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renferretMarch 2014 Moot. A cannibal gets judged, and X gets some bad, bad news.
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Message: 11/225 Posted Author
Missing Posters Wed Mar 12, 2014 Sheogorath
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Here and there, mostly around the downtown area, a few fliers have been put up on telephone poles. There aren't a great many of them, but enough that anyone who frequents the area might notice one:
MISSING
Have you seen this person?
Below this is a black and white picture of a young woman. It's recognizably X, though an X with more sunken cheeks and a shaved head, who looks, perhaps, just a little bit younger. Below the picture, there's smaller text, neatly printed:
Lisa Trenon
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Disappeared: March 24th, 2011, from St. Jude's Psychiatric Care Center, Vancouver, Washington
Suffers from paranoid delusions. For your own safety, please do not confront or approach.
If seen, please contact: XXX-XXX-XXXX (the number is local)
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----
Salem looks up at the more obviously visible of the three totems, then gathers himself. Limping over toward where the rocky slab used to be in the old caern, he takes out a length of bone and holds it aloft for all to see before breaking it in two. ~The Cracking has begun!~ As before, the old Walker's voice carries well. ~Let only those who have the bones speak, and let only Gaia's Truth be said.~ He pauses a beat, then continues -- still firm, but less formal. ~Normally, we would now have introductions, but tonight the Sept has a more pressing matter. Marrow! Come forward!~
Realm-Walker is more than pleased to howl out loudly as the totems come forth.
To the caern, Salem: The Truth of Gaia light is now on. *ding*
Rogue has totally been here the entire time, really. She's in lupus, and while she joins in with the howls, she's otherwise been quiet and intent.
Grapples with Fire's lips curl back from her teeth as she turns to regard the Truth Catcher. Her ire isn't aimed at him, however, but at the one he calls forth.
Song-of-Vengeance's attention goes to the pudgy, black-furred wolf, watching her, watching Salem...just...watching.
Unfinished-Business looks to those totems that she can see, or at least the ones bright and shiney and that draw the eye of the curious ragabash. She's careful to keep quiet, especially as business is said about to be had and she looks to those finally who call forth one of the others.
Quasimodo is brought crashing back down to earth after the totems' appearance and he crouches back down, grimacing at what will be coming next. His eyes cast downward again and his ear falls.
Copperhead turns her reptilian gaze from one totem to the other, clearly intrigued by there being a trio of them--and so unusual at the same time. When sept business is announced, she refocuses her attention. Reluctantly.
Marrow's tongue runs across her muzzle once again, every line of her body giving away her nervousness. She approaches the Glass Walker Philodox, belly low to the ground, as she slinks up to him.
Little Firebrand's ears draw forward when Salem moves, his attention shifting from the Walker philodox to Marrow.
Dives-Deep moves away from the fire, though she has made sure it has enough fuel to burn large and strong for the remainder of the moot. She takes up a position with her tribemates as Marrow is called forward.
Storm of the North pulls her gaze from the totems here to look toward Salem and Marrow. Her weight shifts to her other foot as she watches, quiet and curiuos.
Nothing in Salem's manner expresses the least bit of sympathy toward the Gnawer. ~Give your introduction to the Sept,~ he commands.
Rogue's ears slowly press forward, and she eases up out of the hunching sit she's been in since the beginning of the moot, as if she might need to lean forward to hear what's going on.
Cheese Doodle looks between Marrow and Salem, the Glass Walker all interest. She gives an occasional twitch, like the cannibal's presence is disturbing to her.
Marrow's tongue flicks across her nose, then she slowly flows in to her Crinos form. She makes a sad looking crinos, heavy-set, crouched down on all fours and actively avoiding looking at anyone directly. ~I am Sucks-the-Marrow-from-the-Bones, Fostern Galliard of the Bone Gnawers,~ she rumbles out.
Evac simply appears troubled. She has been uncharacteristically silent during the duration of this moot, a trend that Marrow's prelude and introduction doesn't break.
~Sucks-the-Marrow-from-the-Bones,~ Salem says, all formality again, ~you are accused of willfully killing and eating at least thirty humans. Humans that you chose deliberately as prey, not because they were agents of the Wyrm, not because you were starving and in need, but because they were not generous enough with their food scraps. You are also accused of perverting the Gift of Cooking, which Rat provides to feed Her hungry children, by using it on human flesh. Is this true? Yes or no.~
Marrow lifts a clawed hand and rubs at her nose, as she avoids looking directly at those present. ~Yes.~
Storm of the North sucks in a sharp breath as she jerks her attention to Marrow, her claws curling in against her palms. The young Wendigo snaps her teeth together tightly to hold anything she might feel like saying to herself though her gaze never leaves Marrow.
Rogue's lips abruptly peel back from her teeth as her nose wrinkles, her ears flatten to either side, and the fur all along her spine begins prickling as a low growl rumbles up from somewhere deep inside. Gross!
Quasimodo looks up in surprise as Salem speaks about Marrow using Cooking with human flesh. His gaze darts from the Glass Walker to the Bone Gnawer, then back to Salem.
A low growl is caught in the throat of the Wendigo elder, her arms crossing again over her chest as she stares at the accused.
Realm-Walker looks as though she might be sick, from the accusation and the admission, the idea just too revolting.
Evac's jaw tightens, and she takes a breath, powerful arms folding over her chest.
Song-of-Vengeance shifts in her seat, eyes wide, memorizing this story as one to be shared, attention moving to the other gnawers, guaging their reactions.
Unfinished-Business shifts from foot to foot at the accusation and the admission. Her arms wrap about herself a bit. She didn't think people around here actually did what she just argued for a little before.
Apparently none of this is news to the Glass Walker lupus. Cheese Doodle continues to look ready to throw the Gnawer under the first city bus that happens to go through the Caern.
Little Firebrand's expression hardens, though his gaze remains on Marrow, unwavering. An ear flicks to the side, then twists partway back as others shift and show their discontent.
Salem lets the Sept absorb this for a few moments, then speaks again. ~Do you have anything to say in your defense? Keep in mind that I will hear if you do not speak Gaia's Truth.~
Marrow's lips twitch and there is a brief show of fangs, but one that is quickly suppressed. ~I hunted those that wasted food, lessening the burden humans put on Gaia.~
Evac takes a single step forward, then takes it right back, lips twitching restlessly.
Rogue's growl briefly heightens to an almost snarl. There's no discernible 'words' from her, but her disgust and general incredulousness are quite clear. She glances toward Evac when she moves.
Grapples with Fire's jaws part and then snap shut, gaze shifting back to the Truth Catcher.
Salem grimaces. ~As I said earlier... you brought death to people for the sole crime of not sharing their scraps. As though you were their judge and executioner. As though we still practiced the Impergium.~ He doesn't seem to think of this as much of a defense. ~And what is your justification for consuming the humans you killed? Keeping in mind that over /thirty/ humans have vanished down your throat.~
Storm of the North has the same reaction as the others here. With her fur bristling and her jaw clamped tightly shut, she listens quietly but can't help but let out a very low, deep growl.
Marrow's ears flick. ~It seemed right. It felt right,~ she admits. ~If they were to waste food, it was fitting that they became food.~ A brief pause. ~And Always-Hungry said that it was right and I listened to him.~
No Excuse! Cheese Doodle 'says, loudly.' Well, silently. The wolf's posture is pretty big though. The philodox then goes back to being still and more... philodoxy.
Rogue suddenly surges into crinos, her snarl transforming smoothly into Mother's Tongue. ~/Fuck you/!~
Realm-Walker snarls at this defense, disgusted still.
Without a vocalization, Grapples with Fire's posture says, simply, You were wrong.
Unfinished-Business growls as she listens, though she keeps herself still and steady.
Salem throws a sharp look at Rogue for her outburst. ~No one speaks without the bones!~
Song-of-Vengeance rises smoothly to her feet and, without a word, turns her back to the criminal, looking to Rogue with a glare that speaks volumes. Hackles raising, she looks to her Cliath sister and growls. ~Be still.~
Dives-Deep looks upon Marrow with sorrow, although to judge by her bearing, she seems to consider the Galliard's fate already sealed.
Rogue shrinks back to all fours immediately, her ears pinning back at the chastening. She slides back down to lupus, but the rippling fur and murderous temper are clearly still present and directed at Marrow.
Rogue also throws Charlene a dark glare.
There's a faint rustling, a crackling of fiery feathers from the brightest and most obvious of the Totem spirits. Aahn shifts on his stone perch before settling again.
Salem gives Song of Vengeance a look as well, then turns back to the unpleasant task at hand. ~I am in agreement with my Septmates. The Litany is very clear. 'You shall not eat the flesh of humans.' There is no excuse, no acceptable justification for your actions.~ He pauses a long moment, staring at Marrow before shifting up into Crinos and speaking again. ~The sentence is death.~
Cheese Doodle tenses up, like the readying in case Marrow bolts, to bolt after her.
Grapples with Fire leans forward, teeth once again bared, as the sentence is pronounced. She, also, seems ready for the Bone Gnawer to attempt to run.
Realm-Walker calls her agreement with the sentence, glaring at Marrow.
Storm of the North tenses as the sentence is given, her claws curling into fists as she growls lowly, turning to eye Marrow as if just waiting for her to run so she can give chase.
Little Firebrand's hind end lifts slowly off the ground, head lowering but teeth showing in a growl, eyes still on Marrow.
Dives-Deep inclines her head sharply, in complete agreement with Salem's decision, however much she may regret the necessity. Given her deformity, though, there's no readying to give chase on her part.
The moon hangs brightly in the sky, making Frenzy a real possibility for the Garou - particularly those in Crinos form. As her sentence is spoken, something in Marrow snaps, and she instantly shrinks down in to lupus as a Fox Frenzy takes. The condemned Gnawer bolts, tail pressed firmly against her belly, as her tongue lolls from her jaws, and she gasps for air. It is unlikely that she will get far.
Bad-Boy, still and silent and watching all this time, bolts after Marrow like he would after an errant squirrel. He may not be the first to give chase, but he won't be the last.
Above the Caern and the gathered Sept, Aahn suddenly launches from his perch with an ear-piercing cry that responds to Marrow's bolt; responds in the worst possible way, as his wings snap open, catch the wind, and then fold as he performs a sharp turn turned dive. The Renascence Bird, ancient spirit of the uncorrupted Wyrm, transforms in the blink of an eye from bird to pillar of destructive, all-consuming fire, which rains down on the fleeing Marrow with all the force of a lightning bolt from heaven. It burns and consumes everything; fur, flesh, and finally bone, and the entire Caern is lit as brightly as if it were noonday.
Quasimodo's jaw drops in shock and he starts to pant in anxiety. His eyes dart around the caern at the death sentence, at Marrow, at Salem, at Dives-Deep, the onlooking garou. Some may hear high-pitched whining below the din.
Realm-Walker started to go after, but the sudden blaze of flame catches her flat pawed and she stops, awed.
Cheese Doodle starts bolting after, only to draw to an abrupt stop when the Bone Gnawer is turned into the biblical pillar of fire. The lupus worms her way back, eyes squinted from the sudden luminosity.
Storm of the North doesn't wait to give chase and with a low howl, she too races forward toward the fleeing Marrow with a snarl on her lips though the sudden blaze of fire brings her skittering to a halt. Turning her head to shield her eyes from the brightness, she falls silent in awe.
Little Firebrand twists with intent to intercept, claiming only a couple of steps before the totem brings down fire and flame. His ears twist back at the sudden impressive brightness, surprised and awed.
Copperhead didn't move to give chase. Perhaps because she didn't agree with the sentence. Perhaps because she doesn't feel it her place, as a guest, to participate in sept business. Perhaps both reasons--or more. She startles as the flaming bird totem engulfs the guilty Gnawer with fire. That was clearly unexpected.
Scar actually flinches back, startled, at Aahn's abrupt action against the human-eater; he recovers his composure quickly enough, but it's several moments before he finds his voice again. ~...And it is done.~ He takes in a breath, and then another one.
Unfinished-Business is slower to give chase as others take off. She doesn't get a step in as that pillar of fire consumes! Her claws are held up to shield herself fomr the brightness, though she cannot help but peek through to watch.
Dives-Deep expected many things when Marrow bolted, but Aahn's intervention was not among them. There's a long moment while she's too surprised to say anything at all, and then finally, she dips her head reverently toward Aahn. *Dives-Deep thanks him for making it a quick end.*
Bad-Boy yelps in surprise as his prey suddenly combusts into flame, the sudden flash of light causing him to trip unceremoniously over his own paws. He tumbles about a bit before landing on his back, blinking rapidly, trying to clear his vision of the stars that have blossomed in front of him.
Grapples with Fire gives a rough shake as the Bone Gnawer's form becomes a blaze of light, half-turning her muzzle to the side. When it's done, she returns her focus to the Truth Catcher, and her tongue flicks out to touch the tip of her nose. Still, her posture reads of impatience.
The pillar of fire surges, and then recedes, shrinking and reshaping down until Aahn is once more a bird, albeit one that easily dwarfs a crinos'd Garou. Beneath his blazing talons, not even ash appears to remain of the condemned Bone Gnawer. He slowly turns his head toward Dives-Deep, all of the violence of the past moments gone. *As with all things, I will remember this. So will you.* The fire darkens. He fades. While the other two totems remain, Aahn's presence can no longer be detected on this side of the Gauntlet.
Realm-Walker returns to her Elder's side, a little wobbly from the light still in her eyes. She blinks rapidly to try and dispel it.
Salem shifts back down into Glabro. ~Right. Back to business. Those new to the Sept, cub, those freshly Rited, and those new to our Sept -- come forth and be recognized!~
Quasimodo stares at the place where Marrow once was, after the brilliant flash illuminates his face. He's silent for a moment, then lifts his voice in a low, mournful howl. Someone has to feel sorry for her.
Unfinished-Business looks about at those who may come up to introduce themselves. After that display, she cannot help but to grin as she ponders what is going through the new people's minds. DO they even want to be part of this sept now?
Storm of the North shakes herself from the death of one of their members as she slow turns back to those here, settling herself down to listen though she shoots a glance Unfinished-Businesses direction.
The gray eyed Wendigo will take her turn at the bones, respectfully stepping forward to take them and turn to the Sept. ~Not many know me, but I have been here since I was a cub. I was Coyote, but my Elder named me Little Crow. And then we were lost while I was training and Rited then, five years to me, but far less to you. I am Little Crow Walks the Realms, now cliath of the Wendigo and a theurge.~
Dives-Deep does not join in her tribemate's howl, but she does move over to stand beside him as the moot begins to resume its normal course.
Little Firebrand stares at the place that was once occupied by the pillar of fiery totem and Gnawer for a long moment, then settles for sitting again. He gives himself a quick shake and a huff, before turning his returning his attention to the Truthcatcher and introductions.
Salem waits for a bit, and when no one else steps up, he speaks again. ~Welcome, Little Crow. Now, those who have announcements or other business for the Sept, step up and speak your piece.~
Realm-Walker is more than happy to go sit next to her Elder once more.
Quasimodo steps up to Salem and takes the bones. ~Some of you may not know me, I am new to this place. I am Dumpster-Diver, cliath metis galliard of the Bone Gnawers. I didn't know Marrow as well as others, but she was the first garou I met when I arrived. She gave me food, almost forced it on me, though I was a stranger to her. She was adamant that her food not be wasted. Later, she taught me the gift of Calling the Wyld. She was kind to me, the lowest of the low. What she did is unforgivable, I know that, and she has paid the price. I know I am a lowly mule and a mere cliath, but I would have counseled mercy, as Gaia is merciful. She did wrong and broke the Litany, of that there is no doubt. She did what she did out of a hatred for waste. Is that not what we all fight against? The waste of Gaia's bounty? She did it for love of Gaia. Her heart was in the right place, but her actions were...misguided. You may scoff at me, but I truly believe that. All I ask is that you remember, if only for the lesson of the Litany taught by her death. Thank you." He silently hands the bones back to Salem and sits by Dives-Deep, head bowed.
~Monsters can be human, too,~ Salem says as he takes the bones back. ~That does not make them less monstrous.~
Rogue rumbles flatly, ~Says who?~
Grapples with Fire's ears twist back as she listens to the metis, disagreement clear in her posture.
Dives-Deep puts a hand on Quasimodo's shoulder before stepping forward to take the bone herself. ~Dives-Deep has two things that she would say. The first -- she wants to make clear that if any of them are captured by the humans in the fancy clothing, they _must_ escape before being questioned. The drug they used is strong enough that it still had some effect on her, even though the human form is not the one she was born to -- she expects that a homid would have no choice but to tell them the truth and thus breach the Veil, and once dosed, it is also difficult to call upon rage.~ The warning delivered, she moves on to the other issue, ~Dives-Deep also calls upon the sept for volunteers for battle. The Weaver spirits that attacked the Glass Walkers and ripped the spark of the Wyld from roach spirits still have their nest in the city, and it must be dealt with. Heart of Fire and Little Firebrand have already stepped forward to take part, but three is not enough.
Rogue might have had something more to her comment; something to explain who she's addressing, what she means, why she's talking without the bones yet again...Dives-Deep stops all of that. Her eyes suddenly bulge, her fur bristles far more than it did during the trial, and she looks on the very, very edge of frenzy, only barely held in check, and perhaps only momentarily.
Realm-Walker scoots forward a little, but keeps her silence as there are no bones in her hands at the moment. Later.
Storm of the North turns to listen to Dives-Deep, her ear perking at the call for volunteers and the Wendigo straightens up in her crinos form, clearly wishing to speak up but she doesn't, not yet.
Salem eyes Rogue with a frown, eyes narrowed. ~...Good to know. Does anyone else have business to bring before the Sept? Any grievances to be aired?~
Little Firebrand glances around as Maddie begins speaking, looking into reactions of those around him. He sits up a bit straighter when he's named, though it's in acknowledgement and affirmation of the Gnawer elder's statement.
Her control lasts approximately twenty seconds. Rogue's eyes, always feverish, suddenly go completely mad, and she bolts in lupus toward the slope leading out of the Caern at a truly impressive speed.
Grapples with Fire steps forward, then, and takes hold of the bones. She looks out over the gathered and lifts her muzzle, anger clear in her posture, though she holds it well in check. ~I have a grievance,~ she rumbles, her voice clear and cold. ~Word has reached my ear that my honor has been questioned, that my treatment of cubs has been called inappropriate. If any would question my methods, question my honor, let them speak to me directly, not use a coward's way to whisper behind my back. And let Song of Vengeance come find me with either challenge or apology for her words!~
Realm-Walker blinks and looks after Rogue, almost coming to her feet.
To the caern, Rogue: D'oh. Please react to Jacinta's first, before mine. :) I didn't mean to steal the moment there.
Little Firebrand twists to watch Rogue bolt from the Caern, but when Jacinta speaks, his focus turns to her. His ears fold backward in show of vague apology, even if he isn't the source of her grievance.
Storm of the North is surprised at Grapples with Fire's words. She keeps quiet, though she shifts her weight impatiently as she listens but she's more than surprised at seeing Rogue suddenly bolt from the Caern but turns her attention back to the one with the Bones.
Evac's attention is neatly divided between Grapples-with-Fire's words and Rogue's sudden flight. The crinos's lips peel back in a frustrated snarl, but she stands her ground.
Grapples with Fire returns the bones to Salem with a dip of her head in acknowledgement and then returns to her place. Her gaze follows after the bolting Fury, but she makes no effort to chase her down.
Salem grimaces at Rogue's flight away and takes the bones back from Jacinta. ~Well stated. Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?~ He waits a time, the bones raised, and when no one else comes forward, he nods. ~The Cracking is over,~ he says and steps down, limping back to his previous spot. To those with a good eye and a knowledge of the scarred halfmoon, he looks a trifle weary.
Dives-Deep appears surprised as the Warder makes her announcement, aiming a puzzled look over toward Song-of-Vengeance, though any questions will have to wait until after moot. And then, her attention drawn toward Rogue, she winces as she sees the Fury bolt, an entirely unintended consequence of her warning.
Rogue's departure is messy, as one might expect. She practically claws her way up the slope, as her haste makes the climb more difficult rather than less, leaving small furrows in the ground behind her. Her shoulder impacts hard with one of the trees closest to the Caern, but other than knocking her wildly to one side, it doesn't do much more than momentarily slow her down. She vanishes quickly, with only a receding crash of underbrush to mark her way.
Quasimodo listens to his elder's announcement, then looks up in surprise as Rogue bugs out. He spends the rest of the moot in silent contemplation among his tribemates.
Copperhead watches the fleeing Fury cub(?) with what might be a mix between shock and disapproval. She quickly turns her attention back to the moot, lest she too be perceived to act in a dishonorable manner.
Storm of the North gives herself an almost violent shake when the Cracking of the Bones has commenced and with an impatient snarl at the pent up energy and rage she has kept buried inside during the moot, the Ahroun Wendigo let out sudden loud, rather long howl to silence all other sounds as well as to get everyones attention. Bounding forward, she leads the revelers into the Umbra for a revel unlike no other. And when the assembled werewolve's energy has reached its zenith, and the Caern is renewed until next month, the Moot finally comes to an end.
----
Bawn: Central Forest(#2876RA)
The forest is a dark, looming presence. It's not quiet, but there is an overwhelming sense of hushed anticipation, throughout. The towering pillars of ancient western hemlocks, red cedars, and Sitka spruce trees appear to be sentinels keeping watch. Here and there a monstrous black cottonwood rises up to challenge the authority of the old growth guards. Red alders play the role of teenagers, herding the smaller trees and saplings of the understory while wishing they could be the match of the ancients. Salmonberry and huckleberry shrubs cling to the area around their trunks, while licorice fern and cat-tail moss climb onto everything they can reach. Lady and sword ferns proliferate along the forest floor among a rich carpet of stair-step moss, lichen, and oxalis, coating the whole forest green. In some corners there are even remnants of the Wyld surge, plants that have no business being in this climate, this century, or indeed existing at all. The fruit from these strange plants appear and ripen randomly all year long. All around, the area is alive with the sights, sounds and scents of the wilderness--the dampness of a recent rain, the song of birds and the buzzing of insects, and every once in awhile the call of an owl will panic a squirrel that sets the nearby leaves rustling.
The forest extends in all directions. A well worn path leads towards the story tree, while another leads towards the caern.
Obvious exits:
Caern Story Tree Western Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn Eastern Bawn
Evac has arrived.
While she doesn't exactly leave a path of destruction, X's trail is easy enough to follow, at least for someone with certain talents. Easy to follow, but also long. Very long. It's at least half a dozen miles before the occasional signs and tracks she leaves go from wolf to human, and the trail just keeps going. Eventually, she can be found stumbling through the thick undergrowth, run out to exhaustion to the point where it's a wonder she hasn't dropped yet. She's scratched, dirty, and muttering tensely to herself.
Three minutes. That's all the time that you're afforded, before the voice sounds, directly behind you. ~Rogue.~ It's immediately familiar, given the Adren's propensity for this exact trick. She just loves to sneak up when people least suspect it. For her to have caught up to you, she clearly had to have been running faster and harder, but when she shifts up to homid, there's not a bead of sweat on the woman's brow, not a single strained breath after that nearly-full marathon. "We're talking about this." Assuming you don't stop, she matches her pace to yours.
X doesn't stop, exactly, it's just that all the motion goes into her upper body. Almost before Riley can get all the words out, she's twisting around and swinging wildly at her former mentor. The Fury may not be frenzied any longer, but that mad look in her eyes hasn't quite gone away. The watery look is new though. Definitely new.
Being assaulted is nothing new, where relations between the two ragabash are concerned. That first flailing strike connects with Riley's shoulder before the Adren bulls herself forward, grabbing one assailing wrist, then snatching the second that inevitably comes flailing around upon being seized. She offers a firm squeeze of her grip - firm, but not enough that it causes you much in the way of discomfort, outside of your typical discomfort with contact. "Hey!" Comes the first, sharp shout, followed by a brief jostling of your frame before a much softer, "...Hey. Calm down. Calm. Down."
X struggles, a gesture that's just as flailing as her punches, and just as lacking in the usual Rage use. There's no discipline there, no thought to how best to escape. Fortunately, it doesn't last long. Riley can feel her shaking violently beneath the gloves and long sleeves, and when she tries to speak, it's little more than a mess of anxious noises rather than words. Gradually, this fades mostly to labored breathing.
Keeping her facial features tightly under control, Riley keeps her expression neutral through your struggles, your anxiety, and ultimately your complete panic attack. She abandons her grip on your arms and presses down on your shoulders, urging you to the ground without forcing the issue. "Sit down." There's a weight to those words, a charged exertion of Rank. "Sit down," She repeats, "And breathe. Alright? Just breathe, and calm down."
X sits. She folds under the pressure and the order. She breathes. Calming down? That's more dubious. There's nothing that seems remotely calm about her, even after several minutes of wildly erratic breaths, but at least, given the opportunity, she's not trying to hit her anymore, and she's not quite as much on the verge of another frenzy.
Riley keeps her contact on the Cliath's shoulders, and doesn't break contact with them until she seats herself directly in front of you, ass on the ground, legs out in front of her. Her hands lift, and she simply waits for a time, affording you some time to get your shit together. After several minutes pass without your breathing calming, Riley murmurs, "...Gonna go out on a limb and assume you're in no-touching mode, but you're makin' it pretty damn hard not to hug you, y'know." The humor in her tone is tenuous, at best. It's forced normalcy.
X's eyes are, if anything, even more watery, though they haven't spilled over yet. Her lips form the same sound several times before she manages to actually complete it, and it's more of a breath than a word. "We..." Breathe. And then the words simply spill out. "We have to run. We have to fucking run right now."
She'd had her doubts on the run over as to what X had been reacting to, but those last words clarify things. Sucking in a long breath and letting it out slow, Riley gives a firm shake of her head, "No." It's delivered with harsh certainty, and the Adren's hands edge forward to rest a feather-light grip upon X's shoulders. "We're not running, you're not running, and you're going to be /safe/. Not everyone in a suit are your guys, X, and if they /are/ your guys? Then all the more reason not to run."
"Drugs and questions," X's voice is a little higher than usual, if not by much. Her monotone is considerably diminished in favor of shaky, obvious terror. "Needles and knives and bloody fingernail bone picking doors knocking with the questions, always the /fucking/ questions, and then, and then eye walls and quiet silent whispering silk cotton with lights in your face."
One hand gently lifts from its grip on your shoulders, and you're not halfway through your rant before a sudden crack of pain registers against your face, minor and stinging as the Adren's hand swipes past, with all the muster of a girl her weight and frame can manage - which is to say, you've had far worse. "/Stop./"
X's head jerks to the side, and she stops. At least, she's silent, though the shaking and the breathing continue. Her eyes fix on a point somewhere between Riley's shoes and the ground.
Riley's hand replaces itself on your shoulder, and she rumbles, "No, fuck this. C'mere." Her arms encircle the raggedly breathing ragabash, and she begins speaking, "What you're talking about? They happened to a scared little girl. Leah Tanner. You are X. Rogue. If they put a needle in your arm, you but a clawed hand through their fucking chest. If they ask you questions, you chew their fucking faces off. But you do not /run/. You don't talk without the bones. You don't run from the moot, and you don't /run/ from the things that scare you. Running doesn't save you in this world. Running didn't save Sucks-The-Marrow-From-Men. Running would not have saved me from Little Silvertip. Running will not save you from /them/. You will. I will. We will." Her words are clipped and firm, but her tone is more compassion than cruelty.
*but=put
X doesn't hug back. Such a thing seems beyond her, certainly right now. But she doesn't try to pull away either. In fact, as Riley draws her in, her head goes down, and she leans hard into the other Ragabash's chest. No words. Her breath catches several times, but it doesn't quite amount to sobs.
Riley's hold on the other ragabash stays firm, and her chin settles gently down atop the totally-not-crying woman's head. She doesn't lay the words on thick or get greedy with driving points home while her once-student is in a vulnerable place. She simply holds you, and lets you breathe, lets your mind race and lap itself and then circle itself again. A single thumb lightly rubs at your back, kneading a gentle circle against the tension in your shoulderblades as she waits for things to settle.
It...takes a while. A long while. Even having completely exhausted all of her Rage in frenzy, and probably a fair amount of willpower on top of that, even with the miles long run she's just managed, X spends an age simply hiding in Riley's arms. When her breathing does finally deepen and even out, and a little of that tension bleeds away, she doesn't sit back up either. She just stays where she is, with her jaw set and her eyes closed.
It's a long time to stay quiet, but Riley does her able best. It's only once your breathing has stabilized that she asks, "...do you have any reason to think these are your guys? I spoke with Slug, and got the impression that they were dressed like the FBI. Feds. A government investigation, maybe, some agency we don't know about. Your guys were scientists, weren't they? Doctors? Lab coats?"
"No faces," X murmurs into Riley's shirt. "Lab coats. Yellow and white suits with clipboards and scalpels. But I don't..." A lengthy pause. "I don't know who the doctors worked for."
"Dollars to donuts, it's not even them. There's a lot of assholes in the world, and a lot of assholes use drugs. There's no evidence that it's them, so until we know what we're dealing with? It won't do to just assume that every human foe we deal with might be attached to the people that hurt you. They have no way of tracking you down. No more than any other person in the world, and you're not exactly big on the grid, Rogue." Something comes to mind then, and she purses her lips. "...What name did they call you by? What name did they know you by? Other than the 's' word."
X inhales more deeply than she has this entire conversation, and finally leans up a little--though not entirely. In answer, she tugs down her sleeve, the one with the tattoo'd serial number down the forearm. "They knew Leah Tanner," she says, in a strangely small voice. "Never talked to me with it. Letter numbers. I chose X."
When X's head leans up, Riley eases hers up too, no longer resting her chin atop the other woman's head. "...If you'd like, I can do something that ought have been done a long time ago. It won't look like anything has changed, but it will change everything for the people you're afraid of. If they have access to anything supernatural, anyone who could use the tools that we can to track you, they could look for Leah Tanner, and it would lead them here." She draws a long breath, "...But if you'd like, and you have something that you're willing to part with that's from your time before... this. Before X, Before Rogue. Then I can take Leah Tanner away forever. If they try to seek you with that name, they will fail."
X's eyes briefly tear up again, though she blinks the water away without actually crying. "I don't have anything," she says. It's a little duller, more monotone. More like her usual self, really. "Th...when I woke up, they told me it was a hospital."
One of Riley's hands abandons its grip on the Ragabash's back, moves around to trace down your forearm. "...This was Leah Tanner's. It was given to her." Her fingertips trace the clinical edges of the tattooed serial number.
X's gaze drops to the tattoo as well. Any reaction to the implications of 'parting with it' are not visible in her face, but she flicks her eyes to Riley more slowly. "Does that work? She didn't want it."
"It doesn't need to be something wanted. It doesn't even need to be something /important/." Riley murmurs, giving a slow shake of her head, "It's only a symbol of the name you're shedding. A symbol of what you're choosing to leave behind you." She gestures with her head to the symbol. "That may be the worst thing to happen to Leah Tanner. It's certainly what defined Leah Tanner, in the end."
"It killed her," X says flatly. A statement of fact.
"Then why carry her ghost?" Riley asks, craning her head gently to the side. "If I perform this rite, Leah Tanner will be gone. Her number will be gone. They will not return. You may have any name you wish, and know that if you entrust only those you trust with it, none who do not know your Garou name will ever be able to track you. No more ghost."
X says very quietly, "I don't know." She looks at her arm again. "...I'm not serial numbers. But I'm X."
Another brief little shake of Riley's head. "...It's your decision, and it's not one you have to make now." Riley withdraws her fingers from your arm to rejoin her other hand along your back. "...You can still be X without being Leah Tanner, as well. This rite isn't for me, and it isn't for anyone who you meet after. It's for you, and you only. Whatever you'd like your True Name to be, it will be."
X tugs her sleeve back down to meet the edge of her glove, nodding. "Okay." She goes silent, with her eyes still on her arm, even if it's now covered. Her breathing is mostly even now, though there are a few catches here and there.
"Until the day you match or surpass me, you'll be my student, X. That comes bundled with the fact that as my student, I'll do everything in my power to help you." Riley assures, "If you want to leave her behind now, ten days from now, or ten years from now, I'll do it. Some things in life are important to remember - and some things are important to let yourself step past."
X looks from her arm to Riley, then back to her arm. "Okay." This time, the word is a little quieter, maybe a little softer. It seems as though that's going to be it once again, but eventually she says, a little slower, "Even if they aren't the doctors, they're doing things like the doctors did. A little like. What's going to happen?"
The answer is a simple one. Riley lifts a single shoulder, keeping her gaze firmly upon you, everything about her steady and reliable. "What's going to happen is that they're going to stop sniffing around St. Claire, or they'll disappear as fast as their bosses can send them, without ever a word as to why."
X nods very, very slowly, several times. Her head goes down again, and one gloved hand raises enough to rake back through her short (and currently rather disheveled) hair.
A singular, firm little squeeze to your back prompts an involuntary grunt from your lungs, then Riley pushes from the ground and rises in an instant, a hand outstretched to help you to your feet. "Come on, now. You look exhausted. Let's get you back to Edgewood for now, get you some sleep... yeah?"
X rises fairly smoothly, considering what's happened, but she still behaves as though the offered hand isn't even there. Apparently, there's a limit to her touching tolerance. "Yeah," she says.
Riley, for her part, doesn't look like she takes the ignored hand personally. Her fingers simply curl back and her arm tucks loosely into her coat pocket. She doesn't bother making small-talk, but does walk with X the whole way back.
==================================== Media ===================================
Message: 11/225 Posted Author
Missing Posters Wed Mar 12, 2014 Sheogorath
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here and there, mostly around the downtown area, a few fliers have been put up on telephone poles. There aren't a great many of them, but enough that anyone who frequents the area might notice one:
MISSING
Have you seen this person?
Below this is a black and white picture of a young woman. It's recognizably X, though an X with more sunken cheeks and a shaved head, who looks, perhaps, just a little bit younger. Below the picture, there's smaller text, neatly printed:
Lisa Trenon
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Disappeared: March 24th, 2011, from St. Jude's Psychiatric Care Center, Vancouver, Washington
Suffers from paranoid delusions. For your own safety, please do not confront or approach.
If seen, please contact: XXX-XXX-XXXX (the number is local)
==============================================================================
----
Salem looks up at the more obviously visible of the three totems, then gathers himself. Limping over toward where the rocky slab used to be in the old caern, he takes out a length of bone and holds it aloft for all to see before breaking it in two. ~The Cracking has begun!~ As before, the old Walker's voice carries well. ~Let only those who have the bones speak, and let only Gaia's Truth be said.~ He pauses a beat, then continues -- still firm, but less formal. ~Normally, we would now have introductions, but tonight the Sept has a more pressing matter. Marrow! Come forward!~
Realm-Walker is more than pleased to howl out loudly as the totems come forth.
Rogue has totally been here the entire time, really. She's in lupus, and while she joins in with the howls, she's otherwise been quiet and intent.
Grapples with Fire's lips curl back from her teeth as she turns to regard the Truth Catcher. Her ire isn't aimed at him, however, but at the one he calls forth.
Song-of-Vengeance's attention goes to the pudgy, black-furred wolf, watching her, watching Salem...just...watching.
Unfinished-Business looks to those totems that she can see, or at least the ones bright and shiney and that draw the eye of the curious ragabash. She's careful to keep quiet, especially as business is said about to be had and she looks to those finally who call forth one of the others.
Quasimodo is brought crashing back down to earth after the totems' appearance and he crouches back down, grimacing at what will be coming next. His eyes cast downward again and his ear falls.
Copperhead turns her reptilian gaze from one totem to the other, clearly intrigued by there being a trio of them--and so unusual at the same time. When sept business is announced, she refocuses her attention. Reluctantly.
Marrow's tongue runs across her muzzle once again, every line of her body giving away her nervousness. She approaches the Glass Walker Philodox, belly low to the ground, as she slinks up to him.
Little Firebrand's ears draw forward when Salem moves, his attention shifting from the Walker philodox to Marrow.
Dives-Deep moves away from the fire, though she has made sure it has enough fuel to burn large and strong for the remainder of the moot. She takes up a position with her tribemates as Marrow is called forward.
Storm of the North pulls her gaze from the totems here to look toward Salem and Marrow. Her weight shifts to her other foot as she watches, quiet and curiuos.
Nothing in Salem's manner expresses the least bit of sympathy toward the Gnawer. ~Give your introduction to the Sept,~ he commands.
Rogue's ears slowly press forward, and she eases up out of the hunching sit she's been in since the beginning of the moot, as if she might need to lean forward to hear what's going on.
Cheese Doodle looks between Marrow and Salem, the Glass Walker all interest. She gives an occasional twitch, like the cannibal's presence is disturbing to her.
Marrow's tongue flicks across her nose, then she slowly flows in to her Crinos form. She makes a sad looking crinos, heavy-set, crouched down on all fours and actively avoiding looking at anyone directly. ~I am Sucks-the-Marrow-from-the-Bones, Fostern Galliard of the Bone Gnawers,~ she rumbles out.
Evac simply appears troubled. She has been uncharacteristically silent during the duration of this moot, a trend that Marrow's prelude and introduction doesn't break.
~Sucks-the-Marrow-from-the-Bones,~ Salem says, all formality again, ~you are accused of willfully killing and eating at least thirty humans. Humans that you chose deliberately as prey, not because they were agents of the Wyrm, not because you were starving and in need, but because they were not generous enough with their food scraps. You are also accused of perverting the Gift of Cooking, which Rat provides to feed Her hungry children, by using it on human flesh. Is this true? Yes or no.~
Marrow lifts a clawed hand and rubs at her nose, as she avoids looking directly at those present. ~Yes.~
Storm of the North sucks in a sharp breath as she jerks her attention to Marrow, her claws curling in against her palms. The young Wendigo snaps her teeth together tightly to hold anything she might feel like saying to herself though her gaze never leaves Marrow.
Rogue's lips abruptly peel back from her teeth as her nose wrinkles, her ears flatten to either side, and the fur all along her spine begins prickling as a low growl rumbles up from somewhere deep inside. Gross!
Quasimodo looks up in surprise as Salem speaks about Marrow using Cooking with human flesh. His gaze darts from the Glass Walker to the Bone Gnawer, then back to Salem.
A low growl is caught in the throat of the Wendigo elder, her arms crossing again over her chest as she stares at the accused.
Realm-Walker looks as though she might be sick, from the accusation and the admission, the idea just too revolting.
Evac's jaw tightens, and she takes a breath, powerful arms folding over her chest.
Song-of-Vengeance shifts in her seat, eyes wide, memorizing this story as one to be shared, attention moving to the other gnawers, guaging their reactions.
Unfinished-Business shifts from foot to foot at the accusation and the admission. Her arms wrap about herself a bit. She didn't think people around here actually did what she just argued for a little before.
Apparently none of this is news to the Glass Walker lupus. Cheese Doodle continues to look ready to throw the Gnawer under the first city bus that happens to go through the Caern.
Little Firebrand's expression hardens, though his gaze remains on Marrow, unwavering. An ear flicks to the side, then twists partway back as others shift and show their discontent.
Salem lets the Sept absorb this for a few moments, then speaks again. ~Do you have anything to say in your defense? Keep in mind that I will hear if you do not speak Gaia's Truth.~
Marrow's lips twitch and there is a brief show of fangs, but one that is quickly suppressed. ~I hunted those that wasted food, lessening the burden humans put on Gaia.~
Evac takes a single step forward, then takes it right back, lips twitching restlessly.
Rogue's growl briefly heightens to an almost snarl. There's no discernible 'words' from her, but her disgust and general incredulousness are quite clear. She glances toward Evac when she moves.
Grapples with Fire's jaws part and then snap shut, gaze shifting back to the Truth Catcher.
Salem grimaces. ~As I said earlier... you brought death to people for the sole crime of not sharing their scraps. As though you were their judge and executioner. As though we still practiced the Impergium.~ He doesn't seem to think of this as much of a defense. ~And what is your justification for consuming the humans you killed? Keeping in mind that over /thirty/ humans have vanished down your throat.~
Storm of the North has the same reaction as the others here. With her fur bristling and her jaw clamped tightly shut, she listens quietly but can't help but let out a very low, deep growl.
Marrow's ears flick. ~It seemed right. It felt right,~ she admits. ~If they were to waste food, it was fitting that they became food.~ A brief pause. ~And Always-Hungry said that it was right and I listened to him.~
No Excuse! Cheese Doodle 'says, loudly.' Well, silently. The wolf's posture is pretty big though. The philodox then goes back to being still and more... philodoxy.
Rogue suddenly surges into crinos, her snarl transforming smoothly into Mother's Tongue. ~/Fuck you/!~
Realm-Walker snarls at this defense, disgusted still.
Without a vocalization, Grapples with Fire's posture says, simply, You were wrong.
Unfinished-Business growls as she listens, though she keeps herself still and steady.
Salem throws a sharp look at Rogue for her outburst. ~No one speaks without the bones!~
Song-of-Vengeance rises smoothly to her feet and, without a word, turns her back to the criminal, looking to Rogue with a glare that speaks volumes. Hackles raising, she looks to her Cliath sister and growls. ~Be still.~
Dives-Deep looks upon Marrow with sorrow, although to judge by her bearing, she seems to consider the Galliard's fate already sealed.
Rogue shrinks back to all fours immediately, her ears pinning back at the chastening. She slides back down to lupus, but the rippling fur and murderous temper are clearly still present and directed at Marrow.
Rogue also throws Charlene a dark glare.
There's a faint rustling, a crackling of fiery feathers from the brightest and most obvious of the Totem spirits. Aahn shifts on his stone perch before settling again.
Salem gives Song of Vengeance a look as well, then turns back to the unpleasant task at hand. ~I am in agreement with my Septmates. The Litany is very clear. 'You shall not eat the flesh of humans.' There is no excuse, no acceptable justification for your actions.~ He pauses a long moment, staring at Marrow before shifting up into Crinos and speaking again. ~The sentence is death.~
Cheese Doodle tenses up, like the readying in case Marrow bolts, to bolt after her.
Grapples with Fire leans forward, teeth once again bared, as the sentence is pronounced. She, also, seems ready for the Bone Gnawer to attempt to run.
Realm-Walker calls her agreement with the sentence, glaring at Marrow.
Storm of the North tenses as the sentence is given, her claws curling into fists as she growls lowly, turning to eye Marrow as if just waiting for her to run so she can give chase.
Little Firebrand's hind end lifts slowly off the ground, head lowering but teeth showing in a growl, eyes still on Marrow.
Dives-Deep inclines her head sharply, in complete agreement with Salem's decision, however much she may regret the necessity. Given her deformity, though, there's no readying to give chase on her part.
The moon hangs brightly in the sky, making Frenzy a real possibility for the Garou - particularly those in Crinos form. As her sentence is spoken, something in Marrow snaps, and she instantly shrinks down in to lupus as a Fox Frenzy takes. The condemned Gnawer bolts, tail pressed firmly against her belly, as her tongue lolls from her jaws, and she gasps for air. It is unlikely that she will get far.
Bad-Boy, still and silent and watching all this time, bolts after Marrow like he would after an errant squirrel. He may not be the first to give chase, but he won't be the last.
Above the Caern and the gathered Sept, Aahn suddenly launches from his perch with an ear-piercing cry that responds to Marrow's bolt; responds in the worst possible way, as his wings snap open, catch the wind, and then fold as he performs a sharp turn turned dive. The Renascence Bird, ancient spirit of the uncorrupted Wyrm, transforms in the blink of an eye from bird to pillar of destructive, all-consuming fire, which rains down on the fleeing Marrow with all the force of a lightning bolt from heaven. It burns and consumes everything; fur, flesh, and finally bone, and the entire Caern is lit as brightly as if it were noonday.
Quasimodo's jaw drops in shock and he starts to pant in anxiety. His eyes dart around the caern at the death sentence, at Marrow, at Salem, at Dives-Deep, the onlooking garou. Some may hear high-pitched whining below the din.
Realm-Walker started to go after, but the sudden blaze of flame catches her flat pawed and she stops, awed.
Cheese Doodle starts bolting after, only to draw to an abrupt stop when the Bone Gnawer is turned into the biblical pillar of fire. The lupus worms her way back, eyes squinted from the sudden luminosity.
Storm of the North doesn't wait to give chase and with a low howl, she too races forward toward the fleeing Marrow with a snarl on her lips though the sudden blaze of fire brings her skittering to a halt. Turning her head to shield her eyes from the brightness, she falls silent in awe.
Little Firebrand twists with intent to intercept, claiming only a couple of steps before the totem brings down fire and flame. His ears twist back at the sudden impressive brightness, surprised and awed.
Copperhead didn't move to give chase. Perhaps because she didn't agree with the sentence. Perhaps because she doesn't feel it her place, as a guest, to participate in sept business. Perhaps both reasons--or more. She startles as the flaming bird totem engulfs the guilty Gnawer with fire. That was clearly unexpected.
Scar actually flinches back, startled, at Aahn's abrupt action against the human-eater; he recovers his composure quickly enough, but it's several moments before he finds his voice again. ~...And it is done.~ He takes in a breath, and then another one.
Unfinished-Business is slower to give chase as others take off. She doesn't get a step in as that pillar of fire consumes! Her claws are held up to shield herself fomr the brightness, though she cannot help but peek through to watch.
Dives-Deep expected many things when Marrow bolted, but Aahn's intervention was not among them. There's a long moment while she's too surprised to say anything at all, and then finally, she dips her head reverently toward Aahn. *Dives-Deep thanks him for making it a quick end.*
Bad-Boy yelps in surprise as his prey suddenly combusts into flame, the sudden flash of light causing him to trip unceremoniously over his own paws. He tumbles about a bit before landing on his back, blinking rapidly, trying to clear his vision of the stars that have blossomed in front of him.
Grapples with Fire gives a rough shake as the Bone Gnawer's form becomes a blaze of light, half-turning her muzzle to the side. When it's done, she returns her focus to the Truth Catcher, and her tongue flicks out to touch the tip of her nose. Still, her posture reads of impatience.
The pillar of fire surges, and then recedes, shrinking and reshaping down until Aahn is once more a bird, albeit one that easily dwarfs a crinos'd Garou. Beneath his blazing talons, not even ash appears to remain of the condemned Bone Gnawer. He slowly turns his head toward Dives-Deep, all of the violence of the past moments gone. *As with all things, I will remember this. So will you.* The fire darkens. He fades. While the other two totems remain, Aahn's presence can no longer be detected on this side of the Gauntlet.
Realm-Walker returns to her Elder's side, a little wobbly from the light still in her eyes. She blinks rapidly to try and dispel it.
Salem shifts back down into Glabro. ~Right. Back to business. Those new to the Sept, cub, those freshly Rited, and those new to our Sept -- come forth and be recognized!~
Quasimodo stares at the place where Marrow once was, after the brilliant flash illuminates his face. He's silent for a moment, then lifts his voice in a low, mournful howl. Someone has to feel sorry for her.
Unfinished-Business looks about at those who may come up to introduce themselves. After that display, she cannot help but to grin as she ponders what is going through the new people's minds. DO they even want to be part of this sept now?
Storm of the North shakes herself from the death of one of their members as she slow turns back to those here, settling herself down to listen though she shoots a glance Unfinished-Businesses direction.
The gray eyed Wendigo will take her turn at the bones, respectfully stepping forward to take them and turn to the Sept. ~Not many know me, but I have been here since I was a cub. I was Coyote, but my Elder named me Little Crow. And then we were lost while I was training and Rited then, five years to me, but far less to you. I am Little Crow Walks the Realms, now cliath of the Wendigo and a theurge.~
Dives-Deep does not join in her tribemate's howl, but she does move over to stand beside him as the moot begins to resume its normal course.
Little Firebrand stares at the place that was once occupied by the pillar of fiery totem and Gnawer for a long moment, then settles for sitting again. He gives himself a quick shake and a huff, before turning his returning his attention to the Truthcatcher and introductions.
Salem waits for a bit, and when no one else steps up, he speaks again. ~Welcome, Little Crow. Now, those who have announcements or other business for the Sept, step up and speak your piece.~
Realm-Walker is more than happy to go sit next to her Elder once more.
Quasimodo steps up to Salem and takes the bones. ~Some of you may not know me, I am new to this place. I am Dumpster-Diver, cliath metis galliard of the Bone Gnawers. I didn't know Marrow as well as others, but she was the first garou I met when I arrived. She gave me food, almost forced it on me, though I was a stranger to her. She was adamant that her food not be wasted. Later, she taught me the gift of Calling the Wyld. She was kind to me, the lowest of the low. What she did is unforgivable, I know that, and she has paid the price. I know I am a lowly mule and a mere cliath, but I would have counseled mercy, as Gaia is merciful. She did wrong and broke the Litany, of that there is no doubt. She did what she did out of a hatred for waste. Is that not what we all fight against? The waste of Gaia's bounty? She did it for love of Gaia. Her heart was in the right place, but her actions were...misguided. You may scoff at me, but I truly believe that. All I ask is that you remember, if only for the lesson of the Litany taught by her death. Thank you." He silently hands the bones back to Salem and sits by Dives-Deep, head bowed.
~Monsters can be human, too,~ Salem says as he takes the bones back. ~That does not make them less monstrous.~
Rogue rumbles flatly, ~Says who?~
Grapples with Fire's ears twist back as she listens to the metis, disagreement clear in her posture.
Dives-Deep puts a hand on Quasimodo's shoulder before stepping forward to take the bone herself. ~Dives-Deep has two things that she would say. The first -- she wants to make clear that if any of them are captured by the humans in the fancy clothing, they _must_ escape before being questioned. The drug they used is strong enough that it still had some effect on her, even though the human form is not the one she was born to -- she expects that a homid would have no choice but to tell them the truth and thus breach the Veil, and once dosed, it is also difficult to call upon rage.~ The warning delivered, she moves on to the other issue, ~Dives-Deep also calls upon the sept for volunteers for battle. The Weaver spirits that attacked the Glass Walkers and ripped the spark of the Wyld from roach spirits still have their nest in the city, and it must be dealt with. Heart of Fire and Little Firebrand have already stepped forward to take part, but three is not enough.
Rogue might have had something more to her comment; something to explain who she's addressing, what she means, why she's talking without the bones yet again...Dives-Deep stops all of that. Her eyes suddenly bulge, her fur bristles far more than it did during the trial, and she looks on the very, very edge of frenzy, only barely held in check, and perhaps only momentarily.
Realm-Walker scoots forward a little, but keeps her silence as there are no bones in her hands at the moment. Later.
Storm of the North turns to listen to Dives-Deep, her ear perking at the call for volunteers and the Wendigo straightens up in her crinos form, clearly wishing to speak up but she doesn't, not yet.
Salem eyes Rogue with a frown, eyes narrowed. ~...Good to know. Does anyone else have business to bring before the Sept? Any grievances to be aired?~
Little Firebrand glances around as Maddie begins speaking, looking into reactions of those around him. He sits up a bit straighter when he's named, though it's in acknowledgement and affirmation of the Gnawer elder's statement.
Her control lasts approximately twenty seconds. Rogue's eyes, always feverish, suddenly go completely mad, and she bolts in lupus toward the slope leading out of the Caern at a truly impressive speed.
Grapples with Fire steps forward, then, and takes hold of the bones. She looks out over the gathered and lifts her muzzle, anger clear in her posture, though she holds it well in check. ~I have a grievance,~ she rumbles, her voice clear and cold. ~Word has reached my ear that my honor has been questioned, that my treatment of cubs has been called inappropriate. If any would question my methods, question my honor, let them speak to me directly, not use a coward's way to whisper behind my back. And let Song of Vengeance come find me with either challenge or apology for her words!~
Realm-Walker blinks and looks after Rogue, almost coming to her feet.
Little Firebrand twists to watch Rogue bolt from the Caern, but when Jacinta speaks, his focus turns to her. His ears fold backward in show of vague apology, even if he isn't the source of her grievance.
Storm of the North is surprised at Grapples with Fire's words. She keeps quiet, though she shifts her weight impatiently as she listens but she's more than surprised at seeing Rogue suddenly bolt from the Caern but turns her attention back to the one with the Bones.
Evac's attention is neatly divided between Grapples-with-Fire's words and Rogue's sudden flight. The crinos's lips peel back in a frustrated snarl, but she stands her ground.
Grapples with Fire returns the bones to Salem with a dip of her head in acknowledgement and then returns to her place. Her gaze follows after the bolting Fury, but she makes no effort to chase her down.
Salem grimaces at Rogue's flight away and takes the bones back from Jacinta. ~Well stated. Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?~ He waits a time, the bones raised, and when no one else comes forward, he nods. ~The Cracking is over,~ he says and steps down, limping back to his previous spot. To those with a good eye and a knowledge of the scarred halfmoon, he looks a trifle weary.
Dives-Deep appears surprised as the Warder makes her announcement, aiming a puzzled look over toward Song-of-Vengeance, though any questions will have to wait until after moot. And then, her attention drawn toward Rogue, she winces as she sees the Fury bolt, an entirely unintended consequence of her warning.
Rogue's departure is messy, as one might expect. She practically claws her way up the slope, as her haste makes the climb more difficult rather than less, leaving small furrows in the ground behind her. Her shoulder impacts hard with one of the trees closest to the Caern, but other than knocking her wildly to one side, it doesn't do much more than momentarily slow her down. She vanishes quickly, with only a receding crash of underbrush to mark her way.
Quasimodo listens to his elder's announcement, then looks up in surprise as Rogue bugs out. He spends the rest of the moot in silent contemplation among his tribemates.
Copperhead watches the fleeing Fury cub(?) with what might be a mix between shock and disapproval. She quickly turns her attention back to the moot, lest she too be perceived to act in a dishonorable manner.
Storm of the North gives herself an almost violent shake when the Cracking of the Bones has commenced and with an impatient snarl at the pent up energy and rage she has kept buried inside during the moot, the Ahroun Wendigo let out sudden loud, rather long howl to silence all other sounds as well as to get everyones attention. Bounding forward, she leads the revelers into the Umbra for a revel unlike no other. And when the assembled werewolve's energy has reached its zenith, and the Caern is renewed until next month, the Moot finally comes to an end.
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Bawn: Central Forest(#2876RA)
The forest is a dark, looming presence. It's not quiet, but there is an overwhelming sense of hushed anticipation, throughout. The towering pillars of ancient western hemlocks, red cedars, and Sitka spruce trees appear to be sentinels keeping watch. Here and there a monstrous black cottonwood rises up to challenge the authority of the old growth guards. Red alders play the role of teenagers, herding the smaller trees and saplings of the understory while wishing they could be the match of the ancients. Salmonberry and huckleberry shrubs cling to the area around their trunks, while licorice fern and cat-tail moss climb onto everything they can reach. Lady and sword ferns proliferate along the forest floor among a rich carpet of stair-step moss, lichen, and oxalis, coating the whole forest green. In some corners there are even remnants of the Wyld surge, plants that have no business being in this climate, this century, or indeed existing at all. The fruit from these strange plants appear and ripen randomly all year long. All around, the area is alive with the sights, sounds and scents of the wilderness--the dampness of a recent rain, the song of birds and the buzzing of insects, and every once in awhile the call of an owl will panic a squirrel that sets the nearby leaves rustling.
The forest extends in all directions. A well worn path leads towards the story tree, while another leads towards the caern.
Obvious exits:
Caern Story Tree Western Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn Eastern Bawn
Evac has arrived.
While she doesn't exactly leave a path of destruction, X's trail is easy enough to follow, at least for someone with certain talents. Easy to follow, but also long. Very long. It's at least half a dozen miles before the occasional signs and tracks she leaves go from wolf to human, and the trail just keeps going. Eventually, she can be found stumbling through the thick undergrowth, run out to exhaustion to the point where it's a wonder she hasn't dropped yet. She's scratched, dirty, and muttering tensely to herself.
Three minutes. That's all the time that you're afforded, before the voice sounds, directly behind you. ~Rogue.~ It's immediately familiar, given the Adren's propensity for this exact trick. She just loves to sneak up when people least suspect it. For her to have caught up to you, she clearly had to have been running faster and harder, but when she shifts up to homid, there's not a bead of sweat on the woman's brow, not a single strained breath after that nearly-full marathon. "We're talking about this." Assuming you don't stop, she matches her pace to yours.
X doesn't stop, exactly, it's just that all the motion goes into her upper body. Almost before Riley can get all the words out, she's twisting around and swinging wildly at her former mentor. The Fury may not be frenzied any longer, but that mad look in her eyes hasn't quite gone away. The watery look is new though. Definitely new.
Being assaulted is nothing new, where relations between the two ragabash are concerned. That first flailing strike connects with Riley's shoulder before the Adren bulls herself forward, grabbing one assailing wrist, then snatching the second that inevitably comes flailing around upon being seized. She offers a firm squeeze of her grip - firm, but not enough that it causes you much in the way of discomfort, outside of your typical discomfort with contact. "Hey!" Comes the first, sharp shout, followed by a brief jostling of your frame before a much softer, "...Hey. Calm down. Calm. Down."
X struggles, a gesture that's just as flailing as her punches, and just as lacking in the usual Rage use. There's no discipline there, no thought to how best to escape. Fortunately, it doesn't last long. Riley can feel her shaking violently beneath the gloves and long sleeves, and when she tries to speak, it's little more than a mess of anxious noises rather than words. Gradually, this fades mostly to labored breathing.
Keeping her facial features tightly under control, Riley keeps her expression neutral through your struggles, your anxiety, and ultimately your complete panic attack. She abandons her grip on your arms and presses down on your shoulders, urging you to the ground without forcing the issue. "Sit down." There's a weight to those words, a charged exertion of Rank. "Sit down," She repeats, "And breathe. Alright? Just breathe, and calm down."
X sits. She folds under the pressure and the order. She breathes. Calming down? That's more dubious. There's nothing that seems remotely calm about her, even after several minutes of wildly erratic breaths, but at least, given the opportunity, she's not trying to hit her anymore, and she's not quite as much on the verge of another frenzy.
Riley keeps her contact on the Cliath's shoulders, and doesn't break contact with them until she seats herself directly in front of you, ass on the ground, legs out in front of her. Her hands lift, and she simply waits for a time, affording you some time to get your shit together. After several minutes pass without your breathing calming, Riley murmurs, "...Gonna go out on a limb and assume you're in no-touching mode, but you're makin' it pretty damn hard not to hug you, y'know." The humor in her tone is tenuous, at best. It's forced normalcy.
X's eyes are, if anything, even more watery, though they haven't spilled over yet. Her lips form the same sound several times before she manages to actually complete it, and it's more of a breath than a word. "We..." Breathe. And then the words simply spill out. "We have to run. We have to fucking run right now."
She'd had her doubts on the run over as to what X had been reacting to, but those last words clarify things. Sucking in a long breath and letting it out slow, Riley gives a firm shake of her head, "No." It's delivered with harsh certainty, and the Adren's hands edge forward to rest a feather-light grip upon X's shoulders. "We're not running, you're not running, and you're going to be /safe/. Not everyone in a suit are your guys, X, and if they /are/ your guys? Then all the more reason not to run."
"Drugs and questions," X's voice is a little higher than usual, if not by much. Her monotone is considerably diminished in favor of shaky, obvious terror. "Needles and knives and bloody fingernail bone picking doors knocking with the questions, always the /fucking/ questions, and then, and then eye walls and quiet silent whispering silk cotton with lights in your face."
One hand gently lifts from its grip on your shoulders, and you're not halfway through your rant before a sudden crack of pain registers against your face, minor and stinging as the Adren's hand swipes past, with all the muster of a girl her weight and frame can manage - which is to say, you've had far worse. "/Stop./"
X's head jerks to the side, and she stops. At least, she's silent, though the shaking and the breathing continue. Her eyes fix on a point somewhere between Riley's shoes and the ground.
Riley's hand replaces itself on your shoulder, and she rumbles, "No, fuck this. C'mere." Her arms encircle the raggedly breathing ragabash, and she begins speaking, "What you're talking about? They happened to a scared little girl. Leah Tanner. You are X. Rogue. If they put a needle in your arm, you but a clawed hand through their fucking chest. If they ask you questions, you chew their fucking faces off. But you do not /run/. You don't talk without the bones. You don't run from the moot, and you don't /run/ from the things that scare you. Running doesn't save you in this world. Running didn't save Sucks-The-Marrow-From-Men. Running would not have saved me from Little Silvertip. Running will not save you from /them/. You will. I will. We will." Her words are clipped and firm, but her tone is more compassion than cruelty.
*but=put
X doesn't hug back. Such a thing seems beyond her, certainly right now. But she doesn't try to pull away either. In fact, as Riley draws her in, her head goes down, and she leans hard into the other Ragabash's chest. No words. Her breath catches several times, but it doesn't quite amount to sobs.
Riley's hold on the other ragabash stays firm, and her chin settles gently down atop the totally-not-crying woman's head. She doesn't lay the words on thick or get greedy with driving points home while her once-student is in a vulnerable place. She simply holds you, and lets you breathe, lets your mind race and lap itself and then circle itself again. A single thumb lightly rubs at your back, kneading a gentle circle against the tension in your shoulderblades as she waits for things to settle.
It...takes a while. A long while. Even having completely exhausted all of her Rage in frenzy, and probably a fair amount of willpower on top of that, even with the miles long run she's just managed, X spends an age simply hiding in Riley's arms. When her breathing does finally deepen and even out, and a little of that tension bleeds away, she doesn't sit back up either. She just stays where she is, with her jaw set and her eyes closed.
It's a long time to stay quiet, but Riley does her able best. It's only once your breathing has stabilized that she asks, "...do you have any reason to think these are your guys? I spoke with Slug, and got the impression that they were dressed like the FBI. Feds. A government investigation, maybe, some agency we don't know about. Your guys were scientists, weren't they? Doctors? Lab coats?"
"No faces," X murmurs into Riley's shirt. "Lab coats. Yellow and white suits with clipboards and scalpels. But I don't..." A lengthy pause. "I don't know who the doctors worked for."
"Dollars to donuts, it's not even them. There's a lot of assholes in the world, and a lot of assholes use drugs. There's no evidence that it's them, so until we know what we're dealing with? It won't do to just assume that every human foe we deal with might be attached to the people that hurt you. They have no way of tracking you down. No more than any other person in the world, and you're not exactly big on the grid, Rogue." Something comes to mind then, and she purses her lips. "...What name did they call you by? What name did they know you by? Other than the 's' word."
X inhales more deeply than she has this entire conversation, and finally leans up a little--though not entirely. In answer, she tugs down her sleeve, the one with the tattoo'd serial number down the forearm. "They knew Leah Tanner," she says, in a strangely small voice. "Never talked to me with it. Letter numbers. I chose X."
When X's head leans up, Riley eases hers up too, no longer resting her chin atop the other woman's head. "...If you'd like, I can do something that ought have been done a long time ago. It won't look like anything has changed, but it will change everything for the people you're afraid of. If they have access to anything supernatural, anyone who could use the tools that we can to track you, they could look for Leah Tanner, and it would lead them here." She draws a long breath, "...But if you'd like, and you have something that you're willing to part with that's from your time before... this. Before X, Before Rogue. Then I can take Leah Tanner away forever. If they try to seek you with that name, they will fail."
X's eyes briefly tear up again, though she blinks the water away without actually crying. "I don't have anything," she says. It's a little duller, more monotone. More like her usual self, really. "Th...when I woke up, they told me it was a hospital."
One of Riley's hands abandons its grip on the Ragabash's back, moves around to trace down your forearm. "...This was Leah Tanner's. It was given to her." Her fingertips trace the clinical edges of the tattooed serial number.
X's gaze drops to the tattoo as well. Any reaction to the implications of 'parting with it' are not visible in her face, but she flicks her eyes to Riley more slowly. "Does that work? She didn't want it."
"It doesn't need to be something wanted. It doesn't even need to be something /important/." Riley murmurs, giving a slow shake of her head, "It's only a symbol of the name you're shedding. A symbol of what you're choosing to leave behind you." She gestures with her head to the symbol. "That may be the worst thing to happen to Leah Tanner. It's certainly what defined Leah Tanner, in the end."
"It killed her," X says flatly. A statement of fact.
"Then why carry her ghost?" Riley asks, craning her head gently to the side. "If I perform this rite, Leah Tanner will be gone. Her number will be gone. They will not return. You may have any name you wish, and know that if you entrust only those you trust with it, none who do not know your Garou name will ever be able to track you. No more ghost."
X says very quietly, "I don't know." She looks at her arm again. "...I'm not serial numbers. But I'm X."
Another brief little shake of Riley's head. "...It's your decision, and it's not one you have to make now." Riley withdraws her fingers from your arm to rejoin her other hand along your back. "...You can still be X without being Leah Tanner, as well. This rite isn't for me, and it isn't for anyone who you meet after. It's for you, and you only. Whatever you'd like your True Name to be, it will be."
X tugs her sleeve back down to meet the edge of her glove, nodding. "Okay." She goes silent, with her eyes still on her arm, even if it's now covered. Her breathing is mostly even now, though there are a few catches here and there.
"Until the day you match or surpass me, you'll be my student, X. That comes bundled with the fact that as my student, I'll do everything in my power to help you." Riley assures, "If you want to leave her behind now, ten days from now, or ten years from now, I'll do it. Some things in life are important to remember - and some things are important to let yourself step past."
X looks from her arm to Riley, then back to her arm. "Okay." This time, the word is a little quieter, maybe a little softer. It seems as though that's going to be it once again, but eventually she says, a little slower, "Even if they aren't the doctors, they're doing things like the doctors did. A little like. What's going to happen?"
The answer is a simple one. Riley lifts a single shoulder, keeping her gaze firmly upon you, everything about her steady and reliable. "What's going to happen is that they're going to stop sniffing around St. Claire, or they'll disappear as fast as their bosses can send them, without ever a word as to why."
X nods very, very slowly, several times. Her head goes down again, and one gloved hand raises enough to rake back through her short (and currently rather disheveled) hair.
A singular, firm little squeeze to your back prompts an involuntary grunt from your lungs, then Riley pushes from the ground and rises in an instant, a hand outstretched to help you to your feet. "Come on, now. You look exhausted. Let's get you back to Edgewood for now, get you some sleep... yeah?"
X rises fairly smoothly, considering what's happened, but she still behaves as though the offered hand isn't even there. Apparently, there's a limit to her touching tolerance. "Yeah," she says.
Riley, for her part, doesn't look like she takes the ignored hand personally. Her fingers simply curl back and her arm tucks loosely into her coat pocket. She doesn't bother making small-talk, but does walk with X the whole way back.
