"Show it to me, Mouse!"
Jun. 10th, 2008 09:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretMouse attempts to give Contrition to Riot, part 1.
Yes.
Part 1.
The usual business like routine that Riot is so famous for is now presented to her in a role reversal. Jacob gives a nod, "Vera's totem found some information out, which Mouse has deciphered a /very/ probable meaning for. It has to do with Carnage." He pauses, then recites what he's heard word for word like every good Galliard should.
These are the words of our Enemy: A great thunderstorm shall be awakened, a bad moon is on the rise. The Roars of the Black One shall wake our patron, tear away the foot of the mountain that presses upon its throat, and set free the Restorer. The one they follow, this Dark One, is Lion and the other spirits fear him.
Long have they attempted to release their Patron. A servant of the the Wyrm, who slumbers beneath the mountain of the Sun People, tired from its chains. The Uktena, the Wendigo, they are the Sun People. It is their mountain they once tried to defend, but could not when they sought too much. They asked much, and gave little. They took and took and took until their own hearts were taken from them. They were /traitors/ to their own kind. And they were punished for it. That is what I learned."
Another brief pause and he continues with the translation. "Mouse believes it means this; One, that it's Mount Spokane. Tear away the foot of the mountain and set free the Restorer. The Patron is a massive bane. The Restorer is the Wyrm. The Dark One is Carnage's totem, Lion, long ago totem of the White Howlers. The foot of Mount Spokane is Spokane the city itself. The Sun People. That's what Spokane means. 'Children of the Sun'." -- "We're not dealing with anything that is remotely 'small' here."
On the edge of the meadow, far enough into the trees that the owner cannot be seen, a warbling, mewling howl builds and dies. First-Strike brings Contrition for Firebringer. Is it time?
Riot shakes her head to Ben, "It's Garou business, but you're kin, you have a right to be as much or as little involved as you want to be. It's up to you, ki-er Ben." She turns to listen to Jacob then, expression drawing into a faint frown as she tips her head forward a bit and fixes her eyes to the ground, concentrating on his words and nodding occassionally. Once he's done, the Ahroun looks up, "I know most of this, Vera explained it to me too..It was Adam's information that gave her the lead and clues to find out the rest. Vera believes the Wyrm they're trying to release is underneath a Caern, either ours or an abandoned one. That's why Tenacity is going to go scout Traitor's Grove again..I want to see if said Caern is there-" she's interrupted by the howl, and her face goes ashen with fear. Taking a couple of steps back, Riot's gaze bounces from Jacob to the general direction of the howl, "She-she's here..you're going to punish me for talking to Adam alone..I'm sorry Jacob, I'm sorry!"
Ben draws up short as Jacob rattles off the prophecy. He can only give a slightly dazed nod to Riot when she speaks; he's still taking it in. Perhaps wisely, he chooses not to say anything, jerking his gaze over as well at the howl.
Jacob turns back to Riot with a scowl. "Fucking toughen up. You were fine talking to Adam, /our/ enemy. A fucking black spiral dancer. You were fine going to Vera instead of even telling me any of this, but Mouse showing up to apologize is going to send you into a scurry? I am not punishing you for anything. You went to an elder when it happened, so you did right. I don't /like/ that you're hanging out with that guy for any reason, but hey, your choice. I will tell you this. If you can't even face an /ally/ who made a mistake and unintentionally wronged you, then you have no goddamn business going out to possibly, and probably face an enemy that will have /every/ intention of hurting you. You're on your own feet now Riot. So stand tall and find those balls of yours, or go put your head into a hole and hope she goes away. I have news to get to people... at least I think I do."
From the direction of the howl, silence. She's probably waiting.
Riot's gaze snaps to Jacob, his scowl drawing out her fear further. And then his rebuke reaches her ears, and the Ahroun's stricken expression is clear as day. She takes another step back, head shaking from side to side, "Adam never hurt me, he never did things to me like Mouse..or-" and here she just /looks/ at the Galliard, frightened and deeply hurt by his words. Without another word, the Ahroun turns her back and runs, sprinting towards the opposite direction of Mouse's howl.
Ben looks uncomfortable at the conversation as it takes a bitter turn, only to have a surprised expression smother his features as the Ahroun takes off running.
Abruptly, a howl breaks from the same edge of the meadow, still mewly and pathetic, but firmer. This one has brought Firebringer's /courage/!
Jacob lets out a growl at this, turning toward the running Ahroun. "For fuck's sake." He turns back to Ben briefly, shaking his head, "Sorry man. Now isn't the best time around here I guess. I gotta go." The Galliard turns then, but not to chase Riot down. Instead toward the howl.
/That/ got Riot's attention. Skidding to a halt somewhere just beyond the treeline, the Ahroun spins around, hand grasping at a stray branch to keep her balance. "Courage?" she murmurs under her breath. With gritted teeth, Riot steps back into the clearing and heads back to the RV.
Jacob is still walking toward the direction of the howl, though the additional relay of information brings a curious furrow of his brow. He's aiming toward Mouse's direction.
Ben stays where he is, with the sounds of howling rising. Probably the best choice. He watches and listens, though.
Once again, there's silence from Mouse. As Jacob is walking toward her, he's the first to be able to see her. She's several feet back from the trees, tail curling low near her back legs, with a small brown paper sack in her mouth, and a new trinket around her neck--it's a piece of stone, bound tightly with cord, in which are also intertwined two feathers, one black, one brown and white.
Riot stands by the RV, glances at Ben, then glances beneath him, at the small amount of dark space between the bottom of the RV and the ground. Crouching by it, the Ahroun reaches in and feels around for a moment before retreiving a small wooden box. She flips it open, revealing several well made shivs, all in silver. The Ahroun gives another glance to Ben, expression fraught with fear and anger, and picks out a couple of nasty ones to tuck into her waist band before replacing the box and standing up. She then waits.
Ben is close enough to see what it is that Riot draws out from underneath the trailor, and is causes a wash of palness to creep over his normally ruddy skin. He takes a slow step back, into the shelthering shadows of the doorway to the RV. "I'll just stay in here, then," he mumbles.
Jacob looks to Mouse and lets out a sigh, "She's panick stricken. Foolishly so. She thinks she's ready to face the enemy, when she can't even face you. You want me to stick around or you cool?"
First-Strike's ears flatten, and disappointment is as easy to read in her posture as words on a page. She still isn't ready then?
Riot nods absently at Ben, eyes on Jacob's back and the treeline beyond. She snags one of the shivs and holds it in her hand, then calls out in a shaky voice, "Where is it? Let me see it!"
Jacob shakes his head at Mouse, "Apparently, no. Which I call bullshit. This isn't just about her. But that's been Riot's problem from day one, hasn't it?" He turns back at Riot's question and squints then, looking toward her hand. His voice is low as he mutters a 'what the fuck..?' "Riot. You better have a fucking good reason for having that in your hand."
First-Strike's ears lift again, and she looks up at Jacob, puzzled. What? One ear swivels toward the sound of Riot's voice, but it's obvious she can't see what he can.
Riot's gaze flickers briefly to Jacob, the expression on her face is answer enough - she believes she has a very good reason for holding a silver shiv in her hand. She then looks beyond him, presumably where Mouse would be in the shadows, and calls out again, this time with more confidence, "Show it to me, Mouse!"
Ben still listens in, though he's far less visisble as of the moment.
Derrick has arrived.
Off behind Mouse, there's a Predator-esque effect, in the trees.
Jacob bulks up a little, his posture growing tall and his eyes full of authority. "Jesus Christ." He strides over toward Riot now, looking very unhappy. "Listen. This contrition business is not something light. It's also not just about you. She's given you time despite how it wears on her. You're 'fine' when it comes to what you want to do Riot, but not when it's something that needs to be done. And now you're holding a goddamn silver knife at a metis who is trying to apologize to you? She's not here to hurt you. And the world does not revolve around you and your wants. You want to see what she has, then you put the fucking silver away. If not. I'm telling her that she can give the contrition to me on your behalf. Because I am sick of this."
First-Strike's ears go very, very flat again, and so does her body. She shuffles backward, eyeing the distant RV (it's obvious she still can't /see/ Riot), with alarm.
Falcon's Wing fades out of the brush, /right/ behind Mouse. He's still not scentable, but he is visible. He bulks into hispo, and then asks, about two feet from the Walker, ~Did you happen to call /beforehand/?~
Riot backs away from Jacob's advance. "Stop it, Jacob..you're wrong. And you're being hurtful because you things are not going the way you want them to. I'm willing to listen to her contrition, but I want to do it on my own terms. What kind of contrition would it be if I'm forced into it? You say she's not going to hurt me? Then I won't hurt her. She's here to give me back my courage, don't take that away..I'll never forgive you if you do." The last is said in a whisper.
If she were built for such acrobatics, First-Strike would leap about ten feet in the air. As it is she moves /very/ quickly away from Derrick the moment he enters into her line of vision, ears back, tail tucked, paper bag in her mouth. /Yes/. She asked Dance-Ender. And then she had the Gaian cub call. And then she came here and she did not go near and she howled to /ask/. How is she supposed to ask permission if she can't talk to Firebringer and those around Firebringer can't tell her? Her ear swivels back toward the meadow, and whatever she picks up, she begins backing away further, away from the meadow, away from Derrick. Mixed in with her consternation is a sense that she's wondering if the entire world has gone /insane/.
Jacob glares at the Ahroun. "Not /my/ way Riot. The way of our nation. Silver /kills/ Garou like her Riot." He shakes his head, "You're using her. Fine. It's your conscious." He turns then, dropping into lupus and loping off toward the woods. There is a very strict, tense posture to the wolf as he leaves, his tail up, his ears pricked forward and his hackles raised.
Falcon's Wing starts back a pace or two, reflexively, at Mouse's movement. ~Ok.~ He calms, looking at Mouse as she backs away. ~I didn't know that you asked Dance-Ender. And I did not know of the Gaian cub. I just know about arriving and finding you here.~ He flicks an ear, and gestures with his head. ~Come. Let us go and speak with her.~
Riot's tic, alongside her jaw, appears at Jacob's words. She watches him leave silently for a moment, then snaps her gaze to the treeline, grip tightening on the shiv, and waits once more.
No, First-Strike says sharply, and there's even a Jackal'd yip to punctuate her fear. She's holding silver. This one has not even approached yet, and she is holding silver and demanding this one come closer. She cannot give Contrition under a /death/ threat.
Falcon's Wing says, quietly, ~It is not a death threat. Riot wants an assurance, a weapon that will provide a guarantee that nothing will occur. Yes. It is true that silver is particularly threatening to metis. But it is not an automatic death threat, and she does not wish to kill. Not at all.~ He's not using his Gift; he's not glowering, or threatening. He's just speaking with the firmness of belief.
Riot continues to wait by the RV, rigid with tension.
First-Strike studies Falcon's Wing, then twists her head and peers toward the RV. It is a death threat, she says to him, though a little more calmly than before. Firebringer may not /mean/ it as a death threat, but it is. This one thinks she does not understand many Garou things, like this. She does not understand Contrition. Doing this to another Garou might mean /her/ death. Can you explain this to her? If this one were Get of Fenris, she might already be dead. This one cannot out-fight her in warform. This one does not have the Galliard gift to do what was done again. This one has also brought /no/ weapon with her of her own. Firebringer is not a cub, she /must/ realize what her actions mean, even if she does not mean them to mean that.
Falcon's Wing considers something.
Falcon's Wing looks to be thinking internally. Then he sighs. ~Do you have any distance weapons on you? That I might loan to Riot, as an assurance that she has a weapon, but one which is not an immediate threat of death for you?~
Riot's eyes narrow. Reluctantly, she slips the makeshift knife into the waistband of her pants so that, like its sibling, only the hilt can be seen. Opening her arms and her hands wide to show them, the Ahroun calls out again, "It's not a death threat! But you have ways of fucking with me, Mouse..I want to be sure you don't do it now. This is what /you've/ done. This is what it means to live in constant fear."
Falcon's Wing says, in case Mouse can't see it, ~She put it away.~
First-Strike wrinkles her nose. No. But does Firebringer not know what Contrition /is/? This one showed her only a few moments of her memories. But this one was not this bad even with all of her memories. She jerks her head back toward the sound of Riot's voice, and her lip curls for a moment. She bulks into hispo to answer. ~Firebringer,~ Her voice is as mangled as ever. ~I understand you don't /mean/ it as a death threat, but it is /still/ a death threat. If you pulled silver on another Garou they could and would kill you for it. And you have some small part of /my/ memories. Why do you think I do not know what it is to live in fear? Why do you think I don't know what is in your head now? I showed you a few seconds of what /I/ remember!~
Falcon's Wing tilts his head. ~Did you notice,~ he repeats, ~The part where she put it away?~
Riot's expression hardens, and that tic along her jaw becomes even more pronounced. "A few seconds, Mouse? Let me show you a few seconds..come out!" She then rushes into the RV, almost barrelling into Ben in the process, and disappears for a moment.
First-Strike gives a little shiver and takes another step back. She still has it. Contrition requires this one to bare her throat to another's teeth and claws. She cannot do it to another's teeth and claws /and/ silver. The sound of movement has her skittering back again, and her ears go flat against her skull.
Riot remerges, holding a large stack of sketches, hundreds and hundreds of them. She steps down to the ground and takes a couple of steps towards the treeline, then tosses them to the ground. Pointing to them, the Ahroun yells, "Come see your few seconds! You and Kavi both!"
Falcon's Wing's ears swivel and lay back. ~Look. This is becoming negotiation not discussion, and it is not impressing me. I'm not taking the thing from her, unless you have some distance weapon. She does not have it out, she does not have it pointed at you, and unless you want to arrange to meet her on neutral territory sometime-- perhaps the Caern-- this will have to do.~
First-Strike bares her teeth as her ears remain plastered to her head. You are right. This is /not/ Contrition. This is bargaining. This is whose scars are larger than whose. She /knows/ what Firebringer saw, and lived. She knows this because /she/ saw it and lived it, and she saw it and lived it again /exactly/ when and how Firebringer did, when she showed it to her. But what made this start is Firebringer not understanding Garou, using the Wyrm like a word weapon, like a tool. If this one gives Contrition under threat of silver, this one /and/ Firebringer both insult what Contrition is meant to be. This one will not /compete/ with Firebringer over her own memories. Nothing will have been learned, and the Contrition will mean nothing.
"Come out, Mouse! It's either now or never..I /won't/ allow them to force me into this again. Show your contrition and be done with it!" Riot's hands curl into fists, and that tic doesn't look like it's receding. And then she adds, "Derrick will hold the fuckin' silver knives- but you still have to show your throat, Glass Walker!"
Falcon's Wing adds, quietly, ~If you make her feel threatened, Mouse, this is what you get. It does not mean there is /competition/, it means that, now that she is healthier, she is becoming scared and, therefore, lashing out. Which is far better than hiding. Do you not understand this /yet/?~ He sounds honestly surprised. And disappointed. But then he stops talking, and pads towards Riot, to take the knife.
Riot pulls out the silver shivs and tosses them to Derrick without once breaking eye contact with the treeline.
Derrick falls into homid and tries to catch them. He in fact drops them, but then picks them up, and slides them between his belt and his shirt.
Derrick then turns to regard Mouse.
First-Strike, on the other hand, looks disgusted. She is becoming very much like she was, is what it means. Better than hiding, but not /better/. Firebringer, did you learn /nothing/? You may think it is okay to insult the spirits, but Contrition is /not/ just an apology, it is a /rite/, and this one will /not/ insult them because /she/ feels bad. What she has brought, Firebringer will not understand. She is sorry. And with that, she wrinkles her muzzle a bit more, tucks her tail, and turns to slink away.
Derrick sighs sadly, and starts to call, "Mouse-rhya--" before his head snaps around to glare at Riot.
Riot kicks at the sketches on the ground, strewing them across the grass. She looks to Derrick, meeting his glare with one of her own. "She did not come for Contrition - she came to teach me a lesson. I /never/ put conditions on how to apologize to a Garou. This is a farce."
Derrick says, anger far less evident after his first mild explosion, "It's less a condition and more a mortal fear. If that's any help."
"That is my right. Just as it was Kaz and Jacinta's right to rip my throat out when I gave Contrition. This is what it /means/ to give Contrition - and the spirits will be offended if Mouse comes in expecting anything less." Riot looks up to the treeline and calls out, "Do you understand, Fostern? Contrition /is/ putting yourself in mortal danger."
First-Strike doesn't turn around, though her head does twist back toward Derrick. For a moment, her ears push forward. Then Riot speaks, and she /does/ turn, sharply, growling. ~Do you not understand /anything/ about Contrition?! I am not a Shadow Lord, but I am beginning to understand why Culls-the-Herd dotes on you so much. There is a lesson in /everything/. There is meaning in /everything/! Just because you cannot see it does not mean it is not there. You are Ahroun. /I/ am /Theurge/. I will not betray /my/ auspice because you refuse to see what is right in front of your face, I will not betray the spirits for /my/ gain and my release. I would not do this with Reflection's-Howl when I brought their message to him, I will not do this with you! The spirits are more important than /either/ of our well-being. If you wish to hurt me or kill me, then do it, but I will /not/ abuse the rite I was taught!~
Derrick looks from Mouse to Riot, and back again. He sighs. "So. Mouse. Do tell. Since you quite clearly disagree with Riot's summary, then what is Contrition to /you/?"
Derrick pages to the room: Er, mouse-rhya.
Riot opens her mouth to reply, then closes it when Derrick calls out to the Fostern, and waits on Mouse's reply.
First-Strike gruffs, though her Jackaled voice doesn't seem willing to allow that to be anything other than a squeak. ~Contrition is an apology, but it is not just saying 'I am sorry'. It is /spiritual/. It is a /rite/. It is calling the spirits to witness. It is given freely from the Garou who has done wrong, and when that Garou turns their throat to the other, it is /submission/. It is sincere. It /is/ deadly dangerous, but it is not coerced, it is not /threatened/, it is not a /bargain/. Falcon's Wing said so himself, an apology that is ordered means /nothing/.~
Derrick says, a little wryly, "No one here's been ordering you. You came on your own, without getting feedback on if it was reasonable for Riot, yet. I accept that you felt threatened; since Riot did and still does, perhaps you can accept that that which caused you to feel threatened is now no longer in play, and that which has caused Riot to feel threatened still is? But that she is still here, and still able?"
Riot's tic keeps jumping, and another one forms along the other side of her jaw. She swallows tightly, angry eyes trained on the treeline. "I /never/ ordered it."
~Is she?~ First-Strike asks. ~Firebringer, why do you think that when one does a rite, they always do it the same way? A rite is like music. Each word, each gesture is a note. Alone, they mean nothing. Together, they make something far more than they were before. It is very difficult for this one to play a song if you are walking on the piano.~ One ear twitches. ~You ordered it just now. You shout and yell and demand and pull silver. You are not a cub anymore. These things have /meaning/, and you are responsible for them. It is like you are trying to speak words in a language you do not understand, and you get angry when those that do understand it take offense at what you say. Don't you understand? /This/ is why I reacted the way I did in the Tenement. I do not know what you really intended to mean, but your words were a threat and a betrayal and a deep, deep insult. Before you spoke those words to me the first time, do you know who spoke the exact same thing to me? The same words, only she knew what they /meant/. The /Dancer/ kin, before she died.~
"You keep springing it on me, Mouse, I never asked for it in the first place. And what did you do when I spoke a stupid sentence to you? You took everything away. I was /Ahroun/! I didn't know what fear was and now I'm nothing because of you and Kavi. Do you understand what /that/ means? I can't even trust the members of this Sept because of what you did to me. I would rather talk to Adam than talk to you. You want to give Contrition, do it - but /don't/ expect me to be trusting of your intentions, because you sure as hell are not trusting of mine. My words might have hurt you but what you did to me," and here her voice breaks, "That fucking went above and beyond words! Congratulations Mouse-rhya, you broke Firebringer. You destroyed her. So either do what you came here to do or leave me alone and don't come back."
First-Strike stands taller. ~No,~ she says. ~You never could trust the members of this Sept. You /never/ trusted us. You were /always/ afraid. Always. Your fear has done /nothing/ but harm you since you were rited, because you do not know how to deal with it. What I did was /unacceptable/. It was /wrong/. It went too far. But it was /not/ unjustified. What broke you and destroyed you was not anything I did, or any memory of mine. It was your /own/ fear, and it is your own fear that is getting in the way now. You are so afraid of everything and everyone that you have to hurt them, over and over and over again, just in case they might one day hurt you. You are so afraid that you must control /everything/, everyone. That was there from the first day I met you, Firebringer. Your fear is not new. You're just not able to ignore it so well.~
Probably completely inappropriately to the situation, a cheerful, yipping call comes from the trees on the far side of the clearing, asking if the Firestarter is accepting visitors, followed soon after by the Starcaller, who clearly has no idea about the tension he's just wandered into, though he gets some hint when he catches sight of Riot, pausing in mid-trot with a forefoot upraised, posture going uncertain.
"You talk about /my/ fear and mistrust? In your own Jackaled voice because /you/ were the one who ran from Vera. Who's calling the kettle black, Mouse-rhya?-" Riot's interrupted before she can say anything more by Starcaller's yipping, whirling around as her hands instinctively go to the place on her hip where the shiv used to be. The shiv is not there, and neither is the danger when she realizes it's the Gnawer Theurge. Tense, she doesn't greet him, but looks towards Mouse's direction again, growling out in a low voice, "You have no idea what you did to me. Don't even pretend to understand."
~/I/ have no idea?~ First-Strike is incredulous. She's also so focused on Riot that she doesn't seem to notice Stars exists. ~Why do you think /I/ ran from her? Why do you think I have this voice? I lived through over /two days/ of that, Firebringer, you got /five seconds/ of /my/ memories. Don't /you/ pretend to understand what /I/ know about /fear/. You told the Wyrm to take me. You told me the Wyrm had taught /me/ better. You knew /nothing/ about what you were saying, and now that you know the smallest /hint/ of what I know, you think that makes you /superior/?"
Starcaller is clearly beginning to wonder if he really wants to be here, ears swivelling fitfully as he looks from one upraised voice to the other and back. Then he takes a grip on himself, posture firming though his ears stay down, and lifts his voice in a sharp, snapping bark. Enough! Shouting like this risks the Veil! Cease or this one will call the halfmoons! He starts to step closer to Riot, clearly anxious and ill at ease, but not willing to leave this situation as it is.
Riot trembles, fighting back fury that's struggling to break free. She's not shouting anymore, just seethes out, barely audible, "I was wrong. You're worse than a Dancer. You invaded my /head/, Mouse. You blackened my soul and took my spirit. No Dancer ever did that to me..I'm not superior, I'm less because of it. I'm nothing." Starcaller's bark snaps her attention to him, and she steps back when he steps closer, hurt and uncertain.
First-Strike snorts loudly. ~That's because you have yet to be caught by a Dancer, Firebringer. Stop being so stupid. I showed you memories of what they did to me. Do you think they didn't use that gift like that? If your soul and spirit are gone, then you threw them away long before we ever met, because you are acting /exactly/ how I have always seen you act. Why don't you go tell the Ronin how much better Dancers are? Tell him how you know better than he does. Tell him how five seconds of a memory that /someone else/ lived through is a worse punishment than actually living through it. Maybe you can tell Pathwalker that as well. Or Dance-Ender. Or Shrouds. I have known Garou all my life, and you are /the/ most self absorbed person I have /ever/, ever met.~
First-Strike adds, with sudden venom, ~You could tell /my packmate/ that, except he died /begging them for mercy/.~
Starcaller's ears go even flatter at what he's hearing, and he whines. Stop this, both of you! This solves nothing, and causes only new problems. If you two wish to kill each other, then be done with it and let it be settled. Otherwise, enough biting at each others' scars! He actually snarls, bulking to Hispo, though continuing to communicate in the lupine manner. This is worse than pointless, it is self-destructive! You are letting the Enemy kill you when they are not even here! Is this how Gaia's warriors behave? And they need a /Theurge/ to tell them this?
"Take full responsibility for the harm you've done, Fostern! You're Gaia's chosen, and you betrayed that. No Dancer's actions can ever amount to what you did!" Again Riot's interrupted by Starcaller's protest, and she turns angry eyes to him. "She came to give Contrition, and when she didn't like what she saw, she turned it into another session of beratement and abuse. Derrick's right, she didn't take my courage, she just poured her and Kavi's pain and anger in my head. I am /angry/, I can't forgive her!" The last comes out as an admission and a plea to the Gnawer.
First-Strike snarls /angrily/. ~You are a /fool/, and if you say that one more time, Firebringer, I will take responsibility for the action I /didn't/ take before, and I will kill you /here and now/. I /know/ what I did. I /know/ what it was. I /know/ it was unforgivable. But it is /not/ what you are saying, and you insult every Garou and every human who has /ever/ suffered under the Dancers and Gaia /herself/ with your /selfish/ self pitying! I know what harm I did. Recognize what harm /you/ are doing!~ Stars gets only a sharp look. ~Even when the pain is /hers/ she can't understand it. She /pulled silver on me/ and demanded I give Contrition to her while she held silver in her hand.~
Starcaller growls and turns, lifting himself to swat Riot full in the chest with one massive forepaw, like one would knock a yipping cub to the ground, holding her there with that same paw with just enough force to prevent from wriggling away. SIT down and STOP biting at her! And you! A chattering snarl is aimed towards Mouse's voice, telling her to show some of the sense Gaia gave her and stop driving her claws deeper into infected wounds! This one may not be a Philodox, but by Gaia's Burning Heart he will not watch the members of this sept tear at each other like foam-mad rats! Now either calm down and come TALK or take yourself elsewhere until you can! This one will guarantee your safety from each other. With his own life if need be, Gaia and all Her children witness!
Riot lets out a cry of surprise as she knocked to the ground, followed by a breathless 'oof!' when Starcaller's paw settles heavily on abdomen. She doesn't struggle, but glares at him in the only way an Ahroun can, with a silent promise of Theurge heads rolling if this doesn't go well.
First-Strike huffs, twisting her ears back. After a few moments, however, she does slink from the trees, in lupus once again, brown paper bag between her jaws. She stops quite a ways from the Gaian and Gnawer, and her entire demeanor speaks to wariness at being even this close. This one does not think talking will help. This one is starting to think nothing will help her understand. If this one doing a thing that was so bad /still/ does not at least show Firebringer that she did something wrong, then nothing will. Firebringer will destroy herself, and probably others. That is what happened to her packmate.
Starcaller grumbles, ears remaining back but a bit of tension easing as all the barbed words flying about thin. He regards First-Strike with what can only be described as an exasperated glower, and he does not remove his paw from Riot's chest, declaring that this has stopped being about crime and punishment and turned into a contest of hate and fear, the pair of you seeing who can rip the hole wider with your screams of filth. This is not Garou. This is /Wyrm/, and he will not see it continue! And if First-Strike cannot trust even his solemn word that she is safe, then she has worse problems than what Firestarter thinks of her and her Contrition.
As First-Strike approaches, Riot moves to wriggle away from underneath Starcaller's paw, the movement instinctual more than anything. Fortunately, she's too fixed on Starcaller to 'see' Mouse's communcation, but she did register his reply. "Let me up," comes the quiet protest.
First-Strike eyes Firebringer warily. She does, she answers Starcaller. Firebringer isn't the only one who is frightened.
Starcaller quite directly informs Riot that she is staying put until he believes she is ready to move, enforcing this by pressing a little harder with that forepaw, perhaps enough to squeeze some breath from the Gaian in the process, though not enough to hurt. His response to First-Strike is somewhat gentler than before, but still rather annoyed at the whole proceedings. There are two very simple solutions to this situation. One is First-Strike leaving, now, and leaving wounds unhealed and freshly raw. The other is facing her fear for the short time needed to maybe do some good. This one will keep the pair of you safe from each other, has he not said so? What more do you two want? That he call up Rat Herself to tell you you're being stupid?
Riot's next utterance is interrupted by the massive paw putting more weight on her, and low grunt escapes the Ahroun instead. After watching the Gnawer's communication, the Gaian wheezes out, "She should leave. I won't accept her Contrition now - or ever."
First-Strike looks from Riot to Starcaller, that paper sack still dangling from her mouth.
Starcaller turns his head to glare down at Riot. ~Look me in the eyes and repeat that, if you really mean it. Because you will not get a second chance at healing this breach.~ The words aren't even angry, though they carry a weight that puts the massive paw on the Gaian's chest to shame. ~You would throw away a sept-mate, an ally in the War, because you cannot bring yourself to accept an appology. An appology witnessed by the very spirits. Why are you so eager to tear yourself away from the hand outstretched, Firestarter? You who follow Unicorn? Even Her black consort accepts submission and appology.~
It takes Riot a short while before she can meet his eyes, and when she does make eye contact, Starcaller can see her emotions; fear, pain, anger, and deep seated hatred. "Contrition won't work after what she said. She still hates me. She's not sorry. She's /not/ my ally."
First-Strike's nose wrinkles. If she was not sorry for what she did, she would not offer to do Contrition. The spirits know when you aren't telling the truth.
First-Strike adds, and the spirits are more powerful than Firebringer.
Starcaller rotates an ear back towards First-Strike, keeping his eyes locked on Riot. ~She speaks truth. Take /my/ word on this. You know who I am. If her Contrition is not heartfelt, the spirits will reject it, and her.~ He eases his paw slowly off Riot's chest, lowering his haunches to the ground but staying squarely between the two females. ~Spirits are not limited to the surface of things like we are, they see the heart, and they will know if she is truly sorry.~ He glances back towards the Lupus, then huffs quietly. ~/Look/ at her, Firestarter. Look at /her/ and not your own fears and rage. She is as frightened of you as you of her. Do you think she would be here at all if she did not mean this appology?~
Riot takes a deep breath once the paw is off her. She rolls up to her feet to stand beside Starcaller, narrowed eyes drifting towards Mouse. Swallowing tightly, the Gaian murmurs, "Then it won't work anyway. The spirits will know that I can't forgive her - that all I have towards her is fear and rage."
First-Strike's ears flick to either side.
Starcaller sighs, ears lowering slightly, looking... disappointed, really. ~Compassion is more than just a word, Firestarter.~ Then he turns his head to regard First-Strike, leaving the Mother's Tongue alone for the moment to put forward the opinion that the Firestarter also has a point. Contrition speaks between two hearts. If one is closed, it does not matter how sincere the other is.
Guilt and shame flash across the Gaian's features, and her hand reaches up to wrap around the glyphed stone by her chest. She doesn't say anything, lowering her gaze to the ground even while her other hand curls into a tight fist by her hip.
No, First-Strike agrees. It does not. She regards Riot sidelong for a moment, before she sets her bag down on the ground, gets a better grip on it and picks it up again, then turns to go. Firebringer will not accept her Contrition, and this one will not ask again. Unfortunately, that hurts Firebringer more than it hurts this one, and this one is afraid that is the story of Firebringer's life. She would wonder what will happen when Firebringer has pushed everyone away, but she already knows. A glance backward. And Firebringer has seen some small part of it.
Starcaller gruffs, quickly turning to fix Riot with an eye, silently telling her /not/ to follow up the barb in kind. This battle cannot have a winner, let it be. ~Safe trails home, whoever you are,~ he grumbles to the departing Glasswalker, the wish sincere even through his irritation and, yes, sadness.
Riot's tic is back again, full force, on both sides of her face. She closes her eyes and mutters something under her breath, using every ounce of willpower given to her to keep calm. Eye fluttering open after a moment, the Gaian grinds out, "Fine. Lets do it."
First-Strike explains that she is First-Strike, Fostern Theurge and elder of the Glass Walkers. She is also obviously metis. Riot receives a startled glance...and then a negative. Firebringer is angry. This one is angry. If Firebringer wants this, then this one will come back in a short while, and she will do it for her. It will give us both time to calm down.
~Bide a moment, First-Strike-rhya.~ The Gnawer steps close to Riot, stretching his neck to nudge her shoulder lightly with his nose, lips carefully over his teeth, completely unthreatening in action. ~This was caused by lack of planning, lack of care. The pair of you, choose a neutral ground and a time. Meet then and there for this. Both will know what is coming, when it will happen, and where to expect it. No more sudden pain.~
Riot shakes her head, the Gnawer's nudge doing little to ease her tension, "No. I said I won't through this again, and I meant it. You're here now, and so am I. The Contrite is not the one to set the terms for her apology. Let's just fuckin' get it over with already."
First-Strike glances between Stars and Riot, and she shuffles a step back, ears flattening. Tonight, at the Caern, she will come. If Firebringer also comes, she will do this thing, and set it right. This one has to find Culls-the-Herd, and prepare herself again for the rite. She turns again, and breaks into a swift trot for the tree-line.
Starcaller huffs softly, nudging again at Riot's shoulder, this time insistently. Let her go, Firestarter. You are in no state to accept an appology, even if you were willing and not badgered into it by this one. And this one is sorry for what he said, but it needed to be said. Does she forgive him?
Riot lets out a snarl and taps into her rage, bulking up to Hispo as she charges towards Mouse at a full sprint, aiming to barrel into the metis and knock her off her feet.
The momentum and Riot's strength are more than enough to bowl First-Strike over. She sees, or hears at least, the other coming, and so she's braced for the impact. The Theurge huddles against the ground, protecting her head and her underside, but she doesn't fight back.
Starcaller looks after the pair and just sighs before lifting his voice towards them, ~This is between you two. Sort it out. I will wait.~ And pick up whatever pieces are left, hangs implied on the end of that. But he suits actions to words, plunking his haunches to the ground and sliding back into his birthform with a resigned expression.
Riot stands over her, barely holding her rage in check. ~Enough fooling around, Mouse-rhya. Enough stalling and playing on my fears and rage. We do it /now/.~ She circles the metis, keep herself moving as a way to distract herself from the urge to take the other by the throat.
First-Strike continues huddling against the ground, head (and the paper sack), tucked under one foreleg, her tail drawn up tight against her body. No, is her single response.
Firestarter comes to a stop right before First-Strike's muzzle. She lifts a forepaw to bat at the Metis's foreleg, growling fiercely, ~Yes. Apologies can't be ordered but Contrition can. I will start. Stand up Mouse-rhya.~
No, First-Strike responds again. Contrition /is/ an apology. This one will not run the rite when she knows it will fail, until she knows that it will not fail on her part.
~There is the act and the rite. Do the act and the rite will follow.~ Firestarter's jaw snaps right by First-Strike's ear, not threatening, just impatient. ~I will give my own Contrition for the words of abuse. But if we do not do this now it will never be done..and if it is not done, then you will not be my ally. You will suffer for it more than me. It's not a threat or a promise. Just truth.~
No, First-Strike says once more, though her ear flickers at how close Firestarter's teeth are. This one /knows/ the rite. You do not. We are both angry and scared, and the rite will /fail/. If Firebringer wants to make this one suffer, she will have to do so, but this one has to do things right.
Starcaller finally interrupts, a chirping yip like a human would clear their throat, though he does not approach. This one does not know the rite himself, but has performed it often enough to know First-Strike-rhya is correct. He whines, ears down and back in entreaty. Please, Firestarter. Trust him as a Theurge on this one, as you would trust him as a Theurge to help your pack.
Firestarter lets out a growl of frustration, then steps back to sit on her haunches, glaring at the Metis. ~You are supposed to do menial tasks as part of your punishment.~ She glances towards the RV, then back to Mouse, ~Wash the RV now, please. Perhaps we will both be calm enough to go through the rite when you are done.~
First-Strike looks exasperated. Somehow, she doubts this. But she uncurls hesitantly from her protective huddle, paper bag in mouth, eyeing Riot. She gives the Gaian a wide berth, but she does start trotting toward the RV.
Yes.
Part 1.
The usual business like routine that Riot is so famous for is now presented to her in a role reversal. Jacob gives a nod, "Vera's totem found some information out, which Mouse has deciphered a /very/ probable meaning for. It has to do with Carnage." He pauses, then recites what he's heard word for word like every good Galliard should.
These are the words of our Enemy: A great thunderstorm shall be awakened, a bad moon is on the rise. The Roars of the Black One shall wake our patron, tear away the foot of the mountain that presses upon its throat, and set free the Restorer. The one they follow, this Dark One, is Lion and the other spirits fear him.
Long have they attempted to release their Patron. A servant of the the Wyrm, who slumbers beneath the mountain of the Sun People, tired from its chains. The Uktena, the Wendigo, they are the Sun People. It is their mountain they once tried to defend, but could not when they sought too much. They asked much, and gave little. They took and took and took until their own hearts were taken from them. They were /traitors/ to their own kind. And they were punished for it. That is what I learned."
Another brief pause and he continues with the translation. "Mouse believes it means this; One, that it's Mount Spokane. Tear away the foot of the mountain and set free the Restorer. The Patron is a massive bane. The Restorer is the Wyrm. The Dark One is Carnage's totem, Lion, long ago totem of the White Howlers. The foot of Mount Spokane is Spokane the city itself. The Sun People. That's what Spokane means. 'Children of the Sun'." -- "We're not dealing with anything that is remotely 'small' here."
On the edge of the meadow, far enough into the trees that the owner cannot be seen, a warbling, mewling howl builds and dies. First-Strike brings Contrition for Firebringer. Is it time?
Riot shakes her head to Ben, "It's Garou business, but you're kin, you have a right to be as much or as little involved as you want to be. It's up to you, ki-er Ben." She turns to listen to Jacob then, expression drawing into a faint frown as she tips her head forward a bit and fixes her eyes to the ground, concentrating on his words and nodding occassionally. Once he's done, the Ahroun looks up, "I know most of this, Vera explained it to me too..It was Adam's information that gave her the lead and clues to find out the rest. Vera believes the Wyrm they're trying to release is underneath a Caern, either ours or an abandoned one. That's why Tenacity is going to go scout Traitor's Grove again..I want to see if said Caern is there-" she's interrupted by the howl, and her face goes ashen with fear. Taking a couple of steps back, Riot's gaze bounces from Jacob to the general direction of the howl, "She-she's here..you're going to punish me for talking to Adam alone..I'm sorry Jacob, I'm sorry!"
Ben draws up short as Jacob rattles off the prophecy. He can only give a slightly dazed nod to Riot when she speaks; he's still taking it in. Perhaps wisely, he chooses not to say anything, jerking his gaze over as well at the howl.
Jacob turns back to Riot with a scowl. "Fucking toughen up. You were fine talking to Adam, /our/ enemy. A fucking black spiral dancer. You were fine going to Vera instead of even telling me any of this, but Mouse showing up to apologize is going to send you into a scurry? I am not punishing you for anything. You went to an elder when it happened, so you did right. I don't /like/ that you're hanging out with that guy for any reason, but hey, your choice. I will tell you this. If you can't even face an /ally/ who made a mistake and unintentionally wronged you, then you have no goddamn business going out to possibly, and probably face an enemy that will have /every/ intention of hurting you. You're on your own feet now Riot. So stand tall and find those balls of yours, or go put your head into a hole and hope she goes away. I have news to get to people... at least I think I do."
From the direction of the howl, silence. She's probably waiting.
Riot's gaze snaps to Jacob, his scowl drawing out her fear further. And then his rebuke reaches her ears, and the Ahroun's stricken expression is clear as day. She takes another step back, head shaking from side to side, "Adam never hurt me, he never did things to me like Mouse..or-" and here she just /looks/ at the Galliard, frightened and deeply hurt by his words. Without another word, the Ahroun turns her back and runs, sprinting towards the opposite direction of Mouse's howl.
Ben looks uncomfortable at the conversation as it takes a bitter turn, only to have a surprised expression smother his features as the Ahroun takes off running.
Abruptly, a howl breaks from the same edge of the meadow, still mewly and pathetic, but firmer. This one has brought Firebringer's /courage/!
Jacob lets out a growl at this, turning toward the running Ahroun. "For fuck's sake." He turns back to Ben briefly, shaking his head, "Sorry man. Now isn't the best time around here I guess. I gotta go." The Galliard turns then, but not to chase Riot down. Instead toward the howl.
/That/ got Riot's attention. Skidding to a halt somewhere just beyond the treeline, the Ahroun spins around, hand grasping at a stray branch to keep her balance. "Courage?" she murmurs under her breath. With gritted teeth, Riot steps back into the clearing and heads back to the RV.
Jacob is still walking toward the direction of the howl, though the additional relay of information brings a curious furrow of his brow. He's aiming toward Mouse's direction.
Ben stays where he is, with the sounds of howling rising. Probably the best choice. He watches and listens, though.
Once again, there's silence from Mouse. As Jacob is walking toward her, he's the first to be able to see her. She's several feet back from the trees, tail curling low near her back legs, with a small brown paper sack in her mouth, and a new trinket around her neck--it's a piece of stone, bound tightly with cord, in which are also intertwined two feathers, one black, one brown and white.
Riot stands by the RV, glances at Ben, then glances beneath him, at the small amount of dark space between the bottom of the RV and the ground. Crouching by it, the Ahroun reaches in and feels around for a moment before retreiving a small wooden box. She flips it open, revealing several well made shivs, all in silver. The Ahroun gives another glance to Ben, expression fraught with fear and anger, and picks out a couple of nasty ones to tuck into her waist band before replacing the box and standing up. She then waits.
Ben is close enough to see what it is that Riot draws out from underneath the trailor, and is causes a wash of palness to creep over his normally ruddy skin. He takes a slow step back, into the shelthering shadows of the doorway to the RV. "I'll just stay in here, then," he mumbles.
Jacob looks to Mouse and lets out a sigh, "She's panick stricken. Foolishly so. She thinks she's ready to face the enemy, when she can't even face you. You want me to stick around or you cool?"
First-Strike's ears flatten, and disappointment is as easy to read in her posture as words on a page. She still isn't ready then?
Riot nods absently at Ben, eyes on Jacob's back and the treeline beyond. She snags one of the shivs and holds it in her hand, then calls out in a shaky voice, "Where is it? Let me see it!"
Jacob shakes his head at Mouse, "Apparently, no. Which I call bullshit. This isn't just about her. But that's been Riot's problem from day one, hasn't it?" He turns back at Riot's question and squints then, looking toward her hand. His voice is low as he mutters a 'what the fuck..?' "Riot. You better have a fucking good reason for having that in your hand."
First-Strike's ears lift again, and she looks up at Jacob, puzzled. What? One ear swivels toward the sound of Riot's voice, but it's obvious she can't see what he can.
Riot's gaze flickers briefly to Jacob, the expression on her face is answer enough - she believes she has a very good reason for holding a silver shiv in her hand. She then looks beyond him, presumably where Mouse would be in the shadows, and calls out again, this time with more confidence, "Show it to me, Mouse!"
Ben still listens in, though he's far less visisble as of the moment.
Derrick has arrived.
Off behind Mouse, there's a Predator-esque effect, in the trees.
Jacob bulks up a little, his posture growing tall and his eyes full of authority. "Jesus Christ." He strides over toward Riot now, looking very unhappy. "Listen. This contrition business is not something light. It's also not just about you. She's given you time despite how it wears on her. You're 'fine' when it comes to what you want to do Riot, but not when it's something that needs to be done. And now you're holding a goddamn silver knife at a metis who is trying to apologize to you? She's not here to hurt you. And the world does not revolve around you and your wants. You want to see what she has, then you put the fucking silver away. If not. I'm telling her that she can give the contrition to me on your behalf. Because I am sick of this."
First-Strike's ears go very, very flat again, and so does her body. She shuffles backward, eyeing the distant RV (it's obvious she still can't /see/ Riot), with alarm.
Falcon's Wing fades out of the brush, /right/ behind Mouse. He's still not scentable, but he is visible. He bulks into hispo, and then asks, about two feet from the Walker, ~Did you happen to call /beforehand/?~
Riot backs away from Jacob's advance. "Stop it, Jacob..you're wrong. And you're being hurtful because you things are not going the way you want them to. I'm willing to listen to her contrition, but I want to do it on my own terms. What kind of contrition would it be if I'm forced into it? You say she's not going to hurt me? Then I won't hurt her. She's here to give me back my courage, don't take that away..I'll never forgive you if you do." The last is said in a whisper.
If she were built for such acrobatics, First-Strike would leap about ten feet in the air. As it is she moves /very/ quickly away from Derrick the moment he enters into her line of vision, ears back, tail tucked, paper bag in her mouth. /Yes/. She asked Dance-Ender. And then she had the Gaian cub call. And then she came here and she did not go near and she howled to /ask/. How is she supposed to ask permission if she can't talk to Firebringer and those around Firebringer can't tell her? Her ear swivels back toward the meadow, and whatever she picks up, she begins backing away further, away from the meadow, away from Derrick. Mixed in with her consternation is a sense that she's wondering if the entire world has gone /insane/.
Jacob glares at the Ahroun. "Not /my/ way Riot. The way of our nation. Silver /kills/ Garou like her Riot." He shakes his head, "You're using her. Fine. It's your conscious." He turns then, dropping into lupus and loping off toward the woods. There is a very strict, tense posture to the wolf as he leaves, his tail up, his ears pricked forward and his hackles raised.
Falcon's Wing starts back a pace or two, reflexively, at Mouse's movement. ~Ok.~ He calms, looking at Mouse as she backs away. ~I didn't know that you asked Dance-Ender. And I did not know of the Gaian cub. I just know about arriving and finding you here.~ He flicks an ear, and gestures with his head. ~Come. Let us go and speak with her.~
Riot's tic, alongside her jaw, appears at Jacob's words. She watches him leave silently for a moment, then snaps her gaze to the treeline, grip tightening on the shiv, and waits once more.
No, First-Strike says sharply, and there's even a Jackal'd yip to punctuate her fear. She's holding silver. This one has not even approached yet, and she is holding silver and demanding this one come closer. She cannot give Contrition under a /death/ threat.
Falcon's Wing says, quietly, ~It is not a death threat. Riot wants an assurance, a weapon that will provide a guarantee that nothing will occur. Yes. It is true that silver is particularly threatening to metis. But it is not an automatic death threat, and she does not wish to kill. Not at all.~ He's not using his Gift; he's not glowering, or threatening. He's just speaking with the firmness of belief.
Riot continues to wait by the RV, rigid with tension.
First-Strike studies Falcon's Wing, then twists her head and peers toward the RV. It is a death threat, she says to him, though a little more calmly than before. Firebringer may not /mean/ it as a death threat, but it is. This one thinks she does not understand many Garou things, like this. She does not understand Contrition. Doing this to another Garou might mean /her/ death. Can you explain this to her? If this one were Get of Fenris, she might already be dead. This one cannot out-fight her in warform. This one does not have the Galliard gift to do what was done again. This one has also brought /no/ weapon with her of her own. Firebringer is not a cub, she /must/ realize what her actions mean, even if she does not mean them to mean that.
Falcon's Wing considers something.
Falcon's Wing looks to be thinking internally. Then he sighs. ~Do you have any distance weapons on you? That I might loan to Riot, as an assurance that she has a weapon, but one which is not an immediate threat of death for you?~
Riot's eyes narrow. Reluctantly, she slips the makeshift knife into the waistband of her pants so that, like its sibling, only the hilt can be seen. Opening her arms and her hands wide to show them, the Ahroun calls out again, "It's not a death threat! But you have ways of fucking with me, Mouse..I want to be sure you don't do it now. This is what /you've/ done. This is what it means to live in constant fear."
Falcon's Wing says, in case Mouse can't see it, ~She put it away.~
First-Strike wrinkles her nose. No. But does Firebringer not know what Contrition /is/? This one showed her only a few moments of her memories. But this one was not this bad even with all of her memories. She jerks her head back toward the sound of Riot's voice, and her lip curls for a moment. She bulks into hispo to answer. ~Firebringer,~ Her voice is as mangled as ever. ~I understand you don't /mean/ it as a death threat, but it is /still/ a death threat. If you pulled silver on another Garou they could and would kill you for it. And you have some small part of /my/ memories. Why do you think I do not know what it is to live in fear? Why do you think I don't know what is in your head now? I showed you a few seconds of what /I/ remember!~
Falcon's Wing tilts his head. ~Did you notice,~ he repeats, ~The part where she put it away?~
Riot's expression hardens, and that tic along her jaw becomes even more pronounced. "A few seconds, Mouse? Let me show you a few seconds..come out!" She then rushes into the RV, almost barrelling into Ben in the process, and disappears for a moment.
First-Strike gives a little shiver and takes another step back. She still has it. Contrition requires this one to bare her throat to another's teeth and claws. She cannot do it to another's teeth and claws /and/ silver. The sound of movement has her skittering back again, and her ears go flat against her skull.
Riot remerges, holding a large stack of sketches, hundreds and hundreds of them. She steps down to the ground and takes a couple of steps towards the treeline, then tosses them to the ground. Pointing to them, the Ahroun yells, "Come see your few seconds! You and Kavi both!"
Falcon's Wing's ears swivel and lay back. ~Look. This is becoming negotiation not discussion, and it is not impressing me. I'm not taking the thing from her, unless you have some distance weapon. She does not have it out, she does not have it pointed at you, and unless you want to arrange to meet her on neutral territory sometime-- perhaps the Caern-- this will have to do.~
First-Strike bares her teeth as her ears remain plastered to her head. You are right. This is /not/ Contrition. This is bargaining. This is whose scars are larger than whose. She /knows/ what Firebringer saw, and lived. She knows this because /she/ saw it and lived it, and she saw it and lived it again /exactly/ when and how Firebringer did, when she showed it to her. But what made this start is Firebringer not understanding Garou, using the Wyrm like a word weapon, like a tool. If this one gives Contrition under threat of silver, this one /and/ Firebringer both insult what Contrition is meant to be. This one will not /compete/ with Firebringer over her own memories. Nothing will have been learned, and the Contrition will mean nothing.
"Come out, Mouse! It's either now or never..I /won't/ allow them to force me into this again. Show your contrition and be done with it!" Riot's hands curl into fists, and that tic doesn't look like it's receding. And then she adds, "Derrick will hold the fuckin' silver knives- but you still have to show your throat, Glass Walker!"
Falcon's Wing adds, quietly, ~If you make her feel threatened, Mouse, this is what you get. It does not mean there is /competition/, it means that, now that she is healthier, she is becoming scared and, therefore, lashing out. Which is far better than hiding. Do you not understand this /yet/?~ He sounds honestly surprised. And disappointed. But then he stops talking, and pads towards Riot, to take the knife.
Riot pulls out the silver shivs and tosses them to Derrick without once breaking eye contact with the treeline.
Derrick falls into homid and tries to catch them. He in fact drops them, but then picks them up, and slides them between his belt and his shirt.
Derrick then turns to regard Mouse.
First-Strike, on the other hand, looks disgusted. She is becoming very much like she was, is what it means. Better than hiding, but not /better/. Firebringer, did you learn /nothing/? You may think it is okay to insult the spirits, but Contrition is /not/ just an apology, it is a /rite/, and this one will /not/ insult them because /she/ feels bad. What she has brought, Firebringer will not understand. She is sorry. And with that, she wrinkles her muzzle a bit more, tucks her tail, and turns to slink away.
Derrick sighs sadly, and starts to call, "Mouse-rhya--" before his head snaps around to glare at Riot.
Riot kicks at the sketches on the ground, strewing them across the grass. She looks to Derrick, meeting his glare with one of her own. "She did not come for Contrition - she came to teach me a lesson. I /never/ put conditions on how to apologize to a Garou. This is a farce."
Derrick says, anger far less evident after his first mild explosion, "It's less a condition and more a mortal fear. If that's any help."
"That is my right. Just as it was Kaz and Jacinta's right to rip my throat out when I gave Contrition. This is what it /means/ to give Contrition - and the spirits will be offended if Mouse comes in expecting anything less." Riot looks up to the treeline and calls out, "Do you understand, Fostern? Contrition /is/ putting yourself in mortal danger."
First-Strike doesn't turn around, though her head does twist back toward Derrick. For a moment, her ears push forward. Then Riot speaks, and she /does/ turn, sharply, growling. ~Do you not understand /anything/ about Contrition?! I am not a Shadow Lord, but I am beginning to understand why Culls-the-Herd dotes on you so much. There is a lesson in /everything/. There is meaning in /everything/! Just because you cannot see it does not mean it is not there. You are Ahroun. /I/ am /Theurge/. I will not betray /my/ auspice because you refuse to see what is right in front of your face, I will not betray the spirits for /my/ gain and my release. I would not do this with Reflection's-Howl when I brought their message to him, I will not do this with you! The spirits are more important than /either/ of our well-being. If you wish to hurt me or kill me, then do it, but I will /not/ abuse the rite I was taught!~
Derrick looks from Mouse to Riot, and back again. He sighs. "So. Mouse. Do tell. Since you quite clearly disagree with Riot's summary, then what is Contrition to /you/?"
Derrick pages to the room: Er, mouse-rhya.
Riot opens her mouth to reply, then closes it when Derrick calls out to the Fostern, and waits on Mouse's reply.
First-Strike gruffs, though her Jackaled voice doesn't seem willing to allow that to be anything other than a squeak. ~Contrition is an apology, but it is not just saying 'I am sorry'. It is /spiritual/. It is a /rite/. It is calling the spirits to witness. It is given freely from the Garou who has done wrong, and when that Garou turns their throat to the other, it is /submission/. It is sincere. It /is/ deadly dangerous, but it is not coerced, it is not /threatened/, it is not a /bargain/. Falcon's Wing said so himself, an apology that is ordered means /nothing/.~
Derrick says, a little wryly, "No one here's been ordering you. You came on your own, without getting feedback on if it was reasonable for Riot, yet. I accept that you felt threatened; since Riot did and still does, perhaps you can accept that that which caused you to feel threatened is now no longer in play, and that which has caused Riot to feel threatened still is? But that she is still here, and still able?"
Riot's tic keeps jumping, and another one forms along the other side of her jaw. She swallows tightly, angry eyes trained on the treeline. "I /never/ ordered it."
~Is she?~ First-Strike asks. ~Firebringer, why do you think that when one does a rite, they always do it the same way? A rite is like music. Each word, each gesture is a note. Alone, they mean nothing. Together, they make something far more than they were before. It is very difficult for this one to play a song if you are walking on the piano.~ One ear twitches. ~You ordered it just now. You shout and yell and demand and pull silver. You are not a cub anymore. These things have /meaning/, and you are responsible for them. It is like you are trying to speak words in a language you do not understand, and you get angry when those that do understand it take offense at what you say. Don't you understand? /This/ is why I reacted the way I did in the Tenement. I do not know what you really intended to mean, but your words were a threat and a betrayal and a deep, deep insult. Before you spoke those words to me the first time, do you know who spoke the exact same thing to me? The same words, only she knew what they /meant/. The /Dancer/ kin, before she died.~
"You keep springing it on me, Mouse, I never asked for it in the first place. And what did you do when I spoke a stupid sentence to you? You took everything away. I was /Ahroun/! I didn't know what fear was and now I'm nothing because of you and Kavi. Do you understand what /that/ means? I can't even trust the members of this Sept because of what you did to me. I would rather talk to Adam than talk to you. You want to give Contrition, do it - but /don't/ expect me to be trusting of your intentions, because you sure as hell are not trusting of mine. My words might have hurt you but what you did to me," and here her voice breaks, "That fucking went above and beyond words! Congratulations Mouse-rhya, you broke Firebringer. You destroyed her. So either do what you came here to do or leave me alone and don't come back."
First-Strike stands taller. ~No,~ she says. ~You never could trust the members of this Sept. You /never/ trusted us. You were /always/ afraid. Always. Your fear has done /nothing/ but harm you since you were rited, because you do not know how to deal with it. What I did was /unacceptable/. It was /wrong/. It went too far. But it was /not/ unjustified. What broke you and destroyed you was not anything I did, or any memory of mine. It was your /own/ fear, and it is your own fear that is getting in the way now. You are so afraid of everything and everyone that you have to hurt them, over and over and over again, just in case they might one day hurt you. You are so afraid that you must control /everything/, everyone. That was there from the first day I met you, Firebringer. Your fear is not new. You're just not able to ignore it so well.~
Probably completely inappropriately to the situation, a cheerful, yipping call comes from the trees on the far side of the clearing, asking if the Firestarter is accepting visitors, followed soon after by the Starcaller, who clearly has no idea about the tension he's just wandered into, though he gets some hint when he catches sight of Riot, pausing in mid-trot with a forefoot upraised, posture going uncertain.
"You talk about /my/ fear and mistrust? In your own Jackaled voice because /you/ were the one who ran from Vera. Who's calling the kettle black, Mouse-rhya?-" Riot's interrupted before she can say anything more by Starcaller's yipping, whirling around as her hands instinctively go to the place on her hip where the shiv used to be. The shiv is not there, and neither is the danger when she realizes it's the Gnawer Theurge. Tense, she doesn't greet him, but looks towards Mouse's direction again, growling out in a low voice, "You have no idea what you did to me. Don't even pretend to understand."
~/I/ have no idea?~ First-Strike is incredulous. She's also so focused on Riot that she doesn't seem to notice Stars exists. ~Why do you think /I/ ran from her? Why do you think I have this voice? I lived through over /two days/ of that, Firebringer, you got /five seconds/ of /my/ memories. Don't /you/ pretend to understand what /I/ know about /fear/. You told the Wyrm to take me. You told me the Wyrm had taught /me/ better. You knew /nothing/ about what you were saying, and now that you know the smallest /hint/ of what I know, you think that makes you /superior/?"
Starcaller is clearly beginning to wonder if he really wants to be here, ears swivelling fitfully as he looks from one upraised voice to the other and back. Then he takes a grip on himself, posture firming though his ears stay down, and lifts his voice in a sharp, snapping bark. Enough! Shouting like this risks the Veil! Cease or this one will call the halfmoons! He starts to step closer to Riot, clearly anxious and ill at ease, but not willing to leave this situation as it is.
Riot trembles, fighting back fury that's struggling to break free. She's not shouting anymore, just seethes out, barely audible, "I was wrong. You're worse than a Dancer. You invaded my /head/, Mouse. You blackened my soul and took my spirit. No Dancer ever did that to me..I'm not superior, I'm less because of it. I'm nothing." Starcaller's bark snaps her attention to him, and she steps back when he steps closer, hurt and uncertain.
First-Strike snorts loudly. ~That's because you have yet to be caught by a Dancer, Firebringer. Stop being so stupid. I showed you memories of what they did to me. Do you think they didn't use that gift like that? If your soul and spirit are gone, then you threw them away long before we ever met, because you are acting /exactly/ how I have always seen you act. Why don't you go tell the Ronin how much better Dancers are? Tell him how you know better than he does. Tell him how five seconds of a memory that /someone else/ lived through is a worse punishment than actually living through it. Maybe you can tell Pathwalker that as well. Or Dance-Ender. Or Shrouds. I have known Garou all my life, and you are /the/ most self absorbed person I have /ever/, ever met.~
First-Strike adds, with sudden venom, ~You could tell /my packmate/ that, except he died /begging them for mercy/.~
Starcaller's ears go even flatter at what he's hearing, and he whines. Stop this, both of you! This solves nothing, and causes only new problems. If you two wish to kill each other, then be done with it and let it be settled. Otherwise, enough biting at each others' scars! He actually snarls, bulking to Hispo, though continuing to communicate in the lupine manner. This is worse than pointless, it is self-destructive! You are letting the Enemy kill you when they are not even here! Is this how Gaia's warriors behave? And they need a /Theurge/ to tell them this?
"Take full responsibility for the harm you've done, Fostern! You're Gaia's chosen, and you betrayed that. No Dancer's actions can ever amount to what you did!" Again Riot's interrupted by Starcaller's protest, and she turns angry eyes to him. "She came to give Contrition, and when she didn't like what she saw, she turned it into another session of beratement and abuse. Derrick's right, she didn't take my courage, she just poured her and Kavi's pain and anger in my head. I am /angry/, I can't forgive her!" The last comes out as an admission and a plea to the Gnawer.
First-Strike snarls /angrily/. ~You are a /fool/, and if you say that one more time, Firebringer, I will take responsibility for the action I /didn't/ take before, and I will kill you /here and now/. I /know/ what I did. I /know/ what it was. I /know/ it was unforgivable. But it is /not/ what you are saying, and you insult every Garou and every human who has /ever/ suffered under the Dancers and Gaia /herself/ with your /selfish/ self pitying! I know what harm I did. Recognize what harm /you/ are doing!~ Stars gets only a sharp look. ~Even when the pain is /hers/ she can't understand it. She /pulled silver on me/ and demanded I give Contrition to her while she held silver in her hand.~
Starcaller growls and turns, lifting himself to swat Riot full in the chest with one massive forepaw, like one would knock a yipping cub to the ground, holding her there with that same paw with just enough force to prevent from wriggling away. SIT down and STOP biting at her! And you! A chattering snarl is aimed towards Mouse's voice, telling her to show some of the sense Gaia gave her and stop driving her claws deeper into infected wounds! This one may not be a Philodox, but by Gaia's Burning Heart he will not watch the members of this sept tear at each other like foam-mad rats! Now either calm down and come TALK or take yourself elsewhere until you can! This one will guarantee your safety from each other. With his own life if need be, Gaia and all Her children witness!
Riot lets out a cry of surprise as she knocked to the ground, followed by a breathless 'oof!' when Starcaller's paw settles heavily on abdomen. She doesn't struggle, but glares at him in the only way an Ahroun can, with a silent promise of Theurge heads rolling if this doesn't go well.
First-Strike huffs, twisting her ears back. After a few moments, however, she does slink from the trees, in lupus once again, brown paper bag between her jaws. She stops quite a ways from the Gaian and Gnawer, and her entire demeanor speaks to wariness at being even this close. This one does not think talking will help. This one is starting to think nothing will help her understand. If this one doing a thing that was so bad /still/ does not at least show Firebringer that she did something wrong, then nothing will. Firebringer will destroy herself, and probably others. That is what happened to her packmate.
Starcaller grumbles, ears remaining back but a bit of tension easing as all the barbed words flying about thin. He regards First-Strike with what can only be described as an exasperated glower, and he does not remove his paw from Riot's chest, declaring that this has stopped being about crime and punishment and turned into a contest of hate and fear, the pair of you seeing who can rip the hole wider with your screams of filth. This is not Garou. This is /Wyrm/, and he will not see it continue! And if First-Strike cannot trust even his solemn word that she is safe, then she has worse problems than what Firestarter thinks of her and her Contrition.
As First-Strike approaches, Riot moves to wriggle away from underneath Starcaller's paw, the movement instinctual more than anything. Fortunately, she's too fixed on Starcaller to 'see' Mouse's communcation, but she did register his reply. "Let me up," comes the quiet protest.
First-Strike eyes Firebringer warily. She does, she answers Starcaller. Firebringer isn't the only one who is frightened.
Starcaller quite directly informs Riot that she is staying put until he believes she is ready to move, enforcing this by pressing a little harder with that forepaw, perhaps enough to squeeze some breath from the Gaian in the process, though not enough to hurt. His response to First-Strike is somewhat gentler than before, but still rather annoyed at the whole proceedings. There are two very simple solutions to this situation. One is First-Strike leaving, now, and leaving wounds unhealed and freshly raw. The other is facing her fear for the short time needed to maybe do some good. This one will keep the pair of you safe from each other, has he not said so? What more do you two want? That he call up Rat Herself to tell you you're being stupid?
Riot's next utterance is interrupted by the massive paw putting more weight on her, and low grunt escapes the Ahroun instead. After watching the Gnawer's communication, the Gaian wheezes out, "She should leave. I won't accept her Contrition now - or ever."
First-Strike looks from Riot to Starcaller, that paper sack still dangling from her mouth.
Starcaller turns his head to glare down at Riot. ~Look me in the eyes and repeat that, if you really mean it. Because you will not get a second chance at healing this breach.~ The words aren't even angry, though they carry a weight that puts the massive paw on the Gaian's chest to shame. ~You would throw away a sept-mate, an ally in the War, because you cannot bring yourself to accept an appology. An appology witnessed by the very spirits. Why are you so eager to tear yourself away from the hand outstretched, Firestarter? You who follow Unicorn? Even Her black consort accepts submission and appology.~
It takes Riot a short while before she can meet his eyes, and when she does make eye contact, Starcaller can see her emotions; fear, pain, anger, and deep seated hatred. "Contrition won't work after what she said. She still hates me. She's not sorry. She's /not/ my ally."
First-Strike's nose wrinkles. If she was not sorry for what she did, she would not offer to do Contrition. The spirits know when you aren't telling the truth.
First-Strike adds, and the spirits are more powerful than Firebringer.
Starcaller rotates an ear back towards First-Strike, keeping his eyes locked on Riot. ~She speaks truth. Take /my/ word on this. You know who I am. If her Contrition is not heartfelt, the spirits will reject it, and her.~ He eases his paw slowly off Riot's chest, lowering his haunches to the ground but staying squarely between the two females. ~Spirits are not limited to the surface of things like we are, they see the heart, and they will know if she is truly sorry.~ He glances back towards the Lupus, then huffs quietly. ~/Look/ at her, Firestarter. Look at /her/ and not your own fears and rage. She is as frightened of you as you of her. Do you think she would be here at all if she did not mean this appology?~
Riot takes a deep breath once the paw is off her. She rolls up to her feet to stand beside Starcaller, narrowed eyes drifting towards Mouse. Swallowing tightly, the Gaian murmurs, "Then it won't work anyway. The spirits will know that I can't forgive her - that all I have towards her is fear and rage."
First-Strike's ears flick to either side.
Starcaller sighs, ears lowering slightly, looking... disappointed, really. ~Compassion is more than just a word, Firestarter.~ Then he turns his head to regard First-Strike, leaving the Mother's Tongue alone for the moment to put forward the opinion that the Firestarter also has a point. Contrition speaks between two hearts. If one is closed, it does not matter how sincere the other is.
Guilt and shame flash across the Gaian's features, and her hand reaches up to wrap around the glyphed stone by her chest. She doesn't say anything, lowering her gaze to the ground even while her other hand curls into a tight fist by her hip.
No, First-Strike agrees. It does not. She regards Riot sidelong for a moment, before she sets her bag down on the ground, gets a better grip on it and picks it up again, then turns to go. Firebringer will not accept her Contrition, and this one will not ask again. Unfortunately, that hurts Firebringer more than it hurts this one, and this one is afraid that is the story of Firebringer's life. She would wonder what will happen when Firebringer has pushed everyone away, but she already knows. A glance backward. And Firebringer has seen some small part of it.
Starcaller gruffs, quickly turning to fix Riot with an eye, silently telling her /not/ to follow up the barb in kind. This battle cannot have a winner, let it be. ~Safe trails home, whoever you are,~ he grumbles to the departing Glasswalker, the wish sincere even through his irritation and, yes, sadness.
Riot's tic is back again, full force, on both sides of her face. She closes her eyes and mutters something under her breath, using every ounce of willpower given to her to keep calm. Eye fluttering open after a moment, the Gaian grinds out, "Fine. Lets do it."
First-Strike explains that she is First-Strike, Fostern Theurge and elder of the Glass Walkers. She is also obviously metis. Riot receives a startled glance...and then a negative. Firebringer is angry. This one is angry. If Firebringer wants this, then this one will come back in a short while, and she will do it for her. It will give us both time to calm down.
~Bide a moment, First-Strike-rhya.~ The Gnawer steps close to Riot, stretching his neck to nudge her shoulder lightly with his nose, lips carefully over his teeth, completely unthreatening in action. ~This was caused by lack of planning, lack of care. The pair of you, choose a neutral ground and a time. Meet then and there for this. Both will know what is coming, when it will happen, and where to expect it. No more sudden pain.~
Riot shakes her head, the Gnawer's nudge doing little to ease her tension, "No. I said I won't through this again, and I meant it. You're here now, and so am I. The Contrite is not the one to set the terms for her apology. Let's just fuckin' get it over with already."
First-Strike glances between Stars and Riot, and she shuffles a step back, ears flattening. Tonight, at the Caern, she will come. If Firebringer also comes, she will do this thing, and set it right. This one has to find Culls-the-Herd, and prepare herself again for the rite. She turns again, and breaks into a swift trot for the tree-line.
Starcaller huffs softly, nudging again at Riot's shoulder, this time insistently. Let her go, Firestarter. You are in no state to accept an appology, even if you were willing and not badgered into it by this one. And this one is sorry for what he said, but it needed to be said. Does she forgive him?
Riot lets out a snarl and taps into her rage, bulking up to Hispo as she charges towards Mouse at a full sprint, aiming to barrel into the metis and knock her off her feet.
The momentum and Riot's strength are more than enough to bowl First-Strike over. She sees, or hears at least, the other coming, and so she's braced for the impact. The Theurge huddles against the ground, protecting her head and her underside, but she doesn't fight back.
Starcaller looks after the pair and just sighs before lifting his voice towards them, ~This is between you two. Sort it out. I will wait.~ And pick up whatever pieces are left, hangs implied on the end of that. But he suits actions to words, plunking his haunches to the ground and sliding back into his birthform with a resigned expression.
Riot stands over her, barely holding her rage in check. ~Enough fooling around, Mouse-rhya. Enough stalling and playing on my fears and rage. We do it /now/.~ She circles the metis, keep herself moving as a way to distract herself from the urge to take the other by the throat.
First-Strike continues huddling against the ground, head (and the paper sack), tucked under one foreleg, her tail drawn up tight against her body. No, is her single response.
Firestarter comes to a stop right before First-Strike's muzzle. She lifts a forepaw to bat at the Metis's foreleg, growling fiercely, ~Yes. Apologies can't be ordered but Contrition can. I will start. Stand up Mouse-rhya.~
No, First-Strike responds again. Contrition /is/ an apology. This one will not run the rite when she knows it will fail, until she knows that it will not fail on her part.
~There is the act and the rite. Do the act and the rite will follow.~ Firestarter's jaw snaps right by First-Strike's ear, not threatening, just impatient. ~I will give my own Contrition for the words of abuse. But if we do not do this now it will never be done..and if it is not done, then you will not be my ally. You will suffer for it more than me. It's not a threat or a promise. Just truth.~
No, First-Strike says once more, though her ear flickers at how close Firestarter's teeth are. This one /knows/ the rite. You do not. We are both angry and scared, and the rite will /fail/. If Firebringer wants to make this one suffer, she will have to do so, but this one has to do things right.
Starcaller finally interrupts, a chirping yip like a human would clear their throat, though he does not approach. This one does not know the rite himself, but has performed it often enough to know First-Strike-rhya is correct. He whines, ears down and back in entreaty. Please, Firestarter. Trust him as a Theurge on this one, as you would trust him as a Theurge to help your pack.
Firestarter lets out a growl of frustration, then steps back to sit on her haunches, glaring at the Metis. ~You are supposed to do menial tasks as part of your punishment.~ She glances towards the RV, then back to Mouse, ~Wash the RV now, please. Perhaps we will both be calm enough to go through the rite when you are done.~
First-Strike looks exasperated. Somehow, she doubts this. But she uncurls hesitantly from her protective huddle, paper bag in mouth, eyeing Riot. She gives the Gaian a wide berth, but she does start trotting toward the RV.
