"Do I look like a coward?"
Jul. 21st, 2012 06:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretDanny is weird in the Tenement. Later, Moros drops by and no one ends up murdered.
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:
Devon
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
Tim has arrived.
Devon isn't on duty watching the doors tonight, but he is in the lobby. Seated on one of the chairs, slouched, really, he pushes a pencil against a notepad. His brow is furrowed, nothing near a true frown, but troubled all the same.
Ex pushes heavily through the stairwell door, looking decidedly irritable and antsy. She comes to an abrupt stop when she spies Devon, and her eyes narrow. There's a brief glance back the way she just came.
Devon looks up when the stairwell door opens, turning enough to look at Ex. He offers her a half smile, small and fairly apologetic. For some reason. "Hey," he offers up for a greeting, turning back to the idle scribbles and scratches of writing in his notebook.
Tim appears in the camera, waving with a slim, hand-rolled cigarette and bobbing his eyebrows in a hello. After a moment, he's buzzed in, and pauses as the door shuts behind him to take in the ground floor's occupants. His brief glance at Ex holds no recognition for her, and so says to Devon, "Hey," in a familiar manner.
Ex does not smile in return, but neither does she flee. When Tim enters, however, she gives him a narrow eyed, deeply suspicious look.
Devon glances up at the front door opening this time, then stands when Tim enters. "Hey," he replies with a glance toward Ex. He nods to indicate it's okay, then returns his attention to the Strider. "Not... sure we were ever properly introduced... But I sort of recognize you. So, you're obviously not a Glass Walker."
Tim squints at Devon (either he's not paying attention to Ex's look, or he's more concerned with the cliath's response). He laughs after a second, a sort of 'you almost had me there', wry laugh. "I get it, I get it--fuck with a guy on his auspice moon." He takes a drag of the cigarette and gestures towards the stairwell. The smoke is sweet and fragrant, like pipe tobacco, sandalwood, and cloves. "Jack around?"
Ex continues eyeing Tim with deep suspicion. Her hands clench tightly at her sides.
Devon grins slightly, as though he wishes he were joking. "I..." He glances toward the stairwell with a sigh, flicks his gaze to Ex, then settles back to Tim. "...Don't know who he is."
Tim's amusement fades into scrutiny. "You...don't know who Jack is?" His rubs one temple with his free hand. "Dev, did you, hit your head, or, get lost in an Umbral Realm, or somthing? Make a deal with an unscrupulous spirit, maybe?" He flicks another look at Ex, as if she might hold some key to explaining Devon's behavior to him.
The sound of the door buzzing open is heard, and it almost takes the entirety of the time allowed to be unlucked for it to actually be pushed in from outside. A tall man walks in with slow, careful steps, eyes on the floor. His clothes are stained with black, but fortunately much of it looks dried.
Ex's distrustful scrutiny of Tim continues--no help there--until Danny suddenly walks in. She scoots back a sharp step, and actually pulls her upper lip away from her teeth.
Devon, without looking at Ex, lifts a staying hand toward her, palm open and without aggression. He glances toward the door and Danny's abrupt entrance, mouth opening a little then closing. "No," he says carefully, brow furrowing when he looks at Tim again. "No, I don't know who Jack is. And I didn't... do anything. I... just don't... remember them." Then back to Danny, his brows raise slightly and the notebook and pencil is offered to him without comment.
Tim chews on what Devon's said, then is distracted by Danny's entrance and appearance, coupled with Ex's reaction. "You know *this* guy at least?"
Danny lifts his eyes from the floor as he draws nearer. They find the person he recognizes, but he himself looks a bit off. He looks at Devon hollowly, eyes sunken in. And then the smell arrives with him. Sharp, metallic and warm, with undertones of smoke and alcohol. That's not mud on his clothes and hands: it's very distinctly red this close up. And the kin is covered with it: dried and sticky. Stiffly, he takes the pencil from Devon. Words smeared with red are scrawled across the page in halting movements. He pulls a bloodied folding knife out of his pocket, sets it on the pad of paper next to his words, and hands it back to Devon. Then his eyes flicker to Tim and Ex, his expression helpless.
Ex's eyes round out for a moment, and then she abruptly shoves one hand into her pocket, and steps back until her back is touching the stairway door.
"I know you, too," Devon says to Tim, shaking his head. "The girl is Ex, a cub. He," the Ahroun nods to Danny, "is kin. Not to my tribe obviously. Ex," another nod goes to the Strider. "This is Tim, he's on our team. He's... Safe..." The word trails as he takes in the kinsman again, then looks over the scrawling, then back to Danny. Wordlessly, he turns the notebook over to Tim so the Adren can read it as well.
Tim's head jerks back as the smell hits him, and he quickly takes a drag from the cigarette in response. He looks down at the notebook, then back at Danny. He's some time in replying. "Okay then." He straightens. "The normal kind, or the ah, not-normal kind?" he asks the Kinsman.
Danny swallows visibly. It makes the scar on his throat undulate in a disturbing way. He glances once more at Devon, shifting his weight. Another glance is given to Ex as she back against the wall, and he himself takes a step back. To Tim, he carefully mouthes the word "Normal", as well as follows it up with the hand sign, movements jerky.
Ex abruptly jerks her switchblade out of her pocket and lifts it, blade downward at a stabbing angle.
Devon moves enough to put himself between Ex and Danny, flicking a cautioning look at Tim while his head tilts toward the cub. However it's the kinsman he speaks to, without actually speaking. A finger is pointed at the man while his brows tick upward in question.
Taking in Devon's look, Tim half-turns towards Ex and says, "It's fine. We're not gonna mess with you. He's just run into some, ah, trouble, and we'll probably have to take care of it." A look back towards cliath and Kinsman, then back at Ex. He's staying quite still. "Your name's Ecks?"
There's a faint twitch as Ex brandishes a blade, and he looks at her somewhat strangely. It's hard to tell if the blank, owlish stare is one of fear or sadness, or perhaps both. Then Devon once more catches his attention, and the kin's lips part briefly as his face falls. For a while, he only stares dumbly at the finger pointed at him, then his hands come up, beseeching, brows scrunching over his eyes as he silently pleads for something, not answering Devon's question.
Ex doesn't lower the knife one inch, though her attention does shift to Tim, and a little something seems to ease in the tension in her shoulders. "Ex," she corrects. And then, to demonstrate, she makes an 'X' shape in the air. "Why the fuck does he smell like that?"
"If it's true," Devon says quietly. "We can help." His gaze flicks to Tim, indicating the other in that party of 'we'.
"Well," Tim's gaze travels back to Danny, "Looks like he's covered in blood, and needs some help sorting out whatever the hell just happened to him." He has one last pull, then fishes a tin out of one jacket pocket and stows the remains. To Devon, he says, "That's really Rina and Salem's department--they around?" He makes the gestures of someone texting on a phone, giving 'around' a more relative meaning.
Danny's gaze flicks from one Garou to the next, the kinfolk still wearing the the slightly blank, owlish stare of someone who could have very possibly sustained brain damage at some point in his life. Devon's encouraging words cause the tall man to sag a little in relief, and it's obvious why. There's definite trust in that expression. He heaves a sigh, deflating somewhat, his shoulders sagging a bit. He mouthes the names Rina and Salem, committing them to memory. Almost absently, he begins to scratch at the dried blood on his arms.
Ex lowers the switchblade to her side. She does not, however, put it away. "What'd he write?"
"I don't..." Devon starts to say, before he catches Tim's meaning. His phone is pulled out and the contact list is brought up and given consideration. His teeth catch his lower lip for a moment before he starts tapping out a text.
"Says he's got a dead body in his car," Tim replies in an off-handed manner. He's surveying Danny, maybe to make sure he doesn't do anything sudden. After a beat, he adds, "Which is a problem way more often than it should be," sounding tired.
Hearing the words he'd written doesn't do Danny any favors, and he blanches a little when Tim speaks them. His brows once more scrunch over his eyes and he shifts his weight again, outwardly uneasy and confused.
Ex stares at Tim for a moment longer, before she says, flatly, "What. The fuck."
"I... think I sent it to the right people," Devon says generally, lowering his phone again. He glances toward Ex and offers a small shrug. "It's just something... It sucks, but we try to... clean up messes."
Tim gestures at Devon's notebook and raises his eyebrows at Danny. "Can you tell us what happened? We'll, you know, shred and burn the pages." He looks back at Ex, frowning a little as he takes her appearance in. "You look kind of old for a cub. How old were you when you had your First?"
Danny nods at Tim's suggestion, glad to have a focus it seems. Once he has the notebook once more, however, he's a little more hesitant to recount the tale. He writes carefully and hesitantly, stepping away and to the side to think.
Ex's jaw tightens hard enough that one can imagine the teeth grinding. "Why's it matter?" she asks Tim. "It doesn't matter."
"He's not judging," Devon says, turning to regard Ex while allowing Danny a chance to write. "He's just... you are a little older than usual. And he'd like to know more about you."
"I was an older cub." Tim holds up a hand in self-defense and nods at Devon in agreement. "In fact, one of the Sept Packs forced me to First, because they were afraid I wouldn't." He seems to think this will be a useful explanation to give. "So, just curious, is all. Never met someone who got as far as I did."
Danny looks up after a moment, lips tight with concern as he finally hands the paper over to the one Garou he knows. There's not much written up, it seems, but it certainly took long enough. He watches Tim and Ex as they converse, once more shifting his weight and giving furtive glances towards the door.
Ex inhales slowly, and her eyes flick away from Tim. "...Fourteen," she says, though it's quiet enough that it's rather difficult to hear. "I think."
Devon takes the notebook, looking away from Ex and Tim to Danny. He watches the kinsman for a moment, as if searching him for something, then looks down to read what's been written. He frowns, mouth opening a little. A glance sets itself to Danny for a long minute, then returns to the paper. "Okay," the Ahroun says, slowly, passing the notebook off for Tim to see next.
"Fourteen?" Tim gives Devon a 'you could stand to explain shit to me' look, accepting the notebook as he does so. "So are you one of theirs, or did they find you?" His voice trails off as he reads what Danny's written, and his expression goes very still. His eyes travel up to Danny from the notebook, whom he watches for a very long moment. "Are you for serious with this? What, was it a vampire or a fomori or something?" he asks, holding up the notebook for emphasis, then handing it back.
Danny chews almost hungrily on his bottom lip as they mull over the notebook, once more glancing at the door. Tim's question causes him to blink, confused. He points at the notebook, nodding that indeed he was serious. Then he looks to Devon. He mouths words, hands moving to sign to his friend in an attempt to communicate. His lips slowly form the words "You will help" and his expression is questioning, beseeching.
Unhelpfully, Ex shakes her head to both questions directed at her. "Fezzik kidnapped me, and I'm not a Glass Walker." She watches Danny sidelong now, still looking suspicious.
Devon pulls out his phone after nodding to Danny, frowning faintly at the screen. "Somehow," he says with a sigh and a shrug. "Either she's busy, or that's not the Rina Tim's talking about. Only one on my phone though." Shaking his head, he looks at the Adren. "I've only met Ex a couple of times, briefly. I don't even know much about her and I /remember/ her. --Should I tell Rina what's really happened? I was kind of... vague. Before."
Tim rubs the bridge of his nose. "No," he tells Devon. "Don't want to risk it on an open phone. Vague and coded is better." Then he's addressing Danny. "Look, it's not that we're not gonna help, I'm just trying to understand why getting mad at someone got you to knife them, seeing as you're not, you know," he gestures to include Devon, Ex, and himself.
Danny grins suddenly and a little awkwardly at what Ex says, particularly around the name she gives. Either he thinks it's a goofy name or recognizes it from The Princess Bride. Then his face falls again as Tim gets his attention once more. His hazel eyes drop to the floor, and he shakes his head. A look of concentration crosses his face, and he reaches for the notebook once more. He scribbles "No, I am a nice person!", underlining it once or twice, then looking at Devon. Tell them, he mouths.
Ex stares at Tim, and then turns her head to /stare/ at Danny. "The fuck?"
"This... that's really not Danny's thing," Devon says. "Seriously." He sighs at his phone and starts another text, brows pulling together in that troubled expression again.
Tim rubs the back of his neck, and asides to Devon, "Nothing on Sense Wyrm, either. Not sure what that leaves, aside from him cracking up somehow." He watches Danny, then takes a moment to look over at Ex. "It could be a lot of things. Some mundane...some not really mundane. Just the same, stay, you know...over there."
Danny blinks at Devon's distraction. He moves to retrieve his knife, frowning down at his bloodstained, slightly shaking hands. Roughly, he rubs one palm and his knife on his jeans, as if to cleanse himself of the blood. But it's really not doing any good.
Ex shakes her head once, roughly, then turns and pushes through the stairway door. On the bright side, she's not any closer to the potentially murderous kin.
Devon stares at his phone a moment longer, then returns it to his pocket. "I'm not sure what else to do, if she doesn't respond," he says with a look to Tim.
Tim grunts, takes out his own phone (an OG Droid), and pulls up his contact list. "I think I've got someone who can help out. She's Kin, so it's safe." He gives Danny a measuring look, then tells Devon, "But a theurge has to have a look at him. Whoever you can find. Have your Tribe tell you who to go to if you don't, ah, remember anyone. Make sure to clean him up if you don't let him stay here." He ducks into the stairwell, presumably for his conversation to happen in private.
Danny watches as Ex storms away, a little frown on his face. He was certainly making friends tonight. He looks from Devon to Tim and back again. He takes a step towards the door, then away from it, anxious, but it's hard to tell if he wants to bolt or go hide his van somewhere safer.
----
Moros arrives scowling, staring up at the Walkers' building as if it were engaging in a personal vendetta against him. He leans on the front door buzzer for several long seconds before letting up.
Tonight, Ex has, more or less, camped out in the stairwell. She's crouched against the stairway doorframe, with the door itself propped open with one foot, and is currently reading the newspaper. Except she doesn't really look like she's reading it so much as glaring a hole through the print. The buzzer has her jerking her head up, narrowing her eyes, and looking toward the office where, presumably, the currently on-duty Walker will buzz the newcomer in.
Moros, upon being let in, gets right to the point. "I want to see--" He cuts himself off, spotting Ex, and his mouth twitches in something that's not quite a grimace and not quite a smile, either. "Never mind." Flicking his hair back with a jerk of his head, he approaches the cub.
Ex shoves herself out of the doorway, newspaper abandoned, and lets the door's weight carry it closed. "/Hey/. I wasn't sure if the horse-feet guy was going to tell you or not." She doesn't seem happy or relieved to see him, exactly. Intent, perhaps. Certainly energized.
Moros stops well short of arm's reach of the skinny young woman and tilts his head to one side, brow furrowed and bemused. "Tell me what?"
Ex blinks at Moros for a moment, and then rakes her fingers over her face; especially forcefully over one of those cheek scars. "Fuck's sake," she mutters. "Well, okay, if he didn't tell you then--" She inhales sharply. "I told him to tell you and the cheerful girl I wanted to talk to you."
Moros shifts his weight as he considers this, head still cocked. "Then let's talk," he says after a bit.
There's a knock at the door, tentative, uncertain.
Ex glances toward the office, and then back to the stairwell. Her jaw tightens. "I want to know about the Furies. Horse-feet guy kept telling me I should ask you guys. So, you're all girls except when you're not, and you...protect people? Except when you don't, 'cause wherever Horse-feet guy came from was /fucked/." The knock has her jerking her head toward the door again, but again, she lets the Walker-on-duty take care of that.
Daphne gives the stranger a wary nod, and slips in--and then halts, swallowing, when she sees Moros.
Moros looks over as Daphne enters, staring coldly and fixedly for a few moments before turning back to Ex. "The Black Furies," he tells her, "are protectors of the Wyld, the deep wildernesses, and Gaia's sacred places." He gives another glance toward Daphne. "We also have a strong tradition of feminism and women's rights, since the Wyrm enjoys corrupting humanity through demeaning and debasing women." He pauses in this lecture, blinking once, and stares down at Ex for a moment before adding, "That's the short of it."
Daphne takes a slow breath at the tall one's look, straightening herself a fraction under that glare, her cheeks flushing.
Ex's gaze ticks back from Daphne to Moros. "So," she says slowly. "So, that's feminism and women's rights the way normal humans think of it? It's not some weird werewolf version? Just, you know, hey, voting good, abuse bad?"
Moros smiles crookedly, lips pressed tight. "Voting good, abuse bad, rape culture _very_ bad." The smile vanishes then, dropping like a stone off his brutish face. "The shit Sue's dealing with, the shit _I_ dealt with, is because a lot of our _sisters_," -- here the word comes out in a sharp, growling kind of way -- "get so involved with protecting women that they forget that _men_ are part of Gaia, too, and their rightful anger at what some men do extends to anyone who doesn't own a uterus and a set of ovaries."
Daphne stays silent, frozen; not afraid, but watchful.
"Rape...culture?" Ex echoes, looking very out of her element. The rest of it, though, has her straightening. "Yeah that's /fucked/. So." The energy becomes more subdued, though it's still quite visible in her eyes, and the tension of her muscles. "So how come you two are still Furies?"
Moros tilts his head, his red gaze sliding back over toward Daphne. His brow furrows again, as if he's not quite sure what to make of her. "Because we're Metis," he answers Ex after a moment. He sniffs, nose scrunching. "The tribe keeps its Metis sons."
"I think maybe she means, why not renounce?" Daphne's voice is raspy, like that of a lifelong smoker; damaged.
"Leave," Ex elaborates. "If that's what 'renounce' means. I mean, if shit is so fucked, why would you stay?"
Moros's eyes narrow. He looks from one woman to the other, greasy hair half-fallen back over his face. "Do I look like a coward?" he demands.
Daphne swallows. "Of course not," she says quietly.
"You look like Fezzik," Ex replies. Her tone suggests that such a thing runs contrary to cowardice. "Bet you could break anyone in half."
Moros is mollified by Daphne's response and obviously confused by Ex's. He wrinkles his nose at her, head tilting. After a beat he grunts. "I am a Black Fury," he says slowly. "My sisters may be wrong-headed and corrupted by their own hatreds and prejudices, but that doesn't mean that the sacred places don't need to be protected, or that the Wyrm's corruption of human society doesn't need to be... corrected."
Daphne swallows. "Always," she says softly.
"/Fezzik/," Ex repeats. "You don't know the Princess Bride?"
Moros gives Daphne another look, distracted by her even though the majority of his attention is clearly on Ex. "No," he says, answering the cub.
"It's a movie," Daphne says quietly. "About a fairytale. A fantasy story. Really good flick."
"It's a book too," Ex says. "They're kind've interchangeable. Okay, okay. Fezzik is this really big guy. He's a giant. And he's a good guy, but everyone sees that he's big and they're assholes. And he learns to fight, right? And he takes on lots of people at once, because he's so big and strong it's the only way they can set up a fair match, but he still beats everyone. And that's before the story starts. Fezzik," she declares, "is fucking awesome. And even if he was scared of something, he wouldn't run away." There's a pause here, as she curls her fingers against her pant-leg. "But it's not running away to just stop putting up with shit, is it?" That seems like a genuine question.
Moros flicks back greasy hair and grins in a hard, ugly, humorless kind of way. "No, but it's cowardice to run away when you might be able to _change_ things."
"I'm sorry about-- the way I freaked out," Daphne says softly. "I didn't know who you were."
Ex inhales slowly, and frowns at the floor. "...Okay, so, if I was to go with you guys, and I decided it wasn't going to work, would you guys kill me?"
Daphne looks appalled, as she glances to the odd young woman.
Moros is about to answer Daphne's apology when Ex asks her question. He frowns, tilting his head at the cub. He stares at her for a few moments, then lowers his head a bit and steps closer to her. He looms, hair hanging in his face again. "I want you for the Furies," he says frankly. "But I want you in a place where you _do_ fit more. I want you away from these walls and cameras and _Weaver_." He practically snarls the word. "I want to see you Rited, and I want to see you tearing out the throats of the people who did what they did to you. I do _not_ want you dead."
Daphne steps back, leaning against the wall by the door.
Ex looks up at him, though her eyes remain hooded, and for all that she tries to match the stare, she has to settle for his nose, because she can't quite keep her eyes on his. "I want," she says, very slowly, and then stops. Her forehead wrinkles. "...I need to get out of here. I shouldn't be this close to Kavi and Rina and the little kid. It's fucked for everyone."
Daphne's brow furrows. "What's wrong with Kavi and Rina? Who's the little kid?"
Moros grimaces, looking conflicted. Stepping back from Ex, he turns to stare toward the office, the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist.
Ex shakes her head sharply, and looks sidelong toward Daphne. That hand that was curled against her leg now twists into her very short hair, gripping tightly. "Nothing's wrong with Kavi and Rina. The little kid's just fucking /stupid/. But I'm /fucked up/. And I--" She inhales sharply. "There's nothing wrong with Kavi and Rina, okay?"
"They are too, you know," Daphne says quietly, watching Ex. "Lotsa people. Have scars."
Moros's hands open and close restlessly; his eyes move from the office to Daphne, his expression pensive.
Ex's shoulders hunch. "Yeah, that's the /problem/," she says, low, almost muttered.
Kavi has arrived.
Daphne stays against the wall, by the door. "Why is it a problem?" she asks in that quiet rasp. "Don't you... wanna be around people who can understand?"
Moros remains silent, hulking and broody, his head slightly lowered as he stands, only a few paces from Ex.
"Understand?" Ex echoes, in a tone that's half brittle laugh. "/No one's/ gonna fucking understand, and I can't fucking understand them. Okay? What does understanding have to do with anything? No, I..." She swallows something. "I gotta go."
"The Furies have--" Daphne swallows, and glances down. "They're good, too, at--" She slants a look to Moros. "Understanding."
Moros's hair covers his face like a greasy curtain; his eyes are narrowed, his expression (what can be seen of it) troubled.
Ex says, heatedly, "I don't /need/ anyone's understanding. But I do need to get away from here."
The stairwell door pushes open, and Kavi steps through. His steps falter as he sees those present in the lobby, but after that brief hesitation, he continues over to where they're gathered.
Daphne stays by the door, her expression slightly worried. "Hey," she offers.
Moros lifts his head, turning his red stare over toward Kavi. His hand closes back into a fist, but stays down at his side; the rise in tension in the big man is noticeable.
Ex goes tense as well, if for different reasons. Her hands clench at her sides, and the glance she flicks toward Kavi is undeniably guilty.
Daphne's brow creases in a worried frown.
"Hey," Kavi replies to Daphne, offering her a slight nod as well. There's already tension in the galliard's posture, but at the reception from the Fury and the cub it increases further, and he rolls his shoulders back in an attempt to hide it, or at least ameliorate the appearance. He gives a nod to Ex, a question in the furrowed brow, but his gaze only rests on her for a moment before turning to the large metis. "I saw you, before. But we didn't... meet. I'm Kavi. Bridge Builder. Adren galliard of the Glass Walkers and member of Fidelity, under Sphinx."
"Moros," rumbles the big man. "Bad Moon Rising. Metis Ahroun of the Black Furies." He snaps his head up, flicking hair away from his face, and meets Kavi's eyes. "Let me take Ex to the Fury house." The request is within a hair's width of being a demand; both hands are closed into fists.
Ex looks from Kavi to Moros, and then back to Kavi.
Daphne takes out her phone, glancing down and looking at it for a moment.
Kavi meets those red eyes with the darkness of his own and his nostrils flare. "Not tonight," he says, without so much as shaking his head, all the tension in his form channeled into the strength of his words.
Moros's upper lip curls into a snarl, baring teeth. He glares at the Adren for several infinitely long seconds... and then drops his eyes with a growl.
"Kavi," Ex says slowly--and then, with a word that sounds--and judging by her expression, /feels/--utterly alien, "Please." A beat. "It's important."
Daphne takes a slow, audible breath.
Kavi holds that gaze, that sense of conviction and confidence, even after Moros looks away. It's Ex's voice that pulls him back, softening his expression as he looks to her. His brow furrows, and he swallows. His gaze ticks, just for an instant, back to the giant, and then he closes the distance between himself and the cub. "Can you... tell me why?" he asks, his voice dropping almost to a whisper.
Several oily locks of hair have fallen back over Moros's face. From behind them, he stares at Kavi, nostrils flaring as he breathes.
Daphne presses herself against the wall by the door, phone held tight in her hand.
Sue has arrived.
Ex's eyes hood a little further, and she shoves her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. This question apparently requires a great deal of consideration, because she doesn't answer for several long, silent seconds. "Because," she says eventually, with clear effort, "Because you want to help me, and protect me, and fuck if I know why. But it /hurts/ you. All of you. So I need--there needs to be a space." She pulls her hands out and gestures in front of her. "I think there needs to be a space. Maybe it will help."
Kavi pulls in a breath at Ex's answer and he holds it as he glances again to Moros. There's suspicion in that gaze, and worry, but it only lasts for a moment and then he's focused again on Ex. He swallows, and lets the breath escape. "I do," he affirms, his voice still quiet. "I do want to help you. To protect you. And. And it doesn't matter if I get hurt, if I can do that." He gives a soft shake of his head, and for a moment, his gaze dips downward. When he returns, his voice drops to a whisper. "But if that's... If you're seeing that. I'm sorry. That's not fair to you." He pulls back a single step and rises to his full height, though still nearly a head shorter than the giant, and turns to face Moros, arms crossing over his chest.
Moros's boots make a light scraping noise against the floor as he shifts his weight. He glowers down at Kavi, his jaw clenched, upper lip curled, tense with the desire to inflict violence upon the Glass Walker.
Daphne's breathing is audible, shallow.
"That's just /stupid/," Ex says toward Kavi. "Of /course/ it matters." She pauses a moment to eye the glaring contest between the two, and then she suddenly straightens. "I'm going to get my stuff."
"D'you have a car, here?" Daphne asks hoarsely. She is looking at Moros, though the giant most likely has his back to her. "Or should I call April or somebody?"
The stairwell door opens, then, Sue stepping out. There's a small note of hesitation, as he notices the gathering.
"Wait," Kavi calls, his voice oddly gentle for the expression and stance, and he doesn't look away from Moros. There's only time to draw in a breath before he speaks again, this time to the metis, and all the gentleness is gone. "She /is/ under my protection," he says, letting those words sink in for just a fraction of a second. "I want what's best for her. For /tonight/ that means she might need space. It doesn't mean she will go with you, or to the Furies. There are other options. /If/ she goes with you for /tonight/, it will be because I think it's best. And it will be because you agree to the terms I give you."
Moros slowly, oh so slowly, tilts his head to one side in that psycho-killer way of his. Long seconds pass, and then he utters a heavy, growling couple of words. "What. Terms."
Ex waits, though she remains turned toward the doorway, even if her attention is on the other two Garou. Sue's arrival brings a sharp slant to the wrinkle in her forehead.
Daphne doesn't move a muscle.
Sue bites his lip, closing the stairwell door behind him and using the hiking pole he carries to hasten his pace over towards Moros. The younger metis stands where he can watch both Kavi, and Moros, and doesn't say anything yet.
"She remains under Glass Walker protection, under /my/ protection," Kavi says. His voice holds no anger, but there remains an edge to it. "She does not /belong/ to you, or to the Furies. She /belongs/ to herself, until /she/ is ready to make a choice about what she wants and needs." His fingers grip his upper arms a little tighter with each condition he gives. "She is not to be punished physically, in any way, at any time, nor threatened with harm. If she wishes to return here, she will be, as soon as is possible. If you have no car, someone will call one of us to come get her. She is not to be prevented from seeing any of us while she is with you. And if and when we decide she needs to return, you will allow it without argument."
"Why doesn't *she* get to decide?" comes a probably unexpected, hoarse-edged voice from near the door.
Daphne swallows, and straightens a fraction.
Sue takes another step, though this one is towards Kavi, and the younger Fury metis is thoughtful. There's something that he seems about ready to say, until Daphne speaks, and then Sue's grip on the hiking pole tightens.
Moros turns his head a bit in Daphne's direction, his eyes shifting her way as well. When he turns back to Kavi, his lips are twisted into a slanted, ugly smile, cynical and hateful, and he gives a little nod. "...Yes. You say she belongs to herself, but you _bind_ her as tightly as any other thrall of the Weaver."
Daphne flinches, quickly turning her face away and seeming almost to shrink into the wall, when the giant looks at her.
Ex remains silent, but she's watching both Moros and Kavi with an undeniable intensity.
"Moros," Sue states, voice carrying a bit of an edge. It's the first thing he's said since he came into the lobby, and there's warning in his voice.
Kavi's gaze ticks to Daphne for just an instant. At the words and expression of the metis before him, Kavi's lip curls from his teeth and it takes obvious effort to still the snarl. He takes in a breath, slow, deep, and lets it out just as carefully. "Do you accept my terms?"
Moros's smile oozes away, his expression hardening, scornful. He lifts his chin, staring down his rather bulbous nose at the Walker, and nods again. "I accept your... _terms_."
Ex appears to take that as permission. She moves for the stairwell again, at a fast clip.
Kavi pages: Before Ex goes, as I think we're going to FTB before we can get there, Kavi would ask her if she accepts those terms, as well.
Long distance to Kavi: Ex nods. "She's appreciative of most of them, finds the 'we can also decide if she should come back' bit kind've irksome, in a teenagery 'I can make my own decisions!' sorta way. She wouldn't put it to him like that of course, but Kavi's perceptive enough to pick it out of whatever unhelpful response she gives.
You paged Kavi with 'And by 'appreciative', I mean 'whoa'.'.
Kavi pages: (;
Sue looks down at the floor, and then crosses over to within conversational distance of his tribemate. Or dangerous distance. Either way, the younger metis' posture is distinctly submissive, and he murmurs something quietly.
Moros's gaze shifts down to the other metis, and his eyes narrow. After a second or two, he looks back over at Kavi.
The galliard takes in another of those deep breaths at Moros's response, and he gives a solid nod. "She's right," he says when Ex disappears up the stairs. "I /do/ care about her. I do want to help her. And I do want to protect her. And I /don't/ care if I get hurt in order to do that." The last seems to carry a different meaning than when he was speaking to Ex, earlier, and his gaze never wavers from the larger man's.
"So do I," growls the big Ahroun. "Want to protect her. And I don't care who _I_ have to hurt to do it." He lowers his head, turns to look at Daphne. "You mentioned a car."
Daphne meets that red gaze for only an instant, before averting her eyes. "Yeah, I-- I can drive you. Or her. Or, or whatever."
Sue takes another step, this time distinctly invading the bigger metis' personal space, and there is a distinct edge in the philodox's expression. "Moros, _enough_. Understand?" Sue says. His chin juts upwards. "We all have the _same_ goal in mind here, and that's what's best for Ex. And what's _not_ best for Ex is a war being started over her. So, _enough_."
Sue kicks out and kills 'distinctly'
Kavi's eyes narrow, but he nods, and turns to head up the stairs.
"Thank you." Moros offers this, brusque though it is, to Daphne. As for Sue, he gives the smaller Fury a bit of an eyeball, then snorts. "This? This isn't war. No one got hurt."
"And no one will, do you _understand_ me?" Sue says, stepping further into Moros' personal space. His tone doesn't gentle very much. "It is _not_ necessary to make threats over the matter." And then all of the initiative that Sue's been showing stops, and posture slumps, small, defeated, and very plainly showing his throat to the Ahroun. It's a very good impression of ears back and submissive, for homid, nostrils flaring out with each breath.
Daphne watches them, her own posture guarded and tense.
Moros considers Sue for a bit before giving a grunt that acknowledges the other's words even if it doesn't give much hope that he agrees. Then he turns toward the door, clearly eager to be away.
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5 From: Moros At: Sun Jul 22 02:29:25 2012 (Conn)
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : *Black_Furies
Cc : Harper, Twitch, Ex
Subject: It's an EX!
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Ex the cub is visiting the Black Furies at their home! (Mainly thanks to Moros being persistant and a little rude, but whatevs.)
Caveats: Ex is still considered to be under Walker protection. If she wants to go back to the Walkers at any time, she's to be returned to them. If THEY want her back at any time, she's to be returned to them, (Moros isn't at all happy about this.) She's also not to be harmed OR threatened with harm. (Moros is willing to back this up, violently if need be.)
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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:
Devon
Obvious exits:
Stairs Salem's Apartment Out
Tim has arrived.
Devon isn't on duty watching the doors tonight, but he is in the lobby. Seated on one of the chairs, slouched, really, he pushes a pencil against a notepad. His brow is furrowed, nothing near a true frown, but troubled all the same.
Ex pushes heavily through the stairwell door, looking decidedly irritable and antsy. She comes to an abrupt stop when she spies Devon, and her eyes narrow. There's a brief glance back the way she just came.
Devon looks up when the stairwell door opens, turning enough to look at Ex. He offers her a half smile, small and fairly apologetic. For some reason. "Hey," he offers up for a greeting, turning back to the idle scribbles and scratches of writing in his notebook.
Tim appears in the camera, waving with a slim, hand-rolled cigarette and bobbing his eyebrows in a hello. After a moment, he's buzzed in, and pauses as the door shuts behind him to take in the ground floor's occupants. His brief glance at Ex holds no recognition for her, and so says to Devon, "Hey," in a familiar manner.
Ex does not smile in return, but neither does she flee. When Tim enters, however, she gives him a narrow eyed, deeply suspicious look.
Devon glances up at the front door opening this time, then stands when Tim enters. "Hey," he replies with a glance toward Ex. He nods to indicate it's okay, then returns his attention to the Strider. "Not... sure we were ever properly introduced... But I sort of recognize you. So, you're obviously not a Glass Walker."
Tim squints at Devon (either he's not paying attention to Ex's look, or he's more concerned with the cliath's response). He laughs after a second, a sort of 'you almost had me there', wry laugh. "I get it, I get it--fuck with a guy on his auspice moon." He takes a drag of the cigarette and gestures towards the stairwell. The smoke is sweet and fragrant, like pipe tobacco, sandalwood, and cloves. "Jack around?"
Ex continues eyeing Tim with deep suspicion. Her hands clench tightly at her sides.
Devon grins slightly, as though he wishes he were joking. "I..." He glances toward the stairwell with a sigh, flicks his gaze to Ex, then settles back to Tim. "...Don't know who he is."
Tim's amusement fades into scrutiny. "You...don't know who Jack is?" His rubs one temple with his free hand. "Dev, did you, hit your head, or, get lost in an Umbral Realm, or somthing? Make a deal with an unscrupulous spirit, maybe?" He flicks another look at Ex, as if she might hold some key to explaining Devon's behavior to him.
The sound of the door buzzing open is heard, and it almost takes the entirety of the time allowed to be unlucked for it to actually be pushed in from outside. A tall man walks in with slow, careful steps, eyes on the floor. His clothes are stained with black, but fortunately much of it looks dried.
Ex's distrustful scrutiny of Tim continues--no help there--until Danny suddenly walks in. She scoots back a sharp step, and actually pulls her upper lip away from her teeth.
Devon, without looking at Ex, lifts a staying hand toward her, palm open and without aggression. He glances toward the door and Danny's abrupt entrance, mouth opening a little then closing. "No," he says carefully, brow furrowing when he looks at Tim again. "No, I don't know who Jack is. And I didn't... do anything. I... just don't... remember them." Then back to Danny, his brows raise slightly and the notebook and pencil is offered to him without comment.
Tim chews on what Devon's said, then is distracted by Danny's entrance and appearance, coupled with Ex's reaction. "You know *this* guy at least?"
Danny lifts his eyes from the floor as he draws nearer. They find the person he recognizes, but he himself looks a bit off. He looks at Devon hollowly, eyes sunken in. And then the smell arrives with him. Sharp, metallic and warm, with undertones of smoke and alcohol. That's not mud on his clothes and hands: it's very distinctly red this close up. And the kin is covered with it: dried and sticky. Stiffly, he takes the pencil from Devon. Words smeared with red are scrawled across the page in halting movements. He pulls a bloodied folding knife out of his pocket, sets it on the pad of paper next to his words, and hands it back to Devon. Then his eyes flicker to Tim and Ex, his expression helpless.
Ex's eyes round out for a moment, and then she abruptly shoves one hand into her pocket, and steps back until her back is touching the stairway door.
"I know you, too," Devon says to Tim, shaking his head. "The girl is Ex, a cub. He," the Ahroun nods to Danny, "is kin. Not to my tribe obviously. Ex," another nod goes to the Strider. "This is Tim, he's on our team. He's... Safe..." The word trails as he takes in the kinsman again, then looks over the scrawling, then back to Danny. Wordlessly, he turns the notebook over to Tim so the Adren can read it as well.
Tim's head jerks back as the smell hits him, and he quickly takes a drag from the cigarette in response. He looks down at the notebook, then back at Danny. He's some time in replying. "Okay then." He straightens. "The normal kind, or the ah, not-normal kind?" he asks the Kinsman.
Danny swallows visibly. It makes the scar on his throat undulate in a disturbing way. He glances once more at Devon, shifting his weight. Another glance is given to Ex as she back against the wall, and he himself takes a step back. To Tim, he carefully mouthes the word "Normal", as well as follows it up with the hand sign, movements jerky.
Ex abruptly jerks her switchblade out of her pocket and lifts it, blade downward at a stabbing angle.
Devon moves enough to put himself between Ex and Danny, flicking a cautioning look at Tim while his head tilts toward the cub. However it's the kinsman he speaks to, without actually speaking. A finger is pointed at the man while his brows tick upward in question.
Taking in Devon's look, Tim half-turns towards Ex and says, "It's fine. We're not gonna mess with you. He's just run into some, ah, trouble, and we'll probably have to take care of it." A look back towards cliath and Kinsman, then back at Ex. He's staying quite still. "Your name's Ecks?"
There's a faint twitch as Ex brandishes a blade, and he looks at her somewhat strangely. It's hard to tell if the blank, owlish stare is one of fear or sadness, or perhaps both. Then Devon once more catches his attention, and the kin's lips part briefly as his face falls. For a while, he only stares dumbly at the finger pointed at him, then his hands come up, beseeching, brows scrunching over his eyes as he silently pleads for something, not answering Devon's question.
Ex doesn't lower the knife one inch, though her attention does shift to Tim, and a little something seems to ease in the tension in her shoulders. "Ex," she corrects. And then, to demonstrate, she makes an 'X' shape in the air. "Why the fuck does he smell like that?"
"If it's true," Devon says quietly. "We can help." His gaze flicks to Tim, indicating the other in that party of 'we'.
"Well," Tim's gaze travels back to Danny, "Looks like he's covered in blood, and needs some help sorting out whatever the hell just happened to him." He has one last pull, then fishes a tin out of one jacket pocket and stows the remains. To Devon, he says, "That's really Rina and Salem's department--they around?" He makes the gestures of someone texting on a phone, giving 'around' a more relative meaning.
Danny's gaze flicks from one Garou to the next, the kinfolk still wearing the the slightly blank, owlish stare of someone who could have very possibly sustained brain damage at some point in his life. Devon's encouraging words cause the tall man to sag a little in relief, and it's obvious why. There's definite trust in that expression. He heaves a sigh, deflating somewhat, his shoulders sagging a bit. He mouthes the names Rina and Salem, committing them to memory. Almost absently, he begins to scratch at the dried blood on his arms.
Ex lowers the switchblade to her side. She does not, however, put it away. "What'd he write?"
"I don't..." Devon starts to say, before he catches Tim's meaning. His phone is pulled out and the contact list is brought up and given consideration. His teeth catch his lower lip for a moment before he starts tapping out a text.
"Says he's got a dead body in his car," Tim replies in an off-handed manner. He's surveying Danny, maybe to make sure he doesn't do anything sudden. After a beat, he adds, "Which is a problem way more often than it should be," sounding tired.
Hearing the words he'd written doesn't do Danny any favors, and he blanches a little when Tim speaks them. His brows once more scrunch over his eyes and he shifts his weight again, outwardly uneasy and confused.
Ex stares at Tim for a moment longer, before she says, flatly, "What. The fuck."
"I... think I sent it to the right people," Devon says generally, lowering his phone again. He glances toward Ex and offers a small shrug. "It's just something... It sucks, but we try to... clean up messes."
Tim gestures at Devon's notebook and raises his eyebrows at Danny. "Can you tell us what happened? We'll, you know, shred and burn the pages." He looks back at Ex, frowning a little as he takes her appearance in. "You look kind of old for a cub. How old were you when you had your First?"
Danny nods at Tim's suggestion, glad to have a focus it seems. Once he has the notebook once more, however, he's a little more hesitant to recount the tale. He writes carefully and hesitantly, stepping away and to the side to think.
Ex's jaw tightens hard enough that one can imagine the teeth grinding. "Why's it matter?" she asks Tim. "It doesn't matter."
"He's not judging," Devon says, turning to regard Ex while allowing Danny a chance to write. "He's just... you are a little older than usual. And he'd like to know more about you."
"I was an older cub." Tim holds up a hand in self-defense and nods at Devon in agreement. "In fact, one of the Sept Packs forced me to First, because they were afraid I wouldn't." He seems to think this will be a useful explanation to give. "So, just curious, is all. Never met someone who got as far as I did."
Danny looks up after a moment, lips tight with concern as he finally hands the paper over to the one Garou he knows. There's not much written up, it seems, but it certainly took long enough. He watches Tim and Ex as they converse, once more shifting his weight and giving furtive glances towards the door.
Ex inhales slowly, and her eyes flick away from Tim. "...Fourteen," she says, though it's quiet enough that it's rather difficult to hear. "I think."
Devon takes the notebook, looking away from Ex and Tim to Danny. He watches the kinsman for a moment, as if searching him for something, then looks down to read what's been written. He frowns, mouth opening a little. A glance sets itself to Danny for a long minute, then returns to the paper. "Okay," the Ahroun says, slowly, passing the notebook off for Tim to see next.
"Fourteen?" Tim gives Devon a 'you could stand to explain shit to me' look, accepting the notebook as he does so. "So are you one of theirs, or did they find you?" His voice trails off as he reads what Danny's written, and his expression goes very still. His eyes travel up to Danny from the notebook, whom he watches for a very long moment. "Are you for serious with this? What, was it a vampire or a fomori or something?" he asks, holding up the notebook for emphasis, then handing it back.
Danny chews almost hungrily on his bottom lip as they mull over the notebook, once more glancing at the door. Tim's question causes him to blink, confused. He points at the notebook, nodding that indeed he was serious. Then he looks to Devon. He mouths words, hands moving to sign to his friend in an attempt to communicate. His lips slowly form the words "You will help" and his expression is questioning, beseeching.
Unhelpfully, Ex shakes her head to both questions directed at her. "Fezzik kidnapped me, and I'm not a Glass Walker." She watches Danny sidelong now, still looking suspicious.
Devon pulls out his phone after nodding to Danny, frowning faintly at the screen. "Somehow," he says with a sigh and a shrug. "Either she's busy, or that's not the Rina Tim's talking about. Only one on my phone though." Shaking his head, he looks at the Adren. "I've only met Ex a couple of times, briefly. I don't even know much about her and I /remember/ her. --Should I tell Rina what's really happened? I was kind of... vague. Before."
Tim rubs the bridge of his nose. "No," he tells Devon. "Don't want to risk it on an open phone. Vague and coded is better." Then he's addressing Danny. "Look, it's not that we're not gonna help, I'm just trying to understand why getting mad at someone got you to knife them, seeing as you're not, you know," he gestures to include Devon, Ex, and himself.
Danny grins suddenly and a little awkwardly at what Ex says, particularly around the name she gives. Either he thinks it's a goofy name or recognizes it from The Princess Bride. Then his face falls again as Tim gets his attention once more. His hazel eyes drop to the floor, and he shakes his head. A look of concentration crosses his face, and he reaches for the notebook once more. He scribbles "No, I am a nice person!", underlining it once or twice, then looking at Devon. Tell them, he mouths.
Ex stares at Tim, and then turns her head to /stare/ at Danny. "The fuck?"
"This... that's really not Danny's thing," Devon says. "Seriously." He sighs at his phone and starts another text, brows pulling together in that troubled expression again.
Tim rubs the back of his neck, and asides to Devon, "Nothing on Sense Wyrm, either. Not sure what that leaves, aside from him cracking up somehow." He watches Danny, then takes a moment to look over at Ex. "It could be a lot of things. Some mundane...some not really mundane. Just the same, stay, you know...over there."
Danny blinks at Devon's distraction. He moves to retrieve his knife, frowning down at his bloodstained, slightly shaking hands. Roughly, he rubs one palm and his knife on his jeans, as if to cleanse himself of the blood. But it's really not doing any good.
Ex shakes her head once, roughly, then turns and pushes through the stairway door. On the bright side, she's not any closer to the potentially murderous kin.
Devon stares at his phone a moment longer, then returns it to his pocket. "I'm not sure what else to do, if she doesn't respond," he says with a look to Tim.
Tim grunts, takes out his own phone (an OG Droid), and pulls up his contact list. "I think I've got someone who can help out. She's Kin, so it's safe." He gives Danny a measuring look, then tells Devon, "But a theurge has to have a look at him. Whoever you can find. Have your Tribe tell you who to go to if you don't, ah, remember anyone. Make sure to clean him up if you don't let him stay here." He ducks into the stairwell, presumably for his conversation to happen in private.
Danny watches as Ex storms away, a little frown on his face. He was certainly making friends tonight. He looks from Devon to Tim and back again. He takes a step towards the door, then away from it, anxious, but it's hard to tell if he wants to bolt or go hide his van somewhere safer.
----
Moros arrives scowling, staring up at the Walkers' building as if it were engaging in a personal vendetta against him. He leans on the front door buzzer for several long seconds before letting up.
Tonight, Ex has, more or less, camped out in the stairwell. She's crouched against the stairway doorframe, with the door itself propped open with one foot, and is currently reading the newspaper. Except she doesn't really look like she's reading it so much as glaring a hole through the print. The buzzer has her jerking her head up, narrowing her eyes, and looking toward the office where, presumably, the currently on-duty Walker will buzz the newcomer in.
Moros, upon being let in, gets right to the point. "I want to see--" He cuts himself off, spotting Ex, and his mouth twitches in something that's not quite a grimace and not quite a smile, either. "Never mind." Flicking his hair back with a jerk of his head, he approaches the cub.
Ex shoves herself out of the doorway, newspaper abandoned, and lets the door's weight carry it closed. "/Hey/. I wasn't sure if the horse-feet guy was going to tell you or not." She doesn't seem happy or relieved to see him, exactly. Intent, perhaps. Certainly energized.
Moros stops well short of arm's reach of the skinny young woman and tilts his head to one side, brow furrowed and bemused. "Tell me what?"
Ex blinks at Moros for a moment, and then rakes her fingers over her face; especially forcefully over one of those cheek scars. "Fuck's sake," she mutters. "Well, okay, if he didn't tell you then--" She inhales sharply. "I told him to tell you and the cheerful girl I wanted to talk to you."
Moros shifts his weight as he considers this, head still cocked. "Then let's talk," he says after a bit.
There's a knock at the door, tentative, uncertain.
Ex glances toward the office, and then back to the stairwell. Her jaw tightens. "I want to know about the Furies. Horse-feet guy kept telling me I should ask you guys. So, you're all girls except when you're not, and you...protect people? Except when you don't, 'cause wherever Horse-feet guy came from was /fucked/." The knock has her jerking her head toward the door again, but again, she lets the Walker-on-duty take care of that.
Daphne gives the stranger a wary nod, and slips in--and then halts, swallowing, when she sees Moros.
Moros looks over as Daphne enters, staring coldly and fixedly for a few moments before turning back to Ex. "The Black Furies," he tells her, "are protectors of the Wyld, the deep wildernesses, and Gaia's sacred places." He gives another glance toward Daphne. "We also have a strong tradition of feminism and women's rights, since the Wyrm enjoys corrupting humanity through demeaning and debasing women." He pauses in this lecture, blinking once, and stares down at Ex for a moment before adding, "That's the short of it."
Daphne takes a slow breath at the tall one's look, straightening herself a fraction under that glare, her cheeks flushing.
Ex's gaze ticks back from Daphne to Moros. "So," she says slowly. "So, that's feminism and women's rights the way normal humans think of it? It's not some weird werewolf version? Just, you know, hey, voting good, abuse bad?"
Moros smiles crookedly, lips pressed tight. "Voting good, abuse bad, rape culture _very_ bad." The smile vanishes then, dropping like a stone off his brutish face. "The shit Sue's dealing with, the shit _I_ dealt with, is because a lot of our _sisters_," -- here the word comes out in a sharp, growling kind of way -- "get so involved with protecting women that they forget that _men_ are part of Gaia, too, and their rightful anger at what some men do extends to anyone who doesn't own a uterus and a set of ovaries."
Daphne stays silent, frozen; not afraid, but watchful.
"Rape...culture?" Ex echoes, looking very out of her element. The rest of it, though, has her straightening. "Yeah that's /fucked/. So." The energy becomes more subdued, though it's still quite visible in her eyes, and the tension of her muscles. "So how come you two are still Furies?"
Moros tilts his head, his red gaze sliding back over toward Daphne. His brow furrows again, as if he's not quite sure what to make of her. "Because we're Metis," he answers Ex after a moment. He sniffs, nose scrunching. "The tribe keeps its Metis sons."
"I think maybe she means, why not renounce?" Daphne's voice is raspy, like that of a lifelong smoker; damaged.
"Leave," Ex elaborates. "If that's what 'renounce' means. I mean, if shit is so fucked, why would you stay?"
Moros's eyes narrow. He looks from one woman to the other, greasy hair half-fallen back over his face. "Do I look like a coward?" he demands.
Daphne swallows. "Of course not," she says quietly.
"You look like Fezzik," Ex replies. Her tone suggests that such a thing runs contrary to cowardice. "Bet you could break anyone in half."
Moros is mollified by Daphne's response and obviously confused by Ex's. He wrinkles his nose at her, head tilting. After a beat he grunts. "I am a Black Fury," he says slowly. "My sisters may be wrong-headed and corrupted by their own hatreds and prejudices, but that doesn't mean that the sacred places don't need to be protected, or that the Wyrm's corruption of human society doesn't need to be... corrected."
Daphne swallows. "Always," she says softly.
"/Fezzik/," Ex repeats. "You don't know the Princess Bride?"
Moros gives Daphne another look, distracted by her even though the majority of his attention is clearly on Ex. "No," he says, answering the cub.
"It's a movie," Daphne says quietly. "About a fairytale. A fantasy story. Really good flick."
"It's a book too," Ex says. "They're kind've interchangeable. Okay, okay. Fezzik is this really big guy. He's a giant. And he's a good guy, but everyone sees that he's big and they're assholes. And he learns to fight, right? And he takes on lots of people at once, because he's so big and strong it's the only way they can set up a fair match, but he still beats everyone. And that's before the story starts. Fezzik," she declares, "is fucking awesome. And even if he was scared of something, he wouldn't run away." There's a pause here, as she curls her fingers against her pant-leg. "But it's not running away to just stop putting up with shit, is it?" That seems like a genuine question.
Moros flicks back greasy hair and grins in a hard, ugly, humorless kind of way. "No, but it's cowardice to run away when you might be able to _change_ things."
"I'm sorry about-- the way I freaked out," Daphne says softly. "I didn't know who you were."
Ex inhales slowly, and frowns at the floor. "...Okay, so, if I was to go with you guys, and I decided it wasn't going to work, would you guys kill me?"
Daphne looks appalled, as she glances to the odd young woman.
Moros is about to answer Daphne's apology when Ex asks her question. He frowns, tilting his head at the cub. He stares at her for a few moments, then lowers his head a bit and steps closer to her. He looms, hair hanging in his face again. "I want you for the Furies," he says frankly. "But I want you in a place where you _do_ fit more. I want you away from these walls and cameras and _Weaver_." He practically snarls the word. "I want to see you Rited, and I want to see you tearing out the throats of the people who did what they did to you. I do _not_ want you dead."
Daphne steps back, leaning against the wall by the door.
Ex looks up at him, though her eyes remain hooded, and for all that she tries to match the stare, she has to settle for his nose, because she can't quite keep her eyes on his. "I want," she says, very slowly, and then stops. Her forehead wrinkles. "...I need to get out of here. I shouldn't be this close to Kavi and Rina and the little kid. It's fucked for everyone."
Daphne's brow furrows. "What's wrong with Kavi and Rina? Who's the little kid?"
Moros grimaces, looking conflicted. Stepping back from Ex, he turns to stare toward the office, the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist.
Ex shakes her head sharply, and looks sidelong toward Daphne. That hand that was curled against her leg now twists into her very short hair, gripping tightly. "Nothing's wrong with Kavi and Rina. The little kid's just fucking /stupid/. But I'm /fucked up/. And I--" She inhales sharply. "There's nothing wrong with Kavi and Rina, okay?"
"They are too, you know," Daphne says quietly, watching Ex. "Lotsa people. Have scars."
Moros's hands open and close restlessly; his eyes move from the office to Daphne, his expression pensive.
Ex's shoulders hunch. "Yeah, that's the /problem/," she says, low, almost muttered.
Kavi has arrived.
Daphne stays against the wall, by the door. "Why is it a problem?" she asks in that quiet rasp. "Don't you... wanna be around people who can understand?"
Moros remains silent, hulking and broody, his head slightly lowered as he stands, only a few paces from Ex.
"Understand?" Ex echoes, in a tone that's half brittle laugh. "/No one's/ gonna fucking understand, and I can't fucking understand them. Okay? What does understanding have to do with anything? No, I..." She swallows something. "I gotta go."
"The Furies have--" Daphne swallows, and glances down. "They're good, too, at--" She slants a look to Moros. "Understanding."
Moros's hair covers his face like a greasy curtain; his eyes are narrowed, his expression (what can be seen of it) troubled.
Ex says, heatedly, "I don't /need/ anyone's understanding. But I do need to get away from here."
The stairwell door pushes open, and Kavi steps through. His steps falter as he sees those present in the lobby, but after that brief hesitation, he continues over to where they're gathered.
Daphne stays by the door, her expression slightly worried. "Hey," she offers.
Moros lifts his head, turning his red stare over toward Kavi. His hand closes back into a fist, but stays down at his side; the rise in tension in the big man is noticeable.
Ex goes tense as well, if for different reasons. Her hands clench at her sides, and the glance she flicks toward Kavi is undeniably guilty.
Daphne's brow creases in a worried frown.
"Hey," Kavi replies to Daphne, offering her a slight nod as well. There's already tension in the galliard's posture, but at the reception from the Fury and the cub it increases further, and he rolls his shoulders back in an attempt to hide it, or at least ameliorate the appearance. He gives a nod to Ex, a question in the furrowed brow, but his gaze only rests on her for a moment before turning to the large metis. "I saw you, before. But we didn't... meet. I'm Kavi. Bridge Builder. Adren galliard of the Glass Walkers and member of Fidelity, under Sphinx."
"Moros," rumbles the big man. "Bad Moon Rising. Metis Ahroun of the Black Furies." He snaps his head up, flicking hair away from his face, and meets Kavi's eyes. "Let me take Ex to the Fury house." The request is within a hair's width of being a demand; both hands are closed into fists.
Ex looks from Kavi to Moros, and then back to Kavi.
Daphne takes out her phone, glancing down and looking at it for a moment.
Kavi meets those red eyes with the darkness of his own and his nostrils flare. "Not tonight," he says, without so much as shaking his head, all the tension in his form channeled into the strength of his words.
Moros's upper lip curls into a snarl, baring teeth. He glares at the Adren for several infinitely long seconds... and then drops his eyes with a growl.
"Kavi," Ex says slowly--and then, with a word that sounds--and judging by her expression, /feels/--utterly alien, "Please." A beat. "It's important."
Daphne takes a slow, audible breath.
Kavi holds that gaze, that sense of conviction and confidence, even after Moros looks away. It's Ex's voice that pulls him back, softening his expression as he looks to her. His brow furrows, and he swallows. His gaze ticks, just for an instant, back to the giant, and then he closes the distance between himself and the cub. "Can you... tell me why?" he asks, his voice dropping almost to a whisper.
Several oily locks of hair have fallen back over Moros's face. From behind them, he stares at Kavi, nostrils flaring as he breathes.
Daphne presses herself against the wall by the door, phone held tight in her hand.
Sue has arrived.
Ex's eyes hood a little further, and she shoves her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. This question apparently requires a great deal of consideration, because she doesn't answer for several long, silent seconds. "Because," she says eventually, with clear effort, "Because you want to help me, and protect me, and fuck if I know why. But it /hurts/ you. All of you. So I need--there needs to be a space." She pulls her hands out and gestures in front of her. "I think there needs to be a space. Maybe it will help."
Kavi pulls in a breath at Ex's answer and he holds it as he glances again to Moros. There's suspicion in that gaze, and worry, but it only lasts for a moment and then he's focused again on Ex. He swallows, and lets the breath escape. "I do," he affirms, his voice still quiet. "I do want to help you. To protect you. And. And it doesn't matter if I get hurt, if I can do that." He gives a soft shake of his head, and for a moment, his gaze dips downward. When he returns, his voice drops to a whisper. "But if that's... If you're seeing that. I'm sorry. That's not fair to you." He pulls back a single step and rises to his full height, though still nearly a head shorter than the giant, and turns to face Moros, arms crossing over his chest.
Moros's boots make a light scraping noise against the floor as he shifts his weight. He glowers down at Kavi, his jaw clenched, upper lip curled, tense with the desire to inflict violence upon the Glass Walker.
Daphne's breathing is audible, shallow.
"That's just /stupid/," Ex says toward Kavi. "Of /course/ it matters." She pauses a moment to eye the glaring contest between the two, and then she suddenly straightens. "I'm going to get my stuff."
"D'you have a car, here?" Daphne asks hoarsely. She is looking at Moros, though the giant most likely has his back to her. "Or should I call April or somebody?"
The stairwell door opens, then, Sue stepping out. There's a small note of hesitation, as he notices the gathering.
"Wait," Kavi calls, his voice oddly gentle for the expression and stance, and he doesn't look away from Moros. There's only time to draw in a breath before he speaks again, this time to the metis, and all the gentleness is gone. "She /is/ under my protection," he says, letting those words sink in for just a fraction of a second. "I want what's best for her. For /tonight/ that means she might need space. It doesn't mean she will go with you, or to the Furies. There are other options. /If/ she goes with you for /tonight/, it will be because I think it's best. And it will be because you agree to the terms I give you."
Moros slowly, oh so slowly, tilts his head to one side in that psycho-killer way of his. Long seconds pass, and then he utters a heavy, growling couple of words. "What. Terms."
Ex waits, though she remains turned toward the doorway, even if her attention is on the other two Garou. Sue's arrival brings a sharp slant to the wrinkle in her forehead.
Daphne doesn't move a muscle.
Sue bites his lip, closing the stairwell door behind him and using the hiking pole he carries to hasten his pace over towards Moros. The younger metis stands where he can watch both Kavi, and Moros, and doesn't say anything yet.
"She remains under Glass Walker protection, under /my/ protection," Kavi says. His voice holds no anger, but there remains an edge to it. "She does not /belong/ to you, or to the Furies. She /belongs/ to herself, until /she/ is ready to make a choice about what she wants and needs." His fingers grip his upper arms a little tighter with each condition he gives. "She is not to be punished physically, in any way, at any time, nor threatened with harm. If she wishes to return here, she will be, as soon as is possible. If you have no car, someone will call one of us to come get her. She is not to be prevented from seeing any of us while she is with you. And if and when we decide she needs to return, you will allow it without argument."
"Why doesn't *she* get to decide?" comes a probably unexpected, hoarse-edged voice from near the door.
Daphne swallows, and straightens a fraction.
Sue takes another step, though this one is towards Kavi, and the younger Fury metis is thoughtful. There's something that he seems about ready to say, until Daphne speaks, and then Sue's grip on the hiking pole tightens.
Moros turns his head a bit in Daphne's direction, his eyes shifting her way as well. When he turns back to Kavi, his lips are twisted into a slanted, ugly smile, cynical and hateful, and he gives a little nod. "...Yes. You say she belongs to herself, but you _bind_ her as tightly as any other thrall of the Weaver."
Daphne flinches, quickly turning her face away and seeming almost to shrink into the wall, when the giant looks at her.
Ex remains silent, but she's watching both Moros and Kavi with an undeniable intensity.
"Moros," Sue states, voice carrying a bit of an edge. It's the first thing he's said since he came into the lobby, and there's warning in his voice.
Kavi's gaze ticks to Daphne for just an instant. At the words and expression of the metis before him, Kavi's lip curls from his teeth and it takes obvious effort to still the snarl. He takes in a breath, slow, deep, and lets it out just as carefully. "Do you accept my terms?"
Moros's smile oozes away, his expression hardening, scornful. He lifts his chin, staring down his rather bulbous nose at the Walker, and nods again. "I accept your... _terms_."
Ex appears to take that as permission. She moves for the stairwell again, at a fast clip.
Kavi pages: Before Ex goes, as I think we're going to FTB before we can get there, Kavi would ask her if she accepts those terms, as well.
Long distance to Kavi: Ex nods. "She's appreciative of most of them, finds the 'we can also decide if she should come back' bit kind've irksome, in a teenagery 'I can make my own decisions!' sorta way. She wouldn't put it to him like that of course, but Kavi's perceptive enough to pick it out of whatever unhelpful response she gives.
You paged Kavi with 'And by 'appreciative', I mean 'whoa'.'.
Kavi pages: (;
Sue looks down at the floor, and then crosses over to within conversational distance of his tribemate. Or dangerous distance. Either way, the younger metis' posture is distinctly submissive, and he murmurs something quietly.
Moros's gaze shifts down to the other metis, and his eyes narrow. After a second or two, he looks back over at Kavi.
The galliard takes in another of those deep breaths at Moros's response, and he gives a solid nod. "She's right," he says when Ex disappears up the stairs. "I /do/ care about her. I do want to help her. And I do want to protect her. And I /don't/ care if I get hurt in order to do that." The last seems to carry a different meaning than when he was speaking to Ex, earlier, and his gaze never wavers from the larger man's.
"So do I," growls the big Ahroun. "Want to protect her. And I don't care who _I_ have to hurt to do it." He lowers his head, turns to look at Daphne. "You mentioned a car."
Daphne meets that red gaze for only an instant, before averting her eyes. "Yeah, I-- I can drive you. Or her. Or, or whatever."
Sue takes another step, this time distinctly invading the bigger metis' personal space, and there is a distinct edge in the philodox's expression. "Moros, _enough_. Understand?" Sue says. His chin juts upwards. "We all have the _same_ goal in mind here, and that's what's best for Ex. And what's _not_ best for Ex is a war being started over her. So, _enough_."
Kavi's eyes narrow, but he nods, and turns to head up the stairs.
"Thank you." Moros offers this, brusque though it is, to Daphne. As for Sue, he gives the smaller Fury a bit of an eyeball, then snorts. "This? This isn't war. No one got hurt."
"And no one will, do you _understand_ me?" Sue says, stepping further into Moros' personal space. His tone doesn't gentle very much. "It is _not_ necessary to make threats over the matter." And then all of the initiative that Sue's been showing stops, and posture slumps, small, defeated, and very plainly showing his throat to the Ahroun. It's a very good impression of ears back and submissive, for homid, nostrils flaring out with each breath.
Daphne watches them, her own posture guarded and tense.
Moros considers Sue for a bit before giving a grunt that acknowledges the other's words even if it doesn't give much hope that he agrees. Then he turns toward the door, clearly eager to be away.
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5 From: Moros At: Sun Jul 22 02:29:25 2012 (Conn)
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : *Black_Furies
Cc : Harper, Twitch, Ex
Subject: It's an EX!
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Ex the cub is visiting the Black Furies at their home! (Mainly thanks to Moros being persistant and a little rude, but whatevs.)
Caveats: Ex is still considered to be under Walker protection. If she wants to go back to the Walkers at any time, she's to be returned to them. If THEY want her back at any time, she's to be returned to them, (Moros isn't at all happy about this.) She's also not to be harmed OR threatened with harm. (Moros is willing to back this up, violently if need be.)
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