"Fuck your pancakes."
Jul. 23rd, 2012 06:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretEx meets Dagny (sort of), and then has a chat with Moros.
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6 From: Quidnunc At: Tue Jul 24 08:11:32 2012
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : Quidnunc
Subject: Fractured Dreams
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When you next wake, you recall fragments of a dream: hazy and faint, as though even those parts you remember were experienced through a mist that dulls all the senses.
You find yourself on a swing, a swing suspended from the tallest tree you have ever seen. You're not sure how you got there, but you are already high up and swinging forwards, rising up and up. You feel yourself changing. You have feathers; you have scales; your colours change. The air smells of blue... no, of prickles and points... and it sounds like chocolate. You look down, and you have fins instead of feet. Wings flap from your back, trailing in the wind of your passage.
You swing higher still, and your tentacles cling tight to the swing. Your head is massive, lolling from your five foot neck. One of your eyeballs crawls away. Your teeth are singing. The colour yellow keeps jeering at you.
A final image reaches you, dimly, through the mist, just as it fades into darkness: a girl with silvery-white hair, in a silvery-white dress, giggling as she leaps from a moving swing. Her clear, childlike voice echoes in your ears as you wake: "There is no wrong, there is no right, there is only dark and bright. I did not come, I did not go, I cannot change but only show. You cannot win, you cannot lose, but where to stop? That you can choose."
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Edgewood House: Meadow(#1390RJh)
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Contents:
Devon
Dagny
Moros
Sue
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Dagny turns and beams at Sue, slinging her arm around his shoulder both as a show of affection, and also a gentle offer for him to lean on her for walking support. "Well then, let's get you boys fed. Flapjacks it is, unless your friend here doesn' like pancakes." She turns and smiles to Moros again. A glance between the taller metis and Devon brings Dag to skew her lips sideways. "I'm not gonna have to break out the kiddie table, am I? You boys gonna behave?"
Devon shakes his head before prying his attention off Moros. "No," he replies. His brows push together and a final furtive glance is angled toward the Fury Ahroun. "I... think I'll pass. Actually. It... Nice to meet you Dag. Sue, see y'round." A backward step is taken, and he turns on the second to start back for the road.
Moros glances at Devon, sizing the Walker up for a moment before giving a shrug and turning away; he clearly gives no fucks about Devon. Dagny gets another look, his expression suggesting that he's still trying to figure her out. He jerks his head back, flicking away the greasy black hair, and says, "I'm fine with pancakes."
Moros goes through the front door and enters the house.
Moros has left.
Sue goes through the front door and enters the house.
Sue has left.
Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RJh)
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Contents:
Dagny
Sue
Moros
Laila
Information Board
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
Sightless-Faith enters the house through the front door.
Sightless-Faith has arrived.
A skinny, black-furred wolf slinks into view at the far side of the meadow, and then starts puppy-plodding her way toward the gathering. She has a sketchbook clenched between her teeth (poor book), and her ears are twisted back. Her movements are ungainly at best, clearly uncoordinated. When they move inside, so does she, at a somewhat faster, and even more uncoordinated clip.
Keir is already inside, sprawled on the couch. Lord knows if he's asleep or not, but either way he's got an MP3 player plopped on his chest, a single earbud in, and it's loud enough so the very faint strains of classic rock can be heard.
Slinging her arm underneath Sue's, Dagny half-carries the metis against her side and up into the house, gently letting him go near a comfy arm chair. Spotting Keir on the couch she walks over and gently taps his forehead for a moment, alerting him to new presences. Out of the corner of her eye she spots the lupus and says, "Wipe your paws, please." Afterwards, she slips toward the kitchen, still well within ear shot and not too far to talk to the group.
Sue doesn't object to the help, and it lets the younger Fury get into the house at a pace reasonably approaching everyone else, and then he sits down not in the available chair, but on the floor in front of it. Rogue gets a look, and then a further look as Sue recognises her, but the slightly cheerful grin on his face doesn't actually go away. "Hi Ex." Another pause. "Hi, Keir-rhya."
Moros ducks his head as he passes through the doorway, coming in at the rear of the group. His head's lowered again, red eyes narrow behind the overhang of hair (yes, it's back over his face again), mouth pulled into a slight scowl. He's watching the interaction between Dagny and Sue especially, though Ex's arrival distracts him toward her, especially when Sue names her.
Keir flinches away from the tapping, swatting at the prodding hand with surprising reflexes. It's not hard, though, and he sits up with a 'mmf' and tugs the earbuds free. "Sue," he greets, and it's a bit quizzical, apparently associating him with the awakening.
Rogue looks toward Dagny at the instructions, and her ears twist back a little further. She does attempt to scrape one paw across the step before entering, though it wouldn't have had much effect even if her paws were particularly muddy. Once inside, she drops onto her haunches right near the door, and spits the sketchbook out in front of her. There's tension in the prickle of her fur, no surprise. Her nose twitches wildly.
"It was me, Keir." The voice comes from the direction of the kitchen, female, one that the blind 'Gazer will be familiar with. After a moment, the Get pauses in gathering her things and moves back to the main room. She looks around and double-takes at Sue, chuckling. "What, my chair ain' good enough for you? Silly thing." She detours and bodily lifts Sue, placing him gently in the cushy hold of the arm chair. Afterward, she moves to the blind Ahroun. She puts her hand on his shoulder gently. "Do you want a look around? There's a small group in here. I'm about to make pancakes."
Sue startles a little at Dagny, and his glance flits to Moros, a little helplessly. "Still want to talk to you later, Moros," the younger Fury manages to say, though it doesn't sound nearly as pissed-off as he's been. Nor is there any real force behind the request.
Moros's jaw clenches, thick fingers curling inward, not quite into fists. Irritated, he turns away abruptly from Sue and Dagny and steps over toward Ex.
Keir tilts his head a bit, taking in all the voices and the noises. He sits up with an effort, pulling the hood more firmly over his head. "No," the Stargazer says with a crooked frown. "I've had enough of that today." He's in a bit of a Mood. But, then, ahroun. Who knows.
Rogue tilts her head back--and back--as Moros approaches. Her nose is still working, but her ears push forward. There's a sense of questioning about her, if nothing else.
Moros pages: His scent's familiar, at least, if not especially pleasant.
While Keir won't be aware of it, there's a bit of a surprised look on Dag's face. She pats his shoulder a few times. "All right. Just holler if you change your mind. You up for pancakes, though?" As the floor creaks with Moros' movement, the Get glances over toward the giant and his movement toward the wolf. She speaks up, her tone a bit more solid, authoritative. "Go ahead and have a seat anywhere, you two." Spoken as an offer, but it's obvious from her tone that it's closer to a command. She doesn't wait for reactions as she moves back to the kitchen.
Sue looks over at Keir, and to Moros, and his attention settles on Keir. "Had a really, really weird dream, last night," the metis says, and there's that same unease and shakiness in it from earlier. His knees draw to his chest. "Something with being on a swing in a huge tree, and for a moment it felt... I felt, normal. Whole."
Moros hunkers down next to Rogue, crouching in gargoyle fashion. He's about to say something when Dagny speaks, and he looks up, irritation clear on his face. And then Sue starts talking as well, and he tilts his head, frowning.
Rogue's questioning gives way to an ever so brief flicker of pleasure. Her tail gives an aborted wave, even. But then Sue speaks, and her head whips in his direction, her ears completely erect. Me. /Me/.
"The Lady graced you with her presence as well, hm," Keir replies, but there's a tilted value to his voice that suggests thoughtfulness and a hint of something that's not necessarily unsettled, but definitely discomfited. "...yeah," he replies belatedly to Dagny, the tone of voice similar.
The Get leans into the doorway, mixing pancake stuff in a giant bowl. Her expression is curious. "Wait. You had a weird ass dream, too?" The question is aimed to Keir, but she catches the communication from Rogue as well. "Arright, that's just fucked up. We need a Theurge, methinks. I dunno anyone but Ish who's all that spirity 'round here, so if anyone knows someone, speak up, cause this shit is reaching critical weirdness." A brief glance flicks to Moros again, and Dag looks past him to the wolf. "Yo, hair ball. C'mere and gimme a hand."
"Uh-huh," Sue responds to Keir. He's quiet a long moment, and then Sue settles into the armchair, not quite looking in the cub's direction to catch what she insists on. "I don't understand the dream, though. Not in the slightest."
Moros's expression darkens. He rises up from his crouch. "Not every dream needs to be understood," he says. "Not every dream _can_ be understood. And not every dream has a meaning that's worth anything." The big man speaks slowly, his words heavy and deliberate.
Sue takes a breath in and nods. "Yes, Moros," he acknowledges.
Rogue shifts her attention to Dagny, and stares blankly at her. Wolf form betrays her; there's stubbornness there, far more than confusion.
"The every day ones, no. The ones that are... deliberate," Keir replies, with a tilt of his head, "...sometimes." He huffs out a breath, and says, to Moros: "Don't think I've heard your voice before. Keir, Sightless-Faith. Full moon and ranked twice under Chimera." And, to Dagny, "What was yours?"
Moros shrugs massive shoulders at Keir's answer and introduces himself in reply to the Stargazer. "Moros, called Bad Moon Rising. Metis Ahroun of the Black Furies."
"You wanna eat, you help. Otherwise, no pancakes for you, cubby." Dag says simply in response to Rogue's stubborn behaviour. She shifts her attention to Moros a moment and clears her throat. "I generally agree with you, but when he has the same dream as me," she indicates Sue, "And they show evidence of the Weaver, Wyld, -and- Wyrm wrapped all into the same dream, it sets off a few alarms." To Keir, she relays a brief synopsis. Something about a swing, a giant tree, and a metamorphosis of body and mind from young and healthy into dust and decay all in the space of a single sweep of the swing. "There was also a girl with silver hair. She said something.. Memory gets a bit fuzzy on that part, but it was something like.. No wrong or right, only dark and bright. No winning or losing, something about choice." She waves a hand at nothing, wrinkling her nose at herself. "Devon had a weird dream about a woman in orange and black holding a baby, or something. That's all I got out of him before he left the meadow."
There's the sense that Rogue doesn't so much shift as claw her way back to homid, with considerable effort. She crosses her arms over her chest and fairly glares in Dagny's direction, but there's no motion from her to get up and help at all. Her short hair is decidedly unruly--all sticking out on one side.
Sue looks over at Dagny. "If you need help, I can help with things, Dagny-rhya," Sue says, starting to swing his legs over the edge of the chair in preparation to possibly get up. Or to possibly be in a less awkward and tense part of the house. Ex gets a glance, brows raised.
"Her name is Rogue." This comes from Moros, who's still standing next to the skinny cub, though not touching her. Still, there's a definite sense of protectiveness surrounding the greasy-haired, red-eyed monster. "Or Ex. Not _cubby_."
"Metis as well," the ahroun echoes to Moros, almost as an afterthought. "--good t'meet you." He listens for a moment, a frown lingering on the blind Gazer's features, pointedly ignoring the tension regarding the cub. "Yeah," he answers vaguely to something Dagny says, lapsing into thought and remaining silent for a moment.
"Appreciated, Sue, but today is not your day." Dag says gently. She continues to stir the mixture while looking at Rogue as she shifts up to homid. The crossed arms get a smirk and a laugh from the Get and she shrugs. She's about to duck back into the kitchen when Moros speaks up and the Get slides her glance over to him. A brow arches and she looks at him for a long moment, expression thoroughly 'You serious?'. After a moment, she sighs and shrugs again. "It's whatever. Either way, it sure ain't having pancakes." Dag moves to the stove, humming to herself.
Moros's head snaps up, oily tendrils of hair flying away from his brute's face. His eyes have widened, lip curling into a snarl; Dagny's response was, one might judge, the very worst thing she could have said. His watchful suspicion of the woman's dived right down into dislike, edging close to hate. Rage flares; it's fortunate that the moon is thin, but it still takes a moment before the monster is able to speak, and when he does, his voice is rough. "Fuck your pancakes." He shoots a disgusted look at Sue, then turns and walks out.
Sue brings his hand up to his face, and shakes his head. "I'll talk to him later," Sue decides. "Let him go." Attention turns to Ex. "Aside from that, how're you this morning Rogue?"
"Well," Keir says, not budging from the couch, though his head tilts a little bit towards Moros' exit. The top part of the hood of his hoodie overshadows the top half of his face. "He's pleasant." His words are not weighted to be on either side of judgmental, though there's a slight frown on his features.
Ex doesn't really react until Moros does. She blinks at him several times, then watches as he goes. Then she rolls to her feet, snatches up her sketchbook, and takes after him. Sue does get a blank glance at the question, but no answer.
Edgewood House: Meadow(#1390RJh)
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Contents:
Moros
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Moros is storming away from the house. He's not the fastest man in the Sept, but those long legs of his can really eat up ground.
Ex springs out of the house only a few seconds after Moros, with her sketchbook clutched tightly in one hand. She runs to catch up with him, but once she's drawn almost level she drops back, power-walking instead. The young woman says nothing.
Moros keeps walking. His head tilts briefly toward Ex, far enough to see who it is who's following him, but he doesn't speak and doesn't slow his pace. Anger simmers in his movements, in the clench of massive fists, in the twisted snarl on his lips.
Ex seems perfectly content to follow him in silence, though his longer stride has her breaking into a brief jog every now and then. Her expression is blank; there's no sign of temper there, though her eyes are as bright as ever, and she's clutching the sketchbook very tightly.
Moros goes down the hard-packed driveway that leads to Sunrise Road.
Moros has left.
You head down the driveway out to Sunrise Road.
Sunrise Road, In the Forest
This is a wide black-topped road through the woods, without any lines at all, though the pavement looks fairly new. Majestic trees, both conifers and deciduous, grow right up to the road, but give a peaceful ambiance rather than the more looming look of the woods to the south. Now and again, a mailbox and the beginning of a driveway can be seen on either shoulder, expensive homes on large plots of pristine land. The houses are generally set a good distance back on their lots, and screened from the road by trees, so that they can't see the cars and the cars can't see them. Sunrise Road is known as a place where nature-lovers with a lot of handy cash live. A sign on the roadside indicates that Highway 22, Kent Crossing and Wolf Woods are to the south, while I-90 is a ways up the road in the opposite direction. A large Deer Crossing sign stands on either side of the road as well.
The road winds its way both northward and southward through the woods.
Contents:
Moros
Obvious exits:
WolfHart Firdaws Edgewood House West Stone Path East South North
Moros slows once he reaches the road going through the woods; he's headed roughly in the direction of the Fury house, though doesn't seem in a hurry to get there, just to get away from Edgewood. His hands unclench and the scowl has eased up, though he still looks to be in a piss-poor mood, and the hair's all in his face again, partially masking it.
Ex finally ventures a question, though it sounds just a little bit hoarse. "Why'd you do that?"
Moros stops and turns to glower down at her. "Do what?"
Ex studies his face for a moment before answering. "Get angry?"
Moros grimaces and looks away, turning his glare onto a crashed beer can sitting just off the verge of the road. "_Her_. Acting the mother to Garou she's not old enough to be mother for." His angry stare turns back to Ex. "Refusing your name, even when I gave it. Calling you an _it_." The last word is snarled, gutteral.
Ex again takes a few moments to answer. "Mothers are fucking overrated." She says this quietly, as if it were a simple statement, though there's force behind it. The cub squares her shoulders, but to the rest of his explanation, she offers no comment.
Moros's nose twitches, his mouth curling into a deeper frown for a moment. He looks away again, fingers twitching idly. After a short silence, he looks back at her. "How are you getting along, otherwise?"
Ex gestures with the hand not holding the sketchbook. "The cheerful girl said I could go wherever I wanted, as long as I'm careful and back by morning, and then she showed me how to get to that place back there. Phil is annoying, but he was trying last night. I met the Other Bitch and punched her in the nose, and a guy with a snake tattoo, and some other Furies. I want to go to the library and look up some things, and Kavi said he'd take me to the spirit world when the moon gets bigger. Do you teach people how to fight?"
Moros cocks his head like a puzzled, surly dog, his brow furrowing. "I can. Are you asking?"
"Yes," Ex says without hesitation. "Kavi's been teaching me too, but I want to learn everything. That's why I punched the Other Bitch."
Moros hazards a guess. "The 'other bitch' is April?"
Ex says, easily, "I don't remember." She does, however, give a brief description that matches April quite well.
Moros nods slowly. "April," he confirms, and steps away from the road, further into the woods. "Come on."
Ex follows after him, quiet again, though looking intent.
Moros stops once the road's no longer in view and turns to face the cub. He flips his hair out of his face with a by-now familiar jerk of his head. "So. What have you learned from Kavi?" His mouth curls at mention of the Walker's name.
"How to punch," Ex replies. "How to shift. Rina told me about the worm and spider stuff, sort of. Kavi has a spirit monster, a sphinx. She talks, and I got to touch her. The Bitch has a butterfly that talks through a cell phone. Kavi told me about GLS-2, a little." Her frown deepens. "Werewolves are /fucked up/."
Moros scrunches up his nose in a way that would be cute if it weren't him doing it. "We are what we are. What do you mean by 'GLS-2'?"
Ex licks her lips. "Genetic Lycanthropic Syndrome dash two." She points at Moros. "He said they're raised in cages and Phil said they get killed as babies. It's /fucked up/." There's a little heat there. "Kavi said it happens when two werewolves have a kid."
Moros nods. He's still scowling, but this is nothing new. "Garou aren't made to breed with each other," he says in his deliberate, growly sort of way. "We're spirit and flesh knitted together into one cloth, and when we mate with each other, it goes badly." He tilts his head at her. "I killed my mother when I was born," he tells her, after a beat. "Claws and teeth. I literally tore my way out of her."
Ex takes this news without any visible change of expression. "Because of the claws, right? Werewolf claws can kill werewolves."
Moros tilts his head, considering her. "Claws, teeth. Fire. Most attacks from spirits or other supernatural entities. Silver." He thinks for a moment. "A fall, if from far enough. Suffocation and drowning. Beheading. Of course," he adds, "sometimes we don't stay dead."
Ex nods a few times. "Kavi mentioned that. It takes a longer time with suffocation and drowning though. He said you grow up in hybrid form too."
Moros nods. Moving over to one of the trees, the big man hunkers down into a crouch, his back against the trunk. "Faster than humans grow, but slower than wolves. Then, once we change, we all age at the same rate."
Ex tucks her sketchbook under one arm. "Why are they giant assholes to you?"
Broad shoulders move in a shrug. "We're inconvenient. Nearly a decade of having to hide a Veil-rending monster. Because we sometimes kill those who gave birth to us. Because our parents were Litany breakers... or, in my case, a reminder that even a Garou woman is not immune to rape." His stare is hard, though there's an upward slant to one side of his mouth that suggests he may be taking a perverse kind of pride in everything he's saying. "And in that case, our fathers were the worst kind of Garou." A beat. "We're twisted in ways large and small. Sterile, so that there can be no Garou after us. And when we die, we leave behind a Veil-rending corpse." He lets that hang in the air for a moment before concluding, "In short, we're monsters."
Ex listens quietly, but the end of it results in a faint shake of her head. "We're all monsters. /Lots/ of people are monsters."
Moros shakes his head. "Worse monsters." His lip curls. "Or, if not, spineless little worms like my brother."
"Normal humans are worse," Ex says, confident. "Some humans are /much/ worse."
Moros doesn't appear to believe her. "I doubt that," he says. "Not unless they've been corrupted spiritually."
Ex chews over that for a moment, then tips her head just a little to one side. "How can you tell?"
"Certain Gifts," says the big metis. "Going into the Umbra, checking them out spiritually."
Ex shrugs. "They were people. Worse monsters than you for sure."
Moros considers this with his head cocked to the side, then grunts and pushes to his feet. "You said you wanted to learn how to fight?"
Ex nods once. "From everyone. With everything. The cheerful girl mentioned archery; you do that still?"
Moros flicks hair away from his face. "Some do. Not me."
"Cool." Ex stands up a little straighter. "What do you do?"
Moros rolls his shoulders, cracks his knuckles. "I get in close. Close and personal." His lips slant into an ugly smile, showing a few teeth. (There's a gap between the two front ones.) "The last thing I fought, I set it on fire, then choked it one-handed while two other Garou helped kill it."
Ex's lips twitch upward very briefly at this. "Because you're a fucking /giant/," she says, appreciatively. "What was it?"
Moros scratches his nose. "Bird-beast thing of the Wyrm. Looked like it was made of tar, though it wasn't. It still burned." His smile widens into a grin.
"What's that mean?" the cub asks. "Of the worm? An evil spirit?"
"A worse monster than me, even," says Moros with that sardonic psycho's smirk of his. And a hint of humor?
Ex accepts this with another nod. "The snake tattoo guy said you were trying to save the world."
"That's what we were made for," says the self-professed monster. "That's why we have claws and teeth and... other powers. Why we kill so easily, and why we're so hard to kill in turn."
"So," Ex says slowly, "You fight monsters and evil spirits, and evil rapey werewolves. What's the point of the evil werewolves?"
Moros grimaces, perhaps at her phrasing. "There's no point to them, except that they've become another thing we have to fight." He shifts his weight, glancing up at the sky for a moment, then looking back at her. "The Black Spiral Dancers are what's left of a tribe that used to test themselves by opening themselves deliberately up to the Wyrm. They were called the White Howlers and were confident in their own strength. And then their strength failed them, and the ones who wouldn't join the others in corruption were killed and eaten by their brothers and sisters."
Ex shakes her head, and scowls briefly. "Well /that/ sounds fucking stupid of them. How do you do that? Open yourself to the worm?"
Moros's eyes narrow. "Why do you want to know _that_?"
"Why not?" Ex counters. "If I know how, I know how not to."
Moros considers this with a frown, his head tilted, kind of eyeballing her. After a bit, he shrugs. "Don't go fucking around with Wyrm-tainted substances. Don't consume Wyrm-tainted items if you can help it. Don't use Wyrm-tainted fetishes, learn things from Wyrm spirits... and if you ever get captured by the Black Spiral Dancers, kill yourself before they force you onto the Spiral. Once you do, there's nothing for you, nothing to help you." He flicks hair away from his face. "One of many reasons we Garou stick together. You don't notice corruption on yourself, usually. But your packmates, your tribemates, your Sept... they'll notice. Fix you before you've gone too far to be fixed."
Ex breathes deeply. "Okay. So...is that what they mean then? When they keep saying I can't leave because the evil werewolves will get me? How would they /find/ me?"
"They have ways. Gifts, rituals... they're good at locating... potential recruits." The monster's mouth stretches into a humorless grin; he takes a step toward her. "Not just cubs, but Ronin too. Anruth. Garou who have chosen to live alone. Easy prey."
Ex doesn't look remotely happy at this revelation, and she runs her gloved fingers through her already messy hair. "So if I /don't/ sign on with you guys..."
"...Worse things than us will get you," Moros finishes, that ugly smile still on his brutish face.
Ex abruptly scowls. "Well, why are you /smiling/ about it?"
Moros takes another step toward her; he's just within arm's reach now. His head tilts to the side. "Because once you accept all of... this, when you _truly_ accept it and start trying to make it a part of you instead of something you rebel against, then you can start really..." He leans toward her. "..._Really_ getting good."
Ex swallows slowly, and her eyes flicker away from Moros for a long moment. When she looks back, the scowl has eased back into her usual frown. "...Show me how to choke someone," she says.
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6 From: Quidnunc At: Tue Jul 24 08:11:32 2012
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : Quidnunc
Subject: Fractured Dreams
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When you next wake, you recall fragments of a dream: hazy and faint, as though even those parts you remember were experienced through a mist that dulls all the senses.
You find yourself on a swing, a swing suspended from the tallest tree you have ever seen. You're not sure how you got there, but you are already high up and swinging forwards, rising up and up. You feel yourself changing. You have feathers; you have scales; your colours change. The air smells of blue... no, of prickles and points... and it sounds like chocolate. You look down, and you have fins instead of feet. Wings flap from your back, trailing in the wind of your passage.
You swing higher still, and your tentacles cling tight to the swing. Your head is massive, lolling from your five foot neck. One of your eyeballs crawls away. Your teeth are singing. The colour yellow keeps jeering at you.
A final image reaches you, dimly, through the mist, just as it fades into darkness: a girl with silvery-white hair, in a silvery-white dress, giggling as she leaps from a moving swing. Her clear, childlike voice echoes in your ears as you wake: "There is no wrong, there is no right, there is only dark and bright. I did not come, I did not go, I cannot change but only show. You cannot win, you cannot lose, but where to stop? That you can choose."
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Edgewood House: Meadow(#1390RJh)
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Contents:
Devon
Dagny
Moros
Sue
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Dagny turns and beams at Sue, slinging her arm around his shoulder both as a show of affection, and also a gentle offer for him to lean on her for walking support. "Well then, let's get you boys fed. Flapjacks it is, unless your friend here doesn' like pancakes." She turns and smiles to Moros again. A glance between the taller metis and Devon brings Dag to skew her lips sideways. "I'm not gonna have to break out the kiddie table, am I? You boys gonna behave?"
Devon shakes his head before prying his attention off Moros. "No," he replies. His brows push together and a final furtive glance is angled toward the Fury Ahroun. "I... think I'll pass. Actually. It... Nice to meet you Dag. Sue, see y'round." A backward step is taken, and he turns on the second to start back for the road.
Moros glances at Devon, sizing the Walker up for a moment before giving a shrug and turning away; he clearly gives no fucks about Devon. Dagny gets another look, his expression suggesting that he's still trying to figure her out. He jerks his head back, flicking away the greasy black hair, and says, "I'm fine with pancakes."
Moros goes through the front door and enters the house.
Moros has left.
Sue goes through the front door and enters the house.
Sue has left.
Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RJh)
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Contents:
Dagny
Sue
Moros
Laila
Information Board
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
Sightless-Faith enters the house through the front door.
Sightless-Faith has arrived.
A skinny, black-furred wolf slinks into view at the far side of the meadow, and then starts puppy-plodding her way toward the gathering. She has a sketchbook clenched between her teeth (poor book), and her ears are twisted back. Her movements are ungainly at best, clearly uncoordinated. When they move inside, so does she, at a somewhat faster, and even more uncoordinated clip.
Keir is already inside, sprawled on the couch. Lord knows if he's asleep or not, but either way he's got an MP3 player plopped on his chest, a single earbud in, and it's loud enough so the very faint strains of classic rock can be heard.
Slinging her arm underneath Sue's, Dagny half-carries the metis against her side and up into the house, gently letting him go near a comfy arm chair. Spotting Keir on the couch she walks over and gently taps his forehead for a moment, alerting him to new presences. Out of the corner of her eye she spots the lupus and says, "Wipe your paws, please." Afterwards, she slips toward the kitchen, still well within ear shot and not too far to talk to the group.
Sue doesn't object to the help, and it lets the younger Fury get into the house at a pace reasonably approaching everyone else, and then he sits down not in the available chair, but on the floor in front of it. Rogue gets a look, and then a further look as Sue recognises her, but the slightly cheerful grin on his face doesn't actually go away. "Hi Ex." Another pause. "Hi, Keir-rhya."
Moros ducks his head as he passes through the doorway, coming in at the rear of the group. His head's lowered again, red eyes narrow behind the overhang of hair (yes, it's back over his face again), mouth pulled into a slight scowl. He's watching the interaction between Dagny and Sue especially, though Ex's arrival distracts him toward her, especially when Sue names her.
Keir flinches away from the tapping, swatting at the prodding hand with surprising reflexes. It's not hard, though, and he sits up with a 'mmf' and tugs the earbuds free. "Sue," he greets, and it's a bit quizzical, apparently associating him with the awakening.
Rogue looks toward Dagny at the instructions, and her ears twist back a little further. She does attempt to scrape one paw across the step before entering, though it wouldn't have had much effect even if her paws were particularly muddy. Once inside, she drops onto her haunches right near the door, and spits the sketchbook out in front of her. There's tension in the prickle of her fur, no surprise. Her nose twitches wildly.
"It was me, Keir." The voice comes from the direction of the kitchen, female, one that the blind 'Gazer will be familiar with. After a moment, the Get pauses in gathering her things and moves back to the main room. She looks around and double-takes at Sue, chuckling. "What, my chair ain' good enough for you? Silly thing." She detours and bodily lifts Sue, placing him gently in the cushy hold of the arm chair. Afterward, she moves to the blind Ahroun. She puts her hand on his shoulder gently. "Do you want a look around? There's a small group in here. I'm about to make pancakes."
Sue startles a little at Dagny, and his glance flits to Moros, a little helplessly. "Still want to talk to you later, Moros," the younger Fury manages to say, though it doesn't sound nearly as pissed-off as he's been. Nor is there any real force behind the request.
Moros's jaw clenches, thick fingers curling inward, not quite into fists. Irritated, he turns away abruptly from Sue and Dagny and steps over toward Ex.
Keir tilts his head a bit, taking in all the voices and the noises. He sits up with an effort, pulling the hood more firmly over his head. "No," the Stargazer says with a crooked frown. "I've had enough of that today." He's in a bit of a Mood. But, then, ahroun. Who knows.
Rogue tilts her head back--and back--as Moros approaches. Her nose is still working, but her ears push forward. There's a sense of questioning about her, if nothing else.
Moros pages: His scent's familiar, at least, if not especially pleasant.
While Keir won't be aware of it, there's a bit of a surprised look on Dag's face. She pats his shoulder a few times. "All right. Just holler if you change your mind. You up for pancakes, though?" As the floor creaks with Moros' movement, the Get glances over toward the giant and his movement toward the wolf. She speaks up, her tone a bit more solid, authoritative. "Go ahead and have a seat anywhere, you two." Spoken as an offer, but it's obvious from her tone that it's closer to a command. She doesn't wait for reactions as she moves back to the kitchen.
Sue looks over at Keir, and to Moros, and his attention settles on Keir. "Had a really, really weird dream, last night," the metis says, and there's that same unease and shakiness in it from earlier. His knees draw to his chest. "Something with being on a swing in a huge tree, and for a moment it felt... I felt, normal. Whole."
Moros hunkers down next to Rogue, crouching in gargoyle fashion. He's about to say something when Dagny speaks, and he looks up, irritation clear on his face. And then Sue starts talking as well, and he tilts his head, frowning.
Rogue's questioning gives way to an ever so brief flicker of pleasure. Her tail gives an aborted wave, even. But then Sue speaks, and her head whips in his direction, her ears completely erect. Me. /Me/.
"The Lady graced you with her presence as well, hm," Keir replies, but there's a tilted value to his voice that suggests thoughtfulness and a hint of something that's not necessarily unsettled, but definitely discomfited. "...yeah," he replies belatedly to Dagny, the tone of voice similar.
The Get leans into the doorway, mixing pancake stuff in a giant bowl. Her expression is curious. "Wait. You had a weird ass dream, too?" The question is aimed to Keir, but she catches the communication from Rogue as well. "Arright, that's just fucked up. We need a Theurge, methinks. I dunno anyone but Ish who's all that spirity 'round here, so if anyone knows someone, speak up, cause this shit is reaching critical weirdness." A brief glance flicks to Moros again, and Dag looks past him to the wolf. "Yo, hair ball. C'mere and gimme a hand."
"Uh-huh," Sue responds to Keir. He's quiet a long moment, and then Sue settles into the armchair, not quite looking in the cub's direction to catch what she insists on. "I don't understand the dream, though. Not in the slightest."
Moros's expression darkens. He rises up from his crouch. "Not every dream needs to be understood," he says. "Not every dream _can_ be understood. And not every dream has a meaning that's worth anything." The big man speaks slowly, his words heavy and deliberate.
Sue takes a breath in and nods. "Yes, Moros," he acknowledges.
Rogue shifts her attention to Dagny, and stares blankly at her. Wolf form betrays her; there's stubbornness there, far more than confusion.
"The every day ones, no. The ones that are... deliberate," Keir replies, with a tilt of his head, "...sometimes." He huffs out a breath, and says, to Moros: "Don't think I've heard your voice before. Keir, Sightless-Faith. Full moon and ranked twice under Chimera." And, to Dagny, "What was yours?"
Moros shrugs massive shoulders at Keir's answer and introduces himself in reply to the Stargazer. "Moros, called Bad Moon Rising. Metis Ahroun of the Black Furies."
"You wanna eat, you help. Otherwise, no pancakes for you, cubby." Dag says simply in response to Rogue's stubborn behaviour. She shifts her attention to Moros a moment and clears her throat. "I generally agree with you, but when he has the same dream as me," she indicates Sue, "And they show evidence of the Weaver, Wyld, -and- Wyrm wrapped all into the same dream, it sets off a few alarms." To Keir, she relays a brief synopsis. Something about a swing, a giant tree, and a metamorphosis of body and mind from young and healthy into dust and decay all in the space of a single sweep of the swing. "There was also a girl with silver hair. She said something.. Memory gets a bit fuzzy on that part, but it was something like.. No wrong or right, only dark and bright. No winning or losing, something about choice." She waves a hand at nothing, wrinkling her nose at herself. "Devon had a weird dream about a woman in orange and black holding a baby, or something. That's all I got out of him before he left the meadow."
There's the sense that Rogue doesn't so much shift as claw her way back to homid, with considerable effort. She crosses her arms over her chest and fairly glares in Dagny's direction, but there's no motion from her to get up and help at all. Her short hair is decidedly unruly--all sticking out on one side.
Sue looks over at Dagny. "If you need help, I can help with things, Dagny-rhya," Sue says, starting to swing his legs over the edge of the chair in preparation to possibly get up. Or to possibly be in a less awkward and tense part of the house. Ex gets a glance, brows raised.
"Her name is Rogue." This comes from Moros, who's still standing next to the skinny cub, though not touching her. Still, there's a definite sense of protectiveness surrounding the greasy-haired, red-eyed monster. "Or Ex. Not _cubby_."
"Metis as well," the ahroun echoes to Moros, almost as an afterthought. "--good t'meet you." He listens for a moment, a frown lingering on the blind Gazer's features, pointedly ignoring the tension regarding the cub. "Yeah," he answers vaguely to something Dagny says, lapsing into thought and remaining silent for a moment.
"Appreciated, Sue, but today is not your day." Dag says gently. She continues to stir the mixture while looking at Rogue as she shifts up to homid. The crossed arms get a smirk and a laugh from the Get and she shrugs. She's about to duck back into the kitchen when Moros speaks up and the Get slides her glance over to him. A brow arches and she looks at him for a long moment, expression thoroughly 'You serious?'. After a moment, she sighs and shrugs again. "It's whatever. Either way, it sure ain't having pancakes." Dag moves to the stove, humming to herself.
Moros's head snaps up, oily tendrils of hair flying away from his brute's face. His eyes have widened, lip curling into a snarl; Dagny's response was, one might judge, the very worst thing she could have said. His watchful suspicion of the woman's dived right down into dislike, edging close to hate. Rage flares; it's fortunate that the moon is thin, but it still takes a moment before the monster is able to speak, and when he does, his voice is rough. "Fuck your pancakes." He shoots a disgusted look at Sue, then turns and walks out.
Sue brings his hand up to his face, and shakes his head. "I'll talk to him later," Sue decides. "Let him go." Attention turns to Ex. "Aside from that, how're you this morning Rogue?"
"Well," Keir says, not budging from the couch, though his head tilts a little bit towards Moros' exit. The top part of the hood of his hoodie overshadows the top half of his face. "He's pleasant." His words are not weighted to be on either side of judgmental, though there's a slight frown on his features.
Ex doesn't really react until Moros does. She blinks at him several times, then watches as he goes. Then she rolls to her feet, snatches up her sketchbook, and takes after him. Sue does get a blank glance at the question, but no answer.
Edgewood House: Meadow(#1390RJh)
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Contents:
Moros
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Moros is storming away from the house. He's not the fastest man in the Sept, but those long legs of his can really eat up ground.
Ex springs out of the house only a few seconds after Moros, with her sketchbook clutched tightly in one hand. She runs to catch up with him, but once she's drawn almost level she drops back, power-walking instead. The young woman says nothing.
Moros keeps walking. His head tilts briefly toward Ex, far enough to see who it is who's following him, but he doesn't speak and doesn't slow his pace. Anger simmers in his movements, in the clench of massive fists, in the twisted snarl on his lips.
Ex seems perfectly content to follow him in silence, though his longer stride has her breaking into a brief jog every now and then. Her expression is blank; there's no sign of temper there, though her eyes are as bright as ever, and she's clutching the sketchbook very tightly.
Moros goes down the hard-packed driveway that leads to Sunrise Road.
Moros has left.
You head down the driveway out to Sunrise Road.
Sunrise Road, In the Forest
This is a wide black-topped road through the woods, without any lines at all, though the pavement looks fairly new. Majestic trees, both conifers and deciduous, grow right up to the road, but give a peaceful ambiance rather than the more looming look of the woods to the south. Now and again, a mailbox and the beginning of a driveway can be seen on either shoulder, expensive homes on large plots of pristine land. The houses are generally set a good distance back on their lots, and screened from the road by trees, so that they can't see the cars and the cars can't see them. Sunrise Road is known as a place where nature-lovers with a lot of handy cash live. A sign on the roadside indicates that Highway 22, Kent Crossing and Wolf Woods are to the south, while I-90 is a ways up the road in the opposite direction. A large Deer Crossing sign stands on either side of the road as well.
The road winds its way both northward and southward through the woods.
Contents:
Moros
Obvious exits:
WolfHart Firdaws Edgewood House West Stone Path East South North
Moros slows once he reaches the road going through the woods; he's headed roughly in the direction of the Fury house, though doesn't seem in a hurry to get there, just to get away from Edgewood. His hands unclench and the scowl has eased up, though he still looks to be in a piss-poor mood, and the hair's all in his face again, partially masking it.
Ex finally ventures a question, though it sounds just a little bit hoarse. "Why'd you do that?"
Moros stops and turns to glower down at her. "Do what?"
Ex studies his face for a moment before answering. "Get angry?"
Moros grimaces and looks away, turning his glare onto a crashed beer can sitting just off the verge of the road. "_Her_. Acting the mother to Garou she's not old enough to be mother for." His angry stare turns back to Ex. "Refusing your name, even when I gave it. Calling you an _it_." The last word is snarled, gutteral.
Ex again takes a few moments to answer. "Mothers are fucking overrated." She says this quietly, as if it were a simple statement, though there's force behind it. The cub squares her shoulders, but to the rest of his explanation, she offers no comment.
Moros's nose twitches, his mouth curling into a deeper frown for a moment. He looks away again, fingers twitching idly. After a short silence, he looks back at her. "How are you getting along, otherwise?"
Ex gestures with the hand not holding the sketchbook. "The cheerful girl said I could go wherever I wanted, as long as I'm careful and back by morning, and then she showed me how to get to that place back there. Phil is annoying, but he was trying last night. I met the Other Bitch and punched her in the nose, and a guy with a snake tattoo, and some other Furies. I want to go to the library and look up some things, and Kavi said he'd take me to the spirit world when the moon gets bigger. Do you teach people how to fight?"
Moros cocks his head like a puzzled, surly dog, his brow furrowing. "I can. Are you asking?"
"Yes," Ex says without hesitation. "Kavi's been teaching me too, but I want to learn everything. That's why I punched the Other Bitch."
Moros hazards a guess. "The 'other bitch' is April?"
Ex says, easily, "I don't remember." She does, however, give a brief description that matches April quite well.
Moros nods slowly. "April," he confirms, and steps away from the road, further into the woods. "Come on."
Ex follows after him, quiet again, though looking intent.
Moros stops once the road's no longer in view and turns to face the cub. He flips his hair out of his face with a by-now familiar jerk of his head. "So. What have you learned from Kavi?" His mouth curls at mention of the Walker's name.
"How to punch," Ex replies. "How to shift. Rina told me about the worm and spider stuff, sort of. Kavi has a spirit monster, a sphinx. She talks, and I got to touch her. The Bitch has a butterfly that talks through a cell phone. Kavi told me about GLS-2, a little." Her frown deepens. "Werewolves are /fucked up/."
Moros scrunches up his nose in a way that would be cute if it weren't him doing it. "We are what we are. What do you mean by 'GLS-2'?"
Ex licks her lips. "Genetic Lycanthropic Syndrome dash two." She points at Moros. "He said they're raised in cages and Phil said they get killed as babies. It's /fucked up/." There's a little heat there. "Kavi said it happens when two werewolves have a kid."
Moros nods. He's still scowling, but this is nothing new. "Garou aren't made to breed with each other," he says in his deliberate, growly sort of way. "We're spirit and flesh knitted together into one cloth, and when we mate with each other, it goes badly." He tilts his head at her. "I killed my mother when I was born," he tells her, after a beat. "Claws and teeth. I literally tore my way out of her."
Ex takes this news without any visible change of expression. "Because of the claws, right? Werewolf claws can kill werewolves."
Moros tilts his head, considering her. "Claws, teeth. Fire. Most attacks from spirits or other supernatural entities. Silver." He thinks for a moment. "A fall, if from far enough. Suffocation and drowning. Beheading. Of course," he adds, "sometimes we don't stay dead."
Ex nods a few times. "Kavi mentioned that. It takes a longer time with suffocation and drowning though. He said you grow up in hybrid form too."
Moros nods. Moving over to one of the trees, the big man hunkers down into a crouch, his back against the trunk. "Faster than humans grow, but slower than wolves. Then, once we change, we all age at the same rate."
Ex tucks her sketchbook under one arm. "Why are they giant assholes to you?"
Broad shoulders move in a shrug. "We're inconvenient. Nearly a decade of having to hide a Veil-rending monster. Because we sometimes kill those who gave birth to us. Because our parents were Litany breakers... or, in my case, a reminder that even a Garou woman is not immune to rape." His stare is hard, though there's an upward slant to one side of his mouth that suggests he may be taking a perverse kind of pride in everything he's saying. "And in that case, our fathers were the worst kind of Garou." A beat. "We're twisted in ways large and small. Sterile, so that there can be no Garou after us. And when we die, we leave behind a Veil-rending corpse." He lets that hang in the air for a moment before concluding, "In short, we're monsters."
Ex listens quietly, but the end of it results in a faint shake of her head. "We're all monsters. /Lots/ of people are monsters."
Moros shakes his head. "Worse monsters." His lip curls. "Or, if not, spineless little worms like my brother."
"Normal humans are worse," Ex says, confident. "Some humans are /much/ worse."
Moros doesn't appear to believe her. "I doubt that," he says. "Not unless they've been corrupted spiritually."
Ex chews over that for a moment, then tips her head just a little to one side. "How can you tell?"
"Certain Gifts," says the big metis. "Going into the Umbra, checking them out spiritually."
Ex shrugs. "They were people. Worse monsters than you for sure."
Moros considers this with his head cocked to the side, then grunts and pushes to his feet. "You said you wanted to learn how to fight?"
Ex nods once. "From everyone. With everything. The cheerful girl mentioned archery; you do that still?"
Moros flicks hair away from his face. "Some do. Not me."
"Cool." Ex stands up a little straighter. "What do you do?"
Moros rolls his shoulders, cracks his knuckles. "I get in close. Close and personal." His lips slant into an ugly smile, showing a few teeth. (There's a gap between the two front ones.) "The last thing I fought, I set it on fire, then choked it one-handed while two other Garou helped kill it."
Ex's lips twitch upward very briefly at this. "Because you're a fucking /giant/," she says, appreciatively. "What was it?"
Moros scratches his nose. "Bird-beast thing of the Wyrm. Looked like it was made of tar, though it wasn't. It still burned." His smile widens into a grin.
"What's that mean?" the cub asks. "Of the worm? An evil spirit?"
"A worse monster than me, even," says Moros with that sardonic psycho's smirk of his. And a hint of humor?
Ex accepts this with another nod. "The snake tattoo guy said you were trying to save the world."
"That's what we were made for," says the self-professed monster. "That's why we have claws and teeth and... other powers. Why we kill so easily, and why we're so hard to kill in turn."
"So," Ex says slowly, "You fight monsters and evil spirits, and evil rapey werewolves. What's the point of the evil werewolves?"
Moros grimaces, perhaps at her phrasing. "There's no point to them, except that they've become another thing we have to fight." He shifts his weight, glancing up at the sky for a moment, then looking back at her. "The Black Spiral Dancers are what's left of a tribe that used to test themselves by opening themselves deliberately up to the Wyrm. They were called the White Howlers and were confident in their own strength. And then their strength failed them, and the ones who wouldn't join the others in corruption were killed and eaten by their brothers and sisters."
Ex shakes her head, and scowls briefly. "Well /that/ sounds fucking stupid of them. How do you do that? Open yourself to the worm?"
Moros's eyes narrow. "Why do you want to know _that_?"
"Why not?" Ex counters. "If I know how, I know how not to."
Moros considers this with a frown, his head tilted, kind of eyeballing her. After a bit, he shrugs. "Don't go fucking around with Wyrm-tainted substances. Don't consume Wyrm-tainted items if you can help it. Don't use Wyrm-tainted fetishes, learn things from Wyrm spirits... and if you ever get captured by the Black Spiral Dancers, kill yourself before they force you onto the Spiral. Once you do, there's nothing for you, nothing to help you." He flicks hair away from his face. "One of many reasons we Garou stick together. You don't notice corruption on yourself, usually. But your packmates, your tribemates, your Sept... they'll notice. Fix you before you've gone too far to be fixed."
Ex breathes deeply. "Okay. So...is that what they mean then? When they keep saying I can't leave because the evil werewolves will get me? How would they /find/ me?"
"They have ways. Gifts, rituals... they're good at locating... potential recruits." The monster's mouth stretches into a humorless grin; he takes a step toward her. "Not just cubs, but Ronin too. Anruth. Garou who have chosen to live alone. Easy prey."
Ex doesn't look remotely happy at this revelation, and she runs her gloved fingers through her already messy hair. "So if I /don't/ sign on with you guys..."
"...Worse things than us will get you," Moros finishes, that ugly smile still on his brutish face.
Ex abruptly scowls. "Well, why are you /smiling/ about it?"
Moros takes another step toward her; he's just within arm's reach now. His head tilts to the side. "Because once you accept all of... this, when you _truly_ accept it and start trying to make it a part of you instead of something you rebel against, then you can start really..." He leans toward her. "..._Really_ getting good."
Ex swallows slowly, and her eyes flicker away from Moros for a long moment. When she looks back, the scowl has eased back into her usual frown. "...Show me how to choke someone," she says.
