~Don't make our pain smaller than it is.~

[renferret]

Mouse wallows, then goes to pass on information to Vera.


The weather is along the same lines that it has been consistently, which means it's cloudy and a little chilly. Ho hum, Washington. Here's a more unusual sight though--a Glass Walker sleeping in the woods. Mouse is currently in lupus, curled up between a tree root and a natural mound of dirt and forest loam with her head on her paws and her eyes closed. Her fur is rather nicely caked with mud (someone's been rolling), but her presence isn't difficult to find, mostly because she smells of old, dried blood and has left that same smell in a winding, wandering trail straight to here.

The scent of blood on the bawn is not one that inspires instant fear or panic for the metis, but even if it were, the happy-go-lucky antics of the dark, grim-shaped lupus might inadvertantly look over that little detail. Speaks-Up is running and bounding through the area, leaping about, biting at the air and chasing dandelion ghosts. Visitors to the bawn might at first fear attack, save for that the idea of a Dancer looking -so damn happy- would be a far stretch to the imagination. As it is, his clumsy course is pulling him ever closer to Mouse.

First-Strike's eyes remain rather determinedly shut even after it's clear she's not still sleeping, but that lasts only a little while. When her eyes do open, the motion is sluggish, hampered both by sleep and by dried mud/blood. Deeelightful. She doesn't stand up or move from her position, but her eyes do peer toward the sound of Zeke's merriment in a hooded fashion.

It's about then that scent meets nose so dead on, that Speaks is brought out of his playful dance. He snort-huffs and turns, head canting to the side, before trotting over to the Walker Theurge. First-Strike, you are dirty. He slows as he approaches, lupine instincts more than natural to him. Ears and tail dip submissively and a soft whine begs permission to approach closer.

First-Strike licks her muzzle, which is also caked with mud, and, on closer inspection, a decent amount of blood too. There are injuries on her face, but the mud makes them hard to spot, and if there are any other injuries on her the mud is making those impossible. Her eyes close again, ears splaying to either side. She's dirty, she agrees. Permission is granted wordlessly, with a single twitch of her tail.

Zeke steps closer, each paw landing cautiously in case the elder Garou changes her mind. When he gets to her, he licks gently at her chin first, then sniffs at her cheek and neck. What happened? he asks even as he begins cleaning and grooming over her with a gentle nature.

Zeke pages to the room: Dammit! Speaks!

First-Strike shifts beneath Zeke's efforts whenever his tongue happens to find a more tender spot. There's a big nasty gash that runs from one cheek, over and down her muzzle, and several smaller ones elsewhere on her face. There's the hint of another one, much nastier, on her stomach, but as she's currently lying on that, only a tiny part of it is reachable. This one had an argument. She lets her eyes close again.

Loud argument, notes the metis as he dutifully tends to the ranking wolf. He's meticulous about his cleaning, but he's also as gentle as he can be. This one can listen if you like, or can just keep grooming.

No, First-Strike replies, tiredly. There is not much to tell. This one is just very, very tired.

Sleep then. This one will watch over you and groom you. Am good watcher. Promise. His tail flickers a little as he drops down beside her, still grooming, but also acting as pillow.

First-Strike's eyes remain closed. She exhales heavily, and for a while, it seems like she /does/ sleep. It doesn't last, however. Several minutes later, her eyes flutter open again, and her ears flatten.

Speaks-Up licks over those ears, just patiently grooming at her. Sleep sleep. This one is still here. Will not leave.

First-Strike rumbles. Speaks-Up should go do what he was doing before, she utters, still sounding very tired. This one should not be groomed.

Speaks-Up snort huffs again, Nonsense. Dirty wolf should be groomed. Wounded wolf should be groomed. You are both, so this one doubly thinks grooming is right thing to do. His head comes to rest on her back, gentle though, for a moment. Speaks-Up was dancing like silly pup before.

First-Strike heard. She licks her muzzle again. She does not see Speaks-Up act like a silly pup often. Maybe he should do it more often. Her head twists, licking at the side of Zeke's jaw. She is dirty and wounded because she was stupid.

Kavi has arrived.

Speaks-Up gives a soft little whimper-rrowl. Sometimes do stupid things, does not make one stupid. Just makes thing they did stupid. Another lick follows and then he settles for a moment, taking a break from the grooming project.

First-Strike turns her head, tucking it under one foreleg, with her nose against the tree root. She went to give contrition to Firebringer.

There's a snuffling sound not too far off, and the snapping of a twig.

Speaks-Up flickers an ear toward the snapping twig, scanning the distances quickly for sign of intruder. He stands up, watchful as promised. Did it go not so well?

First-Strike wrinkles her muzzle, then winces as she regrets the motion. What does Speaks-Up think? Contrition is not going to happen with Firebringer. This one will not try again.

From the underbrush nearby comes a soft whine, the dark fur of the Glass Walker visible soon after as he pushes his nose through the green. Ringtone found Mouse, he indicates, stepping closer to be more visible. Ringtone can come closer? His posture is one of clear submission as he looks toward the theurge, not an abject bellycrawl, but his ears are slicked back, and his tail is tucked as he pushes his way forward.

Speaks-Up wiggles his tail welcomingly as the Galliard shows his face, apparently, none threatened at all about the idea of a visitor. It is of course, up to Mouse though, so he drops back down and sits quietly beside the Fostern as she makes the decision.

First-Strike's ears push forward as Ringtone arrives, and she hunches back a little, looking faintly guilty. The answer is along the lines of 'of course'.

Ringtone's tail moves, a small gesture side to side before it comes to rest again against his leg. His ears regain a more relaxed stance and he takes the steps to join the other two. Ringtone looked for Mouse in the scab. He tried to howl for her, but she didn't answer, so he looked in the place that she went, before. She wasn't there, so he came here. Mouse is unharmed?

Speaks-Up gives the metis Fostern another bit of grooming as a new spot of mud is discovered. (Gasp!) First-Strike will be okay.

First-Strike is not very hurt. This, of course, seem to be heavily contradicted by the injuries on her face, and the hint of injury on her underside that she's laying on. Her ears droop.

Ringtone's ears turn back, and emits a small whine. His head lowers another fraction, gaze turning aside. He draws in a breath, letting it out in a huffed sigh. What enemy did Mouse fight? Ringtone will howl it for her. The apology in his posture is clear enough, though he does nothing to elucidate.

Speaks-Up watches the two Walkers with an air of fondness. This one was just grooming First-Strike. Can go if Walker's need to be alone.

First-Strike huffs. She did not fight an enemy. She fought with Firebringer.

Hackles raise and the galliard's posture changes to one of aggression, standing taller, head held a little higher. Still his ears are turned back, and his tail remains curled. He spares a glance for Zeke, his nonverbal response still clearly negative, no need for the other to leave. Then his gaze returns to Mouse, and he studies her all the more closely. There are no words, not even in the lupus tongue, but his posture says it all. The galliard is ready to serve whatever command is given.

Speaks-Up shifts a little, tucking forepaws underneath his chest. If giving contrition, why fight? What happened?

First-Strike sighs this time. No, she tells Ringtone, a spoken answer to the unspoken readiness. Lots of things happened, she tells Speaks-Up. This one does not want to talk about it.

Ringtone watches Mouse for a moment more, starting to move even while his gaze is still on her. He turns a tight circle, muscles tense, ears flickering with indecision. Finally he gives a great shake, and drops down to his belly facing the elder. He lets out a soft whine, and edges closer, looking up at her and then away.

Speaks-Up licks his nose once then settles down. He quietly acquiesces to the reply, and goes back to sniffing and searching for more bits of mud to lick clean from the Fostern.

First-Strike turns her head just long enough to lick Kavi's nose, before tucking her muzzle back out of sight. She would like the ~drugs~ from her room, eventually. Her back hurts.

Ringtone lets out another small whine and pushes up to his feet. His posture declares him miserable, though what he makes clear in the way of wolves is - Ringtone will be back. He takes an awkward step back, and then another. Mouse will still be here?

Speaks-Up watches the interaction quietly, more as observer than participant now. Just, cleaning away. Yup, Mouse is gonna be one squeaky clean wolf soon.

First-Strike's ears flatten. She did not mean Ringtone had to leave now. She meant when he did leave, later. This is accompanied by a whine of her own. She does not want him to leave /now/.

Ringtone lifts one forepaw, ears repeating their earlier twitch. The paw is lowered and raised again, finally set down more firmly. ~Mouse-rhya,~ he grates out, and moves in close before settling down. He stretches forward with his neck, resting his chin just barely touching Mouse's foreleg. Ringtone is here.

Speaks-Up remains the quiet one in this, and eventually, finds himself satisfied with his grooming job. He inches up a little and rolls to one side, putting his back against the Walker's side and letting his legs flop out in front of him just a little.

First-Strike settles a little. For a while, she doesn't say anything at all. Then, with a lick of her nose: this one is very sorry.

Ringtone lifts his chin, pulling himself up so he can see her more easily. He blinks, once, uncomprehending, and that small, soft whine repeats. Why?

First-Strike whines in response, but she doesn't give any actual explanation.

Ringtone pulls himself forward without rising. When he's close enough to reach without stretching, he licks at the elder's muzzle. It's a sign of active submission, and an unconscious request for reassurance. His whine matches hers, and as he lowers his head, he keeps in contact with her.

First-Strike explains that the thing she did, she can't fix. She can't even give Contrition for it. And part of her doesn't /want/ to.

Speaks-Up turns an ear toward Mouse at this, Not sorry for doing it, sorry for what it did maybe?

Ringtone's ear twitches, signaling understanding and acceptance without offering anything more. He moves a bit closer, lending support through the contact of his body if not through words.

First-Strike begins to lick at the side of Ringtone's face in an agitated fashion. She is sorry for what she did. And she is sorry for what it did. But part of her is not sorry for Firebringer.

This one thinks it is not your place to be sorry for Firebringer. That is Firebringer's place. Speaks-Up offers this even as his chin settles back down onto the ground, tail curling around his ankles.

Ringtone puts up with the licking without complaint, nor sign of discomfort. Her words bring a change in him, though, a return of the tension. It's less than before, and eases quickly through the contact with the elder, but his meaning is clear enough. Ringtone is not sorry for Firebringer.

First-Strike's licking becomes faster and more agitated. What she did was bad. /Bad/. Not forgivable. Worse than a Dancer.

Speaks-Up perks again. What who did? What was worse than Dancer?

Ringtone rolls away, pushing to his feet with a growl of defiance that changes tone as he changes shape, suddenly finding himself in hispo. The growl cuts off, replaced by words in Mother's Tongue. ~No,~ he says firmly, clearly, and pauses before saying more. ~She did not stay chained to a wall, beaten and broken, for months, because of her defiance. She did not feel her guts spill out around her. She did not feel her flesh flayed from her bone, for days. She did not. She saw glimpses, only, of our pain. Glimpses. Because she could not learn. It hurt her. It hurt us. It was not worse. Not as bad. It was NOT what they do.~

First-Strike turns her nose under one foreleg, and closes her eyes tightly.

Speaks-Up winces slightly as the Galliard steps up and explains some of the ordeal. His ears pin down to the sides of his head and his tail huddles closer to his legs. He remains pressed near to Mouse though, and a soft whine follows. First-Strike did not torment. First-Strike is /not/ like the enemy. Not at all.

Ringtone licks his nose, taking a step back toward Mouse and leaning down. He huffs out a hot breath, ruffling the fur at her shoulder, and slowly settles down. ~Mouse-rhya. It hurt. More than you wanted. More than we could control. It is okay to be sorry. It is okay to feel the pain of it. Mouse-rhya. I know what they do. What you did? It is not the same, and it... It makes it less. What they do? It makes it less, to say that what happened is worse. Don't make it less. Don't make our pain smaller than it is.~

First-Strike whines again. It is not just this one thinking it. Others say it. She knows what /is/, but...

Others, they are not judges? asks Speaks-Up. Listen to Speaks-when-Needed, because what this one says is needed for you to hear. The metis Fury shifts a little to sit up more and face her better. Gaia knows First-Strike's heart. Knows our challenges. Knows our intent. Let Gaia be your judge. Garou cannot see as wholly as Gaia sees. If this one believed what others say, this one /would/ be a Dancer.

Ringtone rises and turns a small circle, the growl sounding loud in his hispo throat. Claws dig deep into the turf and his lips curl away from his teeth. ~Others don't know. They weren't there. They have no right to say.~

First-Strike says very very quietly, that Firebringer was there.

Speaks-Up snort growls, Firebringer saw what you saw. That does not give right to say you are Dancer. Firebringer does many things that Dancers do, do we call her the enemy?

Ringtone's growl grows louder, deeper, and what was mostly defiance in his posture becomes rage. ~She is WRONG.~

First-Strike rocks forward, standing extremely stiffly. Her ears remain flattened, and her tail doesn't lift from the ground. This one should go and find the Alpha and tell her things she has figured out.

Ringtone drops back to lupus in a flash, looking completely abashed. He half-crouches toward Mouse, the whine back in his throat in abject apology.

Speaks-Up keeps tucked low as Ringtone growls again. His eyes watch the Galliard, and his body shifts only when Mouse rises up. He doesn't voice the whimper in his throat, just stays put there.

First-Strike hesitates, one foot raised. She's not angry at them, she says, trying to be reassuring. But she /has/ to tell the Alpha this thing.

Ringtone lifts his muzzle to lick at Mouse's chin again, ears pinned back against his skull. Does Mouse want Ringtone with her? Does Mouse want Ringtone to go get things for her? Ringtone will do what Mouse asks.

Speaks-Up just stays put, still on the ground with ears flicking back and forth.

First-Strike considers this for a moment. ...if Ringtone could get the things in her top desk drawer, the bottle with the white pills, this one would be very grateful.

Ringtone backs up a step, his tail giving a tentative wag still straight down between his hind legs. He will. His tongue flicks out over his nose, and there's a subtle shaking in his posture. He blinks, twice, holding as still as he can, not giving away anything more in his posture. Then his ear flickers, and he looks to the elder. Where will Ringtone find Mouse? There's more aggitation in his posture than is accounted for in the question.

First-Strike tells Ringtone that she will come back here, after. Then she turns to go.

Speaks-Up stands up then, stretching out only a little as he watches the Elder metis turn to leave. She is mostly more clean now, he seems to suggset as he himself turns to head home.

Ringtone hesitates for a moment, and then lopes after Mouse. He catches her quickly and then overtakes her. His whole body quivers, now, as he stands before the elder. Mouse should not go to the Shadow Lord alone.

First-Strike hesitates, studying Kavi for a few moments. Then she glances back at Zeke. The question is present, if non-verbal.

Speaks-Up pauses, then turns around and steps lightly. This one could go, if First-Strike wishes?

First-Strike answers, simply, yes. Though the simple answer is quite fervent. She nuzzles Ringtone's side, licks his muzzle, and then turns to trot toward Vera's territory.

Ringtone seems to settle, almost as soon as Mouse looks to Zeke. He breathes a sigh at the contact from the elder, and turns to go. Ringtone will bring things to this place. There's an undercurrent of worry still in his posture.


Windswept Clearing(#3150RJ)

You stand in a small, windswept clearing, high in the foothills east of St. Claire. At first glance, the clearing appears cold and dead, but further examination shows a subtle beauty. The rocks that litter the ground have been eroded by wind and rain into intriguing shapes. One looks like a wolf sleeping, another like an old man staring down the mountain side. A small almost non-existent, fed by a pure spring, lies clear and still. The rock-face to the north is limestone, studded with veins of quartz that refract the light when struck just right, sending rainbows throughout the clearing. You have rarely seen a more peaceful or pleasant spot.

To the west you see a faint path leading down the mountain. Looking to the north, you see a small cave up the side of the rock-face.

Contents:
Speaks-Up
Vera

Obvious exits:
Cave Foothills

First-Strike's movements are stiff and clearly pained, though the reason for that isn't hard to make out. She has clawmarks on her face, and rather nasty gash on her stomach. She's moving swiftly, however, nose to the ground, searching for a certain Shadow Lord's scent. Moving with her is the Fury Philodox.

Speaks-Up is a pace behind the Walker, and to her left. His posture is submissive and respectful.

As the two make their way out of the Bawn and on to the lands claimed by the Shadow Lords, they come across the scent markings of the pack.

First-Strike pauses at the very edge of the Shadow Lord territory, walking along the invisible line without crossing. After a little while she stops, glances toward Speaks-Up, then steps back and lifts a howl that is warbling and hard on the ears, utterly pathetic sounding. First-Strike is looking for Culls-the-Herd-rhya.

Speaks-Up tips his nose to howl as well, a simple 'And I am here too' so as to not suprise the Alpha.

Stay there, comes the return howl. The lands that the Shadow Lords claim are rather large and it is not all that surprising when it takes a fair amount of time for Vera to arrives. The Adren arrives wearing the Hispo form, clearly irritated upon arrival. ~What do you want?~

While she's spent the better part of the morning not moving, now that they're actually here, First-Strike seems unable to hold still. She paces back and forth in a tight circle, tail twitching, ears splayed, until the sounds of Vera arriving reach her. Then she stands still, though one paw seems to keep lifting and pressing back down. She gets right to the point. This one knows which mountain Culls-the-Herd is looking for.

Culls-The-Herd looks down at Mouse, motionless for a moment. ~Really. Take on a form that can use Mother's tongue. It is better for these things. It is in Spokane. They are the Sun People. I sent Red-Sea to get maps of the place.~

Speaks-Up drops down to sit on his haunches, listening to the story as it comes out.

The disappointment that threads through Mouse's form is easily read. She sighs heavily. She slides into hispo, but it's clear she's not intending to stay. ~That was what I came to tell you. But you already know.~

Culls-The-Herd's ears flick. ~I do not know which Mountain. Yet. There was a war in Spokane's history. Does it have something to do with that?~

First-Strike's ears lift. She looks uncertain for a moment, before she straightens. ~There is a mountain also called Spokane. It is less than thirty miles from the city. There is a ski resort there, and a large state park. I think I know all the parts of the riddle now, except the how. The Dark One is Carnage's totem, the Patron is the bane that slumbers under the mountain, the Restorer is the Wyrm, and the riddle talked about tearing away the foot of the mountain. Spokane the city could be considered the foot of the mountain, or possibly simply part of the park. The grove that Carnage brought Pathwalker to is not just a place, it has meaning, it is /important/ to him, it is a place where they conduct rites and rituals and mark the trees. The trees are /wrong/, like they were grown wrong, and I think it has been that way for some time.~

Culls-The-Herd's head bobs. ~It is Traitors Grove. There are those who are assigned to watch it. The Dark One, the one they follow, is Lion. He is feared by the other spirits. Once, I suspect there was a Caern there - and that the Uktena bound the Bane beneath the Mountain, before they fell.~

First-Strike rumbles agreement. ~Ears told me this. Then she told me you had heard 'Sun People'. That was when I knew for sure it was Spokane. Spokane means, literally, 'Children of the Sun'. I thought before it was Spokane, because it made more sense, but this, /this/ makes me certain. The city and the mountain both take their name from the native tribes that used to live there.~

Culls-The-Herd's ears flick back. ~I did not just hear. One of Thunder's children told me the tale. He knows and sees much. I was also told that the Uktena and Wendigo once lived there. That the sought secrets with a great great hunger. That they took and took and took, but gave little in return. In the end, their hearts were taken from them and they became traitors to their own people. Many we have killed and been wolf born. I suspect these Garou are their decedents.~

First-Strike twists her ears back and grunts. ~When I first thought Mount Spokane, I did research. The human story as to what happened is the same damned story you'll find all over the country. It's very possible.~ Another grunt. ~Ears gave me some of the arrows that were used to explode the Weaver things the ones who went to fight them carried. I have not been able to find out anything yet, but my tribe has been having terrible dreams over the past month. I thought maybe they were an attack, but now I think they were a warning. Every dream was different, but there were parts that were always the same. There was /always/ a gun in the dream, and the gun would always turn on the dreamer. There were Dancers or Dancer totems in most of them. One of my tribe does not use guns, and he had a dream like ours, but his dream ended with the Dancer dying. I can tell you about the others in detail if you want.~

Culls-The-Herd's nostrils flare as she considers this. ~We will have to fall back on older weapons, or our own claws. Tell me Mouse, why did you finally decide to actually start working with me?~

First-Strike twists one ear back, regarding Culls-the-Herd mostly out of one eye. ~You mean, why did I come here to tell you this thing?~

~Yes,~ Culls-The-Herd says frankly. ~It is the first time you've ever been willing to tell me anything.~

First-Strike wrinkles her nose, a gesture which she apparently regrets, as it also wrinkles one of those gash marks on her face. ~Because I knew it was a thing you wanted to know, Culls-the-Herd-rhya. I would have told you earlier, except last night I was detained with chores.~

Speaks-Up continues to listen quietly as he has been the whole time.

~I have wanted to know things in the past and you did not bother to tell me,~ Culls-The-Herd says, then drops the subject. ~I have a chore for you as well. Do you know where my human den is?~

First-Strike growls, faintly. ~When you have asked me things in the past, I /have/ told you. But respectfully, Alpha, I cannot read your mind, and being what we are we rarely see each other. When we do see each other, you seem either bored or annoyed that I should dare to bother you, or you are looking for me to give you things--which I have given, apart from one incident where I was unable to give them to you, but I /did/ try to get them.~ One ear flicks. ~No, I don't.~

Speaks-Up licks his muzzle once, an ear flickering on the opposite side.

Culls-The-Herd looks down at Mouse, ears pressing forward. ~My den is in Kent Crossing. You should come there this evening.~ She then rattles off an address, sounding odd in the Mother's Tongue. She turns partially away. ~Neither of us are mind readers Mouse, but I am an Adren. Something that many choose to forget, when it inconveniences them. You are welcome to come to me any time you wish and I am perfectly willing to work with any who are willing to deal with me in a civil manner - but I can not promise that my mood will be good at every meeting. That has little, or nothing to do with you. Unless there is anything further, I will return to my packmate. She continues to grieve over the loss of her pup.~

First-Strike can't quite hide the uneasiness in her posture, but she doesn't ask for a repeat of the address. There's merely a flick of her ears in understanding. ~I'm well aware of your rank, Culls-the-Herd-rhya. But in answer to your question, it might help if you did not treat others unconnected to your pack or your tribe as enemies.~

~I do not,~ Culls-The-Herd says, reaction bland. ~People see what the wish, the creation they make in their own minds.~

First-Strike twists an ear back. Zeke gets another glance. ~With all due respect, the last thing I wish to see is an Alpha that cares nothing for my tribe beyond when we can occasionally give her something. I can understand not intending to give that impression, but we're wolves, and we read more than words when we speak to each other.~

Speaks-Up gives a soft huff of air from his position, shifting his weight from one paw to the other as he listens as indifferently as possible.

~I am not everyone's friend, Mouse,~ Culls-The-Herd says. ~I can not be be everyone's friend, or play favorites. I care for more then your Tribe, Mouse. My concerns are for the Sept as a whole. Your Tribe is but one part of it. If your Tribe does not work with the Sept as a whole, but puts its needs before all others, what am I to do? Each and every Garou here has value - but you must think beyond the limits of your Tribe - to see the value that each individual holds. You distrust everything I do, search for ulterior motives that do not exist. This Sept comes before all else in my mind. Before Tribe, before pack, before even my own life.~ Her ears splay, seemingly amused. ~I suspect you wonder why I do many things - like the words I have shared with Riot.~

First-Strike's fur ruffles, and her frustration is evident. ~I am not asking you to play favorites with /us/, Culls-the-Herd-rhya. We do work with the Sept. We work with the Sept even though most of the Sept hates us. I am only saying that words mean far less than actions. Your words are very nice. Your actions...do not always match.~ The mention of Riot brings a strange mixture of consternation and frustration to her posture. ~No,~ she says. ~That is one thing I don't wonder about.~

Culls-The-Herd snorts. ~My actions have been directed by how I have been treated by you and your own. Speak your complaints, if you have them. As for Riot, I am curious, what do you think?~

Speaks-Up flickers an ear as well, seems his interest is caught as well.

First-Strike's ears slick back again. ~Culls-the-Herd-rhya, I don't know what you're talking about, unless this is something that happened before I arrived here. And I really don't think it's a good idea for me to speak my complaints. Or to talk about the Child of Gaia right now.~

Culls-The-Herd's laughs, jaw parting and tongue lolling. ~I speak of your complaints against me. You seem to have many. You say you are not a mind reader. Speak your complaints and I will happily explain my actions. As for Riot, you said that you do not wonder why I pay attention to her. I would like to know your personal 'theories' as to my motives.~

First-Strike grunts. ~I meant I don't know what you're talking about in regards to how my tribe treated you wrongly first. And my voicing my complaints doesn't seem like it would be very...productive. I have been, you tell me it's just others perceiving you wrongly. As for Firebringer,~ she pauses. And then, biting the bullet, ~She is very much like a Shadow Lord.~

Speaks-Up stands up to all four paws now, shaking out his fur lightly. This one thinks that the discussion is leaving the realm of productive. First-Strike-rhya, Culls-the-Herd-rhay, you are different garou. And many garou can still share the same goals without seeing through the same set of eyes.

~You have never been very specific, Mouse,~ Culls-The-Herd, ~And I do not know the heart of your complaints. I can not address them and perhaps rectify them, if you are not willing to speak with me in an open matter. I am more then willing to work with you and your own, but that is a road that must go both ways. What barriers there are, must be destroyed and washed away. Once before, you admitted that I had done my best to be reasonable. Would I even be welcome, if I can to the place your Tribe calls home?~ At the comment about Firebringer, the Adren merely laughs. ~No, she would not. She is blood to one of my own. Beyond that, I actually have a fondness for the child. I see potential in her, but she lacks a guiding force, or a clear path to follow.~

First-Strike's fur ripples again, this time with temper. She glances at Zeke, then back to Vera, and takes a deep breath. ~You're aloof. Distant. I never see you, except when you /want/ something, and then you show up on my doorstep demanding. Sometimes you walk straight through my door without even asking for permission to enter my territory, so you can make demands. You're the Alpha. You have a right to demand things. Apart from one incident I even agree with all your /reasons/ to demand things. But that's all we ever see. And if we don't hop fast enough, or if we can't, then it's the philodox. But in reverse? Well, you can take as long as you want. Even when it's a /Septmate/ being /tortured/ by Dancers. And you probably have reasons for delays, but we never hear them. You're not required to give them, but that means people have to come up with their own reasons. And you hunted me down with a /pack/, assuming I was Fallen, but you court the Garou who routinely talks about going Ronin and how the Dancers aren't as bad as all of us, and seems to have a pathological need to disobey and spit on every single other elder in the entire Sept.~ She stops, nostrils flaring, and then lowers her hackles. ~I don't trust you, I don't really like you, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten /who you are/.~

Culls-The-Herd sighs and settles down on her haunches. ~I told you why I asked you to wait /two hours/, to start my search for Stacey.~

Culls-The-Herd scratches at her side. ~And you acted as one who had Fallen, or lost her mind. I acted as seemed reasonable, based on your actions. You were not Fallen, but I could not take that chance.~

First-Strike's ears splay. ~I'm not saying your reasons for coming after me weren't reasonable. I /had/ lost my mind, a little. I'm merely pointing out the...difference in reactions.~

Speaks-Up rumbles lightly, returning to silent onlooker and ready interventionist.

Culls-The-Herd sighs. ~I have many duties and when something is needed, is when one is most likely to see me. I have only once before, called on the Philodox after waiting and asking manymany times and more then a moon had gone by, without a word. That was the first time I can recall having an incident with your Tribe. I considered that matter closed long ago. After that, your tribesmate /killed/ by packmate. In that, I accepted far less then I would have wished for as a bloodprice, but I did not want to cause more strife had already been caused. I tried my best to be reasonable, to deal with your distrust and insistence on questioning my word and Honor. This more recent incident...~ The shrugs her massive hispo shoulders. ~As for Riot - she has her own reasons for what she does. She speaks of going to others, because she feels that she is alone. She seeks acceptance, when she fails to find it here. I am doing what I can to give her acceptance, an anchor, so she does not become lost to us.~

This one warns that in giving her acceptance, you do not give her permission for wrong actions. Firebringer does not follow our litany, or our creeds. She exclaimed it herself at moot when she agreed with the Fool. She does need a path. A firm, straight path that does not allow her to wander. Speaks-Up lets out a heave of his breath, This one also suggests that the -rhyas put the dirt of the past behind them.

Culls-The-Herd looks over at Zeke and snorts once, softly. ~I consider all matters closed, once the Philodox have spoken. I have never been one to hold long standing grudges. My words are truth and my Oath still stands, if you wish to verify it.~ Her ears lay back. ~And I give Riot acceptance, but not permission to act against our ways.~

~She tried to leave last night,~ First-Strike says, tone heavy and more tired than anything. ~She said she would kill my tribemate. She said she would kill me. When I came to give her Contrition, she pulled a silver knife out and brandished it, demanding I come and give Contrition while she held it. Then she refused Contrition. She said I was worse than any Dancer, for what I did, that she would never forgive me and there was no point to my trying to give Contrition. Then I decided to go and find you, because she had made it clear she would not let me do the right, but just as I was going to leave she agreed to it, but we were both so angry that the rite would have failed. Starcaller suggested that we meet later, at a neutral location. I said I would go to the Caern last night, and meet her, and do it there. But then she would not let me leave. She gave me so many chores that it would take me five minutes to recite them all, and kept adding more as I worked, following me around. She told me that she would do this until I gave in.~ Her muzzle wrinkles again. ~But I did not come here to bitch at you or bitch about her. I'll see you tonight.~

Speaks-Up flickers an ear at First-Strike at this. Firebringer demanded tasks of you until you bent to her will and authority on a matter unrelated to your punishment? The coat of the halfmoon flickers as hackles are raised.

Culls-The-Herd sighs at Mouse, then rises and shakes out her fur. ~Why were you unwilling to give Contrition, while she held the knife? Did she claim that she planned to use it on you? Contrition is a form of /submission/ and apology. To submit, one puts themselves in a position of weakness to the one they are asking forgiveness from. Since when does the one giving contrition to one that has been wronged, demand to do it on their own terms?~

First-Strike starts to answer Zeke--This one did not bend--before Vera's response startles her. She looks confused and uncertain, and the Shadow Lord gets a wary sort of look. Culls-the-Herd-rhya is asking this one why she would not approach a Garou who was shouting and yelling and brandishing a silver knife at her?

~You do not trust,~ Culls-The-Herd says. ~Everyone has reasons for what they do. Unless she actually threatened to kill me with the knife and I owed her apology, I would have conceded to her wishes. From what you have said, she merely asked you to perform the Rite, while she felt that she had power over you. Was safe from you. She fears you - even I know that.~

Speaks-Up doesn't look pleased by the Alpha's outlook on it, but says nothing just now.

First-Strike looks bewildered. ~Silver /means/ death. If you pull a silver weapon on a Garou, it means you intend to kill them. It's a death threat.~

Culls-The-Herd's eyes narrow. ~Did she attack you with it, or merely hold it in front of her? Silvertip holds a silver weapon in is hands on many occasions - undeclared and ready for use. I am not saying that she was right in what she did, but I can understand the mind behind it. She is a Ahroun and more then many realize, she is driven by her instinct, as well as her human mind. She wished to feel that she had power over you, that she was the wolf with her teeth around your throat, when you gave submission and apology. Silver or not, one must sometimes give trust to another. Sometimes, it is the only way to heal old wounds.~

First-Strike's confusion only seems to grow. ~There is a difference between holding a silver weapon and pointing it at someone. When you point a silver weapon at someone, when you threaten them with it, that is a death threat, especially to metis.~ She takes a deep breath. ~And Contrition is a spiritual apology. It involves submission. But when it is demanded, threatened, coerced? Then like any apology, it means /nothing/. The danger to myself was secondary, it would have insulted the spirits to perform Contrition like that.~ There's a pause. ~...And Firebringer always wants to feel she has power over someone. It's the only way she ever feels safe. This thing that happened between us didn't begin that, though it may have made it worse.~

Speaks-Up snort-huffs. Contrition is freely given, freely received. Not under threat, or by force. The acceptance of contrition, by the jaw of a garou is different than by the holding of silvered weapons in threat. This, Culls-the-Herd rhya, is the justification you give her that I would warn against. Firebringer does not understand the ways of the wolf at all. Garou are a creature of three parts, not one. Perhaps her path might be found, when she can step off the one she no longer belongs solely on. First-Strike acted in wisdom to suggest the contrition be done another time.

Culls-The-Herd gives her fur a shake. ~Did she hold it, or threaten you with it? That is what I ask. Was her intention to harm you with it. I see you face. Did she attack you with it? You can to her, to give submission? You came to willingly give submission - apology. From what you have said, she was more then willing to accept you apology, but under her own terms, not your own.~ Culls-The-Herd turns to look over at Zeke. ~Then why do I take the throats of my packmates in my jaws, when they show their submission to me?~ The Adren's lips pulls back in a copy of a human grin. ~What she did was bad form and to be discouraged, but one must always ask the most important question. Why? To punish without understanding is useless. A dog who is beaten for wetting in the house will eventually bite its Master.~ The large hispo half-turns. ~I have been away too long. I will see you later Mouse. Good day.~

First-Strike takes a step backward, ears flattening to either side, looking confused and faintly aggravated. ~I came to give /Contrition/. It involves submission and apology, but it is a rite. If I did not want to walk into danger I would not have come to give it. But if it were only apology and submission, it would not be a rite. She held it in her hand and waved it while shouting at me and demanding I come closer. The rite would have failed if I tried to do it like that. I cannot and will not defy the spirits in such things. It would have been a lot easier on me last night if I /could/, Culls-the-Herd-rhya.~

Speaks-Up nudges lightly at the Walker. Let it go. There is no more to be gained by staying for now.

Culls-The-Herd pauses, ever so briefly. ~Perhaps I am used to different spirits. When I perform Contrition, silver is often involved, but not always. One must truly mean their apology for it to work, to appease the spirits - that is what I was taught. Good day.~ And off she trots, brisk walk swiftly turning in to a run.

First-Strike snaps angrily, ~I MEANT it--~ But the nudge quiets her. She turns away, moving in the opposite direction very quickly.

Speaks-Up does his best to politely herd the Fostern away, dropping into his oddly gaited lope behind her and acting as nothing more than a shadowy sentinel.

First-Strike doesn't speak for quite some time. Her pace is just barely unable to be called a run, and she keeps it up even after it's clear that she's tired and still hurting from her injuries and her back. Her ears are flattened, and her agitation does nothing but grow. When she finally does stop, it's to gouge her claws into the ground and snarl. ~What the /fuck/?~

Speaks-Up comes up to her, panting heavily now himself. Culls and you will not ever see eye to eye. It is like different languages. Do what you must, what the litany and Gaia demand of you with her, but do not let it hold you further.

~How can she expect me to trust her?~ First-Strike asks, furious and frightened all in one. ~/How/? She does /nothing/, nothing! except constantly tell me how I'm wrong. She asked me to tell her what my problems with her were, then ignored most of them and pretended like the rest were just my imagination. She never holds /grudges/? Horse shit. She doesn't favor certain people over others? Horse. Shit. She doesn't coddle Riot? Fucking HORSE SHIT.~

Speaks-Up gives the other a gentle nip in hopes of calming her. Calm, calm. This does nothing. Culls is new moon, child of Thunder. Is not good with diplomacy. But respect of higher station. Trust rank at least, if cannot trust name of Garou.

First-Strike fumes. ~She doesn't trust my rank. She doesn't trust that I'm a Theurge, and I know what does and DOES NOT work with my rites. She calls me a liar and lectures me on how silver does not mean what I know it means, she asks me to explain my troubles to her so that she can tear them down when all I wanted to do was tell her something she needed to know, she treats me like a misbehaving child no matter /what/ I do. Was there any thanks for my information? Any recognition that I had given her anything? No, just passive aggressive bullshit about how I never tell her things. And now I have to go to her house to do God knows what.~

Speaks-Up huffs, Culls did make mention of sharing your information. Not in a way you would have heard, but in her way, she did. He pauses then and joins her in hispo. ~She is a new moon. She questions. Always questions and questions. If she were cliath, her questions would earn her claws and teeth often enough, but her rank makes her questions hold more weight. It is /her/ job as a ragabash. You and she will not resolve anything. So you must do what you need to. Obey her, respect her rank and do as she bids when she commands you. There will always be friction between you. But, you must be the one that learns to grease that friction. You are a smart girl Mouse.~

First-Strike trembles. ~Is it so much to ask that she respect me in return? Is it too much to ask that she question /herself/ as well? Or am I actually wrong here? Am I the one /causing/ all of this? I keep being told it's my fault.~

Speaks-Up gives the other a soft glance, ~It is a hard position Mouse. Culls does not work to establish herself as a visible leader, only as one that controls from a long reach. It may be that being here, where no other can challenge her without much struggle, has made her comfortable and slack. It is not your fault alone. But whether or not she truly lets go of such things, you must. You need to be the honorable and reasonable one.~

First-Strike exhales heavily. ~I've tried. I've tried, Speaks-Up. But what good does that do when my Alpha seems to be /insane/?~

~You keep trying. You do what is best for tribe and sept as you have done for as long as I know you. You pass the hurdles, or you stand back up when they trip you. Vera has not let the sept fall to ruin, or to enemy hands. She has committed no crimes. If we do not like her as our alpha, then it is we who must strive to challenge her for alphaship.~ He nuzzles again, ~Or call in old friends to do so. One of the two.~

First-Strike leans against Zeke, heavily. ~Has she kept the Sept from falling?~ she asks, bitterly. ~Or have we done it in spite of her. I don't know. I've...the Alpha of the Green, I never had any problem following her, even when I didn't necessarily agree. This. This is.~

Speaks-Up leans his head over her neck gently. ~Maybe we should hope that Gaia sends someone here that will do better then. Until then, we keep fighting, in tandem with, or in spite of, our alpha's efforts. Can you tell me more of what happened with Riot? I may wish to speak with her.~

First-Strike bunches her shoulders, trying to get a handle on her breathing. ~If I weren't under the Voice, I'd challenge her now. However stupid that would be.~ The question brings a lethargic twitch to her ears. ~Which part?~

Speaks-Up resorts to a quick grooming again, this time over the hackles to try and get them smoothe down. ~Under Gaia's truth Mouse, did she /say/ that she would keep giving you tasks until you agreed to her demands regarding the evening?~

First-Strike's ears splay, and she does at least relax a little under those ministrations. ~That was the gist of it. She was being really smarmy about it. Please this and -rhya that, and won't you do this thing, and really, if you don't have the strength for it, you can go home and come back later. Let me think...for the exact words.~

Speaks-Up flickers an ear. ~I need to know Mouse, if you /felt/ that was her stipulation, or if it was made clear to be one.~

First-Strike's eyes hood until they're almost closed. ~She was following me around in hispo, reciting just lists and lists of things to do. Would you do this, and after that, would you do this other thing, and after that, would you do something else. Just on and on and on. But at one point, she said, 'You can stop any time you're ready to perform Contrition..there will be no anger on my part.' Later, she told me she could do this for weeks.~

Speaks-Up licks at his nose then, ~I will speak to her, and question her intentions then. Your punishment is not an invitation for her to outlet her anger at you, nor is it invitation to extortion.~ Another lick at her then, ~We should go back to wait for Ringtone.~

~We should,~ Mouse says, in a manner that suggests she'd entirely forgotten Ringtone was even coming. ~I'm not looking to make an issue of this. It's just a symptom of a bigger problem.~

~Of Riot's tasks? This is not you making an issue. This is a half moon having ears and eyes, and using them.~ Speak's nudges her lightly. ~Do not worry on it.~

First-Strike rumbles. ~I think I need to use my teeth more. In general. It's not just Firebringer who seems to think my rank means nothing.~

~Human-born have many advantages to us, but I am glad to know this society so well. I cannot imagine having to unlearn and relearn. If I ever fail to know what your rank means, bite me hard Mouse-rhya. Just not on the tail, that is my best feature.~ Speak's flickers both ears at her again as he hip bumps her.

First-Strike leans against Zeke again. ~I'm sorry. I feel like I'm falling to pieces here. It's like...I tried not to feel any emotion about it, and now I'm feeling everything at once. I'm angry and terrified all at the same time.~

Speaks-Up turns a half pace to get in front of her and stop her, pressing up against her with his big hispo body. ~It is okay to feel all those things. And to be afraid and not like them. You are doing well Mouse-rhya! You are doing what is right, and what ought to be done. Kavi, and Ishmael, and the Walkers, and, me, and Fidelity, and Urick and so many are at your side, so many look up to you and count on you. And you are metis! You are twice as hard working to have earned this rank. Do not let the others sour that.~

First-Strike buries her face in Zeke's ruff for a few moments. She's silent for a while, before, quietly, ~...I needed to hear that. Thanks.~

Speaks-Up licks at her face eagerly, ~You are an inspiration to me Mouse, and a dear friend.~ Nuzzle. ~Come, we'll wait for Ringtone to come back, and you will either clean your own belly, or I will.~

First-Strike says nothing further, but she gives Zeke an appreciative lick in return, and she turns to move in the direction where she agreed to meet her tribemate.