"I could leave. I could run."
Mar. 25th, 2014 03:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretMore talking about the 'doctors', this time with Emma. Later, Slug apologizes.
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:
Emma
Charlene
Tent(#1921A)
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
"That's my understanding, aye." Charlene bobs her head in the affirmative. "From what Kier told me, the challenge is fairly simple as far as things go, and perfect for a halfmoon like him."
Emma looks over at this, "Except Keir never told me the terms he'd put together for Sue. So, as of this point, if you've accepted taking over the challenge, and since Keir never brought them to me, I'll leave it to you to either continue with the terms he'd laid out, or present your own. Either way, I need to hear them."
Rogue arrives quietly, if slowly, slinking out of the woods like a rather reluctant shadow. Her body language suggests quite plainly that she's not feeling well, as beneath a fair amount of visible tension and a low set tail, she looks just that little bit droopy, and her steps aren't as smooth and light as they usually are in this form.
"I thought he had..." Charlene says, trailing off while she looks up at the master. "Well, damn." She sighs. "Would you like me to fill you in, then?"
Emma has most of her attention on the galliard, but the arrival of the wolf does not go entirely unnoticed. It's a quick glance in her direction only at this point, and she nods to Charlene even as she gives it. "Well, more than that, it's necessary. There's no challenge unless I can conclude the terms are fair."
Rogue meanders in Emma and Charlene's general direction, but she's unhurried, unfocused, and she comes to a stop quite a distance away, at least fifteen feet. She drops onto her haunches.
"completely understandable." Charlene says. "This is kind of...well...first time this has ever happened to me, y'know? Formal challenge notwithstanding, more of the 'here, you do it' part of things. S'why I came to see you." She glances over at X, gives her a moment of attention, then turns back to Emma. "So...the terms." Charlene dusts her hands off as she remembers. "Kier challenged Sue to bring peace to two fighting groups of spirits. A group of wolf spirits took over a glade and then started to shake down some stag spirits for their gnosis to keep it going...the stags, obviously, did not like that, so Sue's job is to bring peace to the pair. And him with his hooves will have a time convincing both parties that he's representing their best interests."
Emma considers the explanation of the terms, "So he's to mediate between the two groups of spirits. Wolf and stag." The Get goes quiet for a time, "It sounds like something a Gaian would have set out as terms. You're his tribemate, had he come to you directly to challenge for Fostern, would you have accepted the challenge?"
"I would have, if I were the only option. I would have suggested someone else, since he and I are friends and I don't want anything to look incorrect or wrong. No favoritism in rank, y'know?" Charlene says after a moment. "He's done good work. He's putting in a lot of effort overcoming his limitations."
Rogue's right ear twists and flattens to the side. She's rather blatantly eavesdropping, but so far she doesn't seem interested in participating.
"Metis, by default, must overcome their limitations just to survive as part of our nation. That in itself is not a qualifier for their being ready to advance in rank. Challenges don't have a bell curve. They're designed, or should be, to test a garou where they struggle most. If they fail, then they're not ready. If they succeed despite facing their weakest areas, well then proof is in their success. Have you yourself met with these spirits to see the level of their grievances with each other?"
"No." Charlene says with a shake of her head. "I did not meet with these spirits. Kier did all the groundwork for this and I do not think he would have given Sue a softball of a challenge for rank. That defeats the purpose of testing him, after all."
Rogue's other ear flattens, and a little bit of her neck fur hackles upward.
"I'm not saying he did. I'm saying, that essentially, you've been asked to pass or fail a student, on a test that you have not even read." Emma sets the rest of her apple on the stoop beside her, growing quiet for a longer moment this time around. "I'm not keen on this. Especially not knowing the nature of this disparity between the spirits. I will accept these terms only once you have verified that the issue to be resolved, with test areas in which Sue has struggled." A pause, "Can you tell me what areas warrant the most scrutiny in regard to the halfmoon?"
"Of course. The only thing I've done so far is speak to you regarding this challenge - as I should." Charlene pauses for a moment. "Philodox have the role of keeping traditions and balance between two opposing sides. They bring extreme sides together. Their honor must be impeccible and unstained and their decisions must be just and right." She pauses. "If you're talking about Sue in particular....he needs to work on his assertiveness. There are some that do not respect him - why I am not sure, but he is not respected as one of Gaia should be and is starting to give up. Those who do not respect him don't have to like him, but they should respect his decisions.
Rogue does interrupt now, though as far as interruptions go, it's fairly minor. There's a low rumble in the back of her throat that builds into a quiet, if steady growling.
"Philodox carry perhaps the most heavy burden of our nation. They mediate, yes, which is what these terms seem to focus on. They also are to counsel, keep the law, uphold the litany, discern truth and on many occasions, are tasked with making large, important decisions that will have cascading effects. Sue lacks confidence. And Philodox who lack confidence can be easily cowed into making poor judgements." Emma pauses at this to look over toward the younger Fury as the growl reaches her ears, though for now it is just a look and nothing more. She turns back toward Charlene. "If you are intent to see this through, then you need to see these two groups of spirits. Speak with them. The task should test more than just his ability to find a compromise between the two. Once you have done that, come to me again and tell me if you think that this task can test your tribemate where he most needs to be tested. And if not, then your choices will be to either come up with your own terms for him, or refuse the handed-off challenge."
Charlene nods. "Sounds like I'm going on a trip, then."
Rogue continues to growl, but she does little else.
Emma nods, "Don't be obvious when you seek out these spirits. Just see if you can discern their grievances, and tell whether or not they will challenge Sue where he most needs to be challenged. You may have to ask Maddie to help on that, as she's good at feeling out the intentions of spirits. Once you do that, you need to have a clear idea in your mind as to what will qualify as his passing or failing the terms."
"Of course." Charlene responds, replacing her hat, giving wolf X a look before looking back to Emma. "Being a galliard means I can use the whole 'seeking stories to tell' if I'm discovered. Works wonderfully and is the truth too." She grins. "Thanks, Emma. I know this was a weird challenge and I'd rather Kier take care of it all instead of passing it off but...." She shrugs. "Stuff happens sometimes."
Emma gives a faint nod, "Yeah. More than sometimes." She reaches over toward her apple then, picking up the remnants and brushing off an ant that was bold enough to check it out, before taking another bite.
Rogue's teeth briefly show as Charlene looks toward her. His decisions shouldn't be respected when they are stupid.
When the galliard leaves, Emma turns toward the wolf that had been growling. "Well. That's sometimes true. Depends on if they're actually stupid, or if it's just someone's opinion that they are." She takes another bite of the apple and pushes herself back so as to lean against the wall of the house now. "You look like you've had better days. Everything ok?"
No. Rogue settles again, her ears lowering a little as she does so. The doctors are here. No one will listen to her about how dangerous it is.
That earns Emma's attention and she turns to look at the other. "Did you see them? Or just hear about them being here?"
Rogue makes an uneasy noise, and her attempt at communication is garbled at best. She eventually, if reluctantly, slides into homid, where she remains crouched on the ground. "Nick and the stupid fucking bastard were talking about the people in the city that kidnapped a Garou. Then they started talking about missing posters with my face on them."
Emma draws in a breath at this, "Who's the second guy you mentioned? That title can be applied to a handful of people I know unfortunately." There's a short pause as she looks over. "I'll listen to whatever you can tell us about them Rogue. I'd like to see them stopped."
"Slug," X says, perhaps even more flatly than her usual. She glances up at Emma, then down at the grass, where she tears up a few blades as she speaks, "Nick had a picture, but I didn't look at it. They said they were in the city, and maybe all of this shit with government agents and spies was because of me. Slug was going to call the phone number and lie about seeing me somewhere. I told him it was fucking dangerous."
Emma gives a nod to the name attached to the moniker, and were the conversation not as serious as it is, might have had a harder time hiding the grin that threatened. "What do you think would happen if he did that?"
X's lips press together hard enough to turn a little whiter. "Everyone thinks they can just kill the doctors."
Emma looks toward the Fury at this, "I know this sucks to talk about X. But you're the only person that can give us any hope of figuring out how to maybe stop these guys. And you've got allies now. We won't let you fight alone."
X's jaw tightens as she yanks up another blade of grass, and her eyes flit toward Edgewood's front door. "He was trying to make me fucking frenzy. He liked it." Yank. "Everyone's so fucking afraid of me, so fucking crazy, but they want me to be fucking crazy. Nick won't stay in a room with me, now he's never going to go into the room in the first place." Yank yank yank. "They've got needles and darts. Nets. Gas. Probably other shit."
Emma tips her head toward X at something she says, "Hey, Nick won't stay in the same room as /me/ when the moon's fat. And-" she pauses, "Well let's just say we're very close. Anyway. Kin tend to be extra careful with us. As for Slug. Yeah, he's a proper asshole about eighty percent of the time." As the Fury gets back to the topic of the doctors, Emma nods, "Are they stronger than they should be? Or is it mostly manufactured things they have at their disposal?"
X shakes her head. "Doesn't matter what the moon is." She seems to have more, but rather than talk further about Nick, her gaze shifts from the door to the grass in her hand. "They're humans. But they've got drugs. Restraints. Silver. Couldn't get through the door." Her breathing hitches almost imperceptibly. "Questions. They've got so many fucking questions."
Emma gives a faint nod. "So they know how to fight us. And they're not afraid to." She lets out a slow breath, "That /is/ dangerous." Another quick glance is given to the other, "What do you think we should do?"
"You won't like it." X doesn't look up when she replies.
"Maybe not. But let's hear it. Like I said, you're the only one with any info on this situation. That makes you our current expert."
X inhales slowly, deeply. "Run." Her frown deepens. "Except there's the Caern, I guess, so we couldn't go very far. But if we can't run then we should fucking hide."
Emma mmms at this. "We go into hiding, that leaves all the other things free to do what they want. You think they'll leave if they can't find you?"
"I could leave," X says seriously. "I could run. I ran for months before you guys kidnapped me and taught me all this stuff. Maybe I'm more find-able because I've been in mostly one place."
That earns a quick reaction from the Get, "No. You stay here with us. We'll figure this out as a sept. And Gaia willing, we'll put a stop to them so they can't chase anyone again." She looks adamant about this. "Let me ask you this X. When they caught you the first time, they knew right away what you were, right?"
X's expression remains mostly unchanged, but something about her body language makes it clear that she finds this question--or at least, what's required to answer it--very uncomfortable. "...I guess," she says at last. "Don't remember much about it."
"Alright." The Get seems to decide to let it drop at this. "We'll figure it out. We can't hide, but we don't have to throw ourselves at them like idiots. And you be as much or as little involved with it as you need to be X. And if the others aren't giving you an ear, then find me."
X nods several times, and finally does glance up. "Okay." She seems to consider that an adequate response entirely on its own.
Emma looks over. "Should try to get a little something to eat. Something light maybe. Get some rest." A pause. "Or join me for a late night run if that sounds like a better idea. I'm just about to get a stretch."
X stands up. "I'll run." She didn't even deliberate on the choice.
Emma grabs up her apple core and tosses it into the trash bin that sits not far from where she was leaned up against the wall. A moment later she's shifted to lupus, given herself a good stretch and shake of her fur, then starts loping off into the forest with a chuff of invitation for the other.
----
Cloudy day, not far above freezing; that's late winter in Washington in a nutshell. X is on the roof again, though this time there are no weapons to be seen, no arrows, and she seems to have perched on the very peak of the roof for the purpose of...drawing. At least, that's what it looks like she's doing. She has a somewhat battered sketchbook braced against one knee, and a half used pencil in her right hand.
Slug steps out onto the porch and rolls his shoulders, his joints crackling, sounding as agitated as he looks. He steps off the porch, his Glabro form casting a tall shadow. He brings a piece of particle board over to one of the porch railings and pins it there with his shoulder, then anchors it with a staple gun. Click! He sets the gun down on the railing near the board and walks away, heading out into the field.
The noises from below are enough to stop X from her sketchbook activities. She pauses, pencil partly raised, then leans forward with her knees braced against the roof in order to see who it is. The actual identity of the new arrival brings a sharp narrowing of her eyes, and a calculating look.
Slug reaches up with his right hand, sliding it out into the light. It's covered in pink, angry flesh, and it's skeletal fingers tremble with every painful movement. He forces it into a claw and uses it to pull back his hood, revealing a grimacing, ugly face. The Glabro grumbles to himself and reaches into a back pocket, taking out a cloth bag that jingles when he handles it. ~Hey,~ he rumbles a second later, barely glancing at up at X.
X's response is a flash of teeth. Without looking, she feels along the rooftop and proceeds to pry off a piece of shingle.
~So, here's the thing,~ Slug rumbles, glancing up at her. He eyes her destructive hands in action, then drums his fingers on the cloth bag. ~I've been going through some shit. And that shit sucks, but it isn't your fault. I should have... Treated you a bit better. A bit different. I'm sorry.~
Charlene emerges from the barn where she'd been working out before the sun rose. It's one of the quirks of being a Garou - lots of energy to burn off, as long as you maintain it with lots of input of food which is where she's going now. Pushing the door closed with one sneaker-clad foot, she starts toward the house, dressed in a hoodie and pair of sweats, stopping when she sees Slug in his gory glory standing on the porch, talking with X. She does not interrupt.
X curls her gloved fingers around the piece of shingle as she responds. "Lots of people say they're sorry," she says. Flat. Monotone. Only as loud as is necessary to cover the distance between them. In other words, her standard method of speaking. "It's usually bullshit."
~Yup,~ Slug agrees, glancing down at Charlene. He looks at her for a second or two, then looks back up at X. ~You remember when you were a cub? I do. I remember seeing you in the breakroom. I remember showing you my Gift, the one with the trash spirits. I remember showing you how to hold a knife.~ Slug reaches into his bag and draws out a throwing blade with two fingers, and he twists it around until he's holding it by it's thin hilt, blade down, just like he showed her. In his giant meathook, it looks like a child's toy. ~Who helped you check yourself for those chips when he caught you cutting yourself? Who *promised* to help you get revenge on the people that did that shit to you? I meant it then, just like I mean it when I say I'm sorry now.~
Charlene remains standing quietly, hands shoved in her pockets, watching the pair, skirting around the outside of the house to enter the back door. Food and listening from within.
X scowls. Her response, however, is a little slower in coming, and while she keeps gripping the piece of shingle, she's not really doing anything else with it. "People don't want to be around me 'cause I'm fucking crazy," she says. "Then you go and push and push and fucking push, with Nick right there, trying to get me to frenzy, like it's /funny/. He's not gonna come around me again now."
~People don't want me around for a lot of reasons. I've screwed up every pack I've ever been in. Not even my friends want to run with me, so I run alone. It's a hard life,~ Slug says, his voice soft, but tempered with anger. ~You can't go through what you did without being messed up. You can't be a Garou without being messed up.~ Slug twirls the blade in his working hand and twists, winging it at the particle board in one smooth motion. The blade cracks into the wood, far from center, but dug in deep. ~I used to be an Ahroun. I don't know how much Rage you got, but I know what it's like to sit on a powder keg. I know what it's like when you're trying to hold it all in, but people that don't get it keep fucking pushing you.~ He draws a slow breath, and exhales a great sigh, closing his eyes. ~Which is why I shouldn't have pushed you like I did... But at the same time, I had my Rage egging me on. It ain't an excuse, but it's part of the reason I acted like I did.~
X looks as though she has a variety of responses, judging by the various facial tics and subtle expression shift. Eventually, all she ends up saying is, "Don't pretend like you know what happened to me. Just don't be a fucking /asshole/."
~Not gonna,~ Slug says without looking up, drawing another knife from his bag, his face still and downcast. ~But I know what it's like for someone to hold you down and carve you up. I've looked into the eyes of people as they carved me up with a silver knife. Cut pieces off me. Looked at me like a piece of shit. I know what it's like to be helpless. Held down. To feel yourself screaming on the inside to do anything to make the pain stop. I know what it's like to feel time come to a stop on a knife's edge,~ he bitterly rumbles, hurling a second blade at the target board. It digs in far deeper than the first. ~Going through it every day? For a year, or years? That, I can't imagine.~
From inside the house some banging around can be heard and, after a bit, Charlene emerges on the front porch (after the flung knife) with three plates, the top one stacked high with around a dozen foil-wrapped breakfast burritos. "Anyone hungry?" she asks no-one in particular, which means everyone's included. "Got leftovers nice and warm. Will take the edge off." She pulls one of the plates from the pile, stacks a couple of burritos on top and takes a seat out of the firing line to listen if she's allowed.
"No you don't," X says flatly. "You know what it was like for you. Doctors don't look you in the eyes, and they don't have any eyes to look into."
Slug hurls another knife that clears Charlene by a wide margin, smacking into the board with a loud 'twang'. ~Yeah,~ Slug says. ~Food sounds good,~ he sighs out, turning his attention back to X. ~I ain't saying I know exactly what you went through. I'm just saying I'm about as close to having an idea of what you went through as most people are gonna get.~
Charlene sets about dividing the rest of the burritos into two piles - slugs, which has about four, and X's, which has about three. Yes, she brought 10 breakfast burritos - yay for leftovers! "Everyone's experiences are different." Charlene doesn't flinch at the sound of the knife 'thwacking' into the wood, re-taking her seat behind slug to start eating. "But there are always a few things that overlap, even in the most opposite folk."
X continues scowling, but she says nothing directly in response to either Gnawer or fellow Fury. Instead, she shoves her pencil behind one ear and looks down at her notebook.
~Sorry,~ Slug repeats again. He flings his final knife into the board, then sticks the cloth bag into his pocket. He sits down on the ground beside Charlene and grabs a burrito, taking a big bite without even sniffing it. ~You're a Galliard,~ he says to Charlene. ~Any packs looking for fresh blood, or people looking to join one?~
It's a decent burrito - warmed in the oven, so it's not chewy or anything, stuffed with bacon and potato and egg. The Fury thinks for a moment. "Well, the two active packs I know of, outside of Heartwood of course, are my pack, Otter Nonsense, and Emma's pack, Winging it." She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Gotta run it by Doodle, of course, but if you don't mind being outnumbered by Walkers, might be good to have another Ragabash with your experience runnin' around."
X's nose visibly wrinkles.
Slug exhales a great sigh and sucks down a big, big bite immediately afterwards, bits of egg and such bouncing down his hairy chin. ~Silvertip said he didn't think Otter would be a good fit for me,~ Slug reluctantly rumbles. ~From what I've heard, I agree. What's Emma's pack?~
"Swan." Charlene replies, eating half the burrito in with one massive bite. "Totem of Respect and loyalty. Values improving And as far as Otter goes...Playful, spirit-related, lowers your rage but allows you to trip through the umbra with the greatest of ease." She chuckles, finishing her burrito. "Ask about the time I got so mad I slipped sideways and then back again."
At some point, X takes up her sketchbook and the broken shingle, and then walks back along the roof ridge, out of immediate sight.
"Swan ain't my thing either," he says as he gulps down the rest of his burrito. "Too proud. Too pretty. Too... Knightly. If I tried to run into the shadows with chains like that, I'd rattle." Slug looks up when X disappears beyond the curve of the roof. "Hey X!" He calls. "You looking for a pack?!"
There's a considerable snort from X at that, though at this point she's not visible on the roof from where Slug' standing. "No."
"You should!" Slug calls back, picking up a second burrito without looking up.
"/No/," X says, more firmly.
"Makes you strongggggger," Slug calls back. "Gives you powers and shit. I ain't saying pack with me, but with someone else. It's pretty cool."
"He's right, you know." Charlene calls up from below. "you'd never be alone with a pack yammering along inside your head."
"I think she slid off the back of the roof and went away," Slug speculates, nibbling at his burrito.
"Wouldn't surprise me." Charlene says, wadding up the foil her previously undevoured burrito called a home, grabbing a second. "X tends to avoid uncomfortable situations, from what I can tell. You on the other hand....you seem to excel getting into 'em. How're you holdin' up, what with the arm and all?"
"Psh. I'm sure you've been in your share of uncomfortable situations," Slug says, patting her on the shoulder with his still fragile hand. "I could be worse. Little lonely these days, with most of my friends being gone or dead... I guess. Just trying to get into a pack. Get some company. Get Adren. You?"
"Well, I'm still here, an' I'm not plannin' on goin' anywhere anytime soon." Charlene replies, lifting a hand to rest on Slug's misshapen one, patting it lightly before going back to her burrito. "I'll be sure to check with any of the folk I know who are unpacked. It seems that there's been an explosion of packs recently - you should be able to get one going pretty easy if you can find the right folk."
"I'm goin' for Adren too - was going to challenge at next Moot, but ended up gettin' handed Sue's Challenge by Kier." Charlene grumbles. "Stargazer took the challenge, then got called away for stargazer stuff."
"That's the rub," Slug says, smiling a little when their hands touch. "Ain't gonna be easy to find a pack with a rep line mine, and... I can't think of a lot of people I want to pack with. Might just end up all by myself like I used to be," he shrugs, his eye straying for a little while, finding some interesting spot on the dirt. He glances up, smirking a little. "Well, I guess it's good for your Tribe, at least."
"Rep don't matter much to me, Slug, when it comes to friends. I knew you long b'fore the new name when you were a full moon. Ain't never done me or my folk wrong, and I don't see you startin' now." Charlene smiles and leans back in her seat. "Best thing to do is to get that list and go to 'em, one at a time, askin' if they want to pack. Even a pack of two is better than a lone wolf."
"Ain't no point if I can't get a Totem to sign on with us. Having that info link and all that jazz, that's what I'm after. I have a few people in mind... But it's a really small list," he laments, laying down in the grass near Charlene's feet. "Furies account for most of the old people I know that ain't dead. KL, Mel, you."
"We're mean." Charlene grins, tapping Slug with the toe of her sneaker. "That does a lot of good keeping us around."
"Well, you got 'Fury' right in the title," Slug says, idly snapping at her foot with his fangs. An idle threat. "Most Furies are OK, even if I don't agree with'em all the time."
"I guess I could be considered one of the tolerant Furies." Charlene says, drawing her foot back with a squeak and a giggle. "As long as you're respectful an' don't do anything bad to women or the Wyld, you're okay in my book."
"You don't have to kowtow or agree with me 100% of the time...just listen to me when I talk 'cause I may have something you need to hear to keep from bein' eaten by creatures."
"I say the same thing to Ahrouns, they tend not to listen," Slug muses, stuffing a third burrito down his gullet.
"Well..." Charlene says, taking X's plate and putting it down for Slug to grab easier. "It is part of the reason I've lived five years after my first change - I listen and don't run boldly into the fray. I fight when I have to, but keeping my blood calm is a big, big thing for me. It's hard sometimes....hell, a lot of the time, really, but...." She trails off, looking into the distance. "Day by day. All I can do."
Slug lays his hand on Charlene's foot and gives it a reassuring pat. "Be glad you aren't an Ahroun," he murmurs. "For both those reasons. You get shit on for not being the kind of person to run straight into things, and it's awful hard to keep things on a short leash. Not much harder then Galliards, I guess, but enough."
"My totem helps a lot. That, plus a few rites I do religiously to keep on an even keel. I swear, if it were makeup I did daily instead of rites, I'd look like the most flaming queen you ever did see going down the street." Charlene giggles softly, lapsing into silence. "This sept is strong because we're diverse. Because we have so many viewpoints. It's why we've come back multiple times from the brink."
"I dunno, are you counting myself?" Slug sits up and dusts himself off, the hood of his jacket swaying around his neck. He turns to face her and pulls his legs up in front of him, leaning forward. "Maybe when I get a little better at some Rites, and I'll come ask you for some of your's. So far I'm learning some from my own Tribe, Sera, and... I got others ready to teach me too. Getting some of those 'different viewpoints' we agree are oh so special."
(Later)
Edgewood House: Garage(#1947RAJh)
This old and spacious building was once a fairly large carriage barn, but has been converted first as garage, and then into something else entirely. It once had massive two-story front doors, but they've been permanently closed, and a smaller door built into them. (It seems to have been reinforced at some point recently.) The walls, too, appear to have been reinforced in some way, making them stronger and somewhat soundproof. The size of about two large rooms, the first floor is undivided. It's got wooden plank flooring, and has exercise equipment dotting its expanse, with free weights in one area on the door's side of the building, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor loft, which is carpeted, but has unfinished walls, a few dangling light bulbs, and is apparently serving as a somewhat informal bunk area. The lighting is, understandably, somewhat inadequate. The floor mostly consists of mattresses, innumerable throw pillows and bed pillows, warm bedding, and the occasional glimpse of carpet. There are a few shoes resting against the wall near the ladder; clearly, people are expected to take their footwear off once they get up here. One can peer down from the ladder-opening, or from the edge of the loft. (There's about three feet of space between the edge of the loft floor and the barn walls.) A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house. There is no exit to the house from the first floor of the barn.
Obvious exits:
Meadow House
Slug has arrived.
The door that leads outside has been propped all the way open with a fairly sizable rock, as if it were the middle of summer rather than early, early spring. X appears to be the sole occupant, and she's currently taking up the area around the punching bag with a very wide variety of blows, from kicks to punches to full body tackles that end with her using the momentum of her own rush and the bag's swing to tumble-roll to her feet in what appears to be a single, smooth motion. Her face is a little red, her hair sweaty; she's been at this for some time, it seems.
Slug doesn't come in, not immediately. He creeps on up to the door and takes a look inside to see who's there. Pauses. Fades back. Slug takes out his cellphone and checks the moonphase. Still not Ragabash? Hrm. He lights a cigarette, making as little noise as he can, and then he finally decides to head into the garage. "Lookin' good," Slug says, puffing his cigarette. He gives her a thumbs up and smiles.
X returns the remark and the look with narrowed eyes and a thin scowl as she turns away from another attack on the poor punching bag, then repositions and turns back. This time it's punches /and/ kicks together, dodging and weaving as though the bag were striking back in imagined ways. She's fast, and her movements are clearly well practiced. For a relatively new cliath, it might be surprising.
Slug watches in silence, aside from the sucking and puffing he does. He shuffles in a little further, stepping out of the doorway and into a shadow. "You get some training as a kid, before you were taken? Or did you just train real hard when you signed up with the Blacks?" Slug asks, tapping his foot on the concrete floor.
"No training," X replies flatly, without stopping in her various rounds of assault. "Soccer." She kicks the bag particularly hard at this word, then falls into a series of rapid punches as she continues to move around the area in a tight circle. "Fezzik taught me, and Phoebe, then Riley."
"I've hung out with enough European Garou to know that soccer is basically combat training. It ain't hockey, but I bet you can throw a mean elbow." Slug leans back against the wall and smiles, bowing his head. "I don't know any of those people, except Riley. I remember when she was a he. I taught her, when he was a cub. I wonder if some of my training rubbed off on her, and helped train you by extension."
X's answer has no hesitation in it, "Nooope." The rapid punches continue.
"So, what are you bad at?" Slug asks, nice and easy. "Good with your hands, good with your feet. Probably decent with a knife. Carry a gun and a bow, probably... Decent at both, not good with either. You're good at fighting, yeah." He jerks his head. "But what else can you do?"
X hits the bag hard enough to send it swinging, and she's not quite focused enough to fully avoid the back blow. The Fury stops the bag with both hands and huffs through her nostrils. "Why?" she throws over her shoulder.
"Because you're a very intense person, and I'm curious how well rounded you are," Slug answers plainly enough. "What Gifts do you have? Can you pick a lock? Jump a car? Do you know how to dislocate your shoulders to get handcuffs out from around your back? Shit like that. Where do you feel you're weak?"
X's mouth twists, as if she's merely going to respond with another hostile remark or glance. Instead, there's a brief tic in one cheek, and she half turns to look back at him, with her hands still on the punching bag. "I can make things open, and sometimes hear things that people said somewhere a short while ago. No lockpicking, car jumping, shoulder dislocating."
"I have the one that helps you open things, but not the one that helps with hearing things that were said," Slug says, walking deeper into the garage. He skirts along the wall and turns a corner, then creeps over to the weight bench and takes a seat, his legs spread. "The problem is, it has a finite amount of uses. If you have to get through twelve doors, and you've only got a lil' bit of Gnosis, you're shit out of luck. Every Ragabash should know how to pick a lock, or how to break one, at least." He scoots back until he's leaning on the weight bar and peels back his hood, his right hand showing for just a moment- Red, skeletal, weak. Then it's gone again. "Since you told me your weakness, I'll tell you mine."
X's already narrow eyes narrow further, but she says nothing. Her head has turned with his movement, so she's looking at him more directly now.
"I'm bad in the spirit world. I know enough not to get myself killed, and I know a few spirits, but my essence is weak and I don't know much about many spirits." Slug shrugs his shoulders, splaying his arms out across the top of the weight rack. "I don't have the best hold on my rage. I'm impulsive. I don't trust a lot of people. I'm bad at apologizing. Shitty depth perception." Slug pauses, his eye rolling a little. "Some other things, I guess."
X begins to move around the bag again, delivering small but sharp punches. "You talk way too fucking much," she tags on to the end of his confession.
"Lil' bit," Slug says, not seeming all that bothered. "And you're too angry all the time. You should look into a way to reign it in a little."
X snorts loudly. "I /am/ reigning it in." She gives the bag a larger thwack.
"What are your goals?" Slug asks her, folding one leg over the other, his head tilting to the side.
X stops her attacks on the punching bag once more, and gives an audible, sharp inhale. If it's meant to be a grasp at patience, it doesn't really work out. "Are you my fucking guidance counselor now?"
"Sort of," Slug says, folding his hands in his lap. It looks more than a little weird with his creepy fucked up hand. "Here's the thing, X. You remind me a lot of myself, back when I was a brandy-new Cliath." He smiles, chuckling, his cigarette flaring. "I'm sure that just fuckin' thrills you to hear, but it's true."
"Great." X steadies the bag again. "When do I start grinning like a shit eating creepy asshole all the time?"
"Here's the thing about that," Slug says, puffing at his cigarette. He ashes it in the air, letting the grey stuff flurry down to the floor. "When you're being an asshole, it never really occurs to you that you're the one being the asshole."
X gives Slug a brief, exasperated look. It's an expression, at least. "Yeah, it does. Oops, guess we're different after all."
"Did it occur to you just now?" Slug counters, shrugging his shoulders. "I said I was sorry. You don't believe me, that's fine, but I figured helping you out and treating you like a human when everyone else thought you were batshit crazy as a cub would buy me a little slack."
"Yes." X looks back to the punching bag again, bracing her fingers against it while she stretches one leg, then the other.
"Here's the thing," Slug says, sitting up with his feet on either side of the bench. "I've walked a lot of the same road you're going down right now, and I know where it leads. Nowhere. You just end up pissed off and alone, and getting into a whole lot more fights than you need to. Your attitude is going to hold you back. It's making to make people shit on you. Look down on you. It'll keep you from getting stronger." Slug drops his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with his heel, smearing it into the dull grey concrete. "I don't know what your plan is. Maybe you intend on going all 'fuck the police' and leaving town, pretending Garou don't exist. Maybe heading for a beach somewhere. Shit'll catch up with you, though. Maybe your past. Maybe something else. Maybe you want to be a better Garou, and think you can do it all by yoourself in your own way." Slug leans forward, hands on the end of the weight bench. "Done both. Neither works."
"You really haven't," X says, and she sounds hostile again, above the usual monotone. "Anyway, doesn't seem like I need to give Garou a fucking reason to shit on people. They're really good at coming up with bullshit reasons to do that on their own."
"Pretty much," Slug says. "What do you think happened to my face? Who do you think I was talking about when I was talkin' about people that held me down and cut me up?"
X draws in another sharp breath. "Not the fucking doctors."
"Nope. But when someone's holding you down and going to town with a knife, it doesn't much matter who they are. Just if they'll stop." Slug jerks his head in her direction. "Take my advice, or don't. All I'm saying is, I was alot like you, and I only got better because some people decided it was worth their time to try and help me out, even if I didn't want it, and treated them like shit eighty percent of the time."
"Says you," X suddenly snaps. "You don't know anything about what I am or what it was like, stop trying to draw fucking comparisons. And you /did/ something for them to do that! Maybe it's a fucking bullshit rule, and they're total fucking dickshits, but you still broke the fucking rule and got caught. /I didn't do anything/. The doctors weren't /punishing me/. Okay? Because maybe I'm not just being an asshole just to be your fucking object lesson and pet project, /maybe/ I'm being /me/, the only me that's left, and maybe if Garou have a problem with it, they shouldn't have fucking kidnapped me and forced me to stay here and join their death cult monster war, because it's not like I fucking asked to be a part of this club."
Slug holds up his hands at her. "I ain't talkin' about that. Not the cutting. Not my punishment. I'm talking about how I was, bitter and pissed off twenny-fo-seven with a chip on my shoulder so big you could park a truck on it." He sits up straight and reaches into his pocket for another pack of smokes, pulling one out with his lips. He lights one up and slides his stuff back into his pocket, tapping it lightly. "You're a Cliath now, not a cub. If you wanted to walk away, you could have done it a long time ago. Why didn't you just skip town as soon as you got your freedom?"
"No I couldn't," X says. Less force now, but the tension remains. "The other werewolves would find me. Everyone made that really clear. So here I fucking am. Good little soldier, fighting the fucking good fight until I die horribly to something. Stop lecturing me on being /angry/."
"Not necessarily," Slug says, shrugging his shoulders. "Silent Striders live almost their whole lives by themselves. They move from Sept to Sept delivering messages. You'd have to know where the hotspots were and avoid them, but if you flew low and stayed low, you could leave right now. I've done it. Lived by myself, traveled alone."
X says nothing, but she gives Slug's mangled hand a pointed look.
"It's not hard in the woods," Slug says, following her eyes down to his hand. He looks back at her face, wriggling his bony fingers at her. "Find a place, quiet place. Place with water, place with life. Garou don't have to worry about all the poison shit people do, so you can force down all kinds of stuff. Berries. Mushrooms. Don't even need fire most of the time, 'cause you don't need to purify the water, you don't need to cook meat. Easy enough to make shelter. Easier still if you lay around in wolf form." Slug leans up a bit more, resting his elbows on his knees. "Cities, it's harder. Gotta know who the players are, in a town. Any big town has got'em. Some bad, some good. All of them keep tabs on anyone with juice." He shrugs. "So you play by their rules, make friends, do some favors, or you don't stay long. Move somewhere smaller. Quieter. Shelter's harder when you don't have a job, but you can make money salvaging, stealing, doing things for people with the skills you got. Woods are easier."
"How the fuck are you Fostern?" X says eventually. "You're seriously just telling me to run away."
"Life is a series of choices," Slug says, holding up his hands like a pair of scales, his weak hand trembling. "You have two, right here, right now. You can run away. You can try to make it on your own, and see how that goes. There ain't no stopping you. If that's what you really want to do, you're bound to do it sooner or later. You're a Cliath. It's your right." Slug shrugs and sets his hands down on his knees. "Or you can stay with us. There must be some people you like here, some people you respect. Probably people that would die for you."
X shakes her head and turns back to the punching bag. Her punches start out as quick jabs, but she begins building them up into stronger hits.
"You know why I'm sitting here, doing what I'm doing, instead of watching porn and jerking off?" Slug says, his cigarette flaring up.
"If you say it's because you care so much about me," X says, her punches coming fast and furious, "I'm going to use you for the next bag."
"Nah. I don't know you enough to care about you. I wouldn't throw you under a bus, but if Spirals showed up and started banging rounds into this place, I'd be looking after my own skin first and I think you'd be doin' the same," Slug confesses, rolling his slim shoulders. "I'm trying to help you because you're a Cliath, and I'm a Fostern."
X's response is little more than another, barely perceptible shake of her head, but she continues punching the bag as hard and as quickly as she can. No dancing around this time; just straight up violence.
Slug stands up and turns toward the door, taking his sweet time in walking away. The Gnawer's hands slide back into his pockets, rummaging around for something or another.
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:
Emma
Charlene
Tent(#1921A)
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
"That's my understanding, aye." Charlene bobs her head in the affirmative. "From what Kier told me, the challenge is fairly simple as far as things go, and perfect for a halfmoon like him."
Emma looks over at this, "Except Keir never told me the terms he'd put together for Sue. So, as of this point, if you've accepted taking over the challenge, and since Keir never brought them to me, I'll leave it to you to either continue with the terms he'd laid out, or present your own. Either way, I need to hear them."
Rogue arrives quietly, if slowly, slinking out of the woods like a rather reluctant shadow. Her body language suggests quite plainly that she's not feeling well, as beneath a fair amount of visible tension and a low set tail, she looks just that little bit droopy, and her steps aren't as smooth and light as they usually are in this form.
"I thought he had..." Charlene says, trailing off while she looks up at the master. "Well, damn." She sighs. "Would you like me to fill you in, then?"
Emma has most of her attention on the galliard, but the arrival of the wolf does not go entirely unnoticed. It's a quick glance in her direction only at this point, and she nods to Charlene even as she gives it. "Well, more than that, it's necessary. There's no challenge unless I can conclude the terms are fair."
Rogue meanders in Emma and Charlene's general direction, but she's unhurried, unfocused, and she comes to a stop quite a distance away, at least fifteen feet. She drops onto her haunches.
"completely understandable." Charlene says. "This is kind of...well...first time this has ever happened to me, y'know? Formal challenge notwithstanding, more of the 'here, you do it' part of things. S'why I came to see you." She glances over at X, gives her a moment of attention, then turns back to Emma. "So...the terms." Charlene dusts her hands off as she remembers. "Kier challenged Sue to bring peace to two fighting groups of spirits. A group of wolf spirits took over a glade and then started to shake down some stag spirits for their gnosis to keep it going...the stags, obviously, did not like that, so Sue's job is to bring peace to the pair. And him with his hooves will have a time convincing both parties that he's representing their best interests."
Emma considers the explanation of the terms, "So he's to mediate between the two groups of spirits. Wolf and stag." The Get goes quiet for a time, "It sounds like something a Gaian would have set out as terms. You're his tribemate, had he come to you directly to challenge for Fostern, would you have accepted the challenge?"
"I would have, if I were the only option. I would have suggested someone else, since he and I are friends and I don't want anything to look incorrect or wrong. No favoritism in rank, y'know?" Charlene says after a moment. "He's done good work. He's putting in a lot of effort overcoming his limitations."
Rogue's right ear twists and flattens to the side. She's rather blatantly eavesdropping, but so far she doesn't seem interested in participating.
"Metis, by default, must overcome their limitations just to survive as part of our nation. That in itself is not a qualifier for their being ready to advance in rank. Challenges don't have a bell curve. They're designed, or should be, to test a garou where they struggle most. If they fail, then they're not ready. If they succeed despite facing their weakest areas, well then proof is in their success. Have you yourself met with these spirits to see the level of their grievances with each other?"
"No." Charlene says with a shake of her head. "I did not meet with these spirits. Kier did all the groundwork for this and I do not think he would have given Sue a softball of a challenge for rank. That defeats the purpose of testing him, after all."
Rogue's other ear flattens, and a little bit of her neck fur hackles upward.
"I'm not saying he did. I'm saying, that essentially, you've been asked to pass or fail a student, on a test that you have not even read." Emma sets the rest of her apple on the stoop beside her, growing quiet for a longer moment this time around. "I'm not keen on this. Especially not knowing the nature of this disparity between the spirits. I will accept these terms only once you have verified that the issue to be resolved, with test areas in which Sue has struggled." A pause, "Can you tell me what areas warrant the most scrutiny in regard to the halfmoon?"
"Of course. The only thing I've done so far is speak to you regarding this challenge - as I should." Charlene pauses for a moment. "Philodox have the role of keeping traditions and balance between two opposing sides. They bring extreme sides together. Their honor must be impeccible and unstained and their decisions must be just and right." She pauses. "If you're talking about Sue in particular....he needs to work on his assertiveness. There are some that do not respect him - why I am not sure, but he is not respected as one of Gaia should be and is starting to give up. Those who do not respect him don't have to like him, but they should respect his decisions.
Rogue does interrupt now, though as far as interruptions go, it's fairly minor. There's a low rumble in the back of her throat that builds into a quiet, if steady growling.
"Philodox carry perhaps the most heavy burden of our nation. They mediate, yes, which is what these terms seem to focus on. They also are to counsel, keep the law, uphold the litany, discern truth and on many occasions, are tasked with making large, important decisions that will have cascading effects. Sue lacks confidence. And Philodox who lack confidence can be easily cowed into making poor judgements." Emma pauses at this to look over toward the younger Fury as the growl reaches her ears, though for now it is just a look and nothing more. She turns back toward Charlene. "If you are intent to see this through, then you need to see these two groups of spirits. Speak with them. The task should test more than just his ability to find a compromise between the two. Once you have done that, come to me again and tell me if you think that this task can test your tribemate where he most needs to be tested. And if not, then your choices will be to either come up with your own terms for him, or refuse the handed-off challenge."
Charlene nods. "Sounds like I'm going on a trip, then."
Rogue continues to growl, but she does little else.
Emma nods, "Don't be obvious when you seek out these spirits. Just see if you can discern their grievances, and tell whether or not they will challenge Sue where he most needs to be challenged. You may have to ask Maddie to help on that, as she's good at feeling out the intentions of spirits. Once you do that, you need to have a clear idea in your mind as to what will qualify as his passing or failing the terms."
"Of course." Charlene responds, replacing her hat, giving wolf X a look before looking back to Emma. "Being a galliard means I can use the whole 'seeking stories to tell' if I'm discovered. Works wonderfully and is the truth too." She grins. "Thanks, Emma. I know this was a weird challenge and I'd rather Kier take care of it all instead of passing it off but...." She shrugs. "Stuff happens sometimes."
Emma gives a faint nod, "Yeah. More than sometimes." She reaches over toward her apple then, picking up the remnants and brushing off an ant that was bold enough to check it out, before taking another bite.
Rogue's teeth briefly show as Charlene looks toward her. His decisions shouldn't be respected when they are stupid.
When the galliard leaves, Emma turns toward the wolf that had been growling. "Well. That's sometimes true. Depends on if they're actually stupid, or if it's just someone's opinion that they are." She takes another bite of the apple and pushes herself back so as to lean against the wall of the house now. "You look like you've had better days. Everything ok?"
No. Rogue settles again, her ears lowering a little as she does so. The doctors are here. No one will listen to her about how dangerous it is.
That earns Emma's attention and she turns to look at the other. "Did you see them? Or just hear about them being here?"
Rogue makes an uneasy noise, and her attempt at communication is garbled at best. She eventually, if reluctantly, slides into homid, where she remains crouched on the ground. "Nick and the stupid fucking bastard were talking about the people in the city that kidnapped a Garou. Then they started talking about missing posters with my face on them."
Emma draws in a breath at this, "Who's the second guy you mentioned? That title can be applied to a handful of people I know unfortunately." There's a short pause as she looks over. "I'll listen to whatever you can tell us about them Rogue. I'd like to see them stopped."
"Slug," X says, perhaps even more flatly than her usual. She glances up at Emma, then down at the grass, where she tears up a few blades as she speaks, "Nick had a picture, but I didn't look at it. They said they were in the city, and maybe all of this shit with government agents and spies was because of me. Slug was going to call the phone number and lie about seeing me somewhere. I told him it was fucking dangerous."
Emma gives a nod to the name attached to the moniker, and were the conversation not as serious as it is, might have had a harder time hiding the grin that threatened. "What do you think would happen if he did that?"
X's lips press together hard enough to turn a little whiter. "Everyone thinks they can just kill the doctors."
Emma looks toward the Fury at this, "I know this sucks to talk about X. But you're the only person that can give us any hope of figuring out how to maybe stop these guys. And you've got allies now. We won't let you fight alone."
X's jaw tightens as she yanks up another blade of grass, and her eyes flit toward Edgewood's front door. "He was trying to make me fucking frenzy. He liked it." Yank. "Everyone's so fucking afraid of me, so fucking crazy, but they want me to be fucking crazy. Nick won't stay in a room with me, now he's never going to go into the room in the first place." Yank yank yank. "They've got needles and darts. Nets. Gas. Probably other shit."
Emma tips her head toward X at something she says, "Hey, Nick won't stay in the same room as /me/ when the moon's fat. And-" she pauses, "Well let's just say we're very close. Anyway. Kin tend to be extra careful with us. As for Slug. Yeah, he's a proper asshole about eighty percent of the time." As the Fury gets back to the topic of the doctors, Emma nods, "Are they stronger than they should be? Or is it mostly manufactured things they have at their disposal?"
X shakes her head. "Doesn't matter what the moon is." She seems to have more, but rather than talk further about Nick, her gaze shifts from the door to the grass in her hand. "They're humans. But they've got drugs. Restraints. Silver. Couldn't get through the door." Her breathing hitches almost imperceptibly. "Questions. They've got so many fucking questions."
Emma gives a faint nod. "So they know how to fight us. And they're not afraid to." She lets out a slow breath, "That /is/ dangerous." Another quick glance is given to the other, "What do you think we should do?"
"You won't like it." X doesn't look up when she replies.
"Maybe not. But let's hear it. Like I said, you're the only one with any info on this situation. That makes you our current expert."
X inhales slowly, deeply. "Run." Her frown deepens. "Except there's the Caern, I guess, so we couldn't go very far. But if we can't run then we should fucking hide."
Emma mmms at this. "We go into hiding, that leaves all the other things free to do what they want. You think they'll leave if they can't find you?"
"I could leave," X says seriously. "I could run. I ran for months before you guys kidnapped me and taught me all this stuff. Maybe I'm more find-able because I've been in mostly one place."
That earns a quick reaction from the Get, "No. You stay here with us. We'll figure this out as a sept. And Gaia willing, we'll put a stop to them so they can't chase anyone again." She looks adamant about this. "Let me ask you this X. When they caught you the first time, they knew right away what you were, right?"
X's expression remains mostly unchanged, but something about her body language makes it clear that she finds this question--or at least, what's required to answer it--very uncomfortable. "...I guess," she says at last. "Don't remember much about it."
"Alright." The Get seems to decide to let it drop at this. "We'll figure it out. We can't hide, but we don't have to throw ourselves at them like idiots. And you be as much or as little involved with it as you need to be X. And if the others aren't giving you an ear, then find me."
X nods several times, and finally does glance up. "Okay." She seems to consider that an adequate response entirely on its own.
Emma looks over. "Should try to get a little something to eat. Something light maybe. Get some rest." A pause. "Or join me for a late night run if that sounds like a better idea. I'm just about to get a stretch."
X stands up. "I'll run." She didn't even deliberate on the choice.
Emma grabs up her apple core and tosses it into the trash bin that sits not far from where she was leaned up against the wall. A moment later she's shifted to lupus, given herself a good stretch and shake of her fur, then starts loping off into the forest with a chuff of invitation for the other.
----
Cloudy day, not far above freezing; that's late winter in Washington in a nutshell. X is on the roof again, though this time there are no weapons to be seen, no arrows, and she seems to have perched on the very peak of the roof for the purpose of...drawing. At least, that's what it looks like she's doing. She has a somewhat battered sketchbook braced against one knee, and a half used pencil in her right hand.
Slug steps out onto the porch and rolls his shoulders, his joints crackling, sounding as agitated as he looks. He steps off the porch, his Glabro form casting a tall shadow. He brings a piece of particle board over to one of the porch railings and pins it there with his shoulder, then anchors it with a staple gun. Click! He sets the gun down on the railing near the board and walks away, heading out into the field.
The noises from below are enough to stop X from her sketchbook activities. She pauses, pencil partly raised, then leans forward with her knees braced against the roof in order to see who it is. The actual identity of the new arrival brings a sharp narrowing of her eyes, and a calculating look.
Slug reaches up with his right hand, sliding it out into the light. It's covered in pink, angry flesh, and it's skeletal fingers tremble with every painful movement. He forces it into a claw and uses it to pull back his hood, revealing a grimacing, ugly face. The Glabro grumbles to himself and reaches into a back pocket, taking out a cloth bag that jingles when he handles it. ~Hey,~ he rumbles a second later, barely glancing at up at X.
X's response is a flash of teeth. Without looking, she feels along the rooftop and proceeds to pry off a piece of shingle.
~So, here's the thing,~ Slug rumbles, glancing up at her. He eyes her destructive hands in action, then drums his fingers on the cloth bag. ~I've been going through some shit. And that shit sucks, but it isn't your fault. I should have... Treated you a bit better. A bit different. I'm sorry.~
Charlene emerges from the barn where she'd been working out before the sun rose. It's one of the quirks of being a Garou - lots of energy to burn off, as long as you maintain it with lots of input of food which is where she's going now. Pushing the door closed with one sneaker-clad foot, she starts toward the house, dressed in a hoodie and pair of sweats, stopping when she sees Slug in his gory glory standing on the porch, talking with X. She does not interrupt.
X curls her gloved fingers around the piece of shingle as she responds. "Lots of people say they're sorry," she says. Flat. Monotone. Only as loud as is necessary to cover the distance between them. In other words, her standard method of speaking. "It's usually bullshit."
~Yup,~ Slug agrees, glancing down at Charlene. He looks at her for a second or two, then looks back up at X. ~You remember when you were a cub? I do. I remember seeing you in the breakroom. I remember showing you my Gift, the one with the trash spirits. I remember showing you how to hold a knife.~ Slug reaches into his bag and draws out a throwing blade with two fingers, and he twists it around until he's holding it by it's thin hilt, blade down, just like he showed her. In his giant meathook, it looks like a child's toy. ~Who helped you check yourself for those chips when he caught you cutting yourself? Who *promised* to help you get revenge on the people that did that shit to you? I meant it then, just like I mean it when I say I'm sorry now.~
Charlene remains standing quietly, hands shoved in her pockets, watching the pair, skirting around the outside of the house to enter the back door. Food and listening from within.
X scowls. Her response, however, is a little slower in coming, and while she keeps gripping the piece of shingle, she's not really doing anything else with it. "People don't want to be around me 'cause I'm fucking crazy," she says. "Then you go and push and push and fucking push, with Nick right there, trying to get me to frenzy, like it's /funny/. He's not gonna come around me again now."
~People don't want me around for a lot of reasons. I've screwed up every pack I've ever been in. Not even my friends want to run with me, so I run alone. It's a hard life,~ Slug says, his voice soft, but tempered with anger. ~You can't go through what you did without being messed up. You can't be a Garou without being messed up.~ Slug twirls the blade in his working hand and twists, winging it at the particle board in one smooth motion. The blade cracks into the wood, far from center, but dug in deep. ~I used to be an Ahroun. I don't know how much Rage you got, but I know what it's like to sit on a powder keg. I know what it's like when you're trying to hold it all in, but people that don't get it keep fucking pushing you.~ He draws a slow breath, and exhales a great sigh, closing his eyes. ~Which is why I shouldn't have pushed you like I did... But at the same time, I had my Rage egging me on. It ain't an excuse, but it's part of the reason I acted like I did.~
X looks as though she has a variety of responses, judging by the various facial tics and subtle expression shift. Eventually, all she ends up saying is, "Don't pretend like you know what happened to me. Just don't be a fucking /asshole/."
~Not gonna,~ Slug says without looking up, drawing another knife from his bag, his face still and downcast. ~But I know what it's like for someone to hold you down and carve you up. I've looked into the eyes of people as they carved me up with a silver knife. Cut pieces off me. Looked at me like a piece of shit. I know what it's like to be helpless. Held down. To feel yourself screaming on the inside to do anything to make the pain stop. I know what it's like to feel time come to a stop on a knife's edge,~ he bitterly rumbles, hurling a second blade at the target board. It digs in far deeper than the first. ~Going through it every day? For a year, or years? That, I can't imagine.~
From inside the house some banging around can be heard and, after a bit, Charlene emerges on the front porch (after the flung knife) with three plates, the top one stacked high with around a dozen foil-wrapped breakfast burritos. "Anyone hungry?" she asks no-one in particular, which means everyone's included. "Got leftovers nice and warm. Will take the edge off." She pulls one of the plates from the pile, stacks a couple of burritos on top and takes a seat out of the firing line to listen if she's allowed.
"No you don't," X says flatly. "You know what it was like for you. Doctors don't look you in the eyes, and they don't have any eyes to look into."
Slug hurls another knife that clears Charlene by a wide margin, smacking into the board with a loud 'twang'. ~Yeah,~ Slug says. ~Food sounds good,~ he sighs out, turning his attention back to X. ~I ain't saying I know exactly what you went through. I'm just saying I'm about as close to having an idea of what you went through as most people are gonna get.~
Charlene sets about dividing the rest of the burritos into two piles - slugs, which has about four, and X's, which has about three. Yes, she brought 10 breakfast burritos - yay for leftovers! "Everyone's experiences are different." Charlene doesn't flinch at the sound of the knife 'thwacking' into the wood, re-taking her seat behind slug to start eating. "But there are always a few things that overlap, even in the most opposite folk."
X continues scowling, but she says nothing directly in response to either Gnawer or fellow Fury. Instead, she shoves her pencil behind one ear and looks down at her notebook.
~Sorry,~ Slug repeats again. He flings his final knife into the board, then sticks the cloth bag into his pocket. He sits down on the ground beside Charlene and grabs a burrito, taking a big bite without even sniffing it. ~You're a Galliard,~ he says to Charlene. ~Any packs looking for fresh blood, or people looking to join one?~
It's a decent burrito - warmed in the oven, so it's not chewy or anything, stuffed with bacon and potato and egg. The Fury thinks for a moment. "Well, the two active packs I know of, outside of Heartwood of course, are my pack, Otter Nonsense, and Emma's pack, Winging it." She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Gotta run it by Doodle, of course, but if you don't mind being outnumbered by Walkers, might be good to have another Ragabash with your experience runnin' around."
X's nose visibly wrinkles.
Slug exhales a great sigh and sucks down a big, big bite immediately afterwards, bits of egg and such bouncing down his hairy chin. ~Silvertip said he didn't think Otter would be a good fit for me,~ Slug reluctantly rumbles. ~From what I've heard, I agree. What's Emma's pack?~
"Swan." Charlene replies, eating half the burrito in with one massive bite. "Totem of Respect and loyalty. Values improving And as far as Otter goes...Playful, spirit-related, lowers your rage but allows you to trip through the umbra with the greatest of ease." She chuckles, finishing her burrito. "Ask about the time I got so mad I slipped sideways and then back again."
At some point, X takes up her sketchbook and the broken shingle, and then walks back along the roof ridge, out of immediate sight.
"Swan ain't my thing either," he says as he gulps down the rest of his burrito. "Too proud. Too pretty. Too... Knightly. If I tried to run into the shadows with chains like that, I'd rattle." Slug looks up when X disappears beyond the curve of the roof. "Hey X!" He calls. "You looking for a pack?!"
There's a considerable snort from X at that, though at this point she's not visible on the roof from where Slug' standing. "No."
"You should!" Slug calls back, picking up a second burrito without looking up.
"/No/," X says, more firmly.
"Makes you strongggggger," Slug calls back. "Gives you powers and shit. I ain't saying pack with me, but with someone else. It's pretty cool."
"He's right, you know." Charlene calls up from below. "you'd never be alone with a pack yammering along inside your head."
"I think she slid off the back of the roof and went away," Slug speculates, nibbling at his burrito.
"Wouldn't surprise me." Charlene says, wadding up the foil her previously undevoured burrito called a home, grabbing a second. "X tends to avoid uncomfortable situations, from what I can tell. You on the other hand....you seem to excel getting into 'em. How're you holdin' up, what with the arm and all?"
"Psh. I'm sure you've been in your share of uncomfortable situations," Slug says, patting her on the shoulder with his still fragile hand. "I could be worse. Little lonely these days, with most of my friends being gone or dead... I guess. Just trying to get into a pack. Get some company. Get Adren. You?"
"Well, I'm still here, an' I'm not plannin' on goin' anywhere anytime soon." Charlene replies, lifting a hand to rest on Slug's misshapen one, patting it lightly before going back to her burrito. "I'll be sure to check with any of the folk I know who are unpacked. It seems that there's been an explosion of packs recently - you should be able to get one going pretty easy if you can find the right folk."
"I'm goin' for Adren too - was going to challenge at next Moot, but ended up gettin' handed Sue's Challenge by Kier." Charlene grumbles. "Stargazer took the challenge, then got called away for stargazer stuff."
"That's the rub," Slug says, smiling a little when their hands touch. "Ain't gonna be easy to find a pack with a rep line mine, and... I can't think of a lot of people I want to pack with. Might just end up all by myself like I used to be," he shrugs, his eye straying for a little while, finding some interesting spot on the dirt. He glances up, smirking a little. "Well, I guess it's good for your Tribe, at least."
"Rep don't matter much to me, Slug, when it comes to friends. I knew you long b'fore the new name when you were a full moon. Ain't never done me or my folk wrong, and I don't see you startin' now." Charlene smiles and leans back in her seat. "Best thing to do is to get that list and go to 'em, one at a time, askin' if they want to pack. Even a pack of two is better than a lone wolf."
"Ain't no point if I can't get a Totem to sign on with us. Having that info link and all that jazz, that's what I'm after. I have a few people in mind... But it's a really small list," he laments, laying down in the grass near Charlene's feet. "Furies account for most of the old people I know that ain't dead. KL, Mel, you."
"We're mean." Charlene grins, tapping Slug with the toe of her sneaker. "That does a lot of good keeping us around."
"Well, you got 'Fury' right in the title," Slug says, idly snapping at her foot with his fangs. An idle threat. "Most Furies are OK, even if I don't agree with'em all the time."
"I guess I could be considered one of the tolerant Furies." Charlene says, drawing her foot back with a squeak and a giggle. "As long as you're respectful an' don't do anything bad to women or the Wyld, you're okay in my book."
"You don't have to kowtow or agree with me 100% of the time...just listen to me when I talk 'cause I may have something you need to hear to keep from bein' eaten by creatures."
"I say the same thing to Ahrouns, they tend not to listen," Slug muses, stuffing a third burrito down his gullet.
"Well..." Charlene says, taking X's plate and putting it down for Slug to grab easier. "It is part of the reason I've lived five years after my first change - I listen and don't run boldly into the fray. I fight when I have to, but keeping my blood calm is a big, big thing for me. It's hard sometimes....hell, a lot of the time, really, but...." She trails off, looking into the distance. "Day by day. All I can do."
Slug lays his hand on Charlene's foot and gives it a reassuring pat. "Be glad you aren't an Ahroun," he murmurs. "For both those reasons. You get shit on for not being the kind of person to run straight into things, and it's awful hard to keep things on a short leash. Not much harder then Galliards, I guess, but enough."
"My totem helps a lot. That, plus a few rites I do religiously to keep on an even keel. I swear, if it were makeup I did daily instead of rites, I'd look like the most flaming queen you ever did see going down the street." Charlene giggles softly, lapsing into silence. "This sept is strong because we're diverse. Because we have so many viewpoints. It's why we've come back multiple times from the brink."
"I dunno, are you counting myself?" Slug sits up and dusts himself off, the hood of his jacket swaying around his neck. He turns to face her and pulls his legs up in front of him, leaning forward. "Maybe when I get a little better at some Rites, and I'll come ask you for some of your's. So far I'm learning some from my own Tribe, Sera, and... I got others ready to teach me too. Getting some of those 'different viewpoints' we agree are oh so special."
(Later)
Edgewood House: Garage(#1947RAJh)
This old and spacious building was once a fairly large carriage barn, but has been converted first as garage, and then into something else entirely. It once had massive two-story front doors, but they've been permanently closed, and a smaller door built into them. (It seems to have been reinforced at some point recently.) The walls, too, appear to have been reinforced in some way, making them stronger and somewhat soundproof. The size of about two large rooms, the first floor is undivided. It's got wooden plank flooring, and has exercise equipment dotting its expanse, with free weights in one area on the door's side of the building, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor loft, which is carpeted, but has unfinished walls, a few dangling light bulbs, and is apparently serving as a somewhat informal bunk area. The lighting is, understandably, somewhat inadequate. The floor mostly consists of mattresses, innumerable throw pillows and bed pillows, warm bedding, and the occasional glimpse of carpet. There are a few shoes resting against the wall near the ladder; clearly, people are expected to take their footwear off once they get up here. One can peer down from the ladder-opening, or from the edge of the loft. (There's about three feet of space between the edge of the loft floor and the barn walls.) A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house. There is no exit to the house from the first floor of the barn.
Obvious exits:
Meadow House
Slug has arrived.
The door that leads outside has been propped all the way open with a fairly sizable rock, as if it were the middle of summer rather than early, early spring. X appears to be the sole occupant, and she's currently taking up the area around the punching bag with a very wide variety of blows, from kicks to punches to full body tackles that end with her using the momentum of her own rush and the bag's swing to tumble-roll to her feet in what appears to be a single, smooth motion. Her face is a little red, her hair sweaty; she's been at this for some time, it seems.
Slug doesn't come in, not immediately. He creeps on up to the door and takes a look inside to see who's there. Pauses. Fades back. Slug takes out his cellphone and checks the moonphase. Still not Ragabash? Hrm. He lights a cigarette, making as little noise as he can, and then he finally decides to head into the garage. "Lookin' good," Slug says, puffing his cigarette. He gives her a thumbs up and smiles.
X returns the remark and the look with narrowed eyes and a thin scowl as she turns away from another attack on the poor punching bag, then repositions and turns back. This time it's punches /and/ kicks together, dodging and weaving as though the bag were striking back in imagined ways. She's fast, and her movements are clearly well practiced. For a relatively new cliath, it might be surprising.
Slug watches in silence, aside from the sucking and puffing he does. He shuffles in a little further, stepping out of the doorway and into a shadow. "You get some training as a kid, before you were taken? Or did you just train real hard when you signed up with the Blacks?" Slug asks, tapping his foot on the concrete floor.
"No training," X replies flatly, without stopping in her various rounds of assault. "Soccer." She kicks the bag particularly hard at this word, then falls into a series of rapid punches as she continues to move around the area in a tight circle. "Fezzik taught me, and Phoebe, then Riley."
"I've hung out with enough European Garou to know that soccer is basically combat training. It ain't hockey, but I bet you can throw a mean elbow." Slug leans back against the wall and smiles, bowing his head. "I don't know any of those people, except Riley. I remember when she was a he. I taught her, when he was a cub. I wonder if some of my training rubbed off on her, and helped train you by extension."
X's answer has no hesitation in it, "Nooope." The rapid punches continue.
"So, what are you bad at?" Slug asks, nice and easy. "Good with your hands, good with your feet. Probably decent with a knife. Carry a gun and a bow, probably... Decent at both, not good with either. You're good at fighting, yeah." He jerks his head. "But what else can you do?"
X hits the bag hard enough to send it swinging, and she's not quite focused enough to fully avoid the back blow. The Fury stops the bag with both hands and huffs through her nostrils. "Why?" she throws over her shoulder.
"Because you're a very intense person, and I'm curious how well rounded you are," Slug answers plainly enough. "What Gifts do you have? Can you pick a lock? Jump a car? Do you know how to dislocate your shoulders to get handcuffs out from around your back? Shit like that. Where do you feel you're weak?"
X's mouth twists, as if she's merely going to respond with another hostile remark or glance. Instead, there's a brief tic in one cheek, and she half turns to look back at him, with her hands still on the punching bag. "I can make things open, and sometimes hear things that people said somewhere a short while ago. No lockpicking, car jumping, shoulder dislocating."
"I have the one that helps you open things, but not the one that helps with hearing things that were said," Slug says, walking deeper into the garage. He skirts along the wall and turns a corner, then creeps over to the weight bench and takes a seat, his legs spread. "The problem is, it has a finite amount of uses. If you have to get through twelve doors, and you've only got a lil' bit of Gnosis, you're shit out of luck. Every Ragabash should know how to pick a lock, or how to break one, at least." He scoots back until he's leaning on the weight bar and peels back his hood, his right hand showing for just a moment- Red, skeletal, weak. Then it's gone again. "Since you told me your weakness, I'll tell you mine."
X's already narrow eyes narrow further, but she says nothing. Her head has turned with his movement, so she's looking at him more directly now.
"I'm bad in the spirit world. I know enough not to get myself killed, and I know a few spirits, but my essence is weak and I don't know much about many spirits." Slug shrugs his shoulders, splaying his arms out across the top of the weight rack. "I don't have the best hold on my rage. I'm impulsive. I don't trust a lot of people. I'm bad at apologizing. Shitty depth perception." Slug pauses, his eye rolling a little. "Some other things, I guess."
X begins to move around the bag again, delivering small but sharp punches. "You talk way too fucking much," she tags on to the end of his confession.
"Lil' bit," Slug says, not seeming all that bothered. "And you're too angry all the time. You should look into a way to reign it in a little."
X snorts loudly. "I /am/ reigning it in." She gives the bag a larger thwack.
"What are your goals?" Slug asks her, folding one leg over the other, his head tilting to the side.
X stops her attacks on the punching bag once more, and gives an audible, sharp inhale. If it's meant to be a grasp at patience, it doesn't really work out. "Are you my fucking guidance counselor now?"
"Sort of," Slug says, folding his hands in his lap. It looks more than a little weird with his creepy fucked up hand. "Here's the thing, X. You remind me a lot of myself, back when I was a brandy-new Cliath." He smiles, chuckling, his cigarette flaring. "I'm sure that just fuckin' thrills you to hear, but it's true."
"Great." X steadies the bag again. "When do I start grinning like a shit eating creepy asshole all the time?"
"Here's the thing about that," Slug says, puffing at his cigarette. He ashes it in the air, letting the grey stuff flurry down to the floor. "When you're being an asshole, it never really occurs to you that you're the one being the asshole."
X gives Slug a brief, exasperated look. It's an expression, at least. "Yeah, it does. Oops, guess we're different after all."
"Did it occur to you just now?" Slug counters, shrugging his shoulders. "I said I was sorry. You don't believe me, that's fine, but I figured helping you out and treating you like a human when everyone else thought you were batshit crazy as a cub would buy me a little slack."
"Yes." X looks back to the punching bag again, bracing her fingers against it while she stretches one leg, then the other.
"Here's the thing," Slug says, sitting up with his feet on either side of the bench. "I've walked a lot of the same road you're going down right now, and I know where it leads. Nowhere. You just end up pissed off and alone, and getting into a whole lot more fights than you need to. Your attitude is going to hold you back. It's making to make people shit on you. Look down on you. It'll keep you from getting stronger." Slug drops his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with his heel, smearing it into the dull grey concrete. "I don't know what your plan is. Maybe you intend on going all 'fuck the police' and leaving town, pretending Garou don't exist. Maybe heading for a beach somewhere. Shit'll catch up with you, though. Maybe your past. Maybe something else. Maybe you want to be a better Garou, and think you can do it all by yoourself in your own way." Slug leans forward, hands on the end of the weight bench. "Done both. Neither works."
"You really haven't," X says, and she sounds hostile again, above the usual monotone. "Anyway, doesn't seem like I need to give Garou a fucking reason to shit on people. They're really good at coming up with bullshit reasons to do that on their own."
"Pretty much," Slug says. "What do you think happened to my face? Who do you think I was talking about when I was talkin' about people that held me down and cut me up?"
X draws in another sharp breath. "Not the fucking doctors."
"Nope. But when someone's holding you down and going to town with a knife, it doesn't much matter who they are. Just if they'll stop." Slug jerks his head in her direction. "Take my advice, or don't. All I'm saying is, I was alot like you, and I only got better because some people decided it was worth their time to try and help me out, even if I didn't want it, and treated them like shit eighty percent of the time."
"Says you," X suddenly snaps. "You don't know anything about what I am or what it was like, stop trying to draw fucking comparisons. And you /did/ something for them to do that! Maybe it's a fucking bullshit rule, and they're total fucking dickshits, but you still broke the fucking rule and got caught. /I didn't do anything/. The doctors weren't /punishing me/. Okay? Because maybe I'm not just being an asshole just to be your fucking object lesson and pet project, /maybe/ I'm being /me/, the only me that's left, and maybe if Garou have a problem with it, they shouldn't have fucking kidnapped me and forced me to stay here and join their death cult monster war, because it's not like I fucking asked to be a part of this club."
Slug holds up his hands at her. "I ain't talkin' about that. Not the cutting. Not my punishment. I'm talking about how I was, bitter and pissed off twenny-fo-seven with a chip on my shoulder so big you could park a truck on it." He sits up straight and reaches into his pocket for another pack of smokes, pulling one out with his lips. He lights one up and slides his stuff back into his pocket, tapping it lightly. "You're a Cliath now, not a cub. If you wanted to walk away, you could have done it a long time ago. Why didn't you just skip town as soon as you got your freedom?"
"No I couldn't," X says. Less force now, but the tension remains. "The other werewolves would find me. Everyone made that really clear. So here I fucking am. Good little soldier, fighting the fucking good fight until I die horribly to something. Stop lecturing me on being /angry/."
"Not necessarily," Slug says, shrugging his shoulders. "Silent Striders live almost their whole lives by themselves. They move from Sept to Sept delivering messages. You'd have to know where the hotspots were and avoid them, but if you flew low and stayed low, you could leave right now. I've done it. Lived by myself, traveled alone."
X says nothing, but she gives Slug's mangled hand a pointed look.
"It's not hard in the woods," Slug says, following her eyes down to his hand. He looks back at her face, wriggling his bony fingers at her. "Find a place, quiet place. Place with water, place with life. Garou don't have to worry about all the poison shit people do, so you can force down all kinds of stuff. Berries. Mushrooms. Don't even need fire most of the time, 'cause you don't need to purify the water, you don't need to cook meat. Easy enough to make shelter. Easier still if you lay around in wolf form." Slug leans up a bit more, resting his elbows on his knees. "Cities, it's harder. Gotta know who the players are, in a town. Any big town has got'em. Some bad, some good. All of them keep tabs on anyone with juice." He shrugs. "So you play by their rules, make friends, do some favors, or you don't stay long. Move somewhere smaller. Quieter. Shelter's harder when you don't have a job, but you can make money salvaging, stealing, doing things for people with the skills you got. Woods are easier."
"How the fuck are you Fostern?" X says eventually. "You're seriously just telling me to run away."
"Life is a series of choices," Slug says, holding up his hands like a pair of scales, his weak hand trembling. "You have two, right here, right now. You can run away. You can try to make it on your own, and see how that goes. There ain't no stopping you. If that's what you really want to do, you're bound to do it sooner or later. You're a Cliath. It's your right." Slug shrugs and sets his hands down on his knees. "Or you can stay with us. There must be some people you like here, some people you respect. Probably people that would die for you."
X shakes her head and turns back to the punching bag. Her punches start out as quick jabs, but she begins building them up into stronger hits.
"You know why I'm sitting here, doing what I'm doing, instead of watching porn and jerking off?" Slug says, his cigarette flaring up.
"If you say it's because you care so much about me," X says, her punches coming fast and furious, "I'm going to use you for the next bag."
"Nah. I don't know you enough to care about you. I wouldn't throw you under a bus, but if Spirals showed up and started banging rounds into this place, I'd be looking after my own skin first and I think you'd be doin' the same," Slug confesses, rolling his slim shoulders. "I'm trying to help you because you're a Cliath, and I'm a Fostern."
X's response is little more than another, barely perceptible shake of her head, but she continues punching the bag as hard and as quickly as she can. No dancing around this time; just straight up violence.
Slug stands up and turns toward the door, taking his sweet time in walking away. The Gnawer's hands slide back into his pockets, rummaging around for something or another.
