Logfile from GarouMUSH.
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.
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Jack has arrived.
Djehuti is walking, at a ground-eating pace, from Sunrise Road, down the driveway. He's got a puffy coat on, and gloves. (And battered hiking boots.)
Jack is, actually, on his way -out-; he steps out of Edgewood, pocketing his keys and grumbling under his breath about something or another. Typically, the philodox looks a bit dour. He's angled toward the car that's parked in the driveway - the black '68 Mustang is looking pretty awesome these days.
Djehuti soon enough approaches the car and the man, but truth to be told, a lot of his attention is on the car. "That there is a beauty," he says, slowing to a stop to admire its chrome.
Masks-the-Storm is, for her part, out for an evening stroll. Given both the weather and the need to practice her other shapes, the Shadow Lord is doing so as a wolf rather than a girl. At the sound of voices, she perks her ears, moving a little closer to investigate, although not approaching too close out of concern for the veil.
Jack's attention is snagged by the Strider's appreciation, and, actually, that grumpy expression fades a bit, as though someone just complimented his kid. Possibly, that's an apt comparison. "Thanks. Took fuckin' forever to get 'r runnin'."
"I should think," agrees Djehuti. "Not a lot of these left in good repair." He hasn't quite noticed the wolf yet. After a moment of not-quite-touching it, but giving it a good look-over, he glances at the Walker. "You just visiting the area, or are you related?" he asks, jerking his head back to the main house.
Masks-the-Storm recognizes the one, but particularly with a question like that needing to be asked, she keeps her distance.
Jack sends the Strider a look that's a touch dubious and a touch amused at the same time. "... related," says the Walker in a bit of a drawl, finishing limping over towards the car. "And I'm assumin' you are too. Name's Jack."
Djehuti finally takes note of the wolf, but all he does is smile at her, before looking back to Jack. Wheels turn, briefly. "Djehuti Mesu-Ma'at, of owl's children. I believe Camille-rhya mentioned you to me. Cockroach's child, also a half moon?"
With that settled, the Shadow Lord slips further back to shift up to homid, only then emerging from the field. Alexandra approaches the two of them, offering a smile and wave. "Good evening."
Something hoots, nearby. Hoot! Hoot! It's not exactly a sound one hears a lot at this hour of the night, in Washington.
You paged Jack with 'Great Horned Owl sort of thing's up on the Edgewood roof. But it's see through. And a little washed out, color-wise.'.
"Yup," the Walker affirms. "Jack Moore, Fallout. Walker, Philodox, Adren." And then, cub. He looks up, starts to say something, but then the hooting snatches his attention. "Th'fuck?"
Djehuti seems to have had some clue who Alexandra was, by the smile, but once she shifts, his smile grows. Until the hooting happens, and he looks upward, sharply. "She's Alexandra," he tells Jack absently. "Thunder-child. Can you see an owl up there?" (He's looking in the trees, at the moment.)
The owl, taking measures into its own claws, spreads its wings and dives down from the Edgewood roof, spectral claws brushing Alexandra's head as it heads back upwards to one of the trees and blinks at the three of them, indignant. (It's about the color of a normal great horned owl, but rather transparent. And a bit washed out.)
Alexandra looks up to the trees, trying to find the owl as well. As she is so doing, she adds, "Ahroun cub," to Djehuti's own explanation of her identity. She backpedals, startled, as she's divebombed by the object of her search. "Woah!"
Jack watches, and grunts. "Great," he mutters. "Think it's around here somewhere?"
Djehuti peers upwards at the owl. "Heya, brother!" he calls, and then looks at Jack. "Well. The only way to find out is to follow it. But given Kinfetches, I doubt it." He glances at the car, then back to the Walker. "Don't suppose...?" It's tinged with a faint eagerness, underneath his even reactions.
Alexandra asks Djehuti, "So that's what a kinfetch looks like? Since it's an owl, does that mean it's one from your tribe?"
Jack eyes Djehuti, eyes his car, and then grumps a whole lot. "If it barfs, claws, or otherwise fucks her up--" It's a half empty threat. Half. Grumble. He fishes out his keys, and eyes Alexandra as he pulls open the driver's door. "You comin'?"
"I will pay for the cleaning," Djehuti promises. "The cleaning for /that/, at least. If it happens." He angles a grin at Alexandra. "It is someone's kinfetch, and it is likely either my tribe or the Black Furies. More likely mine. The Furies generally have small Pegasi. You will find none of the humans can see it. Which is handy." He makes for the shotgun seat, himself.
Alexandra takes that as permission, and as such, climbs quickly into the back seat. "I'm coming!" she agrees. "I didn't know the Black Furies had ties to Owl as well."
Interstate 90, Near St. Claire City University
Surrounded on both sides by muffling sound baffles, the scenery to be seen besides the asphalt of the road is the tops of suburban single family homes. The occasional deciduous tree tops the grey baffles, adding its color to the landscape. Hardy grass, mostly yellow from car fumes, struggles to grow at the base of the baffles. Pieces of tire, chrome, and glass lay on the road as testament to the auto accidents which frequent this spot.
Interstate 90 runs east-west while, further west along it, Highway 82 branches off to the south.
Contents:
Izzy
Obvious exits:
West East
Djehuti pages Izzy with 'It suddenly occurs to me that if Izzy's Person of Interest is a Strider, Dje may well know her. Would this be sensible?'.
Izzy pages: It certainly might! Sec, let me get her info.
Jack has arrived.
Long distance to Jack: Djehuti eyes the time. "I can either have Jack stay in the car, or just not use the car at all?"
Jack pages: Oh, he can still drive. You know the char well enough to know what he's like, so I can just say he left the nabbing up to Strider and co. and stood by for driving duties. And. He can deliver 'em wherever. I'd appreciate a log eventually to just see what I missed for IC purposes, but. XD
Long distance to Jack: Djehuti can do that. I'm gonna clean up the early parts for Izzy anyway, so it's simple to send it to both of you.
Izzy
No more than 13 or 14 years old, maybe five and a half feet tall and all skinny-wiry in that decidedly not-filled-out-yet way. Wavy coffee-coloured hair's been somewhat haphazardly cut, or perhaps allowed to grow out; it's barely above the collar in the back, and in the front a floppy fringe half-hides dark, solid eyebrows and constantly threatens to fall into a pair of wide hazel eyes. The kid's tawny complected, with a smattering of noticable freckles across the cheeks and the strong, straight nose, and seems thus far to be mostly winning the battle against teenage acne. A wide, somewhat full-lipped mouth contains clean but slightly crooked teeth, untamed by braces. One might also notice a certain alert balance to the stance -- not aggressive, but more like a coiled spring of potential energy restrained just beneath a placid surface.
Today's clothing seems to have been dictated mainly by comfort and the weather: old but presentable jeans, well-loved black high-top converse, and a open blue plaid flannel over a loose grey t-shirt that features a crash between the TARDIS and the DeLorean. The degree of cold means an ankle-length tan wool coat has been added to the outfit, and the whole thing is topped off with a multi-coloured striped knit scarf of truly remarkable length. An old brown leather satchel hanging off one shoulder completes the ensemble.
Djehuti
Djehuti is a man in his late 30s, though given his weatherbeaten face and tired posture, he might well seem older. He's about 6'2" tall, and his face -- all of him, really -- is long and thin. The face is relatively dark-skinned and weathered, carved with lines and yet frequently mobile and engaging. His eyes are brown, and often warm; sometimes, they are cooler, further away. But he is always, always observing what goes on around him. His brown hair, which is not long, curls and waves and kinks around his head; the longest stray strand does not quite reach his shoulders. On closer inspection, his posture may not be lazy; it may instead be coiled, poised, resting before more action. Something in that posture hints at grace, or perhaps even nobility.
His clothes are a hodge-podge. He wears battered jeans, a gray muslin shirt, and, over that, a keffiyehesque scarf, white cotton lined with what is apparently (and somewhat incongruously) polarfleece, serving mostly as a neck-covering, the folds extending over his shoulders, as well. (Though his head is uncovered.) He's currently barefoot. His backpack, dull green army vintage, is generally nearby. The only curious thing is that he wears brown gloves in all weather, fingerless save for the pinkies; these gloves wrap their leather up to about his elbows.
Alexandra
If she's made it to her teens yet, it isn't by much. She's tall for her age at several inches over five feet, and looks to be on the more athletic side in terms of build. Her skin is a healthy tan, while her hair is a dark brown bordering on black, worn straight long enough to fall just below her shoulders. There's a certain confidence in her brown eyes, and generally a cheerful good-naturedness.
While there's nothing particularly remarkable about her blue jeans or running shoes, one can make at least two assumptions about her based on her shirt. First, that she's from out of town, and second, that she's either a soccer fan or a player, if not both - she's wearing a black and red Portland City United soccer jersey.
Jack
Age determinate somewhere in the lower twenties, this young man is somewhat rough-looking and carries himself in a fashion that is proud, egotistic, confident, and careless all at once. He is somewhere right around six feet tall, lean and a little wiry, though it is a build born of both natural athleticism and a lifetime of work and motion. His motions are hampered by a certain stiffness that is usually present in his right leg, though his thoughtless compensation for it suggests long-ago injury.
The clothes that he wears trend toward the worn but functional, consisting of completely casual shirts that are often faded, and jeans that are loose and a little frayed here and there, obviously old and well worn in. His shoes are scuffed leather biker's boots that have seen better days, the shoelaces worn and frayed. He often wears a black leather biker's jacket in the winter; it's well-worn and creased, the leather supple and well-taken care of, though it looks older. A cord around his neck holds a small steel cross; close inspection would reveal the metal to be pitted and chipped and perhaps even looks like it's been through a fire.
His features are thin and well-formed, his facial structure inherently attractive just by luck of genes. However, his expression is generally one of detachment and disinterest, though grey-blue eyes remain sharp and observant. His dark hair - nearly black - is cut short.
Near the edge of the campus area, just within the radius most students consider 'walkable', is a run-down stripmall, one of the shops in which is an equally run-down independent copy shop. The place makes its slim profits mainly by costing slightly less than doing copies or multiple print-outs at SCCU, and it looks it. Currently, there are only two people inside: a middle-aged man sitting at a small table behind the counter, studiously reading a newspaper and actively Not Noticing the other person, which is Izzy, coat and satchel set aside in the relative warmth of the shop, making copies. Well. More accurately, attempting to make copies on a machine which has several years on the kid and is making it known in crankiness. The aura the cub's radiating in return is beginning to move dangerously beyond just 'crankiness', and may explain why no help is currently being offered.
Izzy pages: Okay so. Izzy's mom is the POI -- Jennifer Sparks, Strider Galliard, probably Adren given that she's in her 30s and not dead. Seshat Follows-the-Sun. She passes through this area periodically on her way to other places, and may well have met you and exchanged info once or more.
Izzy pages: Could be Fostern, though. I get confused with the new changes, honestly.
Djehuti pages Izzy with 'Oh! Oh yes. That works very well. (I'd go with Adren, she's more likely to be known to Dje, then.) And means I get to do this without knockoutage, probably. Maybe. (We'll see.)'.
The owl (great horned one, a bit transparent and washed out) has led them on... quite a long car ride. (It occasionally comes to perch on the hood.) Djehuti has, therefore, promised to pay for gas, too. But, as they get closer to the copy shop, the owl takes to the skies again. As Jack parks and Djehuti gets out, the owl flies through the shop's windows, and vanishes into the back of Izzy's head. It does not come out the other side. "Ah," Djehuti says, peering into the shop. "That makes sense. So." He looks to the Shadow Lord. "Come with me, make small talk as appropriate, and we shall see if we can remove her without violence."
You paged Izzy with 'That may well feel a little tingly.'.
Alexandra says, "Got it." She glances up at the moon. "So long as we don't freak her out, there shouldn't be any problem, right?" Once she's out of the car, she moves very quickly to the door of the copy shop -- her dedicated clothing doesn't include a jacket -- though she stays in the doorway to hold it open for the Strider.
Djehuti murmurs to her in the doorway, slightly amused, "Well, no problem other than getting them to come with us, no. But..." He trails off, as he sees what Izzy's copying. His eyes narrow. "I may have an angle on that."
The 'her' part of things is kind of a crapshoot, really; the kid's pretty damn androgynous. Even the voice, which as the others enter is hissing sotto voce at the copier, "I am NOT going to hit you because it is RUDE to use percussive maintenance on other people's stuff and I would probably get kicked out of the store but if you DON'T start cooperating I might FORGET that and start investigating how you're put together. And I'm really really good at taking stuff apart." The lid is closed over a sheet of paper again, definitely with more force than required, and the copy button stabbed with malice aforethought. The breeze from the opening door gets a glance over the shoulder, and a quick sizing up of the new arrivals.
Alexandra looks first at the struggling youth, then up to Djehuti. "Uncle Dee, can I go try to help? With mom being a professor, I've been around copy machines pretty much as long as I can remember."
Djehuti makes several sets of decisions at once. "Yes, that sounds like a kindness," he says to Alexandra. "You help the machine, I'll help the person." Then he heads inside. Giving one brief dismissive glance to the man behind the counter, he steps toward Izzy. "Pardon me--" He hesitates a minute moment, and goes on, "Sir, but I can't help noticing your poster. Is her name --" He stops, eyes going up a bit, clearly dredging up name from memory. Then he refocuses on Izzy. "...Jennifer?"
The machine makes a slow, sullen whirr as it seems to be warming up, and after a few seconds the internal parts can be heard starting to do their thing. Which is, apparently, to make two copies, then a third one with strangely distorted text and image, and then stop altogether with a blinking light claiming there's a paper jam in tray #4. The tray actually being used was #2. Izzy's hands clench, and the voice is turned on quite suddenly and sharply -- and then the cub's shoulders relax a little, face brightening with hope. "You know her?"
Alexandra greets the older youth with a smile. "Hey. I'm gonna take a look at this thing, if that's okay. Might be able to help get it working right for you." Unless there's a negative response, though -- and given Djehuti's question, she doesn't expect much of a response at all -- she'll start in on trying to get the machine working. She's not an expert on copy machines by any means, but she really has helped her mother with countless syllabi and exams over the years, along with fixing the resultant minor mishaps that accompany it, so she's got at least some experience to draw on.
Djehuti watches the tensing and the relaxing with a measured gauge. "We have met, yes," he says, edging a bit away from the copier. (Evidently to give Alexandra room to work.) "Several times, in various places. I do not have a current contact for her, I admit, but I think probably I could put the word out among my friends and relations and see if they have an idea."
Izzy gives Alexandra a half-smile and what sounds like a sincere, "Thanks, feel free," but nearly all attention is really on Djehuti, at present. A mirroring step aside, and one of the successfully created copies is offered to the man. "If you need this to show to people or anything... so far it looks like she was through here back in, like, October, and now I know a little more about where she went after but... this is still the last place I heard from her. Did you see her then? Did she maybe say anything about where she was planning to go?"
Alexandra stays quiet, aside from some occasional muttering as she works a particularly stubborn piece of paper free from a spot where it's gotten stuck.
Djehuti shakes his head, as he takes the flyer. "I'll scan it. Most of my communication of this sort is done by email, of late." He folds it into his pocket. "But no, I was not here, then. No, the last I saw her was about 10 months ago, in California. Down in the San Francisco area. I think she was working on an article, as well as passing the same sorts of messages I do. She said..." He squints. "Well, she mentioned here," he finishes, apologetically.
Izzy sighs, nodding and half-sitting on the edge of the little table for staplers and collating next to the machine. "Thanks. ...what'd she say? About here, I mean? Did... did she mention anything about, um, Montana maybe also? Sorry, I'm being kinda rude." The cub straightens again and offers Djehuti a hand, suitable for shaking. "I'm Izzy. Sparks. She's my mom. Also that's my phone's number if anyone you know knows anything. About where she is, and all."
Alexandra presses a few buttons on the control panel of the machine, running a single copy of the flyer as a test. When that one jams, too, she sighs and and resumes her work.
Djehuti shakes Izzy's hand. "Djehuti Mesu-Ma'at. Or Derek Ramsey, if that one's too much of a mouthful." He glances at the counterman, who sneers at him. "Listen, why don't we take this outside, or to a coffee shop or somewhere less... Tense...?"
Izzy blinks at the name, mouth opening, then closing, before an attempt is made: "Dje... um. Sorry, I might need that slower to get it right, Mr. Mesu-Ma'at." That, at least, the cub can say! The machine gets another glare, as it continues to misbehave for Alexandra as well, and then a sigh. "Yeah, okay. I'm definitely letting that machine get to me too much anyway, and it's not like I can't try again tomorrow."
Alexandra scowls at the machine. "Sorry. I'm usually pretty good at getting the ones in my mom's office working again when they screw up. I'm Alexandra, by the way."
Djehuti laughs, a brief puff of shared rue. "It is pronounced a bit like in Hebrew, not that that will help. Derek is fine." He goes over to collect original and folder, and hand them to her, and then gestures with his arm. "Come, let us go, then. Perhaps we can give you a ride somewhere?"
Izzy gives the other cub a slightly shy smile, and a "Hi, Alexandra. It's okay, I'm usually pretty decent at making stuff start working again too, but I'm pretty sure that one's just plain evil or something." Djehuti's offer is met with a bit of wary hesitation, but... well, it's someone who knows Mom, and Alexandra's not giving off any apparent 'oh God don't do it!' signals... and it is a pretty decent busride back to the hostel, not counting the wait. This logic apparently wins out, as the kid nods, picking up coat and satchel and checking to be sure nothing's left behind. "Are you going down by West Bridge Street, near the Donut Shop? 'cause that'd be really handy if you were."
"I think it is!" Alexandra agrees. "I've got to warn you about the car, though. It's a little bit on the older side..." There's humor in her voice, though, so she's probably not actually suggesting that it's an old heap.
"Certainly," Djehuti says, easily, as he heads toward the car. (He's not looking at her, at the lie, but that's nothing exceptional.) "That place has good doughnuts, too." He leads the way to the car, through the biting wind, and introduces Jack, who grunts at Izzy monosyllabically. He then starts driving in a possibly logical direction.
"It does," Izzy agrees, and follows them to the car, eyes widening a little bit on seeing it. "Oh, =nice=!" It gets thoroughly eyed over on the way to getting in, and Jack probably gets asked various questions about it as they all drive. The cub slides the arms of the coat off for reasons of excess warmth, and while paying attention to their general direction, really only knows the bus routes, so it seems more or less right. "...Ma'at's Egyptian, right?" the cub asks Djehuti, from no very obvious trigger, "It means something like balance or justice? I think I remember seeing a documentary with that in it a while ago."
Alexandra sits in the back seat with Izzy, leaving the front seats to the adults. "I'm ready for this stupid cold to be over with," she mutters, rubbing her arms as she warms herself back up. She looks curious as well when Izzy asks the second of her questions, since it's something that the Ahroun cub doesn't know either.
Jack mostly grunts in answer, or answers briefly (though without hostility). "It is, in fact, all about balance and justice," says Djehuti. "It's both a concept and a Goddess. It is... important to me, for many reasons. I can expand at length once we get where we are going, if you wish." Meanwhile, Jack appears to be driving away from the city, now. Hm. "But I have a question for you, in turn, to which the answer to one part is eminently obvious, but the answers to the other parts are... less. Have you been feeling angry with everything, for both good reason and bad? Snapping at nothing in particular? Have you been having dreams, unexpected dreams? Dreams of wolves, jackals, running in the wild? Dreams of hunting?"
Izzy's brow furrows as the scenery outside the car window begins to become less familiar rather than more. And then there are strange questions. Djehuti gets a sidelong look, and the cub seems to become more alert and wary again, the reply studiedly casual, "...well, yeah, I've been more pissed off about stuff than I used to be, I guess, but I think I mostly have pretty good reasons. Mostly. And I dream about lots of things." A slight pause. "Aren't those kinds of dreams just normal?"
Alexandra offers a faint smile that's meant to be reassuring. "Yeah. It's easy for us to tell ourselves that we've got reasons to be mad, but there's a part of us that _knows_ that there's more to it. That it's a lot stronger than the kind of ordinary anger that just makes you yell at someone or even punch them in the nose. I don't know about you, but it scared the hell out of me when I first started feeling it."
"Not if you dream about wolves and jackals consistently, starting around puberty, in a way which dovetails with the being pissed off," Djehuti says. He nods over at Alexandra. "Basically, what I'm telling you is that, first of all, you have a reason for the way you're feeling, beyond just missing your mother and normal adolescence. Second of all, your mother is missing in part because of this reason. And third of all, it will open up the world for you, in ways you did not expect." By this point, Jack is on suburban roads.
Izzy's eyes flash at Alexandra's remark, a swift turn of the head, mouth open, and then shut again, the cub taking a slow, deep breath and glancing at the window again. "You might be right," the kid says rather carefully, and then looks to Djehuti again. "...I know I have a reason. But I think it's not the same one you think I have. Because if it was those other things would be-- would be seriously messed up. And I thought you didn't know why my mom was missing. Is missing." Slightly flat, deliberately measured tone.
Alexandra says, "I know it sounds pretty messed up. And it'll probably feel that way for a while. But you really have found people that can help you."
By this time, they're in Kent Crossing, going down Sunrise Road. "Well, I fully expect there are many reasons for you feeling the way you are, emotionally. I more meant the physical contributors that help those feelings become stronger; that magnify them into rage." He glances over at Izzy, particularly at the flat tone, as they head down Edgewood's driveway. He's careful as he says, "I don't know why specifically she is missing, not that precisely. But I have very solid theories as to some of why she might have gone incommunicado, which is different. Would you be willing to let me show you one thing, which will perhaps, along with some explanation, tie it all together for you?" The car slows to a stop.
Djehuti paged Alexandra with 'Actually, he's gonna ask you to be a display model. Since he wants to keep talking. And as we all know, he can talk a lot.'.
Alexandra pages: Sounds good to me!
The Strider cub's eyes narrow a bit, but that proposal gets a small, perhaps reluctant nod. "Yes. But. Just so you know, there's people that'll notice if I disappear. And they're really good at finding people." The place they've arrived gets a wary glance, probably checking for signs of fresh graves or abattoirs or something, and Izzy keeps a careful grip on the coat and satchel as if they'd help if there were.
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.
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Alexandra has arrived.
You paged Alexandra with 'Also, you mind if I pose so I can do the "plz demonstrate to her the rarry nature of our life" thing?'.
Alexandra pages: Go for it.
Izzy has arrived.
Edgewood is unprepossessing, certainly, but there are no abattoirs or oubliettes. "Yes, of course," he murmurs, to Izzy's assertion. "No axe murdering." He emerges from the car and says to Izzy, "I don't know exactly where she's gone, or why. But I do know it has to do with her life as a defender of Gaia -- of the world. As all of us are. This will, I fully realize, sound /feverishly/ insane, but we are werewolves. Your mother, me, Alexandra. And that fact makes sense of the rest of it. Eventually." Then he asks Alexandra, "Could you, if you please, show Izzy crinos and then to lupus? It's quicker than longer explanations."
Alexandra gets out of the car as well, and says, "You're going to freak out when you see this, but I promise you, you're safe. Okay?" She does not, however, actually wait for an answer. She moves farther away from the vehicle -- and not coincidentally, Izzy as well -- then a moment later, where a perfectly ordinary seeming 12 year old girl was stands an eight foot monster that's closer to the size of a bear. It's voice is clearly not meant for human speech, but it does manage something that's recognizable as "Crinos." Her shift to lupus is slower, passing through hispo until it is a black wolf that remains, eyes glowing golden in the light of the full moon.
Djehuti watches Izzy carefully for signs of fleeing. Or exploding. Or both.
A lack of obvious kid-flaying facilities is a plus, to be sure, but not enough to bring down Izzy's guard -- and once out in the open, the cub's stance is light and alert, well-balanced for immediate movement. Djehuti's explanation is met by wide eyes and a clear spike of fear, but oddly enough, no apparent disbelief. If there had been any, of course, Alexandra's demonstration would have dispelled it -- or at least the parts that don't directly apply to Izzy. And those parts are promptly dispelled as well as the cub's yelp of fear and startlement at the sight of the Crinos melds into a deeper, more threatening sound and, well, Pop Goes The Izzy. The coat and satchel fall to the ground, the fabric of the shirts and jeans straining and tearing at the change in mass within them, and the monster tries to leap at the other cub... while simultaneously giving in to a learnt human reaction to kick at the legs AND discovering that 'balance' and 'being vertical' are very contingent on knowing what size and shape one's body currently is. This leads to the position of said body becoming horizontal nigh immediately, which would be a lot funnier if it also stopped the snarling and scrabbling to get up. And at people.
Djehuti was, clearly, afraid of that, as he doesn't bother saying anything; instead, he melts into crinos with the speed of rage, and brings several hammer-blows to the back of Izzy's neck to bear. He is, quite clearly, aiming to incapacitate, not wound. Which may leave him vulnerable to same, but such is the cycle of life.
Masks-the-Storm, for her part, circles around the two, glad for the extra distance that she put between herself and the other cub. So long as the Strider elder has things under control, she won't intervene.
Izzy knows approximately what to do in this situation! ...as a human. As a crinos, the cub still has the theory, but nothing's in the right place, none of the proportions are right, and nothing moves quite like it should... as a result, any swipes or blows that might actually land are luck as much as anything else, and the older garou is faster and far more experienced. The cub manages to turn most of the way over, but barely, before Djehuti's blows have the desired effect.
Djehuti backs up and melts back down into homid once she's out cold. He exhales a sigh. "That," he says to Alexandra, "Is a cub who could have Firsted on the /copier/, so I am glad that you and I found her when we did. My thanks for your efforts."
Masks-the-Storm reclaims her birth form as well. "I'm glad I could help." She moves over to take the fallen coat and satchel, since those are still intact and can be returned. "We should probably get her inside before she freezes. And before I do, for that matter."
A quietly whimpery noise marks the Strider cub's return to consciousness, and Izzy tries to sit up swiftly as things are remembered and processed. This does nothing for the headache, of course. The kid's either given up or decided that if they had murder and mayhem on their minds they probably would've done something about it during the unconscious period, because there isn't an attempt to get any further up or away, yet. The cold makes the state of the clothing more immediately relevant, and there's another almost-squeak of a noise as the remnants are pulled into as covering a position as managable.
Djehuti sluffs off his puffy coat and offers it to Izzy. "Come on," he says, jerking his head toward the house. "There's extra clothes in there, and we can explain some things. If you don't think we're all axe murderers, at least."
Now that Izzy's awake, Alexandra puts the satchel on the ground within arm's reach, though she doesn't try to get any closer than that. "It's also much warmer. And I'll make us some hot chocolate." Her teeth are already starting to chatter, so she can only imagine how bad it must be for Izzy, coat or no.
Long distance to Izzy: Djehuti thinks, depending on Izzy's response, that'll at least be a point where we can stop for now. Everything else'll take longer to actually explain IC tonight, and I am now Dead Of Tired, but I want to do As Much of the General Explanation as possible onscreen, so if it works for you to leave it at polite "you are insane" detente, and then I can mail the Striders and say you exist, and people can fill you in on things... Is that OK?
"Well..." Izzy eyes the coat, and the pair of them, and then accepts it, pulling it on and closed, leaning over to reclaim the satchel, and then wobbling unsteadily to standing. "...I don't think you'd bother with axes, at least." There's a twitch of a faint, sheepish smile with that, though the hesitation isn't even close to gone. "I have some other clothes in my bag. Just. I liked this shirt..." It appears to be more or less an agreement, if less than a whole-hearted one. A slight pause, and the new cub adds to Alexandra, "And, um. Sorry. About that."
Djehuti smiles, just a touch. "Some of us do. But they are of a different persuasion than the rest of us." He looks apologetic about the shirt, as they head inside. "It was a sacrifice to your further education?" he suggests, as if he doesn't quite believe it himself.
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4 From: Djehuti At: Sun Mar 11 01:48:17 2012 (Conn)
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : *Silent_Striders
Subject: A Cub!
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Hey. Djehuti (and Alexandra) were found by Izzy's Kinfetch, and then found Izzy just about ready to frenzy on a copy machine. (Can't really blame her, there.) Djehuti brought her back to Edgewood, but given the time of night, he wasn't able to ICly explain much of anything. So obviously feel more than free to a) RP with her and Explain Things, b) take her away from Edgewood if you want to be slightly more isolative in terms of the initial inculcation. Yay Izzyness.
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