"People are scared of me."
Mar. 1st, 2014 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretVal brings X a gun, and receives no interaction for her effort. A brief chat with Emma, while Nick very thoroughly washes the dishes. Silvertip confronts Riley and things are Very Friendly, then Silvertip and Emma have a...discussion.
Greek House: Roof(#439RJ)
Up on top of the Fury House, on what is a pitched roof with gable ends, there's a stunning view out over the forests to the east of the house. To the west, the driveway runs up to Sunrise Road, visibly cutting through the trees. To the north, Nicholson Hall is viewable, and it's just possible to make out the I-90 beyond, on a clear day.
Obvious exits:
Down To Lawn Down To Courtyard
Val has arrived.
It's a new moon day, cloudy and somewhat chilly, with a dampness in the air that promises rain later, and there's someone on the roof of the Fury house. X is standing at the very peak, with both feet braced carefully against the roof tiles. She has a bow in her hands, as well as a small bundle of practice arrows jammed against the tiles next to her. She doesn't appear to be firing, but given her general unpredictability, that doesn't mean she isn't going to start.
Oh good, X is at the Fury house and Val can finally make good on the promise she made a long while back. Memory descends and lands on the opposite side of the roof from X, where she promptly shifts in to her Homid form. "Afternoon."
"Hi," X says stiffly, without quite taking her eyes off of the courtyard below.
Val sighs and runs a hand through her hair, as her eyes dart around quickly, making certain that no one else is in the area. "You still interested in a gun?"
X's gaze flickers to Val at that. It moves between her and the courtyard several times before remaining on her. X doesn't say anything, but there's nothing about her to hide her interest.
Val pulls an unloaded 9mm Beretta out of her jacket pocket and offers it to the Fury. "Bullets are a pain in the ass, since you have to dedicate them individually. But, if you're willing to wait, I can grab some I have stashed not all that far off."
X accepts the 9mm carefully. She's busy turning it over in her hands as she answers, "Yes."
"Alright," Val says, "you can play with that until I get back." Shifting back in to a raven, the Corax leaves, then returns fifteen minutes later, her flight hindered by the small cloth bag is is carrying, which is filled with four clips for the gun.
X gives the Corax's back a sour look as she takes off. When Val returns, X is no longer standing with her feet braced. Rather, she's sitting on the roof, a leg to either side. The gun, or rather the pieces of the gun, are laid out as best they can be on the roof tiles before her, as she's disassembled the thing in the same manner someone would if they wanted to give it a thorough cleaning. /She/ appears to be inspecting every last centimeter of it.
The gun is well maintained and cared for, if not new. Memory deposits her bag of bullets, then lands and hops towards X. "You seem to know guns."
"No," X says, as she peers down the detached slide, squinting. She reaches for the clips that Memory has brought, and turns the first one over and over again in one hand.
Memory cocks her head to one side, as she watches the Fury. "Got to watch someone take apart a gun, a lot?"
"No." X sets the clip back with the others, and the slide next to the other gun parts. She looks up at Memory with those unnervingly bright eyes.
Memory clicks her beaks together a few times, feathers flaring around her throat. "Well, what would you like me to show you?"
X blinks, and stares at Memory for a few moments, not answering.
Memory's feathers slick back, making her appear smaller. "With the gun. If you don't want me to show you anything to do with it, I can just go. Brought this one for you. You can keep it."
X wets her lips. "Okay." She turns her attention back to the gun itself and begins picking up pieces, reattaching them in the way one might expect, though she's a bit rougher and slightly less certain about the motions. When she finishes, she picks up the first clip again, looks from it to the gun, and then slides it into place as well. Click.
"Okay I can show you how to use it, or okay I can go?" Memory asks, sounding, perhaps, a little frustrated. "Where did you learn to do that? Take a gun apart and put it back together again."
"You can go if you want," X says without looking up. She fiddles with the safety, but at least she's pointing it away from the both of them, and doesn't have a finger near the trigger. "I didn't."
"Suit yourself," Memory states and starts to waddle towards the roof's edge. "You're welcome."
X, maddeningly, only responds with, "Okay." She seems very, very focused on the gun itself. Not even a glance up.
That seems to be enough for Memory and she takes off, without a glance back.
----
Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RJh)
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Contents:
Nicodemus
Emma
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
"Silvertip met Duke." That is offered with a rather neutral tone and a look that suggests she thinks very little more needs to be said in explanation. "Long story short? He's never had a celebrated birthday so doesn't know what it is. Which means we don't know what auspice he is." A sigh escapes, "There are ways to find out, but to do that, I need to get him to the umbra. Which is right now, no easy task."
"And you can't just go an pick an auspice in that kind of instance, I'm guessing?" Nick dwells on that a moment. "Certainly a rare problem among homids, but I imagine it's moreso among the lupus?" He speculates, "And getting him to the umbra somehow lets a spirit that might know about that sort of thing impart some wisdom, advice, or knowledge that's otherwise inaccessible? " He pauses, then corrects himself. "Strike that. The moon's too thin to get him there safely now, isn't it? Or is he just not able to cross over the barrier between worlds?"
"Yeah, most of the time with lupus, their garou parent will get them baptized, that makes it all nice and easy. Lost cubs, not so much. And Duke's dad was definitely not one for playing by the books. So now, moon's too thin firstly, and secondly, kid's been taught spirits are bad so he's not adjusting real well to the new lessons about them. He's not physically capable of crossing over. And I don't know anyone other than I think Mouse, who can buddy-system someone over."
X pushes in through the front door without announcement or fanfair--or stomping, she's done that before. She's actually rather quiet about it, but not so much that she can't be heard entering. As usual, the Fury cliath's eyes are just a little too bright, and those three scars on her face rather more pronounced, if only slightly, than they were when she was a cub. Her eyes narrow at the sound of conversation.
"I might be able... Hello?" Nick inquires out toward the front room as he detects sounds coming from that direction. He peeks through the doorway and notices the Fury ragabash. "Oh, hey there. X. Are you looking for someone?"
Emma looks toward the house's front entrance and spots the newcomer. A nod is given, "Hey X." She glances back to Nick with a sort of 'we'll finish the discussion later' bob of her head. "Nick's just brought some pizza rolls and fries if you're hungry."
X shakes her head in the negative at the question, though her eyes do flick toward the food as it's mentioned. And then, as if she's thinking better of it, "is Phil here?" A beat. "Sue?"
"I don't know any Phil. I haven't seen Sue in.... months, I think. But I don't exactly hang out here all the time either." Nick shrugs a little apologetically.
Emma also shakes her head, "Actually, I haven't run into him in a long time either. Things have been busy though." A pause as she contemplates something for the first time, "Hey, you in the loop on all the stuff going down, right? I'm gonna need some heavy hitters to go after that fomor. Can I count you in?"
"He's hiding from me," X says, in the same flat, matter-of-fact manner she tends to say everything. She doesn't seem particularly perturbed by their responses, though. A glance toward Emma results in a very faintly furrowed brow. "I don't know what's happening."
Nicodemus looks quizzical when X's explains why she's not seen Sue, but he doesn't inquire about anything. In fact, at this point, the kinsman just falls silent. Let the adults talk.
Emma looks a little curious about that as well. "You two still not at a working level of cooperation?" She shakes her head a bit at that, offering a faint huh but no more. "Well, there's several things going on, most all city-side. There's a fomor that we're calling Hollow Man. He's a bitch to kill as he's filled with worms. Any single bit of his innards doesn't get nuked, he can basically come back. Also turns out there's a nasty bane taking residence shadow side where he's holed up. Gonna take some planning, but also a lot of hands that aren't afraid to get dirty."
X's expression remains mostly unchanged. "Okay." That seems to be that, except after another awkward few seconds, she starts speaking again. "I challenged him at the Moot," she explains, apparently to both of them. "Because he wants to be Fostern. The...Melodie said we would handle it in the tribe. But he's avoiding me now. He can't be Fostern if he can't handle cubs."
Nicodemus stays silent, but he's clearly listening and considering things.
Emma looks toward X, "You're not a cub. But I get what you mean. If he's avoiding you, that pretty much settles the challenge between the two of you."
X bobs her head once. "But when I was a cub, he couldn't handle me. Avoided me. Frenzied. I want him to prove he's better."
Nicodemus stays silent and stays out of this. Garou business. Clearly.
"Valid argument. If I see him, you want me to let him know you're looking for him, or is this just a poking around thing?" A look is given to Nick as she speaks with the cub, just a quick sideways glance to see if she can read his thoughts
X shrugs. "Won't change anything either way." She looks at Nick too, and there's a faint downward tug around her ever-present frown. "You don't have to be quiet."
Nicodemus explains, "It's a matter I have no input, stake, nor say in. I would not presume to interfere in your business. Or your tribe's business."
Emma glances between the two and offers a small nod. She then interjects another question toward X. "What have you been up to since getting back? You were out of town for a while right? Was that for your rite specifically, or were you out of town and then got rited?"
Something in what Nick says provokes a soft snort from X, but she doesn't give any sign as to which part. Emma gets another rolling shrug. "For my rite. The sisters gave me something afterward. I'm training now."
Nicodemus goes back to being silent. Actually, not entirely true. He mosies over to the sink, eyeballs some of the dirty dishes, and starts hand-washing them. Steam from the faucet indicates he's using hot water to do so.
"Just general training, or for something in particular? And, I can't recall, are you packed?" Emma asks with general curiosity. She moves to put her glass in the sink then, the gesture extremely subtle as she lightly brushes shoulder to shoulder with the kin. "You don't have to do those, but thanks." Then she's turned back to focus on the other garou.
"Packed?" For once, X's monotone breaks into pure incredulity. "No one's going to pack with me." She bounces briefly on her toes. "I'm training to move."
"I know I don't," the mage says as he does the garous' dirty dishes. "I want to."
Emma looks toward X then, head tilting as if considering something. "Why will no one pack with you?" There's no accusation in her tone; just a subtle hint of elder wisdom tucked behind the question, and it seems that if others find X off-putting, the Get either has the world's best poker face or she doesn't suffer the same reaction to the Fury. Simply put, the Jarl seems intent to talk to her like she were just another, normal, every day garou.
"I'm fucking crazy," X states, as though it were particularly obvious. She glances at Nick, but only very, very briefly. "People are scared of me. Not in the good way, like they're scared of you."
Oh, yes. This dish is dirty. You dirty, dirty, dirty dish. Nick focuses on scrubbing away said filth.
"I'm not scared of you," states the Get ahroun as if in common conversation. "You were tested and deemed worthy of passing your rite by Gaia and the spirits involved. So they're not scared of you. Do you want to be in a pack?"
Another shrug, this one a little more defined. "I don't know," X says. "It'd be pretty weird."
"It's pretty hard to be a lone wolf too, so think on it. I'm not actively recruiting right now, but if you wanted to find a pack, I'd keep my ears to the ground for you." Emma gives the other a nod and then glances toward the sink-goer. "In the meantime, I could use your help in the upcoming projects."
X shrugs again. "Worked so far." She follows Emma's glance, then looks back to Emma. "Okay." That, it seems, is that. The Fury backs off a little, retreating toward the far end of the room, away from the kitchen.
Emma gives one more nod to the Fury then turns toward Nick. "Alright. I should get going. See if I can find Silvertip." She looks from one end of the house (where X retreated to) back to Nick. "You heading off then?" is followed by, "Mind if I call you later?" in a quieter voice.
Nicodemus finishes up the dishes. "Do. Please. And talk to me about your plans for Mr. Worm at some point. I'll see what I can do to lend a hand there."
X folds herself into a chair, occasionally rubbing at her face or temples.
Emma nods to Nick and gives just a bit of a smile. "Ok, see you later." She turns then and, with her apple in hand, heads out the back door.
Nicodemus hastily puts the remaining dishes up and vacates the premises rather than hang around X unattended.
----
Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RJh)
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Contents:
Riley
Ciuraq
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
While capable of gamely ignoring others' lack of enthusiasm for her for a time, Riley isn't blind. She clears her throat and offers a shrug of one shoulder, "Then, yeah. By all means, bring some of this shit with you when you head out. I don't know if tea goes bad - is that a thing? - but this stuff's gonna start turning over if it does." A slight quirk of her lips, and her eyes settle on the woman's arm and the fingernails that are tingeing the skin white at the site of impact. "...so, yeah. You seem tense. I'll leave you to your tea." Taking another sip of soda, the ragabash turns back to the living room and flops down on the couch, sinking into it and leaving a bit of a wet mark on her initial seat. Cursing, she momentarily disappears to the bathroom to fetch a towel to sit on.
Ciuraq doesn't reply to the invitation at all. Instead, she reaches behind herself, like looking for a concealed weapon. Her hand comes back empty. With Riley in the other room, her fist clenches and unclenches a few times, anger beginning to boil up into her expression. Then, with a deep breath, she forces a calm. And then the kettle starts to whistle, leading her to slam her hand down on the handle, grabbing it roughly. If tea can be poured in an angry fashion, Ciuraq manages it.
While she's in the bathroom fetching a towel, Riley apparently decides 'fuck it' and ends up taking a brisk, truly short shower. This affords Ciuraq plenty of time for her water to boil, and also allows Riley to come back downstairs without smelling terrible. She's wearing a rather less flatteringly sized shirt and jean combination that hangs loosely off of her, pilfered from somewhere or another. They're clearly not hers. Plopping back down on the couch, she settles in and flips open a worn-looking paperback, burying her head inside of it.
X pushes in through the front door without announcement, though her movements all have the hint of a slouching prowl about them. She's not...noisy, per say, but she can certainly be heard. Her too-bright eyes take in the living room (damp spot and all), and then go to the sound of angry tea pouring.
X actually takes in the wet Riley, as she has reappeared. Yes.
Ciuraq does, in fact, have time time to calm down. She goes over to the other room immediately after the water's poured, like going in there to raise hell that instant. Riley's lack of presence prevents this, so she drinks some tea and calms herself down until Riley returns. Mug still in hand, she starts for the door, only to be intercepted by X. The Uktena gives the scarred woman a jerk of her head, like in greeting. "Ca."
Ciuraq's reemergence doesn't prompt much by way of response from the reading ragabash - apparently she's gotten a little bit better at not sticking her nose where it clearly doesn't belong. X's arrival, on the other hand, gets a bit more of Riley's attention. The Walker closes her book, an arched brow being turned upon the Cliath. "...'Ey, Rogue. Heard you gave an interesting performance at the moot." A thin smile, "Sorry I missed it."
X's expression change is extremely subtle, but there's something there that at least responds, however faintly, to the greeting. "Hi." It doesn't do anything for her tonelessness though. She steps smoothly to the side, to get herself out of Ciuraq's way if the Uktena intends to continue onward, but her attention is clearly on the less familiar of the two women as she answers Riley. "It was okay."
Ciuraq does, in fact, go by X. No chit chat. No idle chatter. Her grip on the mug is slightly less than a death grip, but there's clear tension in even the simple act of holding some tea. She stops across the room, planting one foot, and then planting the other in almost a ritualistic, rooting manner. "Riley." She says, her tone frigid and stony. "I hear you... I hear you gone. Wolf-home."
"Don't be modest," Riley smirks, "Heard you caused quite the dust-up. Got pretty in character, from the sound of things." She stretches her arms up and yawns - and it's in this gap in the conversation that Ciuraq's stance levels and her words hit. A solid blink from Riley, and a slow tilt of her head. "...That's right. There and back again, with no intention of a return visit. Not a topic I tend to dwell on." It's Riley's turn for her expression to somber, "...Christ, do I have such a reputation among the Pure Tribes?"
X remains in the space she's taken, still slightly slouched. For that matter, she remains silent too, though there's no mistaking that she's taken interest in the conversation.
Ciuraq maintains her stance, dead-levelling Riley her icy stare. "Wiinga Ciuraugua. Ciuraq Aketachunak." She starts, tone terse as she explains. "Lit-tle Silvertip Mauls the Horned Serpent."
The half-attentive demeanor of Riley's shifts immediately upon the recitation of that name. The hairs on the back of the Walker's neck practically start to bristle up and she focuses her attention raptly upon the female, appraising her in an entirely new way, scrutinizing. Her lips thin and she delivers a clipped, "Well. The ways of the Umbra are strange indeed. We ought to start a club." It'd sound more jovial if her tone matched her words - instead, her tone has solidified to the point that her words sound decidedly less friendly. "I did go - Wolfhome. I spent months scrounging as a wolf, living on rats and scraps with my every step hounded by humans. Now, I'm here." That's the shittiest summary ever, but she seems not to be in the mood for stories.
X's lips move very slightly in the shape of Silvertip's first two sentences of introduction, and then stop. There's a wrinkle that appears in the middle of her forehead as Riley speaks.
"Ii-i. Club." Ciuraq replies cooly. Her hand with the tea raises slowly to head height, before slowly bringing it in to sip the tea. At no point does she take her eyes off Riley, even as she finishes, and reaches behind her to set the mug on something. Her hand now freed, she brings it back in front of her, clenching at the air. "You murder Finds-Death." She says in a biting voice, somehow a little more threatening than if she was all growling and teeth.
The speaking of the longstanding elephant in the room elicits a small twitch of one of Riley's eyes, her fingers tensing down against her thigh in much the same manner that Ciuraq's had sought her arm. The Glass Walker stays seated, and very still. After a pregnant pause, there's a momentary dip of Riley's head. A simple, brief nod. "...I did, yes." Her lips thin. There seems to be more she wishes to say, but she keeps things simple for now. There's little point in a denial.
X's gaze moves sharply to Riley at that, then back to Ciuraq. The wrinkle fades, but if anything, she's paying even more attention.
Ciuraq's grip on the air intensifies, like trying to strangle Riley with merely the power of her mind. Her knuckles turn white, even as the rest of her demeanor stays stoic. "Why should I not take vengeance now?" Her voice drops in volume, while the frigid tone intensifies.
Watching Ciuraq in silence for several moments, Riley finally nods. "...If Little Silvertip Mauls The Horned Serpent would seek blood where Griffin's pardon earned, and the Earth-Whisperer's forgiveness granted, then there is little enough I might say to stop you." She takes a breath, eyes unclosing, "...I killed her. I won't beg, and won't list the reasons why I'm better for this Sept alive than dead. All I can offer is that the woman who thought there was only one solution to the problem that night isn't here anymore. She didn't return."
*was earned
"No fighting in the house," X says, as if that were, in fact, a legitimate reason to be considering. Her gaze flicks briefly to Riley again. "I don't know. Garou kill each other all the time, I guess. Cubs. Metis. Adren."
There's an X there? Ciuraq's tunnel vision is locked on Riley, white knuckled fist in the air like she's moments from calling on some gift, or is some martial arts pose ready to karate chop Riley from across the room. "I give _shits_ about Griffin." She hisses, face wrinkling up in a momentary silent snarl. "/You/ kill Finds-Death. Ah... ahm not a Gaian. You ah... un-fo-giv-en."
Planting her hands on her legs, Riley's expression remains firm, her eyes not so much as moving from Ciuraq's location. Ex is not spared so much as a glance or a chiding word. "...You don't need to forgive me. Not ever. I won't ask for it, whatever my regret. We can go our seperate ways, and this Sept will be the better for it. I killed where I ought have captured." Her lips curl, "If your aim is to repeat my mistake - to become me - then that is your decision to make."
X raises her voice just a little, with more actual force, "Killing each other is fucking /stupid/, that's why. You're not stupid."
Ciuraq curls her lip, flashing her teeth at the Glass Walker Ragabash. "Not you." She growls. "Not. Nothing... nothing in common. No - thing." She slowly lowers her clenched fist down to her side, knuckles still white from the pressure they're under. She says something in rapid fire yup'ik, abruptly reaching up into the air and drawing a little something with two fingers. "Be curse. All not the caern, be cursed." She spits to the side.
X makes a noise that ends up being a gutteral growl, utterly inappropriate for a human throat; which is probably why she shrinks rather swiftly to lupus, where her scars--all of them, it's not just her face--stand out despite the instantly bristling dark fur. Her ears flatten against her head, and she hunkers down in place, with her tail curling against one leg. Every muscle in the Fury Ragabash seems tensed to breaking.
Rogue(#1291Pc)
A gangly looking she-wolf, with ice-blue eyes that contain an uncomfortable level of intensity. She has black fur, uneven and unhealthy looking, which seems to be lacking in the usual thickness in various areas. Discolored grey fur marks a number of scars; not the wild gashes of battle, but rather thin, clinically neat. By far the largest and thickest stretches down from the middle of her chest to her abdomen, where it intersects with a smaller, horizontal scar that stretches from hip to hip. Two matching scars adorn each cheek, from the corner of her muzzle to the bottom of each ear, and another, nearly invisible, across her forehead. Her right foreleg appears to bear some kind of marking, but against the dark fur and blue-black skin, it can't be easily made out.
Carrying:
Scar Fetish(#1952)
The Walker endures the gesture and words with a steely gaze - one that never seeks out Ciuraq's eyes directly, but rather focuses on a point just past the ranked Garou's shoulder. There is no challenge being issued on the Ragabash's part, at any rate. She's tensed taut as a wire, but she doesn't instigate any further than her past actions have already done for her. "Ex, be still." She murmurs, quietly, without turning to look at the frizzed-up, grumble-growling Lupus. Her attention returns to Ciuraq, but she says nothing further in the face of the Uktena's previous actions. The less she says, the less likely she is to put her foot in her mouth.
Ciuraq turns and snatches the mug from the place behind her, the Uktena going into the kitchen with a swift pace. The mug gets set in the sink, a little water is run in it, and then she starts to head for the Garage, her steps heavy.
Rogue sinks a little lower to the ground, but the growling only heightens into a lip curling, teeth baring snarl that, inexplicably, doesn't seem to actually be directed at either of the two other Garou. Her eyes, as feverishly bright in this form as any, round out.
Riley's head lightly tracks Ciuraq's motion, but other than this act of self-preservation, she doesn't move or speak further. She certainly doesn't impede Ciuraq's progress out of Edgewood.
Ciuraq heads out. It's a bit in the garage (not once questioning what X is on about) before she appears outside the window, wearing a rain jacket long enough to take lupus and slip off into the woods.
Rogue abruptly rediscovers the ability to move, because she suddenly snaps to the side and retreats swiftly up the stairs, moving so low to the ground that her belly practically drags against the steps as she goes.
The accumulated tension isn't something that can bleed out all at once, but Riley's body makes a good effort at it. She stoops forward and puts her hands against the table, taking long, frantic little breaths. Rogue's movement is heeded, and her breath immediately steadies out, as though only just now remembering that they had an audience. Tunnel vision is right. "Rogue. Wait."
----
Edgewood House: Meadow(#1390RJh)
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Contents:
Nicodemus
Emma
Tent(#1921A)
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Emma watches Nick and nods. "Yeah. Hopefully. Because I don't want to think that they were their rank and file. If that's the case, we got some catching up to do." She brushes some hair off her brow and then looks out toward the meadow's edge. "Gotta get the other stuff taken care of, then maybe focus on the bigger schemes."
Nicodemus nods at that assessment. "Plus, I've got Salem working on that angle already," the mage says, as if the concept of him advising--or even directing--elder garou is not entirely alien. "Hopefully he'll be assembling a bunch of no moons to go take a giant shit over in Seattle soon. Piss in the Spiral's corn flakes. Draw off the federal suits that are in town and have them move shop over to Seattle. There's some karmic justice in that, I think."
X exits the house and steps into the meadow with what can only be described as a human interpretation of a prowl. Her eyes are narrowed and her jaw set very tightly, but her shoulders are also hunched, and there's a slouch to her that seems less aggressive and more agitated, as if she were subconsciously trying to disappear into the meadow grass.
"That's a decent idea. And Salem'll know how best to pull it off." She grins then, "I think I'm gonna knuckle down and ask if he'd consider me for his pack." It's just as she says this that she catches sight of another unpacked garou, and, after a moment of watching her, decides against calling out to her right away.
"He respects you, and that's saying a lot. Salem doesn't just throw respect around willy-nilly from what I've seen." He looks over towards the in coming X, and his lips tighten slightly in muted tension. "Honestly? It might be good for him to have someone he could talk to on a more regular basis, too." He then offers a nod in X's direction, acknowledging that he's seen her. "Thanks for not creeping up and pouncing on me this time. I had to throw out those underpants, you know."
This actually, for the briefest of moments, inspires what might be the ghost of a ghost of a smile, however tense, around X's lips. It's there and gone before she's fully drawn her next breath, however, and she turns and angles her way toward the two. "...Are curses real?"
Emma nods toward Nick. "And I respect him. He'll be a mentor to me until one of us dies, that's truth. Even if the jerk should be ranked well above me and isn't." She turns then toward X, eyes narrowing. "Curses? Like voodoo magic curses?"
Nicodemus nods to Emma in response to her talk of Salem. To X he simply shrugs. "Can't see why they wouldn't what with all the stuff the garou can do. And lord knows there's other stuff out there." He looks to Emma, the more experienced garou of the bunch. "Can garou lay the evil eye on someone? Is that a thing?"
X gives the faintest of nods in response. "Uktena curses," she elaborates. Or, at least, it's elaboration from her, because that's all she actually says, but her tension speaks for her.
Emma narrows her eyes a bit more, "I don't know much about the Uktena specifically. They're a pretty secretive tribe. Though, given their penchant for keeping secrets and being well versed with spirit-stuff. Yeah, maybe. Why?"
Nicodemus huhs at X's declaration. "I was not aware that Uktena could put a curse on people. I will have to be nicer to them in the future." He inquires, "Have you seen an Uktena lay a curse on someone? Or just heard of it? Or...?"
X nods again, more sharply this time. "Ciuraq Aketachunak." Her pronunciation is...not half bad, really. "She was super pissed at Riley last night." A glance back toward Edgewood. "Riley killed someone, so she wanted to kill Riley." A flash of temper that vanishes almost as soon as it arrives. "Because apparently Garou just have to fucking kill everyone. She--" The woman stops, shakes her head, then mimics making a sign in the air. "Be curse," she says, in her usual flat toneless manner. "All not the caern, be cursed." Then she turns her head and mimics spitting to the side, though no actual saliva comes out.
There's an intake of breath that's not meant to be as loud or agitated sounding as it comes across being. Emma clearly is not keen on the news she's heard and there's a moment where that tension coils up through her rather quickly. "Was Riley there when he did this?"
Nicodemus raises bothhis eyebrows as the target of this supposed curse turns out to be his up-until-recently-missing tribemate. "Well, she might have just been saying that and not actually using some rite or gift that the Uktena have."
"Yes." X's one word response is clearly to Emma, whom she's regarding with increased intensity. Nick's remark draws her look away, and she shrugs more with one shoulder than the other. The 'I don't know' is unspoken, but there.
Another breath in, and then out. "I don't know /specifically/ of any curses X. There are rites that sometimes might seem like a curse. But they're typically the domain of Philodox and used for punishments and lessons. And they're a big deal-- not something that's just thrown up in the air with a sigil and sharp-tongued phrase. There's a good chance Silvertip was caught up in the moment and reacting." There's an unspoken 'but' there however, and the Get isn't that good at disguising it.
Nicodemus sighs. It's an irritated sigh. "I'll go check on Riley. Who knows? Maybe the curse had her sprout a penis." It's deadpan, dry humor.
X relaxes a little at this. "She was okay," the Fury claims. "But I wanted to make sure she hadn't cursed fucking everyone. Why--" the question is aborted due to another visible wave of agitation, and replaced with, "It was important when I /didn't/ kill someone on my rite. But werewolves just murder everyone and each other."
Emma's first look is to Nick, "You gonna go look in on her?" She seems agreeable to this idea as the nod that follows is rather decisive. When she returns her attention to X, she lets out a small sigh. "Just because some do, doesn't make it right. And if it's pissing you off, then you've got your feet on the right path, because it should. We're Gaia's protectors. Not her vigilantes. Don't let the actions of a few turn you X. Be better than them."
Nicodemus nods almost imperceptively in response to Emma's nod at him. Then he nods as she responds to X. "What she said. Living a life fueled by anger and hate is probably an easy path for many garou. And anger and hate can make you do terrible things. It's like playing with gasoline and fire at the same time."
Memory has arrived.
"I'm a fucking crazy monster," X says, flatly, monotone, matter-of-fact. "But they're supposed to be better. That's why they made me stay with you guys." She looks to Nick. "Yeah. I know. That's why they gave me my Rite of Passage." Her mouth corners tug downward as her jaw tenses again. "It was fake, but I didn't know. The doctor was there. So many fucking questions. So I had to choose."
Emma listens in on X, but doesn't look about to press for more details. "It'll get sorted out. If, and it's a big if, Silvertip is capable of conjuring up curses and in his anger just lumped the whole of the Sept in on this. It'll have some repercussions. Hell, it should have some repercussions even if it was just Riley he threw this shit at." There's frustration in the Get at this, and she forces her eyes closed for a moment as if to rein in her thoughts and emotions.
*zrrr zrrr!* There's an aggressive buzzing noise from Nick's pocket. He frowns, reaching in for his phone, and eyeballs the screen for two seconds before sliding it back in. "Well, shit. Work. I have to go. Emma or X? I brought new bath towels and hand towels for Edgewood. Red. Hides the stains they'll inevitably be subjected to. If one of you could run them through the laundry a couple times so half the farmhouse residents don't end up wearing pink, I--and a lot of others--would appreciate it. See you two around." He heads off towards his SUV.
X volunteers, though there's no actual eagerness about it, "I can do laundry." Emma gets yet another nod. The tension with her hasn't gone away, but it's definitely lessened, and she's more hunched than before.
Memory makes an appearance as a raven, wings carrying her over Edgewood. Doubling back, she starts to circle the pair below.
Emma looks to Nick. "Call me later. Especially after you get a chance to check in with Riley?" She watches the kin go then turns back toward X. "Thanks," she says, though it seems likely she means about the laundry, she adds, "For letting me know what happened. Did you hear at all, what the whole thing was about? More than just one of them killing someone that that pissed the other off?"
X shakes her head. "Riley killed someone named Finds Death. Silvertip was pissed off, and wanted to know why she shouldn't kill her right there. Riley said she did the wrong thing, but that killing her back would be doing something similar. Silvertip did his curse thing, then he left."
The scene below the raven is one of some existing tension, and once Nick leaves, the Get seems to allow herself a little longer leash on her own emotions. "Christ. Awesome plan. Right a wrong, with another wrong." A huff follows and the athro rakes a hand through her hair.
"I know what happened," Memory says, as she circles above the pair. Likely startling them in the process. "With Finds-Death and Riley."
X flicks her gaze between Emma and Memory.
Emma looks up with a bit of a startle, clearly her mood has given way to tension. "How accurately do you know?"
"Well, I'm kinda the one that figured out that Finds-Death was a Red Talon and sneaking in to the city to kill humans. Was still working Homicide at the time and the killings were attracting attention," Memory says. "No motive. No sign of entry. She was entering the homes via the Umbra as a human and killing everyone inside. Young. Old. Everyone. Cockroach spirit told me it was a wolf. Figured it out from there. Finds-Death was Silvertip's packmate. He kicked her out of his pack, when he found out what she'd been doing."
X's nose wrinkles faintly. "Why?"
Emma draws in a breath, "So you figured out who it was. You told Riley, Riley told Silvertip. Who kicked her out of the pack, but did nothing else? Didn't tell the halfmoons, go after her, nothing? So then how do we get from that, to Riley killing Finds Death?"
Memory says "Don't have all the details," Memory admits. "But I know that Finds-Death left the Sept. Riley tracked her down with Jack, who was a Philodox Walker, if I remember right. Don't think an offical judgement was made. Riley got mad after they found Finds-Death and filled her full of silver. Kinda got told about it over the phone, when Riley was heading back with the body.""
X's frown only grows at this, and she repeats, with a little more tension, "Why?"
Memory says "You'd have to ask them."
"Sounds like a whole shit ton of mistakes were made in handling this." A little growl escapes from Emma, "Goddammit, don't we have enough on our plate here?!"
X shakes her head sharply. "No. Why was she killing people?"
Memory makes a little clicking sound in her throat and comes in for a landing, tired of remaining in the air. "Because they were human. Griffin was not pleased. Sent Riley to Wolf Home."
"So you're saying Finds Death was killing for sport? Just, randomly offing humans because they were humans?" Emma looks rather perturbed by this news.
X's eyes narrow again, and she looks from Memory to Emma. For the moment, at least, she's not asking any more questions, but that tension is back at full force.
Little Silvertip has arrived.
"Rad Talon. They have lots of reasons to hate humans," Memory says, from the ground near the two Garou. She fluffs out her feathers and starts preening.
"I have lots of reasons to hate humans," X says sharply, though her voice doesn't actually raise in volume. "Lots of reasons to hate werewolves too."
"I'm getting sick and tired of people having 'reasons' turn into 'excuses' to behave in ways they should not. It's a goddamned coward's way out and it's time we start expecting better than that." A fist clenches as the Get lets slip a curse in some other language.
Little Silvertip makes her way through the forest, the small white wolf sniffing her way along as if following the scent trail of someone. The voices in the meadow cause her to pause, ears perking. After a few moments, the arctic wolf begins to slip in their direction.
Memory's feathers fluff up, as her head sinks into her shoulders. She hop-waddles a few feet away from the angry Get, a half-second later.
X glances briefly to Emma at her own response, but she's silent now, and when she looks away it's to the ground. Her fingers pluck at her sleeves as her shoulders hunch, and the scowl remains.
Emma takes a moment to refocus then opens her eyes once more. She glances between raven and X, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but god I almost wish Megan were here."
Little Silvertip emerges from the brush, and quickly spies memory. Her tail sweeps a few times, pleased to see the raven. Her reaction settles when she spies X, and hears Emma's tone of voice. The Uktena cocks her head to the side, squinting curiously.
X backs up while still plucking at her sleeves with her gloved fingers. She doesn't look at Silvertip, but it's very clear she's noticed the Uktena's arrival anyway. She only goes a few feet, but she's decidedly...twitchier.
Emma looks over then, just a fraction of a moment behind X in noticing Silvertip. The Get draws herself up, and for the second time in two days, she's addressing the Uktena with a frustrated tone and a tense posture. "I don't know if you're actually capable of conjuring a curse upon someone, or if it was just your anger speaking. But I'd like to know what gives you the right to make a damning judgement on anyone, let alone the whole lot of us."
Little Silvertip's demeanour smoothly changes from curious to irate, ears coming forward, and lips curling back at the Get's regard. She shifts up through the forms, stopping in Crinos, where she plants her spear in the ground, leaning on it. ~Don't you dare talk to me like that.~ She growls. ~/You/ didn't have your packmate murdered in cold blood. I'm within my rights to end her life.~
X twitches again. A little, then a lot more. Her arms wrap tightly around herself. "What about all the people she killed in cold blood?"
Emma wastes no time in rising up to meet the other in crinos, eyes firm and shoulders raised to stand her ground. ~And so then, would I be in my rights to end your life for your taking hers? Is that how it works? Fuck the Philodox, they've no place in these matters. Blood for blood?~
Memory quorks loudly in alarm, as she flees the general vicinity of the Garou, with a great deal of haste and a flutter of wings.
~Yes! Yes that /is/ how it works!~ Silvertip snarl-barks, gesturing wide. ~Fuck you, Fire-Dancer. You shut your /god damned/ mouth. She /murdered/ someone I packed with! Was Finds Death wrong? YES! Did I tell her that? YES! But The Urrah /killed/ one that I packed with! Don't you dare pretend you know anything AT ALL about that! Don't you /fucking dare!/~
X's teeth flash, and much like Memory, she moves quickly backward, though she doesn't actually flee further than a few feet. The Fury drops to lupus again, and as with last night, all of her fur is standing out, muscles tense, and an uneasy growling in her throat.
Heart-of-Fire doesn't buckle under the tirade of the Uktena, in fact there's almost a welcoming glint that flits across her eyes as tensions rise. ~You. Are. Wrong.~ There's a low growl in her throat then as her hackles bristle upward. ~You react and dish out what justice you deem fair according to /your/ ideals. The murder of dozens of humans warrants only a scolding to your packmate because you agree with her. That does not give you the right to murder one of the Walkers in return. There are rules. And you are not above them!~
~Only a /scolding?!/ Only a /Scolding?!?!/~ Silvertip all but screams, hackles raising. ~You /arrogant,/ self-righteous, mooncalf of an ass! YOU WEREN'T THERE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! You SHUT the FUCK UP!~ The Uktena's blood is pounding, and her gestures wide and energetic. Violence or frenzy doesn't seem that far off.
Rogue flattens herself against the grasses, her ears splayed to either side, and her fever bright eyes fairly bulging. She's not contributing anything to this shouting match beyond the low, uneasy growl, which seems unlikely to stop any time soon. Her fur is so bristled that her scars are hard to make out underneath it all.
There's a flash of rage that passes the Get's eyes and she steels herself from the emotion that is so dangerously rising in both of the garou. The Get draws herself up into her full height and full manner of authority; a posture that she rarely is pushed to use. Her tone becomes even, almost unnerving in it's sudden coolness. ~I suggest, Little Silvertip Mauls the Horned Serpent, that you find a way to calm yourself, and walk off. Right now.~
The challenging posture, and directions to leave from the Get only seems to further enrage Little Silvertip. She lets out a harsh, wordless snarl, teeth snapping at the air as she leans forward to roar. Flecks of spittle gather at the corners of her jaws. When she finally recovers use of her vocabulary, she barks out, ~Combat! Now! You and me!~
There's no change in Rogue, which all things considered, is probably the best that can be hoped for. She's holding herself together, for a certain definition of that, but she does look ready to spring in any direction if there's a need.
Heart-of-Fire narrows her gaze at that, posture still tall and sure of herself. ~I am the Master of the Challenge and as such, I will point out in reminder, that if you are challenging me, /you/ do not get to set the terms. If you wish to challenge me, so be it. But the terms are mine to set.~
Little Silvertip snarls again, eyes twitching as frenzy threatens again. The small moon, and the Uktena's hard earned self control hold off any wild balls of fangs and teeth, though. ~Oathbreaker, too! You lecture me, and tell me /I'm/ challenging! You want to twist words, fine! But you do /not/ judge your own challenges! _Those_ are our laws! The Laws you /claim/ to know, but never show!~ Silvertip snarls.
Rogue's growling heightens into a snarl and a show of teeth that's not directed at either Get or Uktena.
~Then call one of our halfmoons to oversee the challenge, but do not continue to throw insults at me out of anger.~ The Get remains statue still, as she has throughout this whole ordeal, she doesn't seem intent to leave the presence of Edgewood either, and only the very perceptive would notice the small, quick, look she spares X as if to gauge the Fury's current state.
Little Silvertip bares her teeth, putting her spear on her back and drawing up to her own, considerably shorter height as she stares back at the Get with a snarl. ~You insult me, you insult my actions, you insult the memory of Finds Death. You judge events you never saw. You piss on my grief and anger. You shit on the laws. You twist words to your purpose! I haven't said nearly enough.~
Rogue looks as though she might lose her own control at any moment, but she hasn't moved from that spot of ground she's claimed.
Little Silvertip turns and storms off into the woods.
Greek House: Roof(#439RJ)
Up on top of the Fury House, on what is a pitched roof with gable ends, there's a stunning view out over the forests to the east of the house. To the west, the driveway runs up to Sunrise Road, visibly cutting through the trees. To the north, Nicholson Hall is viewable, and it's just possible to make out the I-90 beyond, on a clear day.
Obvious exits:
Down To Lawn Down To Courtyard
Val has arrived.
It's a new moon day, cloudy and somewhat chilly, with a dampness in the air that promises rain later, and there's someone on the roof of the Fury house. X is standing at the very peak, with both feet braced carefully against the roof tiles. She has a bow in her hands, as well as a small bundle of practice arrows jammed against the tiles next to her. She doesn't appear to be firing, but given her general unpredictability, that doesn't mean she isn't going to start.
Oh good, X is at the Fury house and Val can finally make good on the promise she made a long while back. Memory descends and lands on the opposite side of the roof from X, where she promptly shifts in to her Homid form. "Afternoon."
"Hi," X says stiffly, without quite taking her eyes off of the courtyard below.
Val sighs and runs a hand through her hair, as her eyes dart around quickly, making certain that no one else is in the area. "You still interested in a gun?"
X's gaze flickers to Val at that. It moves between her and the courtyard several times before remaining on her. X doesn't say anything, but there's nothing about her to hide her interest.
Val pulls an unloaded 9mm Beretta out of her jacket pocket and offers it to the Fury. "Bullets are a pain in the ass, since you have to dedicate them individually. But, if you're willing to wait, I can grab some I have stashed not all that far off."
X accepts the 9mm carefully. She's busy turning it over in her hands as she answers, "Yes."
"Alright," Val says, "you can play with that until I get back." Shifting back in to a raven, the Corax leaves, then returns fifteen minutes later, her flight hindered by the small cloth bag is is carrying, which is filled with four clips for the gun.
X gives the Corax's back a sour look as she takes off. When Val returns, X is no longer standing with her feet braced. Rather, she's sitting on the roof, a leg to either side. The gun, or rather the pieces of the gun, are laid out as best they can be on the roof tiles before her, as she's disassembled the thing in the same manner someone would if they wanted to give it a thorough cleaning. /She/ appears to be inspecting every last centimeter of it.
The gun is well maintained and cared for, if not new. Memory deposits her bag of bullets, then lands and hops towards X. "You seem to know guns."
"No," X says, as she peers down the detached slide, squinting. She reaches for the clips that Memory has brought, and turns the first one over and over again in one hand.
Memory cocks her head to one side, as she watches the Fury. "Got to watch someone take apart a gun, a lot?"
"No." X sets the clip back with the others, and the slide next to the other gun parts. She looks up at Memory with those unnervingly bright eyes.
Memory clicks her beaks together a few times, feathers flaring around her throat. "Well, what would you like me to show you?"
X blinks, and stares at Memory for a few moments, not answering.
Memory's feathers slick back, making her appear smaller. "With the gun. If you don't want me to show you anything to do with it, I can just go. Brought this one for you. You can keep it."
X wets her lips. "Okay." She turns her attention back to the gun itself and begins picking up pieces, reattaching them in the way one might expect, though she's a bit rougher and slightly less certain about the motions. When she finishes, she picks up the first clip again, looks from it to the gun, and then slides it into place as well. Click.
"Okay I can show you how to use it, or okay I can go?" Memory asks, sounding, perhaps, a little frustrated. "Where did you learn to do that? Take a gun apart and put it back together again."
"You can go if you want," X says without looking up. She fiddles with the safety, but at least she's pointing it away from the both of them, and doesn't have a finger near the trigger. "I didn't."
"Suit yourself," Memory states and starts to waddle towards the roof's edge. "You're welcome."
X, maddeningly, only responds with, "Okay." She seems very, very focused on the gun itself. Not even a glance up.
That seems to be enough for Memory and she takes off, without a glance back.
----
Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RJh)
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Contents:
Nicodemus
Emma
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
"Silvertip met Duke." That is offered with a rather neutral tone and a look that suggests she thinks very little more needs to be said in explanation. "Long story short? He's never had a celebrated birthday so doesn't know what it is. Which means we don't know what auspice he is." A sigh escapes, "There are ways to find out, but to do that, I need to get him to the umbra. Which is right now, no easy task."
"And you can't just go an pick an auspice in that kind of instance, I'm guessing?" Nick dwells on that a moment. "Certainly a rare problem among homids, but I imagine it's moreso among the lupus?" He speculates, "And getting him to the umbra somehow lets a spirit that might know about that sort of thing impart some wisdom, advice, or knowledge that's otherwise inaccessible? " He pauses, then corrects himself. "Strike that. The moon's too thin to get him there safely now, isn't it? Or is he just not able to cross over the barrier between worlds?"
"Yeah, most of the time with lupus, their garou parent will get them baptized, that makes it all nice and easy. Lost cubs, not so much. And Duke's dad was definitely not one for playing by the books. So now, moon's too thin firstly, and secondly, kid's been taught spirits are bad so he's not adjusting real well to the new lessons about them. He's not physically capable of crossing over. And I don't know anyone other than I think Mouse, who can buddy-system someone over."
X pushes in through the front door without announcement or fanfair--or stomping, she's done that before. She's actually rather quiet about it, but not so much that she can't be heard entering. As usual, the Fury cliath's eyes are just a little too bright, and those three scars on her face rather more pronounced, if only slightly, than they were when she was a cub. Her eyes narrow at the sound of conversation.
"I might be able... Hello?" Nick inquires out toward the front room as he detects sounds coming from that direction. He peeks through the doorway and notices the Fury ragabash. "Oh, hey there. X. Are you looking for someone?"
Emma looks toward the house's front entrance and spots the newcomer. A nod is given, "Hey X." She glances back to Nick with a sort of 'we'll finish the discussion later' bob of her head. "Nick's just brought some pizza rolls and fries if you're hungry."
X shakes her head in the negative at the question, though her eyes do flick toward the food as it's mentioned. And then, as if she's thinking better of it, "is Phil here?" A beat. "Sue?"
"I don't know any Phil. I haven't seen Sue in.... months, I think. But I don't exactly hang out here all the time either." Nick shrugs a little apologetically.
Emma also shakes her head, "Actually, I haven't run into him in a long time either. Things have been busy though." A pause as she contemplates something for the first time, "Hey, you in the loop on all the stuff going down, right? I'm gonna need some heavy hitters to go after that fomor. Can I count you in?"
"He's hiding from me," X says, in the same flat, matter-of-fact manner she tends to say everything. She doesn't seem particularly perturbed by their responses, though. A glance toward Emma results in a very faintly furrowed brow. "I don't know what's happening."
Nicodemus looks quizzical when X's explains why she's not seen Sue, but he doesn't inquire about anything. In fact, at this point, the kinsman just falls silent. Let the adults talk.
Emma looks a little curious about that as well. "You two still not at a working level of cooperation?" She shakes her head a bit at that, offering a faint huh but no more. "Well, there's several things going on, most all city-side. There's a fomor that we're calling Hollow Man. He's a bitch to kill as he's filled with worms. Any single bit of his innards doesn't get nuked, he can basically come back. Also turns out there's a nasty bane taking residence shadow side where he's holed up. Gonna take some planning, but also a lot of hands that aren't afraid to get dirty."
X's expression remains mostly unchanged. "Okay." That seems to be that, except after another awkward few seconds, she starts speaking again. "I challenged him at the Moot," she explains, apparently to both of them. "Because he wants to be Fostern. The...Melodie said we would handle it in the tribe. But he's avoiding me now. He can't be Fostern if he can't handle cubs."
Nicodemus stays silent, but he's clearly listening and considering things.
Emma looks toward X, "You're not a cub. But I get what you mean. If he's avoiding you, that pretty much settles the challenge between the two of you."
X bobs her head once. "But when I was a cub, he couldn't handle me. Avoided me. Frenzied. I want him to prove he's better."
Nicodemus stays silent and stays out of this. Garou business. Clearly.
"Valid argument. If I see him, you want me to let him know you're looking for him, or is this just a poking around thing?" A look is given to Nick as she speaks with the cub, just a quick sideways glance to see if she can read his thoughts
X shrugs. "Won't change anything either way." She looks at Nick too, and there's a faint downward tug around her ever-present frown. "You don't have to be quiet."
Nicodemus explains, "It's a matter I have no input, stake, nor say in. I would not presume to interfere in your business. Or your tribe's business."
Emma glances between the two and offers a small nod. She then interjects another question toward X. "What have you been up to since getting back? You were out of town for a while right? Was that for your rite specifically, or were you out of town and then got rited?"
Something in what Nick says provokes a soft snort from X, but she doesn't give any sign as to which part. Emma gets another rolling shrug. "For my rite. The sisters gave me something afterward. I'm training now."
Nicodemus goes back to being silent. Actually, not entirely true. He mosies over to the sink, eyeballs some of the dirty dishes, and starts hand-washing them. Steam from the faucet indicates he's using hot water to do so.
"Just general training, or for something in particular? And, I can't recall, are you packed?" Emma asks with general curiosity. She moves to put her glass in the sink then, the gesture extremely subtle as she lightly brushes shoulder to shoulder with the kin. "You don't have to do those, but thanks." Then she's turned back to focus on the other garou.
"Packed?" For once, X's monotone breaks into pure incredulity. "No one's going to pack with me." She bounces briefly on her toes. "I'm training to move."
"I know I don't," the mage says as he does the garous' dirty dishes. "I want to."
Emma looks toward X then, head tilting as if considering something. "Why will no one pack with you?" There's no accusation in her tone; just a subtle hint of elder wisdom tucked behind the question, and it seems that if others find X off-putting, the Get either has the world's best poker face or she doesn't suffer the same reaction to the Fury. Simply put, the Jarl seems intent to talk to her like she were just another, normal, every day garou.
"I'm fucking crazy," X states, as though it were particularly obvious. She glances at Nick, but only very, very briefly. "People are scared of me. Not in the good way, like they're scared of you."
Oh, yes. This dish is dirty. You dirty, dirty, dirty dish. Nick focuses on scrubbing away said filth.
"I'm not scared of you," states the Get ahroun as if in common conversation. "You were tested and deemed worthy of passing your rite by Gaia and the spirits involved. So they're not scared of you. Do you want to be in a pack?"
Another shrug, this one a little more defined. "I don't know," X says. "It'd be pretty weird."
"It's pretty hard to be a lone wolf too, so think on it. I'm not actively recruiting right now, but if you wanted to find a pack, I'd keep my ears to the ground for you." Emma gives the other a nod and then glances toward the sink-goer. "In the meantime, I could use your help in the upcoming projects."
X shrugs again. "Worked so far." She follows Emma's glance, then looks back to Emma. "Okay." That, it seems, is that. The Fury backs off a little, retreating toward the far end of the room, away from the kitchen.
Emma gives one more nod to the Fury then turns toward Nick. "Alright. I should get going. See if I can find Silvertip." She looks from one end of the house (where X retreated to) back to Nick. "You heading off then?" is followed by, "Mind if I call you later?" in a quieter voice.
Nicodemus finishes up the dishes. "Do. Please. And talk to me about your plans for Mr. Worm at some point. I'll see what I can do to lend a hand there."
X folds herself into a chair, occasionally rubbing at her face or temples.
Emma nods to Nick and gives just a bit of a smile. "Ok, see you later." She turns then and, with her apple in hand, heads out the back door.
Nicodemus hastily puts the remaining dishes up and vacates the premises rather than hang around X unattended.
----
Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RJh)
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Contents:
Riley
Ciuraq
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
While capable of gamely ignoring others' lack of enthusiasm for her for a time, Riley isn't blind. She clears her throat and offers a shrug of one shoulder, "Then, yeah. By all means, bring some of this shit with you when you head out. I don't know if tea goes bad - is that a thing? - but this stuff's gonna start turning over if it does." A slight quirk of her lips, and her eyes settle on the woman's arm and the fingernails that are tingeing the skin white at the site of impact. "...so, yeah. You seem tense. I'll leave you to your tea." Taking another sip of soda, the ragabash turns back to the living room and flops down on the couch, sinking into it and leaving a bit of a wet mark on her initial seat. Cursing, she momentarily disappears to the bathroom to fetch a towel to sit on.
Ciuraq doesn't reply to the invitation at all. Instead, she reaches behind herself, like looking for a concealed weapon. Her hand comes back empty. With Riley in the other room, her fist clenches and unclenches a few times, anger beginning to boil up into her expression. Then, with a deep breath, she forces a calm. And then the kettle starts to whistle, leading her to slam her hand down on the handle, grabbing it roughly. If tea can be poured in an angry fashion, Ciuraq manages it.
While she's in the bathroom fetching a towel, Riley apparently decides 'fuck it' and ends up taking a brisk, truly short shower. This affords Ciuraq plenty of time for her water to boil, and also allows Riley to come back downstairs without smelling terrible. She's wearing a rather less flatteringly sized shirt and jean combination that hangs loosely off of her, pilfered from somewhere or another. They're clearly not hers. Plopping back down on the couch, she settles in and flips open a worn-looking paperback, burying her head inside of it.
X pushes in through the front door without announcement, though her movements all have the hint of a slouching prowl about them. She's not...noisy, per say, but she can certainly be heard. Her too-bright eyes take in the living room (damp spot and all), and then go to the sound of angry tea pouring.
X actually takes in the wet Riley, as she has reappeared. Yes.
Ciuraq does, in fact, have time time to calm down. She goes over to the other room immediately after the water's poured, like going in there to raise hell that instant. Riley's lack of presence prevents this, so she drinks some tea and calms herself down until Riley returns. Mug still in hand, she starts for the door, only to be intercepted by X. The Uktena gives the scarred woman a jerk of her head, like in greeting. "Ca."
Ciuraq's reemergence doesn't prompt much by way of response from the reading ragabash - apparently she's gotten a little bit better at not sticking her nose where it clearly doesn't belong. X's arrival, on the other hand, gets a bit more of Riley's attention. The Walker closes her book, an arched brow being turned upon the Cliath. "...'Ey, Rogue. Heard you gave an interesting performance at the moot." A thin smile, "Sorry I missed it."
X's expression change is extremely subtle, but there's something there that at least responds, however faintly, to the greeting. "Hi." It doesn't do anything for her tonelessness though. She steps smoothly to the side, to get herself out of Ciuraq's way if the Uktena intends to continue onward, but her attention is clearly on the less familiar of the two women as she answers Riley. "It was okay."
Ciuraq does, in fact, go by X. No chit chat. No idle chatter. Her grip on the mug is slightly less than a death grip, but there's clear tension in even the simple act of holding some tea. She stops across the room, planting one foot, and then planting the other in almost a ritualistic, rooting manner. "Riley." She says, her tone frigid and stony. "I hear you... I hear you gone. Wolf-home."
"Don't be modest," Riley smirks, "Heard you caused quite the dust-up. Got pretty in character, from the sound of things." She stretches her arms up and yawns - and it's in this gap in the conversation that Ciuraq's stance levels and her words hit. A solid blink from Riley, and a slow tilt of her head. "...That's right. There and back again, with no intention of a return visit. Not a topic I tend to dwell on." It's Riley's turn for her expression to somber, "...Christ, do I have such a reputation among the Pure Tribes?"
X remains in the space she's taken, still slightly slouched. For that matter, she remains silent too, though there's no mistaking that she's taken interest in the conversation.
Ciuraq maintains her stance, dead-levelling Riley her icy stare. "Wiinga Ciuraugua. Ciuraq Aketachunak." She starts, tone terse as she explains. "Lit-tle Silvertip Mauls the Horned Serpent."
The half-attentive demeanor of Riley's shifts immediately upon the recitation of that name. The hairs on the back of the Walker's neck practically start to bristle up and she focuses her attention raptly upon the female, appraising her in an entirely new way, scrutinizing. Her lips thin and she delivers a clipped, "Well. The ways of the Umbra are strange indeed. We ought to start a club." It'd sound more jovial if her tone matched her words - instead, her tone has solidified to the point that her words sound decidedly less friendly. "I did go - Wolfhome. I spent months scrounging as a wolf, living on rats and scraps with my every step hounded by humans. Now, I'm here." That's the shittiest summary ever, but she seems not to be in the mood for stories.
X's lips move very slightly in the shape of Silvertip's first two sentences of introduction, and then stop. There's a wrinkle that appears in the middle of her forehead as Riley speaks.
"Ii-i. Club." Ciuraq replies cooly. Her hand with the tea raises slowly to head height, before slowly bringing it in to sip the tea. At no point does she take her eyes off Riley, even as she finishes, and reaches behind her to set the mug on something. Her hand now freed, she brings it back in front of her, clenching at the air. "You murder Finds-Death." She says in a biting voice, somehow a little more threatening than if she was all growling and teeth.
The speaking of the longstanding elephant in the room elicits a small twitch of one of Riley's eyes, her fingers tensing down against her thigh in much the same manner that Ciuraq's had sought her arm. The Glass Walker stays seated, and very still. After a pregnant pause, there's a momentary dip of Riley's head. A simple, brief nod. "...I did, yes." Her lips thin. There seems to be more she wishes to say, but she keeps things simple for now. There's little point in a denial.
X's gaze moves sharply to Riley at that, then back to Ciuraq. The wrinkle fades, but if anything, she's paying even more attention.
Ciuraq's grip on the air intensifies, like trying to strangle Riley with merely the power of her mind. Her knuckles turn white, even as the rest of her demeanor stays stoic. "Why should I not take vengeance now?" Her voice drops in volume, while the frigid tone intensifies.
Watching Ciuraq in silence for several moments, Riley finally nods. "...If Little Silvertip Mauls The Horned Serpent would seek blood where Griffin's pardon earned, and the Earth-Whisperer's forgiveness granted, then there is little enough I might say to stop you." She takes a breath, eyes unclosing, "...I killed her. I won't beg, and won't list the reasons why I'm better for this Sept alive than dead. All I can offer is that the woman who thought there was only one solution to the problem that night isn't here anymore. She didn't return."
*was earned
"No fighting in the house," X says, as if that were, in fact, a legitimate reason to be considering. Her gaze flicks briefly to Riley again. "I don't know. Garou kill each other all the time, I guess. Cubs. Metis. Adren."
There's an X there? Ciuraq's tunnel vision is locked on Riley, white knuckled fist in the air like she's moments from calling on some gift, or is some martial arts pose ready to karate chop Riley from across the room. "I give _shits_ about Griffin." She hisses, face wrinkling up in a momentary silent snarl. "/You/ kill Finds-Death. Ah... ahm not a Gaian. You ah... un-fo-giv-en."
Planting her hands on her legs, Riley's expression remains firm, her eyes not so much as moving from Ciuraq's location. Ex is not spared so much as a glance or a chiding word. "...You don't need to forgive me. Not ever. I won't ask for it, whatever my regret. We can go our seperate ways, and this Sept will be the better for it. I killed where I ought have captured." Her lips curl, "If your aim is to repeat my mistake - to become me - then that is your decision to make."
X raises her voice just a little, with more actual force, "Killing each other is fucking /stupid/, that's why. You're not stupid."
Ciuraq curls her lip, flashing her teeth at the Glass Walker Ragabash. "Not you." She growls. "Not. Nothing... nothing in common. No - thing." She slowly lowers her clenched fist down to her side, knuckles still white from the pressure they're under. She says something in rapid fire yup'ik, abruptly reaching up into the air and drawing a little something with two fingers. "Be curse. All not the caern, be cursed." She spits to the side.
X makes a noise that ends up being a gutteral growl, utterly inappropriate for a human throat; which is probably why she shrinks rather swiftly to lupus, where her scars--all of them, it's not just her face--stand out despite the instantly bristling dark fur. Her ears flatten against her head, and she hunkers down in place, with her tail curling against one leg. Every muscle in the Fury Ragabash seems tensed to breaking.
Rogue(#1291Pc)
A gangly looking she-wolf, with ice-blue eyes that contain an uncomfortable level of intensity. She has black fur, uneven and unhealthy looking, which seems to be lacking in the usual thickness in various areas. Discolored grey fur marks a number of scars; not the wild gashes of battle, but rather thin, clinically neat. By far the largest and thickest stretches down from the middle of her chest to her abdomen, where it intersects with a smaller, horizontal scar that stretches from hip to hip. Two matching scars adorn each cheek, from the corner of her muzzle to the bottom of each ear, and another, nearly invisible, across her forehead. Her right foreleg appears to bear some kind of marking, but against the dark fur and blue-black skin, it can't be easily made out.
Carrying:
Scar Fetish(#1952)
The Walker endures the gesture and words with a steely gaze - one that never seeks out Ciuraq's eyes directly, but rather focuses on a point just past the ranked Garou's shoulder. There is no challenge being issued on the Ragabash's part, at any rate. She's tensed taut as a wire, but she doesn't instigate any further than her past actions have already done for her. "Ex, be still." She murmurs, quietly, without turning to look at the frizzed-up, grumble-growling Lupus. Her attention returns to Ciuraq, but she says nothing further in the face of the Uktena's previous actions. The less she says, the less likely she is to put her foot in her mouth.
Ciuraq turns and snatches the mug from the place behind her, the Uktena going into the kitchen with a swift pace. The mug gets set in the sink, a little water is run in it, and then she starts to head for the Garage, her steps heavy.
Rogue sinks a little lower to the ground, but the growling only heightens into a lip curling, teeth baring snarl that, inexplicably, doesn't seem to actually be directed at either of the two other Garou. Her eyes, as feverishly bright in this form as any, round out.
Riley's head lightly tracks Ciuraq's motion, but other than this act of self-preservation, she doesn't move or speak further. She certainly doesn't impede Ciuraq's progress out of Edgewood.
Ciuraq heads out. It's a bit in the garage (not once questioning what X is on about) before she appears outside the window, wearing a rain jacket long enough to take lupus and slip off into the woods.
Rogue abruptly rediscovers the ability to move, because she suddenly snaps to the side and retreats swiftly up the stairs, moving so low to the ground that her belly practically drags against the steps as she goes.
The accumulated tension isn't something that can bleed out all at once, but Riley's body makes a good effort at it. She stoops forward and puts her hands against the table, taking long, frantic little breaths. Rogue's movement is heeded, and her breath immediately steadies out, as though only just now remembering that they had an audience. Tunnel vision is right. "Rogue. Wait."
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Edgewood House: Meadow(#1390RJh)
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Contents:
Nicodemus
Emma
Tent(#1921A)
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Emma watches Nick and nods. "Yeah. Hopefully. Because I don't want to think that they were their rank and file. If that's the case, we got some catching up to do." She brushes some hair off her brow and then looks out toward the meadow's edge. "Gotta get the other stuff taken care of, then maybe focus on the bigger schemes."
Nicodemus nods at that assessment. "Plus, I've got Salem working on that angle already," the mage says, as if the concept of him advising--or even directing--elder garou is not entirely alien. "Hopefully he'll be assembling a bunch of no moons to go take a giant shit over in Seattle soon. Piss in the Spiral's corn flakes. Draw off the federal suits that are in town and have them move shop over to Seattle. There's some karmic justice in that, I think."
X exits the house and steps into the meadow with what can only be described as a human interpretation of a prowl. Her eyes are narrowed and her jaw set very tightly, but her shoulders are also hunched, and there's a slouch to her that seems less aggressive and more agitated, as if she were subconsciously trying to disappear into the meadow grass.
"That's a decent idea. And Salem'll know how best to pull it off." She grins then, "I think I'm gonna knuckle down and ask if he'd consider me for his pack." It's just as she says this that she catches sight of another unpacked garou, and, after a moment of watching her, decides against calling out to her right away.
"He respects you, and that's saying a lot. Salem doesn't just throw respect around willy-nilly from what I've seen." He looks over towards the in coming X, and his lips tighten slightly in muted tension. "Honestly? It might be good for him to have someone he could talk to on a more regular basis, too." He then offers a nod in X's direction, acknowledging that he's seen her. "Thanks for not creeping up and pouncing on me this time. I had to throw out those underpants, you know."
This actually, for the briefest of moments, inspires what might be the ghost of a ghost of a smile, however tense, around X's lips. It's there and gone before she's fully drawn her next breath, however, and she turns and angles her way toward the two. "...Are curses real?"
Emma nods toward Nick. "And I respect him. He'll be a mentor to me until one of us dies, that's truth. Even if the jerk should be ranked well above me and isn't." She turns then toward X, eyes narrowing. "Curses? Like voodoo magic curses?"
Nicodemus nods to Emma in response to her talk of Salem. To X he simply shrugs. "Can't see why they wouldn't what with all the stuff the garou can do. And lord knows there's other stuff out there." He looks to Emma, the more experienced garou of the bunch. "Can garou lay the evil eye on someone? Is that a thing?"
X gives the faintest of nods in response. "Uktena curses," she elaborates. Or, at least, it's elaboration from her, because that's all she actually says, but her tension speaks for her.
Emma narrows her eyes a bit more, "I don't know much about the Uktena specifically. They're a pretty secretive tribe. Though, given their penchant for keeping secrets and being well versed with spirit-stuff. Yeah, maybe. Why?"
Nicodemus huhs at X's declaration. "I was not aware that Uktena could put a curse on people. I will have to be nicer to them in the future." He inquires, "Have you seen an Uktena lay a curse on someone? Or just heard of it? Or...?"
X nods again, more sharply this time. "Ciuraq Aketachunak." Her pronunciation is...not half bad, really. "She was super pissed at Riley last night." A glance back toward Edgewood. "Riley killed someone, so she wanted to kill Riley." A flash of temper that vanishes almost as soon as it arrives. "Because apparently Garou just have to fucking kill everyone. She--" The woman stops, shakes her head, then mimics making a sign in the air. "Be curse," she says, in her usual flat toneless manner. "All not the caern, be cursed." Then she turns her head and mimics spitting to the side, though no actual saliva comes out.
There's an intake of breath that's not meant to be as loud or agitated sounding as it comes across being. Emma clearly is not keen on the news she's heard and there's a moment where that tension coils up through her rather quickly. "Was Riley there when he did this?"
Nicodemus raises bothhis eyebrows as the target of this supposed curse turns out to be his up-until-recently-missing tribemate. "Well, she might have just been saying that and not actually using some rite or gift that the Uktena have."
"Yes." X's one word response is clearly to Emma, whom she's regarding with increased intensity. Nick's remark draws her look away, and she shrugs more with one shoulder than the other. The 'I don't know' is unspoken, but there.
Another breath in, and then out. "I don't know /specifically/ of any curses X. There are rites that sometimes might seem like a curse. But they're typically the domain of Philodox and used for punishments and lessons. And they're a big deal-- not something that's just thrown up in the air with a sigil and sharp-tongued phrase. There's a good chance Silvertip was caught up in the moment and reacting." There's an unspoken 'but' there however, and the Get isn't that good at disguising it.
Nicodemus sighs. It's an irritated sigh. "I'll go check on Riley. Who knows? Maybe the curse had her sprout a penis." It's deadpan, dry humor.
X relaxes a little at this. "She was okay," the Fury claims. "But I wanted to make sure she hadn't cursed fucking everyone. Why--" the question is aborted due to another visible wave of agitation, and replaced with, "It was important when I /didn't/ kill someone on my rite. But werewolves just murder everyone and each other."
Emma's first look is to Nick, "You gonna go look in on her?" She seems agreeable to this idea as the nod that follows is rather decisive. When she returns her attention to X, she lets out a small sigh. "Just because some do, doesn't make it right. And if it's pissing you off, then you've got your feet on the right path, because it should. We're Gaia's protectors. Not her vigilantes. Don't let the actions of a few turn you X. Be better than them."
Nicodemus nods almost imperceptively in response to Emma's nod at him. Then he nods as she responds to X. "What she said. Living a life fueled by anger and hate is probably an easy path for many garou. And anger and hate can make you do terrible things. It's like playing with gasoline and fire at the same time."
Memory has arrived.
"I'm a fucking crazy monster," X says, flatly, monotone, matter-of-fact. "But they're supposed to be better. That's why they made me stay with you guys." She looks to Nick. "Yeah. I know. That's why they gave me my Rite of Passage." Her mouth corners tug downward as her jaw tenses again. "It was fake, but I didn't know. The doctor was there. So many fucking questions. So I had to choose."
Emma listens in on X, but doesn't look about to press for more details. "It'll get sorted out. If, and it's a big if, Silvertip is capable of conjuring up curses and in his anger just lumped the whole of the Sept in on this. It'll have some repercussions. Hell, it should have some repercussions even if it was just Riley he threw this shit at." There's frustration in the Get at this, and she forces her eyes closed for a moment as if to rein in her thoughts and emotions.
*zrrr zrrr!* There's an aggressive buzzing noise from Nick's pocket. He frowns, reaching in for his phone, and eyeballs the screen for two seconds before sliding it back in. "Well, shit. Work. I have to go. Emma or X? I brought new bath towels and hand towels for Edgewood. Red. Hides the stains they'll inevitably be subjected to. If one of you could run them through the laundry a couple times so half the farmhouse residents don't end up wearing pink, I--and a lot of others--would appreciate it. See you two around." He heads off towards his SUV.
X volunteers, though there's no actual eagerness about it, "I can do laundry." Emma gets yet another nod. The tension with her hasn't gone away, but it's definitely lessened, and she's more hunched than before.
Memory makes an appearance as a raven, wings carrying her over Edgewood. Doubling back, she starts to circle the pair below.
Emma looks to Nick. "Call me later. Especially after you get a chance to check in with Riley?" She watches the kin go then turns back toward X. "Thanks," she says, though it seems likely she means about the laundry, she adds, "For letting me know what happened. Did you hear at all, what the whole thing was about? More than just one of them killing someone that that pissed the other off?"
X shakes her head. "Riley killed someone named Finds Death. Silvertip was pissed off, and wanted to know why she shouldn't kill her right there. Riley said she did the wrong thing, but that killing her back would be doing something similar. Silvertip did his curse thing, then he left."
The scene below the raven is one of some existing tension, and once Nick leaves, the Get seems to allow herself a little longer leash on her own emotions. "Christ. Awesome plan. Right a wrong, with another wrong." A huff follows and the athro rakes a hand through her hair.
"I know what happened," Memory says, as she circles above the pair. Likely startling them in the process. "With Finds-Death and Riley."
X flicks her gaze between Emma and Memory.
Emma looks up with a bit of a startle, clearly her mood has given way to tension. "How accurately do you know?"
"Well, I'm kinda the one that figured out that Finds-Death was a Red Talon and sneaking in to the city to kill humans. Was still working Homicide at the time and the killings were attracting attention," Memory says. "No motive. No sign of entry. She was entering the homes via the Umbra as a human and killing everyone inside. Young. Old. Everyone. Cockroach spirit told me it was a wolf. Figured it out from there. Finds-Death was Silvertip's packmate. He kicked her out of his pack, when he found out what she'd been doing."
X's nose wrinkles faintly. "Why?"
Emma draws in a breath, "So you figured out who it was. You told Riley, Riley told Silvertip. Who kicked her out of the pack, but did nothing else? Didn't tell the halfmoons, go after her, nothing? So then how do we get from that, to Riley killing Finds Death?"
Memory says "Don't have all the details," Memory admits. "But I know that Finds-Death left the Sept. Riley tracked her down with Jack, who was a Philodox Walker, if I remember right. Don't think an offical judgement was made. Riley got mad after they found Finds-Death and filled her full of silver. Kinda got told about it over the phone, when Riley was heading back with the body.""
X's frown only grows at this, and she repeats, with a little more tension, "Why?"
Memory says "You'd have to ask them."
"Sounds like a whole shit ton of mistakes were made in handling this." A little growl escapes from Emma, "Goddammit, don't we have enough on our plate here?!"
X shakes her head sharply. "No. Why was she killing people?"
Memory makes a little clicking sound in her throat and comes in for a landing, tired of remaining in the air. "Because they were human. Griffin was not pleased. Sent Riley to Wolf Home."
"So you're saying Finds Death was killing for sport? Just, randomly offing humans because they were humans?" Emma looks rather perturbed by this news.
X's eyes narrow again, and she looks from Memory to Emma. For the moment, at least, she's not asking any more questions, but that tension is back at full force.
Little Silvertip has arrived.
"Rad Talon. They have lots of reasons to hate humans," Memory says, from the ground near the two Garou. She fluffs out her feathers and starts preening.
"I have lots of reasons to hate humans," X says sharply, though her voice doesn't actually raise in volume. "Lots of reasons to hate werewolves too."
"I'm getting sick and tired of people having 'reasons' turn into 'excuses' to behave in ways they should not. It's a goddamned coward's way out and it's time we start expecting better than that." A fist clenches as the Get lets slip a curse in some other language.
Little Silvertip makes her way through the forest, the small white wolf sniffing her way along as if following the scent trail of someone. The voices in the meadow cause her to pause, ears perking. After a few moments, the arctic wolf begins to slip in their direction.
Memory's feathers fluff up, as her head sinks into her shoulders. She hop-waddles a few feet away from the angry Get, a half-second later.
X glances briefly to Emma at her own response, but she's silent now, and when she looks away it's to the ground. Her fingers pluck at her sleeves as her shoulders hunch, and the scowl remains.
Emma takes a moment to refocus then opens her eyes once more. She glances between raven and X, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but god I almost wish Megan were here."
Little Silvertip emerges from the brush, and quickly spies memory. Her tail sweeps a few times, pleased to see the raven. Her reaction settles when she spies X, and hears Emma's tone of voice. The Uktena cocks her head to the side, squinting curiously.
X backs up while still plucking at her sleeves with her gloved fingers. She doesn't look at Silvertip, but it's very clear she's noticed the Uktena's arrival anyway. She only goes a few feet, but she's decidedly...twitchier.
Emma looks over then, just a fraction of a moment behind X in noticing Silvertip. The Get draws herself up, and for the second time in two days, she's addressing the Uktena with a frustrated tone and a tense posture. "I don't know if you're actually capable of conjuring a curse upon someone, or if it was just your anger speaking. But I'd like to know what gives you the right to make a damning judgement on anyone, let alone the whole lot of us."
Little Silvertip's demeanour smoothly changes from curious to irate, ears coming forward, and lips curling back at the Get's regard. She shifts up through the forms, stopping in Crinos, where she plants her spear in the ground, leaning on it. ~Don't you dare talk to me like that.~ She growls. ~/You/ didn't have your packmate murdered in cold blood. I'm within my rights to end her life.~
X twitches again. A little, then a lot more. Her arms wrap tightly around herself. "What about all the people she killed in cold blood?"
Emma wastes no time in rising up to meet the other in crinos, eyes firm and shoulders raised to stand her ground. ~And so then, would I be in my rights to end your life for your taking hers? Is that how it works? Fuck the Philodox, they've no place in these matters. Blood for blood?~
Memory quorks loudly in alarm, as she flees the general vicinity of the Garou, with a great deal of haste and a flutter of wings.
~Yes! Yes that /is/ how it works!~ Silvertip snarl-barks, gesturing wide. ~Fuck you, Fire-Dancer. You shut your /god damned/ mouth. She /murdered/ someone I packed with! Was Finds Death wrong? YES! Did I tell her that? YES! But The Urrah /killed/ one that I packed with! Don't you dare pretend you know anything AT ALL about that! Don't you /fucking dare!/~
X's teeth flash, and much like Memory, she moves quickly backward, though she doesn't actually flee further than a few feet. The Fury drops to lupus again, and as with last night, all of her fur is standing out, muscles tense, and an uneasy growling in her throat.
Heart-of-Fire doesn't buckle under the tirade of the Uktena, in fact there's almost a welcoming glint that flits across her eyes as tensions rise. ~You. Are. Wrong.~ There's a low growl in her throat then as her hackles bristle upward. ~You react and dish out what justice you deem fair according to /your/ ideals. The murder of dozens of humans warrants only a scolding to your packmate because you agree with her. That does not give you the right to murder one of the Walkers in return. There are rules. And you are not above them!~
~Only a /scolding?!/ Only a /Scolding?!?!/~ Silvertip all but screams, hackles raising. ~You /arrogant,/ self-righteous, mooncalf of an ass! YOU WEREN'T THERE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! You SHUT the FUCK UP!~ The Uktena's blood is pounding, and her gestures wide and energetic. Violence or frenzy doesn't seem that far off.
Rogue flattens herself against the grasses, her ears splayed to either side, and her fever bright eyes fairly bulging. She's not contributing anything to this shouting match beyond the low, uneasy growl, which seems unlikely to stop any time soon. Her fur is so bristled that her scars are hard to make out underneath it all.
There's a flash of rage that passes the Get's eyes and she steels herself from the emotion that is so dangerously rising in both of the garou. The Get draws herself up into her full height and full manner of authority; a posture that she rarely is pushed to use. Her tone becomes even, almost unnerving in it's sudden coolness. ~I suggest, Little Silvertip Mauls the Horned Serpent, that you find a way to calm yourself, and walk off. Right now.~
The challenging posture, and directions to leave from the Get only seems to further enrage Little Silvertip. She lets out a harsh, wordless snarl, teeth snapping at the air as she leans forward to roar. Flecks of spittle gather at the corners of her jaws. When she finally recovers use of her vocabulary, she barks out, ~Combat! Now! You and me!~
There's no change in Rogue, which all things considered, is probably the best that can be hoped for. She's holding herself together, for a certain definition of that, but she does look ready to spring in any direction if there's a need.
Heart-of-Fire narrows her gaze at that, posture still tall and sure of herself. ~I am the Master of the Challenge and as such, I will point out in reminder, that if you are challenging me, /you/ do not get to set the terms. If you wish to challenge me, so be it. But the terms are mine to set.~
Little Silvertip snarls again, eyes twitching as frenzy threatens again. The small moon, and the Uktena's hard earned self control hold off any wild balls of fangs and teeth, though. ~Oathbreaker, too! You lecture me, and tell me /I'm/ challenging! You want to twist words, fine! But you do /not/ judge your own challenges! _Those_ are our laws! The Laws you /claim/ to know, but never show!~ Silvertip snarls.
Rogue's growling heightens into a snarl and a show of teeth that's not directed at either Get or Uktena.
~Then call one of our halfmoons to oversee the challenge, but do not continue to throw insults at me out of anger.~ The Get remains statue still, as she has throughout this whole ordeal, she doesn't seem intent to leave the presence of Edgewood either, and only the very perceptive would notice the small, quick, look she spares X as if to gauge the Fury's current state.
Little Silvertip bares her teeth, putting her spear on her back and drawing up to her own, considerably shorter height as she stares back at the Get with a snarl. ~You insult me, you insult my actions, you insult the memory of Finds Death. You judge events you never saw. You piss on my grief and anger. You shit on the laws. You twist words to your purpose! I haven't said nearly enough.~
Rogue looks as though she might lose her own control at any moment, but she hasn't moved from that spot of ground she's claimed.
Little Silvertip turns and storms off into the woods.
