fuck. If it's Gaia's will I die tomorrow, then any 'few extra years' I might have had were wrongly spent on me. You keep talking and I'll kick your ass without waiting for Mouse-rhya's permission."
Flint tenses next to Devon, looking over at the Ahroun. The cub's hands are in his pockets, which is the only reason that the fists they're balled into aren't visible.
Slug waves a hand and shakes his head, slowly enough not to loose any of the pasta lodged atop of it. He spares a wry grin at Devon and reaches up again, taking a bit of pasta into his hand. He eats it, and continues to pick pieces of it off his hair, using his head as a plate.
Riley's glowering toward slug softens, if just a little. It doesn't stop her from self-consciously drawing her coat about herself and looking across to Mouse. She drags out a sigh and mutters, "Fine. Whatever. Over it. Girl Power." She snags up the paper bag, popping open the container of chicken and prodding it with a fork and mumbling, "So, disastrous Wyld explosion aside, the night went well."
Salem has arrived.
Mouse's nose wrinkles as Slug starts eating the macaroni. She twists away from the Walkers (and macaroni covered Gnawer), and heads stiffly into the laundry room, cigarette smoke wafting behind her. There's a clatter from that direction, the sounds of the coffee maker being emptied.
Salem appears briefly on the monitors before he lets himself in the front door -- bringing with him a blast of frigid air and a whaff of foul-smelling cigarette smoke with him.
Riley quietly chews on her chicken, though it's obvious she's not in the happiest of states. She's not bothering to make eye contact with anyone in the room, just stares down at her chicken. So, plan of 'hiding in the lobby' has officially failed.
Slug skips down off the coffee table with a clatter of his boot heels upon the floor, then starts meandering towards Devon with one eyebrow raised.
Devon continues to watch Slug, going silent though there's a ready tension about him. He doesn't seem at all bothered by the size difference, eyes narrowing as the Gnawer draws closer.
Flint stands slightly behind Devon for the moment, still. The cub is taller than the Ahroun at the moment, attention drawn over Devon's head to glance over when Salem enters, ducking a nod of greeting.
"Do you believe in fate? Gaia's will?" Slug asks, stopping some five or so feet away. He grabs another bit of pasta off his head and sticks it in his mouth, merrily chewing away.
Mouse continues clattering around in the laundry room, though at the sound of the door she pokes her head out. Salem gets a vague tensing of her mouth, and then she pulls the cigarette out. "So," she says, with no humor at all, "revel went well."
"I believe you were told to shut up by the elder here," Devon replies, levelly. "You need any help with it, I'm sure some of us around here can be accommodating."
Salem gives the lobby his usual quick glance, then stops dead, frowning. His gaze fixes on Devon, then Riley -- lingering on the latter for several long seconds. Visibly disturbed, he turns to Mouse. "...No shit. Wyld?"
Flint puts a hand on Devon's shoulder for just a brief moment, letting the cliath know that he's still there. And the cub doesn't seem inclined to move, though he doesn't make known whatever is going through his head.
Slug gestures inward at himself with his off hand, bowing his head slightly. "You wound me, a man only trying to do his honor bound duty as a Ragabash and a friend to your tribe."
Riley makes a point to drag her coat tightly closed at the scrutinizing gaze from Salem. Having a form-fitting V-neck was fashionable, when she was male. Unfortunately with a little extra mass, it's turned a bit more towards 'skanky' at the moment. She miserably sets her chicken down and takes the time to zip up her winter coat, hands shoving into her pockets. "Wyld," Her voice quietly confirms.
Mouse gives a single, somewhat jerky nod of her head. "No deaths. Lots of /this/." She pauses for a moment, one hand's fingers curling tightly on the door frame. "Wyrm-tainted Wyld dragon. At least no one had their head and tails swapped." Another pause. "That happened to a rabbit. Do you have any energy left from the rite?"
Salem limps over toward Mouse, taking off his hat as he does so and stuffing it into a jacket pocket. He grunts, nodding. "Some, yes. Why?"
"Your honor bound duty as a Garou says you should submit to those higher in station," the Ahroun points out. His eyes tick toward Salem, hearing the Philodox's voice, then returns to Slug, fingers curling into fists.
Mouse looks away from the philodox, and stubs out her cigarette against the palm of one hand. Ouch. She doesn't flinch, but instead closes her fingers around it and crumbles it up. "No fighting up here. Basement." This, presumably, is toward the Ahroun and the (younger of the two) ex-Ahroun, though she doesn't raise her voice or look toward them. "I need someone to sense me for Wyrm."
Salem narrows his eyes, his frown deepening. He nods again, curtly, then takes a step back from Mouse and inhales a deep breath, centering himself before focussing his scrutinizing gaze on her.
Riley eyes Mouse carefully for a moment, but lacking the necessary Gift, she's only able to accurately assess, "Can't say much about wyrm-taint, but it's true that you're not at your most charming."
Flint looks down at Devon again, then turns, the cub's attention going to the exchange between Salem and the Elder, before ticking immediately back towards Devon rather than interrupt anything.
Slug lifts his hands up again and turns towards the front door, rolling his shoulders with a lazy shrug. "I have no interest in fights, they're boring." He yawns as he walks along, sparing a glance towards Riley.
Devon's chin lifts a fraction when Slug turns away, but takes that a sign to turn his attention to more important matters. He glances first at Flint, giving the cub a small nod before looking from Salem to Mouse.
"You're clean," Salem declares. He shifts his weight and rakes his fingers back through long white hair.
Mouse continues looking away from Salem as he focuses on her. Her eyes flick briefly toward Slug, but they don't stay there either.
Mouse blinks at the pronouncement. "...You're sure?"
Riley bristles quietly, peering unhappily into nowhere for the moment.
Salem's mouth thins. "Yes," he says after a moment. His hand reaches into his jacket for his cigarettes. "No taint."
Flint seems to relax slightly at Devon's nod, shoulders losing that hint of tension that was visible beneath the oversized sweatshirt, but the cub's attention is focused on Mouse. And peripherally on Salem.
Devon frowns a touch more, another glance ticking toward Salem. "Why would you think you're tainted, Mouse-rhya?"
Mouse lifts a hand to rake her fingers through hair that is--not there. She's only managed fuzz, so far, and so her fingers end up curling against her scalp for a moment, before dropping. "Well." A long pause. "...That's a relief." She does not, however, sound relieved. "Thanks." Devon gets a quick look. "I just wanted to be sure."
Salem glances over at the gaggle of younger Garou, then turns his good eye back to Mouse. He steps closer to her and mutters something.
Salem whispers "You need to talk, privately?"
Riley seems to be obsessively peering down at her fingers, flexing and unflexing them. Safe to say she's still off in her own world right now.
Slug pauses near the door and bows his head, reaching into his hoodie for a pack of cigarettes. He wraps them against his palm and flips the lid with his thumb, allowing him to snatch a cigarette out with his lips. "Hey, Mouse-rhya." He calls, without looking, lighting a cigarette.
Flint glances to Devon again as all of this happens, then shrugs again.
Mouse nods very slightly at whatever Salem muttters. The movement is somewhat less jerky this time, but still a little off. Slug gets a sharp, narrow look as her gaze moves from Devon to the Gnawer.
Devon's lips press together at the answer before he manages a nod. Another glance angles upward to Flint before he turns a look to Slug.
Salem looks at Mouse, then jerks his head over toward the stairwell before turning his unsmiling gaze to Slug.
Slug hooks his thumb over his shoulder in Riley's general direction. "A spirit changed him, and the bodies of others. Now, or in the past. If one spirit can change someone, can't another change them back? Or give them something they've lost? If they look long enough, find the right place, strike the right deal : It can be done, can't it?"
Flint turns his attention to Devon, muttering something at the Ahroun, though the cub's gaze still rests on the Elder.
Mouse looks away from Slug and moves toward the stairs. Her pace is brisk, but for the entire length of the lobby, it's like she didn't even hear him. Only when she starts to pull open the door does she seem to remember, and even then, she doesn't pause or look back. "You won't like the cost," she says, tonelessly.
Salem shakes out a cigarette and sets it between his lips. Without lighting it, he follows Mouse into the stairwell.
Devon lifts a shoulder to Flint, head turning to allow his gaze to follow Mouse and Salem to the stairwell. He takes a single step after them, then stops, frowning further.
Slug grabs the last handful of macaroni off his head and piles it into his mouth, sending bits of pasta and cheese across his lips, cheeks, and chin. "I don't like macaroni, either." Slug turns to look at Riley, lights his cigarette, and shoves his way out into the cold winter night.
You head for the stairs.
Tenement Building - Stairwell(#1742R)
The building's stairwell is narrow and bright and rather dull. The concrete and metal stairs wind around upwards from the ground floor to the roof, pausing in a landing at each floor, where a green metal door gives entrance to that level. It smells clean but stark, and every so often one can see a cockroach scuttering along on some insectile errand.
The door leading to the fifth floor is different from the others; it sports a keypad-operated locking mechanism to prevent those without the code from entering. A small, simple line drawing of a cockroach decorates the wall just above.
Obvious exits:
4 1 5 Roof Ground Floor
Salem enters from the lobby.
Salem has arrived.
Mouse goes up two steps before she turns around, and waits for the door to close. "Jacinta wants us to go and interrogate the two Shadow Lords from Broken Prairie. She thinks they might know more about the thing hunting them. I don't think so. But you and me, we should try anyway. She said I should Awaken their shoes and talk to them if I need to."
Salem runs his thumb over the striking wheel of his lighter without sparking a flame. He frowns around the unlit cigarette. "Their shoes? Would that actually work?"
Mouse's eyes hood. "Not unless their shoes somehow walked over the reason for this thing hunting them. None of it makes any sense, and the more I hear, the less sense it makes." She pauses, inhales, and a muscle works along her jaw.
Salem grunts and lights his cigarette, soon puffing acrid smoke. He pockets the lighter, then takes the cig from his mouth, his gaze intent. "What else is wrong?"
"When it died." Mouse stops, works her jaw again, and continues. "When it died, most people were on top of it. I could feel something about to happen. Kaz felt it too. Something...wrong, something changing. It said we were nothing, and then everyone fell back. But I wasn't near the thing, I was shooting at it. Some sort of energy release. Everyone changed. Chris is purple, Kevin has Jeff's eyes, you saw Devon and Riley." She pauses. "...Flint's fine. Jacinta's part tree or something. Bark and pine needles."
Salem raises an eyebrow. "And you?" He cocks his head, favoring his good eye as he looks her over.
Mouse looks unchanged. The only thing off about her appearance is her lack of hair, but that's growing back at a decent pace. She inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "I'm...I keep.../hearing/ things."
Salem takes a seat at the bottom of the stairs. "What kind of things?"
Mouse seems, somehow, for some reason, a tiny bit relieved. It's the first real emotion she's shown since he walked in, beyond tension. She looks one hand around the stair railing. "...Really...unpleasant things. Mostly /them/."
Salem grimaces, taking a drag on the cig. He studies her again for a moment, then shrugs. "As far as I can tell, you're clean. Not tainted, anyway. No Wyld, no Weaver, no Wyrm. Though," he adds, "that doesn't mean you didn't get changed too, in some way."
Mouse exhales slowly. "If it's just some Wyld bleed, I can handle this. It doesn't need to interfere."
Salem nods slowly, his gaze still intent on her. "Not if you don't let it," he agrees, then leans back against the steps, resting on his elbows. The cigarette dangles lazily. "Hell of a moot. Hell of a revel, too, sounds like."
"Hell of an everything, yes." That muscle continues working in Mouse's jaw, but the faint relief she gained a moment ago hasn't fled. "Congratulations, by the way. He made himself look like a complete ass."
Salem grimaces at this and tilts his gaze toward the ceiling with an air of long-suffering. "Christ on a stick," he grumbles, then sits up and takes the cigarette from his mouth. "I wouldn't have if he'd shown the slightest fucking conviction about anything. Jesus. And to bring /that/ old shit up, publically, as /terms/?" He shakes his head. "Shit."
Mouse's fingers tighten on the railing, but the rest of her remains the same. "It was bullshit. I'm pretty sure the whole Sept, Get excluded, saw just how much bullshit it was, though. Whatever he was trying to do with that didn't work. And then the asshole sulked off for half the Rite. And is still sulking, I think, so fuck him."
Salem jerks his head in a nod. "And Viv breaking her stone. Christ." He sucks in smoke, snorts it out through his nostrils. "Norman should be Jarl. Or Emma. Someone with a fucking brain."
Now it's Mouse's turn to look very vaguely long-suffering. "I'm pretty sure 'someone with a fucking brain' is a disqualification for the position." Her lips twitch. "Or at least, in my experience. I need--that reminds me. Things coming up. Claire's meeting. Talk to the Tiger. But this challenge sounds like it's going to take me out of town at the very least. I need a Beta."
Salem raises an eyebrow. "I thought I /was/ your Beta," he deadpans.
Mouse's lips twitch again. It takes a seemingly bizarre amount of effort, but she manages a crooked grin. "Oh good, we're on the same page."
Salem smiles thinly for a moment, then gets serious again. "When are you leaving?"
Mouse loops her other arm around the rail as her expression turns impassive again. "Elliot need to tell me just to whom and where I'm going, of course, but after that...soon. I want to get this thing with the Bastet--both of them--and Claire squared away. The initial meeting with Claire at least, so we know where we're going from there. But this is...I mean forget the challenge, it's something we /need/. So, soon."
Salem nods, fishing out the little travel ashtray he carries so as not to resort to flicking ash all over the floor. "All right," he says, nodding. "Just let me know."
"Will do." Mouse eases off of the railing, and glances back toward the lobby door. "I think my brain's still trying to register that Moot actually happened the way it did."
"Never seen anything quite like it," Salem agrees. "Where'd you find out about that rite?"
Mouse gives a slight shake of her head. "Jacinta's totem gift lets her...ask things of the trees. Things they might have witnessed. That was part of it." Her ears redden faintly. "The uh, the other part I...kind've...made up, to fit. After doing a lot of research. And roach feeding. And staring at the ceiling."
Salem chuckles, then gestures toward her with his cigarette hand. "And /that/ is why you are the Sept's most amazing Theurge."
Mouse puts a hand to the back of her neck. It's quite clear she has no idea how to respond to this, so she stalls for a moment. Clears her throat. "...How the hell did /that/ ever happen, eh?" Her ears are definitely red now.
Salem shrugs, flicking ash into the travel ashtray. "Shit happens, you deal with it. More shit happens, you keep dealing with it. You keep moving forward, keep getting up when life kicks your legs out from under you. And then, eventually..." He gestures vaguely, a circling encompassing gesture.
Mouse smiles faintly, briefly. "Words to quite literally live by." She lifts an imaginary glass in Salem's direction. "If Elliot wasn't picking the place, I'd have gone to Sept of the Green, you know. /That/ would have been...really weird. I'm kind've relieved, even if I end up tromping out to some backwoods oldschool Fianna Sept."
"Going to be a bitch, though," Salem says, frowning. "Most Fianna are all right with urrah, but they have the worst attitude toward Metis."
Mouse whistles through her teeth. "Oh, I /know/. The few Fianna we had at the Green made that clear, and I barely interacted with them. Total treat, hooray." Sarcasm, yes. "We need that rite though. Which...if the stories I've heard about it are anything to go by, it might make convincing oldschool Fianna look like an afterschool bake sale. So it'll be a thing, either way."
Salem nods and finishes his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray. "You're not wrong." One side of his mouth slants upward. "It'll be quite a thing to see. Something for the Galliards."
"That'll make Kaz happy," Mouse says, faintly amused.
Salem flashes a brief, wolfish grin. "Hell yes."
Mouse adds, "I am, by the way, officially a believer. Holy shit, so many people back in town. Although Vera can stay away, thank you very much. Nik might be a conniving asshole, but I prefer /him/ to be the reigning Shadow Lord Ragabash."
"They can all take a long walk off a cliff as far as I'm concerned," says the ex-Shadow Lord, not quite joking. He stows away the ashtray and pushes to his feet.
Mouse tips her head toward the Philodox. "Watch out for purple Ragabash, if you're heading out. See you tomorrow?"
Salem nods. "Certainly."
Mouse fishes out her own pack of cigarettes, and gives him another faint, fleeting crooked smile. "Take care, Jack."
Salem returns it with a similar smile. "You too, Mouse." He heads out through the lobby.
----
From afar, Kaz leaves a message on your voicemail, unless you want to have a phone call. But, basically, "Owen's sayin' you was worried about me earlier. What's up?"
Long distance to Kaz: Mouse calls back right after that message, and sounds vaguely incredulous (though somewhat flatter than one might expect from her): "...Why is Owen saying I'm worried about you?"
From afar, Kaz laughs quietly. "Hi. I dunno! It was confusing. He said you said I had some kind of spirit in me and it was urgent? Do I gotta find someone who can tell if I'm all Wyld and crazy now?"
You paged Kaz with 'I...what? No. Jesus, are we playing a real life game of Garou telephone?" There's a beat. "I was looking for someone to Sense Wyrm. Salem came over though, he's got a trick that senses everything."'.
From afar, Kaz laughs a lot louder, though she cuts it off fairly quickly. "Apparently so! But OK, good. So you don't smell of Wyld t'him, either? That was what I was worryin' about. Wyrm, the dude didn't seem powerful enough t'fuck us like that." Her voice turns quizzical. "Unless I was wrong?"
You paged Kaz with 'No, uh. I'm...not tainted. No. Wyld OR Wyrm."'.
From afar, Kaz says, "OK, good," but then adds, "I have some... stupid ass things..." (She sounds amazingly annoyed.) "...That thing did to me. So I was just wondering. And I didn't know if you have stupid ass shit. But from the sounds of it, you do, so I'll stop worryin' on my end. I mean. About the tainting part anyways. About how long this lasts, I think I'll keep worrying about."
Long distance to Kaz: Mouse grunts. "Loads of it at our place. We could start our own Veil-breaking circus. Anyway, alright. Things are fine. Tell Owen to relax if you dare."
From afar, Kaz says, "Yeah. I can do that. Thanks. I'll see you 'round." (And she hangs up.)
----
Tenement Building - Ground Floor(#2451RJ)
The ground floor of the apartment building is taken up mainly by the lobby, an open space with the front doors at one end and the elevator and the door leading to the stairwell at the other. The floor is covered in black and white tile in a checkerboard pattern, and the walls have been painted a neutral grey shade. A couch, two squashy armchairs, and two wooden chairs have been set up in a rough semi-circle around a square wooden coffee table, facing toward the front doors and positioned so as not to interfere with any traffic moving between there and the stairs. The furniture does not seem to be very old, but it has been well-worn in its short lifetime. A few potted plants have been set in corners, to give the old lobby a more welcoming atmosphere.
To the right of the main doors are mailboxes for building residents, and off to the left is the doorway into a cramped rental office (see +view), and other doors that lead to the building's large laundry room.
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
At some point, the private conversation must have ended, because Mouse is back in the lobby. She's perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, leaning over with her elbows on her knees, and her hands over her ears. There's a fresh cigarette butt making a stink in the nearby ashtray.
Well, at least the difference in time between the last time their last exchange has had a positive impact on one of them. Riley looks positively zen as she descends the staircase, to the point that when she spots Mouse, her first inclination isn't to concernedly rush over, but rather to sloooowly tilt her head and observe the elder for a few moments. Which ends up being more like a minute, really. She quietly advances, and seats herself cross-legged in front of the theurge's chair. "I've decided," She lazily murmurs, "Something is wrong. And you should tell me."
Somewhere between Riley's entry and her sitting on the floor, Mouse becomes aware of her, but it's not clear exactly when that was, because there's no acknowledgement until the Ragabash is in front of her. She lowers her hands from her ears, and regards Riley for a moment before saying, dryly, "Well, your anatomy's a little switched around. But I thought that'd already been covered."
A flick of her wrist, and a small plastic baggy is produced from her pocket. It proceeds to flip up into the air and land squarely in Mouse's lap if she doesn't bother to snatch it out of midair. Inside is a fairly recognizable substance. "Don' worry. It's awakened." She leans back, propping her arms behind her and letting her eyes drift closed for a moment. Gee, it's like she's having trouble formulating thoughts while baked out of her mind. "Didn't mean with me. That's obvious. Meant with you. You're shitty at covering it up, an' I'm gonna bet Salem called it on you already, after he got a face full of the Riley Twins." She lifts a finger to poke at the permanently pendulous pair in question.
Mouse eyes the baggy for a moment, before one hand flicks out and holds it, dangling, from two fingers. "Mn." She looks past it to Riley, and says, still very dry, "You're high. Who gave you Awakened pot?"
Riley purses her lips, "Wasn't Slug, if that's what you're thinking, but he definitely reminded me that I still /had/ some." She manages a crooked grin, "It's my stash from New York. Great Gnawer guy. I'd name names, but you wouldn't know him." She gives a slow breath and murmurs, "So what is it? You're... not you." A succinct way of putting it.
"Don't be so sure," Mouse murmurs, though her put on humor seems to have faded away now. She drops the baggy onto the arm of her chair, jaw working. "Of course I'm me." There's a long pause. "And it's nothing to worry about. Nothing like swapping genders or growing bug eyes, de-aging, or even turning purple."
Riley rumbles, "Least now that he's purple I'll know when his ignorant ass is around faster so I can leave." Her love for Chris is well known, and undying. She leans back, leans back, leans back... until finally, her elbows aren't having any more of it. She flops onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "...But... no, s'worse. Cuz all of that shit doesn't make or break our tribe." She slowly cranes her chin up in order to get eye contact on Mouse, "But you acting all emotionally dead, that might hurt us down the line."
Mouse says, very firmly, "It won't." Another long, inexplicable pause from her. "Besides, I act emotionally dead an awful lot."
Riley is silent for a few moments, managing to furrow her brow in spite of her ... heightened state. "Not like this. If it's just stress, I'll drop it. A lot of shit going on. A... a lot of it." She squeezes the bridge of her nose, her lips tugging downward briefly before her eyelids flutter back open. "But if it's something else, or something... I, y'know. Wanna know. And stuff." She slowly curls onto her side, squinting up. "Unless you don't take help from girls." Sardonic smirk. Very Riley, woman or no.
"It's barely anything," the Theurge says, brushing her knuckles against her chin as she sits up a little straighter. "And nothing anyone can help with, I'm sure. I was really far back from that thing anyway. You bunch took the brunt of it."
Riley curls into a high-Riley ball on the floor, steadily peering at her elder. She slowly lifts an accusing finger to say, "Iiiiif you say so. I trust you." Her hand drops, and she mumbles, "But wait. Barely anything is still something."
A muscle in Mouse's cheek seems to tighten all on its own, with no visible change to the rest of her expression. "Don't fall asleep on the floor. You should go upstairs before you're too out of it to push the elevator buttons."
It's definitely in Mouse's best interests that this conversation is happening with her accuser so very innebriated. She really does seem to be half-asleep on the floor. Enough so that she lets the topic go at that. Not difficult to manipulate the impaired, it turns out! Riley eases herself slowly up to a seated position, glaring daggers at Mouse for a moment for no discernible reason. Then she slumps her shoulders. "...I don't wanna go bra shopping."
Mouse flicks a hand toward the elevator. "Upstairs. I'll get your measurements and pick something up tomorrow morning. Quietly."
Riley gives an unhappy groan, shuffling up to her feet and pointing at the baggy on the armchair, "Yoooou should have some instead of the endless tobacco. It works," She examines the ceiling and points back at Mouse, "Really good." She then ambles over to the elevator.
Mouse plucks at the baggy, but doesn't do anything else with it yet. "Yeah, well, I might. Night, Riley."
Riley waits for the elevator to arrive, and pushes the button. Alarmed, she sticks her shoe in the door and clarifies, "No pink. Please."
Mouse crosses her heart. "No pink," she replies, blandly. "Promise."
Riley relaxes, and lets the door close.
----
Long distance to Nicodemus: Incoming, terribly explanatory text message from Mouse: "Fuck. The. Wyld."
Nicodemus pages: Text back: "Use a condom. It sleeps around."
You paged Nicodemus with 'Reply: "YES IN MY BRAIN. Tell Val I used her stone. It worked."'.
From afar, Nicodemus | Val says good news. U ok?
You paged Nicodemus with 'This reply takes a while. "No"'.
You paged Nicodemus with 'Then another, right after: "Unhurt."'.
From afar, Nicodemus | Headtrip?
Long distance to Nicodemus: Mouse | Subtle until it starts screaming
From afar, Nicodemus | I've found that chimera tends to do that. Take the day off?
Long distance to Nicodemus: Mouse | Maybe a few hours. not chimera. Coffee?
From afar, Nicodemus | Could do an hour? Meet you there?
Long distance to Nicodemus: Mouse | yes
The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing, while a carpet of brambles and vines six foot deep fills the space beneath. In the center of the clearing was a fire pit with several old logs polished from use for seats, and stack of firewood at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, but these are overgrown and barely visible even if you know where to look. At the edge of the clearing and extending back a bit into the woods resides a rough wooden structure with a slate tile roof, now cloaked beneath thick, bright green vines and white-striped ivy. A particularly thickly-stemmed bramble overgrows a large stone slab that rests off to one side.
(+view works here)
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
Contents:
Wildfire
Bag-of-Snakes
BJ
Stone slab
Obvious exits:
Forest
Wildfire misses the spectral horn image on the Gaian, still keeping his focus outward. His head is moving at least, like he's scanning the horizon, for all the good it'll do with all the vines. ~You already know how I hit,~ he says flatly.
BJ goes back to her supplies, and cleans her hands with a rag and a pan of water seemingly for that purpose. "I agree with the tactic, though. Nine times out of ten, we're best off with an overwhelming first strike. That's what Gaia gives us rage for. Well, mostly you, but. And then if anyone's still standing, us Raggies can get 'em from behind!"
~I know how you normally hit,~ Bag-of-Snakes comments. ~I also know how you normally behave at moots, and you rather surprised me... Then again, I also know how I normally act and... Oh, to Malfeas with it all,~ she growls. ~We have not done well this night.~ She glances back up at BJ with what seems to be her best effort at an appreciative look, though there's still thunder on her brow.
Wildfire blinks a couple of times, turning his head when the healer mentions she's a ragabash, then nods to himself when he remembers her tribe. He turns back to look into the woods. ~Surpirsed?~ he asks, then shrugs. ~What of it?~
There's the sound of someone blundering through the brambles--whoever it is, isn't bothering to be very quiet, or careful.
BJ twitches noticeably when Viv mentions Malfeas in her curse, her expression briefly going pained, before regaining composure. Her voice is a little off, distracted, when she hears the noise and calls out, "C'mon in, healers and warriors present at the moment!"
~That ugly mug Glass Walker,~ Bag-of-Snakes snaps curtly. She doesn't say any more than that, and a watchful glance at BJ followed by a meaningful look at Wildfire may suggest why she doesn't elucidate in present company.
Wildfire flinches a moment, a wave of irritability passing over him. He seems about to say something, but upon the call of the Gaian and the sounds of someone approaching, he unstead turns that direction with a start, teeth and claws bared in a silent, deadly promise.
Mouse shove-stumbles her way into the compound. Unlike Viv, she doesn't appear to have been injured at all. But she takes one look at the small gathering, and especially Wildfire's ready stance, and something shivery seems to ripple through her facial muscles. Her gun is quite visible too, since she isn't wearing a coat. She's wearing it in a shoulder holster.
You have shifted to Homid form.
Alias removed.
Name set.
Alias set.
BJ gives a very clinical smile to Mouse, "Hello! Do you know if anyone else requires medical attention? Or should I pack it up for now? Looks like this revel was relatively low on casualties." Her tone is professional and practiced, what one would expect from a nurse, covering up anything real.
Bag-of-Snakes twists around and regards Mouse. There is a long moment as the Jarl eyes her fellow elder up and down, not omitting a good look at that weapon strapped to her shoulder. Finally she breaks the silence with ~Greetings, First-Strike-yuf. Thank you for the service you provided to this sept at the moot, and for the service you provided to me as an individual.~ Formal, and as cold as ice, but nonetheless it sounds genuine rather than sarcastic.
Wildfire settles a bit once he realises who the new arrival is. He straightens up a bit and shakes himself out to regain his composure, followed by a stiff bow to reflect his Jarl's greeting.
Mouse starts to nod, and then that ripple crosses her face again, and what ends up is a brief, uneasy grin. "I need to find a Theurge now."
BJ starts packing away her medical supplies into her canvas bag. "Anyone in particular? I can find most people if I know 'em at all. Maybe Zosia?" She seems quite eager to help.
Bag-of-Snakes shifts back into homid now that BJ has finished work on her, and looks around as if taking stock of those present. No theurges. "Jamethon or Norman are probably both around," she suggests.
Wildfire gives Mouse a look that is fairly easy to read, noting quite visibly that she is one. No words though. Instead he turns to face back out into, well, nothing.
Mouse lifts one hand and grinds her palm against her forehead. "Kaz." Pause. "Someone." And then, suddenly, inexplicably sharper, "/Now/."
BJ salutes sharply. "Aye-aye, on my way! Do you want me to bring her here, or call you with where we are when I find her? I'm faster by myself."
Viv stares at Mouse in concern, but allows the uninjured and (presumably) fresher BJ to respond to the Glass Walker.
Well, tha certainly get a reaction out of Wildfire. He turns sharply, lips curled once more. ~Where?~
Mouse waves the hand not pushing against her forehead. "Fast. Or call if you're slower. I need to go home."
BJ nods. "No problem. I'll bring her to the Tenement! Probably beat you there, I bet." And she dashes off - and it's quite a dash! Normally only the Striders can move that quick, and it looks especially strange from her short, chubby frame, but it happened.
"If you can get as far as Edgewood," Viv suggests, "I can give you a ride to the city in my van. But I've a feeling that what you mean by 'home' at the moment may not be what I mean...?"
Wildfire watches after BJ as she darts, then back to Viv with a grimace. He lets out an exasperated noise, hands clenching, but otherwise remaining quiet.
Mouse echoes BJ in answer. "Tenement." And then she moves hurriedly across the Compound, clearly intending to leave.
BJ has left.
Viv doesn't seem inclined to chase after Mouse to renew the offer of a ride. She sits back and looks at Wildfire with a 'Well, what can you do' expression.
It's a slow build up, it would seem, a trembling in his arms, a quirk of the lips, raising of hackles, and eventually a low growl that raises in volume into a frustrated roar as Wildfire vents off once more in his own, renewed, pent-up rage. ~Mother of fucking GOD! Give me something to do!!~ He stomps the ground, snarling once more as yet again he turns away to look out into the forest.
Mouse twists back toward Wildfire at the roar, and for a moment, there's a wild, reckless look in her eyes, not angry but eager, and there's a decided tensing in her muscles as well. But rather than springing, she seems to reign herself in, and force herself toward the edge of the compound again.
Viv just closes her eyes wearily. "You will find relief all too soon," she prophesies for Wildfire.
Wildfire raises his hands to his face, eyes covered but muzzle still peeking through between them, fangs still bared as he clenches his fingers, either kneading his forehead or, unlikely, trying to claw his own eyes out. He takes nine steps foreward, then falls to one knee, eventually sliding over into a seated postion on one of the nearby thicker vines.
----
Tenement Building - Ground Floor(#2451RJ)
The ground floor of the apartment building is taken up mainly by the lobby, an open space with the front doors at one end and the elevator and the door leading to the stairwell at the other. The floor is covered in black and white tile in a checkerboard pattern, and the walls have been painted a neutral grey shade. A couch, two squashy armchairs, and two wooden chairs have been set up in a rough semi-circle around a square wooden coffee table, facing toward the front doors and positioned so as not to interfere with any traffic moving between there and the stairs. The furniture does not seem to be very old, but it has been well-worn in its short lifetime. A few potted plants have been set in corners, to give the old lobby a more welcoming atmosphere.
To the right of the main doors are mailboxes for building residents, and off to the left is the doorway into a cramped rental office (see +view), and other doors that lead to the building's large laundry room.
Contents:
Slug
Riley
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
The Tenement is still buzzing with all sorts of activity after the events of the revel - with the exception of the entrance. That, as far as Riley as concerned, makes it the best place to lay low. She clearly hasn't had the time to clean up after the revel, as her clothing is more than willing to attest. Dedicated or no, it doesn't help if you bleed all over it. She's on the couch with an arm holding her ribs, the other playing with her cell.
Slug comes down from upstairs with a small brown bag, which smells distinctly of freshly fried things. He wanders over near Riley and drops the bag on the table near him, then takes a seat on the floor near the couch. "Comfort food." He offers. "Fried eggrolls, chicken, and some left-over mac'n cheese. If you want some."
"No comforting words, huh? Just food?" Riley scoops up the bag, examining it quietly for a moment and nods to his packmate. "That's the most sensible thing I've seen yet." It's difficult to miss the low note of displeasure in her tone, but it seemed aimed at the situation, not at Slug. She scoops out an egg roll, chomping unceremoniously into it with her brows furrowed.
The rattle of the keys in the lock of the front door heralds Mouse's entry. She already has a cigarette in her mouth, and she smells as though she's been partaking of quite a few more while she's been out. There's a line of tension in her jaw, and one more in the muscles of her cheek.
Flint arrives from the stairwell.
Flint has arrived.
Devon arrives from the stairwell.
Devon has arrived.
"I've already told you enough comforting jokes. Just be glad you haven't lost an eye, or an arm, or gotten all fucked up." Slug reaches into the bag after Riley, grabbing one for himself, along with a packet of soy-sauce. "In a way, you're lucky. I'd trade places with you. Beats my 'battle wound'."
Riley grunts, "You'll forgive me if I don't fall all over myself at my 'good fortune'." As might be expected, she's fidgeting every so often. It's a crappy thing, not being comfortable in your own skin. Riley glances up as Mouse walks in the door, quietly slipping the last of the egg roll into her mouth so she can occupy herself with chewing instead of looking painfully awkward.
Mouse's lips twitch briefly away from her teeth as she shuts the door behind her. She puffs furiously at her cigarette, heading straight for the stairs.
"That's because you're thinking at it like a man, instead of a Ragabash." Slug whistles, tilting his head forward. "A new body. New nerves. New skin. A new identity! Does it bend the same? Does it twirl a knife between the fingers so easily as the last?" Slug springs to his feet with a stomp of his boots on the tile beneath him. "Scars, gone. Old aches, old pain, washed away. Criminal record? Vanished! Fingerprints? New! A new body would be a wonderful thing, and if I could trade flesh and blood like beer and cigarettes, I'd gladly buy one for myself."
There's already people coming down the stairs. A cub who fared pretty well after that adventure in the Umbra. And a much smaller, younger kid who could probably pose for Devon's little brother, if not Devon himself. He at least moves like the Ahroun, same facial expression curling in toward a faint frown.
Mouse comes to a slow stop as she takes in both Flint, and then Devon. Her gaze lingers longer on the Ahroun, but she doesn't say anything. Instead she inhales deeply, and lets a plume of smoke flow from her lips and nose, to drift and vanish ceilingward.
Flint seems to have gotten most of giving Devon a hard time out of the way on the way downstairs, because now the cub's just silent, sweatshirt pulled around his body. A nod is offered to Mouse-rhya, the boy's brows furrowing ever so slightly.
Slug wriggles his fingers at the new comers, then takes a big ol' bite out of his eggroll. He swallows his big greasy bite with an audible gulp, and a pleased sigh.
Devon meets Mouse's gaze, though after a beat he sighs and looks away. "Don't worry, I'm not going to go running around and leaving toys scattered all over the place." It's said mostly in jest, with some self deprecating tones included. He grins over at Slug and Riley, brows rising slightly.
Mouse exhales smoke through her nostrils again. "Well, you can punch /that/ smug asshole." She jerks her head toward Slug. Her voice, however, sounds mellow, with barely any inflection. "Apart from Wyld-mutations, is everyone safe and accounted for?"
"'s far as I know," Flint says, with a shrugging gesture that suggests that what he knows might or might not be certain of the words. He offers a grin to Devon, though, evidently amused by the joke.
"Smug? Envious. I wish I'd jumped on the thing before it blew up. I was going to, but then it died." Slug lifts his hands up at his side, shrugs, and eats the rest of his eggroll.
"An identity isn't something to throw away quite so cavalierly as that. This is a body, not an excuse to do stupid shit." Riley grumbles, frowning as she pops open the container of macaroni and cheese. She is just about to dig in when that word pops up. Poorly considered as only a ragabash can. She should understand, really. Would, under typical circumstances. It rubs her the wrong way tonight, though. "/Envious/?" Slug finds himself with a macaroni hat. "You want to lose your prick too, you let me know and I'll get /right/ on that, man." She stands sharply.
Devon looks at Slug again, echoing, "Envious?" His head shakes slowly, joking aside. "I might actually follow Mouse-rhya's suggestion and deck you. /You/ want to be turned into a chick? Or worse, go through puberty again? Shit." Arms folding over his chest, he looks up at the elder. "I know Kevin's back, we saw him and he wants shades to hide his eyes. Chris came back with him. I'm here, Flint made it back with Riley-rhya."
"Yes," Mouse says very thinly around her cigarette, "Being turned into a woman is either terrible or enviable." Her eyes shift slightly toward Devon. "Good."
Flint gets an expression on his face that says that the galliard cub is going to go with /terrible/, with a slight squaring of his shoulders. "Devon needs some decent-sized clothing," the cub adds, in the tone of shifting conversation and possibly being helpful. "Not even any of my stuff fits him right now."
Slug's head bows forward when he feels the quite warm ( but not all that hot ) pasta being poured over his head, but he doesn't seem to mind too much. He just grimaces at the sensation, then picks some of it off his head and pops it into his mouth. His face screws up momentarily as he thinks about their words, for all of a second. "I already did, once. Philodox cut off my parts with a silver knife, but they grew back." Slug steps up onto the coffee table in front of him and claps his hands, pointing at Devon. "Years added onto my life? Gladly. Riley's case? Sure. I'd do that. I'd take a rat's teeth, a bat's ears, my skin turned black, my eyes turned into a bird's... In all the world, and it's billions of people, you've experienced something few others have."
Mouse snaps immediately at Slug, in sudden, furious tones, "/Shut up/."
Riley's jaw sets, both in response to Mouse's extremely odd response, and Slug's exceptionally glowing outlook on the situation. Her fists and teeth tightly clench, and she's about to respond - but then Mouse does it for her. Slug gets a long glower.
"A few extra years," Devon repeats, nearly laughing at the idea. "A few extra years my child-sized ass. You fuck. If it's Gaia's will I die tomorrow, then any 'few extra years' I might have had were wrongly spent on me. You keep talking and I'll kick your ass without waiting for Mouse-rhya's permission."
Flint tenses next to Devon, looking over at the Ahroun. The cub's hands are in his pockets, which is the only reason that the fists they're balled into aren't visible.
Slug waves a hand and shakes his head, slowly enough not to loose any of the pasta lodged atop of it. He spares a wry grin at Devon and reaches up again, taking a bit of pasta into his hand. He eats it, and continues to pick pieces of it off his hair, using his head as a plate.
Riley's glowering toward slug softens, if just a little. It doesn't stop her from self-consciously drawing her coat about herself and looking across to Mouse. She drags out a sigh and mutters, "Fine. Whatever. Over it. Girl Power." She snags up the paper bag, popping open the container of chicken and prodding it with a fork and mumbling, "So, disastrous Wyld explosion aside, the night went well."
Salem has arrived.
Mouse's nose wrinkles as Slug starts eating the macaroni. She twists away from the Walkers (and macaroni covered Gnawer), and heads stiffly into the laundry room, cigarette smoke wafting behind her. There's a clatter from that direction, the sounds of the coffee maker being emptied.
Salem appears briefly on the monitors before he lets himself in the front door -- bringing with him a blast of frigid air and a whaff of foul-smelling cigarette smoke with him.
Riley quietly chews on her chicken, though it's obvious she's not in the happiest of states. She's not bothering to make eye contact with anyone in the room, just stares down at her chicken. So, plan of 'hiding in the lobby' has officially failed.
Slug skips down off the coffee table with a clatter of his boot heels upon the floor, then starts meandering towards Devon with one eyebrow raised.
Devon continues to watch Slug, going silent though there's a ready tension about him. He doesn't seem at all bothered by the size difference, eyes narrowing as the Gnawer draws closer.
Flint stands slightly behind Devon for the moment, still. The cub is taller than the Ahroun at the moment, attention drawn over Devon's head to glance over when Salem enters, ducking a nod of greeting.
"Do you believe in fate? Gaia's will?" Slug asks, stopping some five or so feet away. He grabs another bit of pasta off his head and sticks it in his mouth, merrily chewing away.
Mouse continues clattering around in the laundry room, though at the sound of the door she pokes her head out. Salem gets a vague tensing of her mouth, and then she pulls the cigarette out. "So," she says, with no humor at all, "revel went well."
"I believe you were told to shut up by the elder here," Devon replies, levelly. "You need any help with it, I'm sure some of us around here can be accommodating."
Salem gives the lobby his usual quick glance, then stops dead, frowning. His gaze fixes on Devon, then Riley -- lingering on the latter for several long seconds. Visibly disturbed, he turns to Mouse. "...No shit. Wyld?"
Flint puts a hand on Devon's shoulder for just a brief moment, letting the cliath know that he's still there. And the cub doesn't seem inclined to move, though he doesn't make known whatever is going through his head.
Slug gestures inward at himself with his off hand, bowing his head slightly. "You wound me, a man only trying to do his honor bound duty as a Ragabash and a friend to your tribe."
Riley makes a point to drag her coat tightly closed at the scrutinizing gaze from Salem. Having a form-fitting V-neck was fashionable, when she was male. Unfortunately with a little extra mass, it's turned a bit more towards 'skanky' at the moment. She miserably sets her chicken down and takes the time to zip up her winter coat, hands shoving into her pockets. "Wyld," Her voice quietly confirms.
Mouse gives a single, somewhat jerky nod of her head. "No deaths. Lots of /this/." She pauses for a moment, one hand's fingers curling tightly on the door frame. "Wyrm-tainted Wyld dragon. At least no one had their head and tails swapped." Another pause. "That happened to a rabbit. Do you have any energy left from the rite?"
Salem limps over toward Mouse, taking off his hat as he does so and stuffing it into a jacket pocket. He grunts, nodding. "Some, yes. Why?"
"Your honor bound duty as a Garou says you should submit to those higher in station," the Ahroun points out. His eyes tick toward Salem, hearing the Philodox's voice, then returns to Slug, fingers curling into fists.
Mouse looks away from the philodox, and stubs out her cigarette against the palm of one hand. Ouch. She doesn't flinch, but instead closes her fingers around it and crumbles it up. "No fighting up here. Basement." This, presumably, is toward the Ahroun and the (younger of the two) ex-Ahroun, though she doesn't raise her voice or look toward them. "I need someone to sense me for Wyrm."
Salem narrows his eyes, his frown deepening. He nods again, curtly, then takes a step back from Mouse and inhales a deep breath, centering himself before focussing his scrutinizing gaze on her.
Riley eyes Mouse carefully for a moment, but lacking the necessary Gift, she's only able to accurately assess, "Can't say much about wyrm-taint, but it's true that you're not at your most charming."
Flint looks down at Devon again, then turns, the cub's attention going to the exchange between Salem and the Elder, before ticking immediately back towards Devon rather than interrupt anything.
Slug lifts his hands up again and turns towards the front door, rolling his shoulders with a lazy shrug. "I have no interest in fights, they're boring." He yawns as he walks along, sparing a glance towards Riley.
Devon's chin lifts a fraction when Slug turns away, but takes that a sign to turn his attention to more important matters. He glances first at Flint, giving the cub a small nod before looking from Salem to Mouse.
"You're clean," Salem declares. He shifts his weight and rakes his fingers back through long white hair.
Mouse continues looking away from Salem as he focuses on her. Her eyes flick briefly toward Slug, but they don't stay there either.
Mouse blinks at the pronouncement. "...You're sure?"
Riley bristles quietly, peering unhappily into nowhere for the moment.
Salem's mouth thins. "Yes," he says after a moment. His hand reaches into his jacket for his cigarettes. "No taint."
Flint seems to relax slightly at Devon's nod, shoulders losing that hint of tension that was visible beneath the oversized sweatshirt, but the cub's attention is focused on Mouse. And peripherally on Salem.
Devon frowns a touch more, another glance ticking toward Salem. "Why would you think you're tainted, Mouse-rhya?"
Mouse lifts a hand to rake her fingers through hair that is--not there. She's only managed fuzz, so far, and so her fingers end up curling against her scalp for a moment, before dropping. "Well." A long pause. "...That's a relief." She does not, however, sound relieved. "Thanks." Devon gets a quick look. "I just wanted to be sure."
Salem glances over at the gaggle of younger Garou, then turns his good eye back to Mouse. He steps closer to her and mutters something.
Salem whispers "You need to talk, privately?"
Riley seems to be obsessively peering down at her fingers, flexing and unflexing them. Safe to say she's still off in her own world right now.
Slug pauses near the door and bows his head, reaching into his hoodie for a pack of cigarettes. He wraps them against his palm and flips the lid with his thumb, allowing him to snatch a cigarette out with his lips. "Hey, Mouse-rhya." He calls, without looking, lighting a cigarette.
Flint glances to Devon again as all of this happens, then shrugs again.
Mouse nods very slightly at whatever Salem muttters. The movement is somewhat less jerky this time, but still a little off. Slug gets a sharp, narrow look as her gaze moves from Devon to the Gnawer.
Devon's lips press together at the answer before he manages a nod. Another glance angles upward to Flint before he turns a look to Slug.
Salem looks at Mouse, then jerks his head over toward the stairwell before turning his unsmiling gaze to Slug.
Slug hooks his thumb over his shoulder in Riley's general direction. "A spirit changed him, and the bodies of others. Now, or in the past. If one spirit can change someone, can't another change them back? Or give them something they've lost? If they look long enough, find the right place, strike the right deal : It can be done, can't it?"
Flint turns his attention to Devon, muttering something at the Ahroun, though the cub's gaze still rests on the Elder.
Mouse looks away from Slug and moves toward the stairs. Her pace is brisk, but for the entire length of the lobby, it's like she didn't even hear him. Only when she starts to pull open the door does she seem to remember, and even then, she doesn't pause or look back. "You won't like the cost," she says, tonelessly.
Salem shakes out a cigarette and sets it between his lips. Without lighting it, he follows Mouse into the stairwell.
Devon lifts a shoulder to Flint, head turning to allow his gaze to follow Mouse and Salem to the stairwell. He takes a single step after them, then stops, frowning further.
Slug grabs the last handful of macaroni off his head and piles it into his mouth, sending bits of pasta and cheese across his lips, cheeks, and chin. "I don't like macaroni, either." Slug turns to look at Riley, lights his cigarette, and shoves his way out into the cold winter night.
You head for the stairs.
Tenement Building - Stairwell(#1742R)
The building's stairwell is narrow and bright and rather dull. The concrete and metal stairs wind around upwards from the ground floor to the roof, pausing in a landing at each floor, where a green metal door gives entrance to that level. It smells clean but stark, and every so often one can see a cockroach scuttering along on some insectile errand.
The door leading to the fifth floor is different from the others; it sports a keypad-operated locking mechanism to prevent those without the code from entering. A small, simple line drawing of a cockroach decorates the wall just above.
Obvious exits:
4 1 5 Roof Ground Floor
Salem enters from the lobby.
Salem has arrived.
Mouse goes up two steps before she turns around, and waits for the door to close. "Jacinta wants us to go and interrogate the two Shadow Lords from Broken Prairie. She thinks they might know more about the thing hunting them. I don't think so. But you and me, we should try anyway. She said I should Awaken their shoes and talk to them if I need to."
Salem runs his thumb over the striking wheel of his lighter without sparking a flame. He frowns around the unlit cigarette. "Their shoes? Would that actually work?"
Mouse's eyes hood. "Not unless their shoes somehow walked over the reason for this thing hunting them. None of it makes any sense, and the more I hear, the less sense it makes." She pauses, inhales, and a muscle works along her jaw.
Salem grunts and lights his cigarette, soon puffing acrid smoke. He pockets the lighter, then takes the cig from his mouth, his gaze intent. "What else is wrong?"
"When it died." Mouse stops, works her jaw again, and continues. "When it died, most people were on top of it. I could feel something about to happen. Kaz felt it too. Something...wrong, something changing. It said we were nothing, and then everyone fell back. But I wasn't near the thing, I was shooting at it. Some sort of energy release. Everyone changed. Chris is purple, Kevin has Jeff's eyes, you saw Devon and Riley." She pauses. "...Flint's fine. Jacinta's part tree or something. Bark and pine needles."
Salem raises an eyebrow. "And you?" He cocks his head, favoring his good eye as he looks her over.
Mouse looks unchanged. The only thing off about her appearance is her lack of hair, but that's growing back at a decent pace. She inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "I'm...I keep.../hearing/ things."
Salem takes a seat at the bottom of the stairs. "What kind of things?"
Mouse seems, somehow, for some reason, a tiny bit relieved. It's the first real emotion she's shown since he walked in, beyond tension. She looks one hand around the stair railing. "...Really...unpleasant things. Mostly /them/."
Salem grimaces, taking a drag on the cig. He studies her again for a moment, then shrugs. "As far as I can tell, you're clean. Not tainted, anyway. No Wyld, no Weaver, no Wyrm. Though," he adds, "that doesn't mean you didn't get changed too, in some way."
Mouse exhales slowly. "If it's just some Wyld bleed, I can handle this. It doesn't need to interfere."
Salem nods slowly, his gaze still intent on her. "Not if you don't let it," he agrees, then leans back against the steps, resting on his elbows. The cigarette dangles lazily. "Hell of a moot. Hell of a revel, too, sounds like."
"Hell of an everything, yes." That muscle continues working in Mouse's jaw, but the faint relief she gained a moment ago hasn't fled. "Congratulations, by the way. He made himself look like a complete ass."
Salem grimaces at this and tilts his gaze toward the ceiling with an air of long-suffering. "Christ on a stick," he grumbles, then sits up and takes the cigarette from his mouth. "I wouldn't have if he'd shown the slightest fucking conviction about anything. Jesus. And to bring /that/ old shit up, publically, as /terms/?" He shakes his head. "Shit."
Mouse's fingers tighten on the railing, but the rest of her remains the same. "It was bullshit. I'm pretty sure the whole Sept, Get excluded, saw just how much bullshit it was, though. Whatever he was trying to do with that didn't work. And then the asshole sulked off for half the Rite. And is still sulking, I think, so fuck him."
Salem jerks his head in a nod. "And Viv breaking her stone. Christ." He sucks in smoke, snorts it out through his nostrils. "Norman should be Jarl. Or Emma. Someone with a fucking brain."
Now it's Mouse's turn to look very vaguely long-suffering. "I'm pretty sure 'someone with a fucking brain' is a disqualification for the position." Her lips twitch. "Or at least, in my experience. I need--that reminds me. Things coming up. Claire's meeting. Talk to the Tiger. But this challenge sounds like it's going to take me out of town at the very least. I need a Beta."
Salem raises an eyebrow. "I thought I /was/ your Beta," he deadpans.
Mouse's lips twitch again. It takes a seemingly bizarre amount of effort, but she manages a crooked grin. "Oh good, we're on the same page."
Salem smiles thinly for a moment, then gets serious again. "When are you leaving?"
Mouse loops her other arm around the rail as her expression turns impassive again. "Elliot need to tell me just to whom and where I'm going, of course, but after that...soon. I want to get this thing with the Bastet--both of them--and Claire squared away. The initial meeting with Claire at least, so we know where we're going from there. But this is...I mean forget the challenge, it's something we /need/. So, soon."
Salem nods, fishing out the little travel ashtray he carries so as not to resort to flicking ash all over the floor. "All right," he says, nodding. "Just let me know."
"Will do." Mouse eases off of the railing, and glances back toward the lobby door. "I think my brain's still trying to register that Moot actually happened the way it did."
"Never seen anything quite like it," Salem agrees. "Where'd you find out about that rite?"
Mouse gives a slight shake of her head. "Jacinta's totem gift lets her...ask things of the trees. Things they might have witnessed. That was part of it." Her ears redden faintly. "The uh, the other part I...kind've...made up, to fit. After doing a lot of research. And roach feeding. And staring at the ceiling."
Salem chuckles, then gestures toward her with his cigarette hand. "And /that/ is why you are the Sept's most amazing Theurge."
Mouse puts a hand to the back of her neck. It's quite clear she has no idea how to respond to this, so she stalls for a moment. Clears her throat. "...How the hell did /that/ ever happen, eh?" Her ears are definitely red now.
Salem shrugs, flicking ash into the travel ashtray. "Shit happens, you deal with it. More shit happens, you keep dealing with it. You keep moving forward, keep getting up when life kicks your legs out from under you. And then, eventually..." He gestures vaguely, a circling encompassing gesture.
Mouse smiles faintly, briefly. "Words to quite literally live by." She lifts an imaginary glass in Salem's direction. "If Elliot wasn't picking the place, I'd have gone to Sept of the Green, you know. /That/ would have been...really weird. I'm kind've relieved, even if I end up tromping out to some backwoods oldschool Fianna Sept."
"Going to be a bitch, though," Salem says, frowning. "Most Fianna are all right with urrah, but they have the worst attitude toward Metis."
Mouse whistles through her teeth. "Oh, I /know/. The few Fianna we had at the Green made that clear, and I barely interacted with them. Total treat, hooray." Sarcasm, yes. "We need that rite though. Which...if the stories I've heard about it are anything to go by, it might make convincing oldschool Fianna look like an afterschool bake sale. So it'll be a thing, either way."
Salem nods and finishes his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray. "You're not wrong." One side of his mouth slants upward. "It'll be quite a thing to see. Something for the Galliards."
"That'll make Kaz happy," Mouse says, faintly amused.
Salem flashes a brief, wolfish grin. "Hell yes."
Mouse adds, "I am, by the way, officially a believer. Holy shit, so many people back in town. Although Vera can stay away, thank you very much. Nik might be a conniving asshole, but I prefer /him/ to be the reigning Shadow Lord Ragabash."
"They can all take a long walk off a cliff as far as I'm concerned," says the ex-Shadow Lord, not quite joking. He stows away the ashtray and pushes to his feet.
Mouse tips her head toward the Philodox. "Watch out for purple Ragabash, if you're heading out. See you tomorrow?"
Salem nods. "Certainly."
Mouse fishes out her own pack of cigarettes, and gives him another faint, fleeting crooked smile. "Take care, Jack."
Salem returns it with a similar smile. "You too, Mouse." He heads out through the lobby.
----
From afar, Kaz leaves a message on your voicemail, unless you want to have a phone call. But, basically, "Owen's sayin' you was worried about me earlier. What's up?"
Long distance to Kaz: Mouse calls back right after that message, and sounds vaguely incredulous (though somewhat flatter than one might expect from her): "...Why is Owen saying I'm worried about you?"
From afar, Kaz laughs quietly. "Hi. I dunno! It was confusing. He said you said I had some kind of spirit in me and it was urgent? Do I gotta find someone who can tell if I'm all Wyld and crazy now?"
You paged Kaz with 'I...what? No. Jesus, are we playing a real life game of Garou telephone?" There's a beat. "I was looking for someone to Sense Wyrm. Salem came over though, he's got a trick that senses everything."'.
From afar, Kaz laughs a lot louder, though she cuts it off fairly quickly. "Apparently so! But OK, good. So you don't smell of Wyld t'him, either? That was what I was worryin' about. Wyrm, the dude didn't seem powerful enough t'fuck us like that." Her voice turns quizzical. "Unless I was wrong?"
You paged Kaz with 'No, uh. I'm...not tainted. No. Wyld OR Wyrm."'.
From afar, Kaz says, "OK, good," but then adds, "I have some... stupid ass things..." (She sounds amazingly annoyed.) "...That thing did to me. So I was just wondering. And I didn't know if you have stupid ass shit. But from the sounds of it, you do, so I'll stop worryin' on my end. I mean. About the tainting part anyways. About how long this lasts, I think I'll keep worrying about."
Long distance to Kaz: Mouse grunts. "Loads of it at our place. We could start our own Veil-breaking circus. Anyway, alright. Things are fine. Tell Owen to relax if you dare."
From afar, Kaz says, "Yeah. I can do that. Thanks. I'll see you 'round." (And she hangs up.)
----
Tenement Building - Ground Floor(#2451RJ)
The ground floor of the apartment building is taken up mainly by the lobby, an open space with the front doors at one end and the elevator and the door leading to the stairwell at the other. The floor is covered in black and white tile in a checkerboard pattern, and the walls have been painted a neutral grey shade. A couch, two squashy armchairs, and two wooden chairs have been set up in a rough semi-circle around a square wooden coffee table, facing toward the front doors and positioned so as not to interfere with any traffic moving between there and the stairs. The furniture does not seem to be very old, but it has been well-worn in its short lifetime. A few potted plants have been set in corners, to give the old lobby a more welcoming atmosphere.
To the right of the main doors are mailboxes for building residents, and off to the left is the doorway into a cramped rental office (see +view), and other doors that lead to the building's large laundry room.
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
At some point, the private conversation must have ended, because Mouse is back in the lobby. She's perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, leaning over with her elbows on her knees, and her hands over her ears. There's a fresh cigarette butt making a stink in the nearby ashtray.
Well, at least the difference in time between the last time their last exchange has had a positive impact on one of them. Riley looks positively zen as she descends the staircase, to the point that when she spots Mouse, her first inclination isn't to concernedly rush over, but rather to sloooowly tilt her head and observe the elder for a few moments. Which ends up being more like a minute, really. She quietly advances, and seats herself cross-legged in front of the theurge's chair. "I've decided," She lazily murmurs, "Something is wrong. And you should tell me."
Somewhere between Riley's entry and her sitting on the floor, Mouse becomes aware of her, but it's not clear exactly when that was, because there's no acknowledgement until the Ragabash is in front of her. She lowers her hands from her ears, and regards Riley for a moment before saying, dryly, "Well, your anatomy's a little switched around. But I thought that'd already been covered."
A flick of her wrist, and a small plastic baggy is produced from her pocket. It proceeds to flip up into the air and land squarely in Mouse's lap if she doesn't bother to snatch it out of midair. Inside is a fairly recognizable substance. "Don' worry. It's awakened." She leans back, propping her arms behind her and letting her eyes drift closed for a moment. Gee, it's like she's having trouble formulating thoughts while baked out of her mind. "Didn't mean with me. That's obvious. Meant with you. You're shitty at covering it up, an' I'm gonna bet Salem called it on you already, after he got a face full of the Riley Twins." She lifts a finger to poke at the permanently pendulous pair in question.
Mouse eyes the baggy for a moment, before one hand flicks out and holds it, dangling, from two fingers. "Mn." She looks past it to Riley, and says, still very dry, "You're high. Who gave you Awakened pot?"
Riley purses her lips, "Wasn't Slug, if that's what you're thinking, but he definitely reminded me that I still /had/ some." She manages a crooked grin, "It's my stash from New York. Great Gnawer guy. I'd name names, but you wouldn't know him." She gives a slow breath and murmurs, "So what is it? You're... not you." A succinct way of putting it.
"Don't be so sure," Mouse murmurs, though her put on humor seems to have faded away now. She drops the baggy onto the arm of her chair, jaw working. "Of course I'm me." There's a long pause. "And it's nothing to worry about. Nothing like swapping genders or growing bug eyes, de-aging, or even turning purple."
Riley rumbles, "Least now that he's purple I'll know when his ignorant ass is around faster so I can leave." Her love for Chris is well known, and undying. She leans back, leans back, leans back... until finally, her elbows aren't having any more of it. She flops onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "...But... no, s'worse. Cuz all of that shit doesn't make or break our tribe." She slowly cranes her chin up in order to get eye contact on Mouse, "But you acting all emotionally dead, that might hurt us down the line."
Mouse says, very firmly, "It won't." Another long, inexplicable pause from her. "Besides, I act emotionally dead an awful lot."
Riley is silent for a few moments, managing to furrow her brow in spite of her ... heightened state. "Not like this. If it's just stress, I'll drop it. A lot of shit going on. A... a lot of it." She squeezes the bridge of her nose, her lips tugging downward briefly before her eyelids flutter back open. "But if it's something else, or something... I, y'know. Wanna know. And stuff." She slowly curls onto her side, squinting up. "Unless you don't take help from girls." Sardonic smirk. Very Riley, woman or no.
"It's barely anything," the Theurge says, brushing her knuckles against her chin as she sits up a little straighter. "And nothing anyone can help with, I'm sure. I was really far back from that thing anyway. You bunch took the brunt of it."
Riley curls into a high-Riley ball on the floor, steadily peering at her elder. She slowly lifts an accusing finger to say, "Iiiiif you say so. I trust you." Her hand drops, and she mumbles, "But wait. Barely anything is still something."
A muscle in Mouse's cheek seems to tighten all on its own, with no visible change to the rest of her expression. "Don't fall asleep on the floor. You should go upstairs before you're too out of it to push the elevator buttons."
It's definitely in Mouse's best interests that this conversation is happening with her accuser so very innebriated. She really does seem to be half-asleep on the floor. Enough so that she lets the topic go at that. Not difficult to manipulate the impaired, it turns out! Riley eases herself slowly up to a seated position, glaring daggers at Mouse for a moment for no discernible reason. Then she slumps her shoulders. "...I don't wanna go bra shopping."
Mouse flicks a hand toward the elevator. "Upstairs. I'll get your measurements and pick something up tomorrow morning. Quietly."
Riley gives an unhappy groan, shuffling up to her feet and pointing at the baggy on the armchair, "Yoooou should have some instead of the endless tobacco. It works," She examines the ceiling and points back at Mouse, "Really good." She then ambles over to the elevator.
Mouse plucks at the baggy, but doesn't do anything else with it yet. "Yeah, well, I might. Night, Riley."
Riley waits for the elevator to arrive, and pushes the button. Alarmed, she sticks her shoe in the door and clarifies, "No pink. Please."
Mouse crosses her heart. "No pink," she replies, blandly. "Promise."
Riley relaxes, and lets the door close.
----
Long distance to Nicodemus: Incoming, terribly explanatory text message from Mouse: "Fuck. The. Wyld."
Nicodemus pages: Text back: "Use a condom. It sleeps around."
You paged Nicodemus with 'Reply: "YES IN MY BRAIN. Tell Val I used her stone. It worked."'.
From afar, Nicodemus | Val says good news. U ok?
You paged Nicodemus with 'This reply takes a while. "No"'.
You paged Nicodemus with 'Then another, right after: "Unhurt."'.
From afar, Nicodemus | Headtrip?
Long distance to Nicodemus: Mouse | Subtle until it starts screaming
From afar, Nicodemus | I've found that chimera tends to do that. Take the day off?
Long distance to Nicodemus: Mouse | Maybe a few hours. not chimera. Coffee?
From afar, Nicodemus | Could do an hour? Meet you there?
Long distance to Nicodemus: Mouse | yes
