"It's over. It's... it's done."
Mar. 17th, 2013 03:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretAftermath.
================================== Announce ==================================
Message: 2/91 Posted Author
New Caern Totems Sat Mar 16, 2013 InleRah
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Meet your new totems:
The Spirit of the Forest
Gyhldeptis is the Haida Goddess of the forest. She was a beneficent Goddess who protected the people of the coastal forests.
It is a forest spirit. Not just some leafy sprite that dwells in the woods, but an actual Spirit of the Forest--an embodiment of the idea itself. All other forest spirits--things like the Leshy of Slavic mythology, or the woodwose, or even the Green Man--all fall under its purview. Many of the wild man or wood nymph myths are actually manifestations of this type of spirit, acting to protect and watch over its domain. The spirit can be both Weaver and Wyrm, for its flora both weaves the fabric and tapestry of the forest, and its decay is the food for rebirth. But, the spirit's essence is Wyld. The forest is always in a state of change--of creation--an act that is often violent and unpredictable. Our particular spirit manifests in fog, trees, rain, moss. It can be seen in anything grown within the forest. At times it may take a more animated form--a person, be it male or female, with plant like attributes. But in truth, the spirit has no one form, no one purpose. It is prehistoric and uncivilized--the primal force, wild and untamable. There is a certain Wisdom to be gleaned from that capriciousness. It is a spirit that instills both fear and respect in those that encounter it.
The Orb Weaver
Wixalxali is the Sahaptin (Yakima Dialect) word for spider.
There are all kinds of spiders in the world, and as spirits they can and do represent a wide variety of ideas and concepts. The ground-dwellers and venomous types are often thought to be Wyrmy, but anyone who has ever seen a spider's egg sac break open knows that they can be the essence of the Wyld as well--chaos, life, creation. But the spider's true allegiance, and where her power is most potent, is with the Weaver. This particular spirit isn't a pattern spider though, or anything like it. It's not a specific species, but it is a specific type--the orb weaver. It is the kind of spider that spins the iconic, wide web one automatically associates with spiders. She's a daughter of Grandmother Spider, who stole light from the sun, and that is why under the dawn and twilight sky her web appears golden. She's a spirit of Cunning, but one that teaches Wisdom, and how to get along, rather than one that uses trickery to shame or humiliate. She will keep her promises, but be wary of the wording. Our spirit manifests as an extremely large orb weaver with elongated outer legs and much shorter inner ones. Their segmented joints are striped, alternating light and dark--in this case a near black and an almost translucent yellow. Her abdomen is dark with a blotch down the middle that seems almost like a Rorschach pattern, surrounded by tiny yellow dots. And, of course, she has her web--a monstrosity that spans the length of two great giants' trunks of the forest. She is the builder, the one who gives things form, the one who ties things together. Despite her candid honesty, garou often find her enigmatic and perplexing--not fitting into their convenient ideology and arguing over her True Nature. The Orb Weaver doesn't care.
The Renascence Bird
Aahn is a Sahaptin (Yakima Dialect) word for the sun.
He is brother to the Phoenix and the Simurgh, cousin to the Firebirds. He often manifests as a giant eagle whose feathers are made of fire, though sometimes he might appear as a heron, or peacock. His fiery feathers sometimes fall free--but only if the spirit wishes it--and they can then act as a light source in the dark places. Light, knowledge, enrichment--these are all aspects of the Renascence Bird. He is ancient, and in all that time he has seen the world born and destroyed many times. He holds the understanding of the ages and acts as messenger between earth and sky. As a recordkeeper and messenger, he is well acquainted with the Weaver, like the firebirds of Falcon's brood that maintain the repository of knowledge in the Light Web. Even now, they protect this remnant of the sane Weaver. He can also be seen as an agent of the Wyld, his feathers ever changing and always moving and morphing in unpredictable ways. Some have even said his fiery touch can turn things to water, and they call him the Transmuter. He is, however, a true spirit of the uncorrupted Wyrm. In his aspect of fire, he consumes what was, and in so doing lays the seed for new birth. His fire, therefore, is bright, hot, and all consuming. He is the conflagration. Annihilation. Often seen as and sought as a spirit of War, he is also very wise. For, despite all this destruction, no information is ever lost--it is merely transformed, while its memory is preserved.
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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:
Kavi(#3249PJOc)
Evac
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
The most uncomfortable part of the journey is the drive over. For starters, Riley's not much of a driver even when her sense of direction isn't thrown off by inner-ear damage. For another, everyone has that damage, and the trip itself is therefore /nauseating/. Riley has to pull off at one point for some less than graceful hyperventilating before proceeding on. And finally, the trip needs to be done with everyone in homid. There's just not enough room for anyone to sprawl out enough to remain in a regenerative form. Tough luck for Kavi more than Mouse. Riley and Ishmael both help the pair inside. Kavi is deposited on the couch, Mouse is settled into the cushiest chair. Only then does Riley ease into a seat and work her way back up to Glabro. There's a palpable silence then, as the ragabash just gets used to being stationary.
Homid, it seems, is not something the mostly unconscious Mouse is willing to do, especially after the trip through the Bawn has thoroughly disoriented her. In hindsight, this is probably best; the Walker elder was pretty much buck naked earlier, after all. Instead, she eventually manages to get the message enough to sluggishly creep down to lupus, where she's all but insensible for the entire drive, as well as the trip inside. On the chair, she's much the same. Eyes usually closed, ears barely even bothering to tick in response to noises.
The shift to homid doesn't take much prodding for Kavi, though any movement takes significant assistance. He keeps the resulting sounds of pain to the near silent gasps, but the wincing is unmistakeable. Once settled on the couch, the galliard falls back into unconsciousness for a long while.
The ragabash spends quite some time in silence herself, watching the pair of sacked-out Glass Walkers. Finally, she gives a soft little snort, a small smile on her face. "...We're a fucking lively crowd, aren't we?"
First-Strike has no answer for Riley, beyond a single, likely subconscious earflick. She's not going to be happy with how she's staining that chair when she finally regains her senses, but for the moment she's treating it like the most comfortable of beds.
Kavi's eyes flicker open, and he starts to sit up. The action is quickly aborted, however, and he cries out with the pain. Biting back the rest of the sound, his left hand quickly covers his blood-soaked right shoulder.
At the very least, Glabro Riley doesn't make for an altogether hideous sight to wake up to, so at least there's that. She eases stiffly out of her chair at Kavi's outcry. She's the least physically impaired at the moment, so that puts the onus on her to tend to the others. "Easy, Kavi. When you've got the energy for it, you might want to take form. Start you on the mend." The ragabash squints dizzily, but stays upright. "...Anyone need something to eat? Drink? It's been a long night."
That at least is enough to rouse First-Strike, if only for a moment. The Walker metis comes half to with a startled snarl, and her teeth bare and jaws slightly open without her really doing much to open her eyes. Little prickles of blood caked fur go up along her ravaged spine.
Kavi slowly eases back into the giving cushions of the couch, but his eyes remain tightly shut. He nods after a moment, perhaps in repsonse to something Riley's said, but even that brings a slight wince and a tightening of his hand over his shoulder. "Call..." he starts, and swallows again.
First off, Riley shushes First-Strike. "Shh. Easy, dude. Fight's over. You're in shit shape. Go back to sleep." Then Kavi speaks. "...Rina?" The Ragabash ventures. It's an easy enough guess to make. "I'll do that. Can I get you anything in the meantime?"
First-Strike rumbles, but she hardly needs much encouragement to return to her prior state. Riley's words are enough, and her muscles go slack. Her jaws close.
Kavi nods again, despite the obvious pain it causes. His jaw sets and he draws in a breath before attempting the shift to glabro. "Thanks," he adds, once the change is complete, and he opens his eyes again.
The ragabash eases her cell phone out of her coat pocket, squinting at the screen, and sifts through a few numbers before arriving at Rina's. Ultimately, it sounds like the ragabash ends up leaving a voicemail, and she wanders over to the elevator. For a few minutes, she's gone, and the pair are left to their own passed-out devices. When Riley returns, it's with a couple bottles of water and some blankets. The bottles of water are left within reach of the pair, and the blankets are eased over them with care. This being the tenement building, the lobby is insulated like crap and is still pretty cold.
First-Strike has settled into full sleep by the time Riley returns, an easier sleep than she was managing before, by the looks of it. She doesn't even stir when the blankets go on, she's so deeply out.
Kavi is apparently doing his best to stay awake, and when Riley returns, he bites down on his lower lip and pushes himself upright.
Nope. Riley leans over and presses her hand on Kavi's chest. And really, at this point, it doesn't take much effort to prevent either of the two from moving. She shakes her head, "Hey. No. Stay down, and get some sleep. Rina will be by when she can, I'm sure."
Kavi may have tried to fight against the pressure of Riley's hand, but it's difficult to tell, and in the end it doesn't matter. "Just..." he says, once he's prone again. "Just... make sure she knows. It's over, and. We're here."
Riley immediately shakes her head, "Easy... She knows. Knows we won, knows the Walkers are safe, knows you're here." The ragabash keeps her tone soft, soothing. "Rest."
Kavi nods and he lets his eyes close, lets his breathing ease back into the soft rhythm of sleep.
Riley makes her way to the door of the Tenement Building - and rather than following her own advice, she heads back out into the night.
Kavi tells Riley is morning.
MORNING.
Rina has arrived.
Kavi and Mouse are both asleep, each one taking up a couch and making an offering to the cushions of their blood. Both have been covered over with blankets, and bottled water has been left within reach - though Mouse in lupus might have difficulty making use of it. Rina was called, in the early hours of the morning, but Riley left only a cryptic message that everyone was home and fine.
The glass doors bang open to admit Rina, the woman breathless and tense. More tense, when she sees the two of them, and yet also relieved.
Kavi startles awake with the sound and lifts his head, a wince coming with the movement. "Rina?"
"Don't move," the Kin says quickly, coming over to drop to her knees by the couch, worried lines creasing her forehead and feathering the corners of her eyes. A hand comes up to touch his face, carefully stroking back the curls.
Whether First-Strike can make use of the bottle or not is a question that has yet to be tested. The Walker elder has slept like a stone, and Rina's entrance produces only faintest stirring from her. Her lips pull back from her teeth for a moment, one ear twitches. That's all. She's wearing that back-brace of hers, under the blankets, and it as well as her fur has been so liberally painted with blood, and beneath that designs in white clay and mud, with an incredibly amount of self inflicted injury to be found just about everywhere, that her real fur color is pretty much impossible to discern, except where the unnatural white fur curls over one ear.
Kavi blinks twice, clearing the sleep from his eyes, looking first to Rina and then across to Mouse. He swallows and attempts a small smile as his gaze returns to the kin. "Hey," he offers, and extracts his left hand from the blanket.
Rina swallows. "Hey," she says, almost a whisper. Her hand drops to his own, interlacing fingers with his.
Kavi draws in a breath at the contact, and there's a measurable relaxation when he exhales. "It's over," he tells her, gravel in the sound of his voice. "It's... it's done."
Rina gives his hand a small squeeze, and looks over to Mouse. "Good," she says, a world of praise and relief in that single word. Looking back to Kavi, focusing on him, she asks, "Losses?"
Kavi frowns, brows drawing downward as if struggling to remember. "I don't... Whisper was behind me, and then--" He breaks off, swallowing, and his expression changes to the apologetic one she knows all too well.
"Shhh." She leans over, bringing up his hand a few inches to brush her lips against it.
First-Strike continues to slumber. One ravaged paw moves just enough to curl under her chin.
Kavi sighs, allowing his eyes to close. "Rina? I think they said... Whisper fell. And. The Get..."
Rina's brow furrows. "What about them?"
"Owen," Kavi clarifies, and once again tries to pull himself upright, his face pinched against the pain. His right arm hangs limp at his side, and the line of his shoulder is off. "They didn't come back."
For a moment Rina just stares at him--and then he's trying to move, and she belatedly dither over helping him or stopping him.
Kavi reaches out again with his left hand, fingers closing around hers.
Rina takes it, murmuring, "You gonna try to make it upstairs, or stay here? Think you can move?"
Kavi looks across to Mouse, and then brings his gaze to Rina. "Upstairs," he whispers. "If... If you can help?"
Rina turns around, crouching, and slides an arm around his back. "Sure. Just sit up first, get your legs over the edge..." It's easy to forget how strong the petite woman actually is, how much muscle is packed onto that small frame when she's in good shape.
Most of the galliard's injuries are hidden by the clothing, though the blood that soaked through makes their extent clear enough. He nods at Rina's suggestions, and leans heavily on her as he attempts each step. "I'll be okay," he says, though it's not clear whether that's for her benefit, or his.
Rina's expression is a bit tight as she takes more of his weight and they manage to rise. "We *are* taking the elevator, though," she mutters.
Kavi almost laughs, but drawing in the breath to do so brings a gasp of pain, instead. His good arm wrapped around her shoulders tightens, and he casts a last look to Mouse before they turn and being the long journey to the elevator.
First-Strike looks, if not entirely comfortable--who could be?--then certainly peaceful, lost in sleep and quite content to remain where she is on the chair.
"Easy," Rina murmurs. "Take it easy, caro." She works to keep the Galliard moving, at a steady pace.
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From: Mouse Subject: Email!
To: Nicodemus
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An email pops in sometime around noon, Sunday, from Mouse's address:
Still alive. We did it.
Thank you.
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Tenement Building - Cockroach's Breakroom(#3365RJ)
Here, a large studio apartment has been converted into a mutual meeting space for the tribe, one with its own kitchen and bathroom. The walls are a simple, plain white, and the floor is covered in stain-resistant beige carpet. The windows look out onto the somewhat less than scenic view of downtown St. Claire, but more often than not, white blinds prevent anyone from peeking in, or out.
Amenities are what might be expected--a well stocked refrigerator and cupboards, a microwave, a coffee maker, a toaster. There's a wooden table that seats four, five or six if people scrunch, and enough chairs to service it. There's also an old couch and armchair along the walls, angled to face a large, plasma screen television. Most of the entertainment goodies are here. An old NES system, an original Sega system, and an XBOX 360, each with assorted games. There's also a DVD/VCR combo player, and nearby a box of movies, most of them Ed Wood and Roger Corman specials. Ah, classics.
Along one wall is a row of tables and chairs, on which sit five desktop computers as well as the Walker's network server, a printer, and a scanner. (+view for more details)
Contents:
Memorial(#1008Ch)
Information Board: Skindiggers Cult
Obvious exits:
Out
Nicodemus has arrived.
Perhaps she's feeling a bit of cabin fever, or perhaps there's some other reason (idiotic stubbornness is always a factor), but Mouse migrated at some point in the late afternoon from her apartment to the breakroom, and she's remained here ever since. Her power chair is pulled right up next to the couch, but the Theurge herself has settled on the latter, liberally propped up with cushions for all the good it's really done her. She looks half asleep, and the droning of the TV is so low that it's questionable whether she can actually make it out anyway. She also looks relatively worn down, pale and thinner than usual, and what's visible of her hands show a great number of just-scabbed over nasty gashes, on both the back and her palm. That lock of white hair is currently hanging in her face, and she's apparently not bothered enough by it to brush it back.
Nicodemus seemingly materializes in the doorway to the breakroom. He announces his arrival by speaking. "I hear from both you and Val that congratulations are in order?" He moves into the room. "You impressed the hell out of the sept, I'll bet."
Mouse's eyes open a little further at Nick's voice. "I have no idea," she admits. "I wasn't too conscious by the end of it." And then, with a note of perhaps more sincere confession, she says, "If that didn't do it, nothing will though. I think the Fianna Righ called me a sister."
Nicodemus slides across the room, offering an 8-inch long metal cylinder to you. Initially, and from a distance.... white dildo? Clarification comes as it's brought closer and Nick adds, "Cuban." He then adds, "I'd have done a card too, but Hallmark doesn't seem to have a 'Congratulations on Awakening a Caern' occassion."
Mouse half laughs, half winces as she reaches--very gingerly--for the offered cylinder. More injuries, quite similar to the ones on her hands, show as the end of her sleeve pulls up in the motion. "To be honest...to be honest, I'm not sure how to feel yet. If Val's talked to you, you probably know more about what happened than I do. Plus, I should be thanking you. I've got no idea if anything you did made a difference, but I'm a Theurge. I'm a firm believer in significance."
"Part of...." Nick cuts himself off and checks behind him to make sure no one's appeared in the hallway. He then continues. "... magic was the actual flowcharting itself. Letting you see the order of events, anticipating problems and difficult spots, and--if you gained an insight or changed your mind about something during that phase of the ritual." He shrugs. "I tend to warp subtly and quietly. If I'm not, I either screwed up, don't have the time to do subtle, or I'm messing around and or flashy on purpose. Insofar as the ritual went, I've just heard that it was a success and, from Val, that the Get of Fenris are down an elder and another garou, Whisper, also died in the fight. Looks like you got a little roughed up," the mage observes, then hypothesizes, "But probably not too bad. Otherwise I imagine there'd be a crowd harrassing you. Get you anything from the fridge? A Coke?" he offers.
"Water'd be fantastic," Mouse says. "It's bad, but I've had worse, and they're not battle injuries. And I think almost everyone is as bad off or more. As soon as Kavi's back to better health and I can throw the usual weak-ass punches that are my speciality, I'm punching him for dying on me again. Jesus Christ, but that nearly threw me off. --You can feel it," she explains, as if realizing this might not make sense. She taps the side of her head. "When you're packed. Anyway, I'm still counting it as a possible saving throw. As for Whisper..." she pauses. "I don't think we ever met. She was an Uktena Metis. Galliard." A little quieter. "Salem's packmate."
Nicodemus grimaces sympathetically as he hears of Kavi's close call, then he moves to fetch a cold bottled water from the fridge--none for him, though. He twists the cap to loose it for you on his return trip. "I hadn't realized that packmates had that strong of a psychic connection with one another." He offers you the water. "I'm really relieved you were able to pull it off and no Glass Walkers were among the fallen. I knew it would be dangerous. Much more dangerous than what you all normally do, at least. But I really didn't know to what degree or...." He seems to realize he's running on. "I'm glad the tribe made it through the ordeal."
"Me too," Mouse says, and while her words remain quiet, she sounds sincerely grateful as well. "I know it's silly to be upset over two deaths. This thing usually claims a lot more, even when there's a success, and worse if you fail. One of them was a glory hounding asshole, for that matter. And it's one of the best possible ways you can go out. Caerns mean everything. But--" She pauses. "Anyway, yeah. If a pack is linked with a totem spirit, and most non-temporary Garou packs are, you can usually feel each other at least a little bit. At the least when they go. Sometimes when they're...when they're, ah. If they're in a lot of distress. But before I forget, I've got something for you." She sets the water aside, and eases her injured right hand into a pocket.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Emma made a play for the Get of Fenris eldership at this point," Nick theorizes aloud. He then looks a little quizzically at you and your mention of having a gift for him--as if that seemed a little unexpected and/or unwarranted.
Mouse pulls out a capped thumb drive, one of the cheap supermarket ones, and hands it over. "This was actually going to be a just in case." She makes it sound like another confession, of sorts. "When you're elder and you've got all these things you're responsible for, you end up, every now and then, making sure everything's in order, so I thought--" She doesn't finish the sentence. "They're records. Family tree, genealogical papers, some altered city filings that were depressingly easy to get into, that kind've thing. You remember I said there was that family of Walker kin out near Spokane, that'd been lost, and we found them when we were tracking a son of theirs that'd gone Dancer?"
Nicodemus palms the drive. "Seriously? I know it's morbid, but I'm glad you took precautions. I got the impression it'd be 'sack the quarterback' out there last night--and that you were the quarterback." He exhales, holds the drive between thumb and forefinger, and rotates it slightly as he holds it up to the light--as if that might allow him to read the drive's contents without the use of a computer. "Wow. Really? A full set of papers and a backstory papertrail?" He lowers the drive and smiles broadly. "Thanks."
"That's not an entirely inaccurate description," Mouse muses. "Yeah. Your copies of them anyway. The files are all fixed where they should be too. Frankly, I doubt you'll ever have to worry about it. The only thing likely to trigger an investigation of your background that thorough would be if you were outed." She pauses, and then offers him a very small, one shouldered shrug. "And if that was the case and I wasn't here, I wanted to make sure you had ironclad connections to the tribe. So. There you go. You're all official." One corner of her mouth quirks. "I can always go back in and undo it if you change your mind sometime down the road, so don't worry."
"Right. For when I later decide to jump ship and go hang out with the Red Talons." Nick snorts at the absurdity of it all. "Honestly, the tribe.... Even if I wasn't born to it by blood, it's still a pretty good fit. If someone offered me my pick of tribes again right now, it'd be the Walkers in less than a heartbeat." He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. "I'm more worried about something happening to you, then a future elder deciding to give me the boot. Or getting outed and there being a backlash that hits you in the process."
Mouse's mouth corners twitch up again, this time into a smile only a little less faint. "Something'll happen to me someday. Metis learn early that's just how this life goes. Tonight I'm happy that it wasn't last night, /and/ I've got a cigar." She holds the tube up. "...And there's the Athro thing. That's pretty good too. Anyway, don't worry too much about that. I looked things over. Put some stuff together. This tribe will be fine when it does, I promise. Meanwhile, I'm planning to stick around. /Was/ Val okay? I didn't even ask."
"Val only sent me a brief text. It sounded like she was fine, though she probably got a whiff of the awakened pepper bombs she was using to drop on enemy forces in an attempt to slow some of them and break up any coordinated, simultaneous attacks before they reached the defenders." Nick folds his hands together. "If you're allowed, be sure to share the challenge terms with me. I might be able to quietly lend you a hand with that one--if you think you can get away with outside help." He belatedly adds, "Oh. And I didn't mention it to you earlier, but I hired Riley on with my private investigations firm. She gets to cheat, use her ragabash tracking skills, work part-time, and yield more than full-time results. It lets me send a paycheck her way, and I'll probably be getting her a 'company car' than the rest of the company doesn't use." He asks, "She seems like she's got her head screwed on fairly straight. I was debating filling her in at some point--if you think that'd be wise."
Mouse laughs. "No, those /were/ the terms. Convince an old Fianna to teach me the rite, rebuild the Caern. You're looking at an Athro Metis. It's weird as fuck, I'll tell you. I've never met another, though now and then I hear stories about Sepdet. I feel a little..." she pauses. "I'm not sure how to put a word to it. /Subversive/, maybe." She listens with interest to the news about Riley, and her answer doesn't come immediately, but it does come. "...I'm not sure. I was her primary teacher as a cub, but she went away to New York for a significant amount of time. You're right in that she has her head on straight. Straighter than quite a lot of people, really." One finger taps against the water bottle. "I can't see her having an issue about you, or about keeping that secret, but it's always a risk. ...Listen to me, telling /you/ that."
"Seriously?" Nick states, blinking as he learns that the challenge is already over. "Seriously? Damn. I should have brought /two/ Cubans instead of just the one. And I'll take my time assessing Riley before I reveal anything. /IF/ I reveal anything." He falls silent, contemplative, for a good ten seconds. "Sepdet." He shakes his head after a little while longer. "Can't say I ever ran into her before. Odds are I never did, anyway."
Mouse shakes her head. "Neither have I, and that's a shame. Every now and then I hear things about her, but she left this place years before I ever got here. Silent Strider Theurge. She left a hell of an impression, apparently. But apart from her? And getting the nod from a Fianna?" Another mouth corner twitch. "Yeah, I'm feeling /very/ subversive."
Nicodemus nods knowingly and in agreement. "I can see that subversive streak. I've heard you also keep rather peculiar company at times. At night. In the breakroom. At about...." He glances at the clock on the microwave and reads off the time. "On this very Sunday night." He wags a finger at you. "Don't get too crazy."
Mouse tsks at the finger wag, before saying, "Too late on that. I've got the most ridiculous ideas in my head that've been fermenting for years. But in the meantime, I still owe you an Umbral trip. I'm afraid that will have to wait until I get at least some of myself back, and a larger moon, but after that, any time you feel like."
Nicodemus waves a hand dismissively. "You rest up and don't worry about playing tour guide. I'm going to be pretty busy for the next week anyway. Wednesday is the Spring solstice, and I thought I'd try my hand at temporarily thinning the barrier between here and the spirit world. Not sure where yet, but I'll find a suitable spot. I've got some research I'd like to do, too. And then there's the day job and getting Riley up to speed for her state private investigator's licensure exam. Don't worry about me getting bored."
"Sounds like a good plan," Mouse says, as she opens up her water bottle. "I feel like I've had my soul pulled out strand by strand. The last time I felt this empty was a long time back."
Nicodemus goes to pat your shoulder and then pulls his hand up short--uncertain if there might be hidden wounds he'd be upsetting. "Bed rest and sleep. That's what you need for the time being. I'm on call if you need me for anything." He pockets the flash drive as he begins heading for the door. "Thanks again for the gift. I appreciate it."
That's wise, as Mouse instinctively starts to pull that shoulder back. Instead, she pats his hand, and gives him a crooked grin. "That's what I intend on getting. Take care, Nick. Talk to you later."
Nicodemus slips out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the night.
================================== Announce ==================================
Message: 2/91 Posted Author
New Caern Totems Sat Mar 16, 2013 InleRah
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Meet your new totems:
The Spirit of the Forest
Gyhldeptis is the Haida Goddess of the forest. She was a beneficent Goddess who protected the people of the coastal forests.
It is a forest spirit. Not just some leafy sprite that dwells in the woods, but an actual Spirit of the Forest--an embodiment of the idea itself. All other forest spirits--things like the Leshy of Slavic mythology, or the woodwose, or even the Green Man--all fall under its purview. Many of the wild man or wood nymph myths are actually manifestations of this type of spirit, acting to protect and watch over its domain. The spirit can be both Weaver and Wyrm, for its flora both weaves the fabric and tapestry of the forest, and its decay is the food for rebirth. But, the spirit's essence is Wyld. The forest is always in a state of change--of creation--an act that is often violent and unpredictable. Our particular spirit manifests in fog, trees, rain, moss. It can be seen in anything grown within the forest. At times it may take a more animated form--a person, be it male or female, with plant like attributes. But in truth, the spirit has no one form, no one purpose. It is prehistoric and uncivilized--the primal force, wild and untamable. There is a certain Wisdom to be gleaned from that capriciousness. It is a spirit that instills both fear and respect in those that encounter it.
The Orb Weaver
Wixalxali is the Sahaptin (Yakima Dialect) word for spider.
There are all kinds of spiders in the world, and as spirits they can and do represent a wide variety of ideas and concepts. The ground-dwellers and venomous types are often thought to be Wyrmy, but anyone who has ever seen a spider's egg sac break open knows that they can be the essence of the Wyld as well--chaos, life, creation. But the spider's true allegiance, and where her power is most potent, is with the Weaver. This particular spirit isn't a pattern spider though, or anything like it. It's not a specific species, but it is a specific type--the orb weaver. It is the kind of spider that spins the iconic, wide web one automatically associates with spiders. She's a daughter of Grandmother Spider, who stole light from the sun, and that is why under the dawn and twilight sky her web appears golden. She's a spirit of Cunning, but one that teaches Wisdom, and how to get along, rather than one that uses trickery to shame or humiliate. She will keep her promises, but be wary of the wording. Our spirit manifests as an extremely large orb weaver with elongated outer legs and much shorter inner ones. Their segmented joints are striped, alternating light and dark--in this case a near black and an almost translucent yellow. Her abdomen is dark with a blotch down the middle that seems almost like a Rorschach pattern, surrounded by tiny yellow dots. And, of course, she has her web--a monstrosity that spans the length of two great giants' trunks of the forest. She is the builder, the one who gives things form, the one who ties things together. Despite her candid honesty, garou often find her enigmatic and perplexing--not fitting into their convenient ideology and arguing over her True Nature. The Orb Weaver doesn't care.
The Renascence Bird
Aahn is a Sahaptin (Yakima Dialect) word for the sun.
He is brother to the Phoenix and the Simurgh, cousin to the Firebirds. He often manifests as a giant eagle whose feathers are made of fire, though sometimes he might appear as a heron, or peacock. His fiery feathers sometimes fall free--but only if the spirit wishes it--and they can then act as a light source in the dark places. Light, knowledge, enrichment--these are all aspects of the Renascence Bird. He is ancient, and in all that time he has seen the world born and destroyed many times. He holds the understanding of the ages and acts as messenger between earth and sky. As a recordkeeper and messenger, he is well acquainted with the Weaver, like the firebirds of Falcon's brood that maintain the repository of knowledge in the Light Web. Even now, they protect this remnant of the sane Weaver. He can also be seen as an agent of the Wyld, his feathers ever changing and always moving and morphing in unpredictable ways. Some have even said his fiery touch can turn things to water, and they call him the Transmuter. He is, however, a true spirit of the uncorrupted Wyrm. In his aspect of fire, he consumes what was, and in so doing lays the seed for new birth. His fire, therefore, is bright, hot, and all consuming. He is the conflagration. Annihilation. Often seen as and sought as a spirit of War, he is also very wise. For, despite all this destruction, no information is ever lost--it is merely transformed, while its memory is preserved.
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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:
Kavi(#3249PJOc)
Evac
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
The most uncomfortable part of the journey is the drive over. For starters, Riley's not much of a driver even when her sense of direction isn't thrown off by inner-ear damage. For another, everyone has that damage, and the trip itself is therefore /nauseating/. Riley has to pull off at one point for some less than graceful hyperventilating before proceeding on. And finally, the trip needs to be done with everyone in homid. There's just not enough room for anyone to sprawl out enough to remain in a regenerative form. Tough luck for Kavi more than Mouse. Riley and Ishmael both help the pair inside. Kavi is deposited on the couch, Mouse is settled into the cushiest chair. Only then does Riley ease into a seat and work her way back up to Glabro. There's a palpable silence then, as the ragabash just gets used to being stationary.
Homid, it seems, is not something the mostly unconscious Mouse is willing to do, especially after the trip through the Bawn has thoroughly disoriented her. In hindsight, this is probably best; the Walker elder was pretty much buck naked earlier, after all. Instead, she eventually manages to get the message enough to sluggishly creep down to lupus, where she's all but insensible for the entire drive, as well as the trip inside. On the chair, she's much the same. Eyes usually closed, ears barely even bothering to tick in response to noises.
The shift to homid doesn't take much prodding for Kavi, though any movement takes significant assistance. He keeps the resulting sounds of pain to the near silent gasps, but the wincing is unmistakeable. Once settled on the couch, the galliard falls back into unconsciousness for a long while.
The ragabash spends quite some time in silence herself, watching the pair of sacked-out Glass Walkers. Finally, she gives a soft little snort, a small smile on her face. "...We're a fucking lively crowd, aren't we?"
First-Strike has no answer for Riley, beyond a single, likely subconscious earflick. She's not going to be happy with how she's staining that chair when she finally regains her senses, but for the moment she's treating it like the most comfortable of beds.
Kavi's eyes flicker open, and he starts to sit up. The action is quickly aborted, however, and he cries out with the pain. Biting back the rest of the sound, his left hand quickly covers his blood-soaked right shoulder.
At the very least, Glabro Riley doesn't make for an altogether hideous sight to wake up to, so at least there's that. She eases stiffly out of her chair at Kavi's outcry. She's the least physically impaired at the moment, so that puts the onus on her to tend to the others. "Easy, Kavi. When you've got the energy for it, you might want to take form. Start you on the mend." The ragabash squints dizzily, but stays upright. "...Anyone need something to eat? Drink? It's been a long night."
That at least is enough to rouse First-Strike, if only for a moment. The Walker metis comes half to with a startled snarl, and her teeth bare and jaws slightly open without her really doing much to open her eyes. Little prickles of blood caked fur go up along her ravaged spine.
Kavi slowly eases back into the giving cushions of the couch, but his eyes remain tightly shut. He nods after a moment, perhaps in repsonse to something Riley's said, but even that brings a slight wince and a tightening of his hand over his shoulder. "Call..." he starts, and swallows again.
First off, Riley shushes First-Strike. "Shh. Easy, dude. Fight's over. You're in shit shape. Go back to sleep." Then Kavi speaks. "...Rina?" The Ragabash ventures. It's an easy enough guess to make. "I'll do that. Can I get you anything in the meantime?"
First-Strike rumbles, but she hardly needs much encouragement to return to her prior state. Riley's words are enough, and her muscles go slack. Her jaws close.
Kavi nods again, despite the obvious pain it causes. His jaw sets and he draws in a breath before attempting the shift to glabro. "Thanks," he adds, once the change is complete, and he opens his eyes again.
The ragabash eases her cell phone out of her coat pocket, squinting at the screen, and sifts through a few numbers before arriving at Rina's. Ultimately, it sounds like the ragabash ends up leaving a voicemail, and she wanders over to the elevator. For a few minutes, she's gone, and the pair are left to their own passed-out devices. When Riley returns, it's with a couple bottles of water and some blankets. The bottles of water are left within reach of the pair, and the blankets are eased over them with care. This being the tenement building, the lobby is insulated like crap and is still pretty cold.
First-Strike has settled into full sleep by the time Riley returns, an easier sleep than she was managing before, by the looks of it. She doesn't even stir when the blankets go on, she's so deeply out.
Kavi is apparently doing his best to stay awake, and when Riley returns, he bites down on his lower lip and pushes himself upright.
Nope. Riley leans over and presses her hand on Kavi's chest. And really, at this point, it doesn't take much effort to prevent either of the two from moving. She shakes her head, "Hey. No. Stay down, and get some sleep. Rina will be by when she can, I'm sure."
Kavi may have tried to fight against the pressure of Riley's hand, but it's difficult to tell, and in the end it doesn't matter. "Just..." he says, once he's prone again. "Just... make sure she knows. It's over, and. We're here."
Riley immediately shakes her head, "Easy... She knows. Knows we won, knows the Walkers are safe, knows you're here." The ragabash keeps her tone soft, soothing. "Rest."
Kavi nods and he lets his eyes close, lets his breathing ease back into the soft rhythm of sleep.
Riley makes her way to the door of the Tenement Building - and rather than following her own advice, she heads back out into the night.
MORNING.
Rina has arrived.
Kavi and Mouse are both asleep, each one taking up a couch and making an offering to the cushions of their blood. Both have been covered over with blankets, and bottled water has been left within reach - though Mouse in lupus might have difficulty making use of it. Rina was called, in the early hours of the morning, but Riley left only a cryptic message that everyone was home and fine.
The glass doors bang open to admit Rina, the woman breathless and tense. More tense, when she sees the two of them, and yet also relieved.
Kavi startles awake with the sound and lifts his head, a wince coming with the movement. "Rina?"
"Don't move," the Kin says quickly, coming over to drop to her knees by the couch, worried lines creasing her forehead and feathering the corners of her eyes. A hand comes up to touch his face, carefully stroking back the curls.
Whether First-Strike can make use of the bottle or not is a question that has yet to be tested. The Walker elder has slept like a stone, and Rina's entrance produces only faintest stirring from her. Her lips pull back from her teeth for a moment, one ear twitches. That's all. She's wearing that back-brace of hers, under the blankets, and it as well as her fur has been so liberally painted with blood, and beneath that designs in white clay and mud, with an incredibly amount of self inflicted injury to be found just about everywhere, that her real fur color is pretty much impossible to discern, except where the unnatural white fur curls over one ear.
Kavi blinks twice, clearing the sleep from his eyes, looking first to Rina and then across to Mouse. He swallows and attempts a small smile as his gaze returns to the kin. "Hey," he offers, and extracts his left hand from the blanket.
Rina swallows. "Hey," she says, almost a whisper. Her hand drops to his own, interlacing fingers with his.
Kavi draws in a breath at the contact, and there's a measurable relaxation when he exhales. "It's over," he tells her, gravel in the sound of his voice. "It's... it's done."
Rina gives his hand a small squeeze, and looks over to Mouse. "Good," she says, a world of praise and relief in that single word. Looking back to Kavi, focusing on him, she asks, "Losses?"
Kavi frowns, brows drawing downward as if struggling to remember. "I don't... Whisper was behind me, and then--" He breaks off, swallowing, and his expression changes to the apologetic one she knows all too well.
"Shhh." She leans over, bringing up his hand a few inches to brush her lips against it.
First-Strike continues to slumber. One ravaged paw moves just enough to curl under her chin.
Kavi sighs, allowing his eyes to close. "Rina? I think they said... Whisper fell. And. The Get..."
Rina's brow furrows. "What about them?"
"Owen," Kavi clarifies, and once again tries to pull himself upright, his face pinched against the pain. His right arm hangs limp at his side, and the line of his shoulder is off. "They didn't come back."
For a moment Rina just stares at him--and then he's trying to move, and she belatedly dither over helping him or stopping him.
Kavi reaches out again with his left hand, fingers closing around hers.
Rina takes it, murmuring, "You gonna try to make it upstairs, or stay here? Think you can move?"
Kavi looks across to Mouse, and then brings his gaze to Rina. "Upstairs," he whispers. "If... If you can help?"
Rina turns around, crouching, and slides an arm around his back. "Sure. Just sit up first, get your legs over the edge..." It's easy to forget how strong the petite woman actually is, how much muscle is packed onto that small frame when she's in good shape.
Most of the galliard's injuries are hidden by the clothing, though the blood that soaked through makes their extent clear enough. He nods at Rina's suggestions, and leans heavily on her as he attempts each step. "I'll be okay," he says, though it's not clear whether that's for her benefit, or his.
Rina's expression is a bit tight as she takes more of his weight and they manage to rise. "We *are* taking the elevator, though," she mutters.
Kavi almost laughs, but drawing in the breath to do so brings a gasp of pain, instead. His good arm wrapped around her shoulders tightens, and he casts a last look to Mouse before they turn and being the long journey to the elevator.
First-Strike looks, if not entirely comfortable--who could be?--then certainly peaceful, lost in sleep and quite content to remain where she is on the chair.
"Easy," Rina murmurs. "Take it easy, caro." She works to keep the Galliard moving, at a steady pace.
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From: Mouse Subject: Email!
To: Nicodemus
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An email pops in sometime around noon, Sunday, from Mouse's address:
Still alive. We did it.
Thank you.
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Tenement Building - Cockroach's Breakroom(#3365RJ)
Here, a large studio apartment has been converted into a mutual meeting space for the tribe, one with its own kitchen and bathroom. The walls are a simple, plain white, and the floor is covered in stain-resistant beige carpet. The windows look out onto the somewhat less than scenic view of downtown St. Claire, but more often than not, white blinds prevent anyone from peeking in, or out.
Amenities are what might be expected--a well stocked refrigerator and cupboards, a microwave, a coffee maker, a toaster. There's a wooden table that seats four, five or six if people scrunch, and enough chairs to service it. There's also an old couch and armchair along the walls, angled to face a large, plasma screen television. Most of the entertainment goodies are here. An old NES system, an original Sega system, and an XBOX 360, each with assorted games. There's also a DVD/VCR combo player, and nearby a box of movies, most of them Ed Wood and Roger Corman specials. Ah, classics.
Along one wall is a row of tables and chairs, on which sit five desktop computers as well as the Walker's network server, a printer, and a scanner. (+view for more details)
Contents:
Memorial(#1008Ch)
Information Board: Skindiggers Cult
Obvious exits:
Out
Nicodemus has arrived.
Perhaps she's feeling a bit of cabin fever, or perhaps there's some other reason (idiotic stubbornness is always a factor), but Mouse migrated at some point in the late afternoon from her apartment to the breakroom, and she's remained here ever since. Her power chair is pulled right up next to the couch, but the Theurge herself has settled on the latter, liberally propped up with cushions for all the good it's really done her. She looks half asleep, and the droning of the TV is so low that it's questionable whether she can actually make it out anyway. She also looks relatively worn down, pale and thinner than usual, and what's visible of her hands show a great number of just-scabbed over nasty gashes, on both the back and her palm. That lock of white hair is currently hanging in her face, and she's apparently not bothered enough by it to brush it back.
Nicodemus seemingly materializes in the doorway to the breakroom. He announces his arrival by speaking. "I hear from both you and Val that congratulations are in order?" He moves into the room. "You impressed the hell out of the sept, I'll bet."
Mouse's eyes open a little further at Nick's voice. "I have no idea," she admits. "I wasn't too conscious by the end of it." And then, with a note of perhaps more sincere confession, she says, "If that didn't do it, nothing will though. I think the Fianna Righ called me a sister."
Nicodemus slides across the room, offering an 8-inch long metal cylinder to you. Initially, and from a distance.... white dildo? Clarification comes as it's brought closer and Nick adds, "Cuban." He then adds, "I'd have done a card too, but Hallmark doesn't seem to have a 'Congratulations on Awakening a Caern' occassion."
Mouse half laughs, half winces as she reaches--very gingerly--for the offered cylinder. More injuries, quite similar to the ones on her hands, show as the end of her sleeve pulls up in the motion. "To be honest...to be honest, I'm not sure how to feel yet. If Val's talked to you, you probably know more about what happened than I do. Plus, I should be thanking you. I've got no idea if anything you did made a difference, but I'm a Theurge. I'm a firm believer in significance."
"Part of...." Nick cuts himself off and checks behind him to make sure no one's appeared in the hallway. He then continues. "... magic was the actual flowcharting itself. Letting you see the order of events, anticipating problems and difficult spots, and--if you gained an insight or changed your mind about something during that phase of the ritual." He shrugs. "I tend to warp subtly and quietly. If I'm not, I either screwed up, don't have the time to do subtle, or I'm messing around and or flashy on purpose. Insofar as the ritual went, I've just heard that it was a success and, from Val, that the Get of Fenris are down an elder and another garou, Whisper, also died in the fight. Looks like you got a little roughed up," the mage observes, then hypothesizes, "But probably not too bad. Otherwise I imagine there'd be a crowd harrassing you. Get you anything from the fridge? A Coke?" he offers.
"Water'd be fantastic," Mouse says. "It's bad, but I've had worse, and they're not battle injuries. And I think almost everyone is as bad off or more. As soon as Kavi's back to better health and I can throw the usual weak-ass punches that are my speciality, I'm punching him for dying on me again. Jesus Christ, but that nearly threw me off. --You can feel it," she explains, as if realizing this might not make sense. She taps the side of her head. "When you're packed. Anyway, I'm still counting it as a possible saving throw. As for Whisper..." she pauses. "I don't think we ever met. She was an Uktena Metis. Galliard." A little quieter. "Salem's packmate."
Nicodemus grimaces sympathetically as he hears of Kavi's close call, then he moves to fetch a cold bottled water from the fridge--none for him, though. He twists the cap to loose it for you on his return trip. "I hadn't realized that packmates had that strong of a psychic connection with one another." He offers you the water. "I'm really relieved you were able to pull it off and no Glass Walkers were among the fallen. I knew it would be dangerous. Much more dangerous than what you all normally do, at least. But I really didn't know to what degree or...." He seems to realize he's running on. "I'm glad the tribe made it through the ordeal."
"Me too," Mouse says, and while her words remain quiet, she sounds sincerely grateful as well. "I know it's silly to be upset over two deaths. This thing usually claims a lot more, even when there's a success, and worse if you fail. One of them was a glory hounding asshole, for that matter. And it's one of the best possible ways you can go out. Caerns mean everything. But--" She pauses. "Anyway, yeah. If a pack is linked with a totem spirit, and most non-temporary Garou packs are, you can usually feel each other at least a little bit. At the least when they go. Sometimes when they're...when they're, ah. If they're in a lot of distress. But before I forget, I've got something for you." She sets the water aside, and eases her injured right hand into a pocket.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Emma made a play for the Get of Fenris eldership at this point," Nick theorizes aloud. He then looks a little quizzically at you and your mention of having a gift for him--as if that seemed a little unexpected and/or unwarranted.
Mouse pulls out a capped thumb drive, one of the cheap supermarket ones, and hands it over. "This was actually going to be a just in case." She makes it sound like another confession, of sorts. "When you're elder and you've got all these things you're responsible for, you end up, every now and then, making sure everything's in order, so I thought--" She doesn't finish the sentence. "They're records. Family tree, genealogical papers, some altered city filings that were depressingly easy to get into, that kind've thing. You remember I said there was that family of Walker kin out near Spokane, that'd been lost, and we found them when we were tracking a son of theirs that'd gone Dancer?"
Nicodemus palms the drive. "Seriously? I know it's morbid, but I'm glad you took precautions. I got the impression it'd be 'sack the quarterback' out there last night--and that you were the quarterback." He exhales, holds the drive between thumb and forefinger, and rotates it slightly as he holds it up to the light--as if that might allow him to read the drive's contents without the use of a computer. "Wow. Really? A full set of papers and a backstory papertrail?" He lowers the drive and smiles broadly. "Thanks."
"That's not an entirely inaccurate description," Mouse muses. "Yeah. Your copies of them anyway. The files are all fixed where they should be too. Frankly, I doubt you'll ever have to worry about it. The only thing likely to trigger an investigation of your background that thorough would be if you were outed." She pauses, and then offers him a very small, one shouldered shrug. "And if that was the case and I wasn't here, I wanted to make sure you had ironclad connections to the tribe. So. There you go. You're all official." One corner of her mouth quirks. "I can always go back in and undo it if you change your mind sometime down the road, so don't worry."
"Right. For when I later decide to jump ship and go hang out with the Red Talons." Nick snorts at the absurdity of it all. "Honestly, the tribe.... Even if I wasn't born to it by blood, it's still a pretty good fit. If someone offered me my pick of tribes again right now, it'd be the Walkers in less than a heartbeat." He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. "I'm more worried about something happening to you, then a future elder deciding to give me the boot. Or getting outed and there being a backlash that hits you in the process."
Mouse's mouth corners twitch up again, this time into a smile only a little less faint. "Something'll happen to me someday. Metis learn early that's just how this life goes. Tonight I'm happy that it wasn't last night, /and/ I've got a cigar." She holds the tube up. "...And there's the Athro thing. That's pretty good too. Anyway, don't worry too much about that. I looked things over. Put some stuff together. This tribe will be fine when it does, I promise. Meanwhile, I'm planning to stick around. /Was/ Val okay? I didn't even ask."
"Val only sent me a brief text. It sounded like she was fine, though she probably got a whiff of the awakened pepper bombs she was using to drop on enemy forces in an attempt to slow some of them and break up any coordinated, simultaneous attacks before they reached the defenders." Nick folds his hands together. "If you're allowed, be sure to share the challenge terms with me. I might be able to quietly lend you a hand with that one--if you think you can get away with outside help." He belatedly adds, "Oh. And I didn't mention it to you earlier, but I hired Riley on with my private investigations firm. She gets to cheat, use her ragabash tracking skills, work part-time, and yield more than full-time results. It lets me send a paycheck her way, and I'll probably be getting her a 'company car' than the rest of the company doesn't use." He asks, "She seems like she's got her head screwed on fairly straight. I was debating filling her in at some point--if you think that'd be wise."
Mouse laughs. "No, those /were/ the terms. Convince an old Fianna to teach me the rite, rebuild the Caern. You're looking at an Athro Metis. It's weird as fuck, I'll tell you. I've never met another, though now and then I hear stories about Sepdet. I feel a little..." she pauses. "I'm not sure how to put a word to it. /Subversive/, maybe." She listens with interest to the news about Riley, and her answer doesn't come immediately, but it does come. "...I'm not sure. I was her primary teacher as a cub, but she went away to New York for a significant amount of time. You're right in that she has her head on straight. Straighter than quite a lot of people, really." One finger taps against the water bottle. "I can't see her having an issue about you, or about keeping that secret, but it's always a risk. ...Listen to me, telling /you/ that."
"Seriously?" Nick states, blinking as he learns that the challenge is already over. "Seriously? Damn. I should have brought /two/ Cubans instead of just the one. And I'll take my time assessing Riley before I reveal anything. /IF/ I reveal anything." He falls silent, contemplative, for a good ten seconds. "Sepdet." He shakes his head after a little while longer. "Can't say I ever ran into her before. Odds are I never did, anyway."
Mouse shakes her head. "Neither have I, and that's a shame. Every now and then I hear things about her, but she left this place years before I ever got here. Silent Strider Theurge. She left a hell of an impression, apparently. But apart from her? And getting the nod from a Fianna?" Another mouth corner twitch. "Yeah, I'm feeling /very/ subversive."
Nicodemus nods knowingly and in agreement. "I can see that subversive streak. I've heard you also keep rather peculiar company at times. At night. In the breakroom. At about...." He glances at the clock on the microwave and reads off the time. "On this very Sunday night." He wags a finger at you. "Don't get too crazy."
Mouse tsks at the finger wag, before saying, "Too late on that. I've got the most ridiculous ideas in my head that've been fermenting for years. But in the meantime, I still owe you an Umbral trip. I'm afraid that will have to wait until I get at least some of myself back, and a larger moon, but after that, any time you feel like."
Nicodemus waves a hand dismissively. "You rest up and don't worry about playing tour guide. I'm going to be pretty busy for the next week anyway. Wednesday is the Spring solstice, and I thought I'd try my hand at temporarily thinning the barrier between here and the spirit world. Not sure where yet, but I'll find a suitable spot. I've got some research I'd like to do, too. And then there's the day job and getting Riley up to speed for her state private investigator's licensure exam. Don't worry about me getting bored."
"Sounds like a good plan," Mouse says, as she opens up her water bottle. "I feel like I've had my soul pulled out strand by strand. The last time I felt this empty was a long time back."
Nicodemus goes to pat your shoulder and then pulls his hand up short--uncertain if there might be hidden wounds he'd be upsetting. "Bed rest and sleep. That's what you need for the time being. I'm on call if you need me for anything." He pockets the flash drive as he begins heading for the door. "Thanks again for the gift. I appreciate it."
That's wise, as Mouse instinctively starts to pull that shoulder back. Instead, she pats his hand, and gives him a crooked grin. "That's what I intend on getting. Take care, Nick. Talk to you later."
Nicodemus slips out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the night.
