Cubnames and Catharsis

3/23/2012, 03:13 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

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. The walls 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, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor, 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. A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house.
Contents:
DeHooty
Obvious exits:
Meadow House

Outside, the clothes would freeze. And apparently Djehuti doesn't want to use the dryer. So he's set up a clothesline inside, going from one of the machina to the other, with his usual pants and shirt and towel and such on it. He's wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and slippers, as he perches on the ladder and reads a book. (More Tolkien.)

Izzy: How early do you have in mind btw?
DeHooty: Mrm. Mid-morning? Sorry, should've specified.
Izzy: Mid-morning works peachily. :D

The lower door to the garage opens, disgorging one Strider cub, flushed from the cold and from exercise and breathing slightly hard. Izzy comes inside still moving at a quick walk, closes the door, and very nearly collides with an unexpected clothesline. "Gah!" the cub exclaims, stopping short and stepping book, then looking around and spotting Djehuti. "Oh! Hi!"

Djehuti looks up as the door opens and starts to call, "Wa--" before Izzy stops short. "Hi," he says, frowning slightly. "Let me fix that." He goes to fetch his pack, down by the punching bag, and gets his notebook out of it. After writing a note, he tapes it to the door. ("Clothesline. Don't run.") "So, yes, hello. How fare things?"

"They're okay. Sorry I almost ran into your stuff, though. How're things with you? And, um. Is the dryer broken?" Izzy answers-and-asks, peering to see what the current book is, and then at Djehuti's feet. "I like your slippers, by the way. They look comfy."

"Someone used fabric softener in it, awhile back, and the smell pervades things washed in it," Djehuti says, with a shrug. "It's not at rash level, but it's just a minor annoyance I don't need. Also, saves energy and so on, but that's a minor aspect of it, for me." He waves off her apology, going back to his pack. (The book, which he left on the ground by the ladder, is The Two Towers. It was Fellowship, a few days ago.) "My fault. Shouldn't leave hazards without warning." Then he looks down at his feet. Or rather, slippers. (They're fleece!) "They are fleece," he says, clearly pleased with them in a minor kind of way. "Quite the thing for cold. If you like, I can see if the discount store still has some?"

Izzy headtilts at that. "Huh. I never noticed it. Do I smell like fabric softener? We always used the unscented detergents and stuff at home, but I got this shirt and cardigan out of the box here, so I dunno... and yes please! If that'd be okay. I can pay you back."

The man shakes his head. "It seems to fade after a few days. But since air drying solves other issues, I figure, why not?" Djehuti blinks at her. "Think of it as a gift, perhaps? For disarranging your life?"

Izzy hesitates, then nods. "Um. Okay, if you want to. Though, I mean. My life was kinda disarranged already. I was just supposed to be writing essays and learning algebra and getting ready to take the promotion test for Third Gup right now. ...which I think I woulda passed, but I dunno. And it's not like that's what I was still doing when you found me anyhow, so it's not exactly your fault." A slight pause, considering. "Also, it would've happened anyway, right? I mean, as soon as I was born, this was basically what was going to happen anyway, right? The part of the disarrangement you're part of, I mean, not the other bits."

Djehuti sits back down on the ladder. "Well. Yes. It would have happened anyway. So perhaps, a First Change gift?" He hesitates, briefly, then takes a plunge. "I take it you don't want your father notified, if he does turn out to be Kin?"

Izzy stares at the very slight movement of the towel as it sits on the clothesline and is hit by a passing draft, not answering for a couple seconds. "You, um. You can't. Notify him. This guy ran a light and hit his car, where he was sitting. In November. So, yeah. I don't... I mean I know you said we reincarnate and there's a lot of weird stuff we can do, but. I think prolly you still can't contact him." The cub blinks a bit more than usual while explaining that, still watching the clothes and otherwise staying fairly still.

"I--" Djehuti stops. "I'm sorry," he says, gently, and slips off the ladder to go crouch next to her. He's not touching her -- it's entirely respecting her space.

"Thanks." Izzy's tone is soft and just slightly flat, the tone of a kid who's heard a lot of I'm sorries in the last few months, even if the sentiment's probably appreciated. "So'm. So'm I." The control wavers, and the cub's next breath is a bit ragged. "I miss him. Um. Sorry." Hand roughly across the eyes, trying to banish wayward wetness.

Djehuti reaches over to loosely wrap an arm around her leg, without looking at her. (Calf.) "No need to apologize." He's quiet a moment, then adds, softer, "I miss my dad, too. First rush of grief is /hard/."

Izzy takes another deep breath, and fails to entirely squelch a sniffle. "...thank you. Is. Um. And I'm sorry also. About your dad too, I mean." The cub shifts slightly closer into the calf-wrapping. "My dad was... I mean, I love my mom, but Dad's the one who was always there, and made sure everything was okay, and answered my questions and hung out with me when he wasn't working and it isn't. Fair. It isn't fair. I mean I know that doesn't change anything. But it isn't."

Djehuti leans into Izzy a little, then just rises to his feet to give the cub a hug. "My father died of a heart attack. Just as sudden. It's /never/ fair. I know it doesn't help, but--" He breaks off, and is simply silent for a time.

"'m sorry," Izzy says again; about which exactly may not be clear, but the sincerity is. The cub goes quite still again when hugged, just for a moment, and then quite suddenly hugs back quite hard, bursting into tears as if a dam had just given way.

Djehuti just holds the younger Philodox, chin on top of head. Occasionally, he makes a small, sympathetic noise, but he does not murmur useless inanities of the "shh" or "it's all right" variety.

Izzy is not a pretty or delicate crier; there's a lot of sobbing and gasping for breath, and a regrettable amount of snuffling involved as well. It would also be better for everyone if the cub carried a handkerchief or some kleenex or something, but at least the cardigan has long sleeves and is presumably washable. It's a little difficult to make out words even when the crying subsides enough for them to be attempted, but chances are very good the main gist of it is 'sorry'.

"You keep apologizing," Djehuti says into Izzy's hair, "And I'll start apologizing to /you/."

Izzy can't help giggling at that, even if it does still have what one might call a bit of a hysterical edge to it. The voice doesn't, at least, though it's still somewhat muffled. "'m s-- I mean. Shouldn't be falling 'part on people an' all. But. Um. Thank you." Another sniffle, resulting in some more cardigan-abuse, and then quieter, but a little more clearly. "You kinda. Remind me of my dad some. Sometimes."

"Grief is strange, and knows no season," Djehuti says. "And you've been under pressure." He nudges the younger Philodox's head with his chin, fondly, and goes to sit on the ladder again. "Well. Thank you. I hope it's not a painful reminder?"

A shake of the head, and Izzy trails generally ladderward, sitting down on the floor nearby. "No, it's, it's good. It's nice." The cub takes deep, slow, very controlled breaths, calming everything down. "...no one really knew what to do with me. With Mom being away and all. I ended up having to stay at my friend's house, but I heard her parents talking about how since my mom still wasn't back it was prolly time to start doing things properly with foster care and stuff. So. That's why I ended up here, 'cause no one else was looking for her and I didn't want to have to go live with people I don't even know." A pause, brow furrowing. "Although I guess technically that ended up happening anyhow. But prolly in a better way."

"No, yes. The foster care system is... to be avoided." This seems to be understatement, on Djehuti's part. "I only wish we -- as a tribe -- had been able to find you sooner, but I think your mother expected--" He breaks off, then takes a breath. "Well. In any case. You don't know us and we're fairly violent, but not abusively so. Or so I like to think."

"Well. I mean, I know some of you. Now. But I guess I would've known whoever I got put with once I got put there, too. So. Yeah. But then what would've happened when I changed? I mean, you wouldn't've been there to hit me in the back of the head." Izzy gives the elder Strider a very small grin with that, serious as the actual consequences could possibly have been. It fades swiftly. "...and yeah. I think she meant to be back and be around when it was getting near. And. I don't feel abused or anything."

"Good," Djehuti says, quietly. This seems to be important to him. "And indeed--" He smiles, brief and mostly in his eyes. "I would have been sad to miss bonking you on the back of the head. Or more to the point--" The smile fades. "I would have been sad to miss out on your mind, your competence, and your thirst for answers."

Izzy looks both pleased and embarrassed by that, stray hair promptly requiring finger-combing back and away from the face. "...thank you. You think I'm pretty competent? I mean, so far?" This is apparently the part that stands out most to the cub. "I feel like there's still a million things I don't know that I should."

"You don't know a million things," agrees Djehuti, with a faint smile that again mostly shows only in his eyes. "But after all, you can't know them until someone tells you. And the important thing is, you synthesize. I watch you taking new information and putting it together with the old information, and getting new answers from that. I don't know how you'll do with the fighting and the more physical aspects of things, but honestly, that's less relevant." He adds, scrupulously, "In my opinion."

"At LEAST a million," Izzy says, with a small sigh, but the rest gets a small smile. "I try to figure out how stuff goes together... but I still have to ask you about most of it, 'cause what if I get the wrong end of the stick and then I come up with other wrong stuff 'cause I started with that? So, yeah. And I hope I'll be okay when we do the fighting stuff. I'm not very strong but I'm pretty good at throws and stuff. I just... dunno for sure how that's gonna work when I have claws and stuff."

"OK, you come up with new /questions/," Djehuti amends, with a half-laugh. "That other aspect... The thing is, so many people rely on their claws and not on their wits... and claws are important, but so is thinking. And my logic is that one can /become/ stronger, but it is hard to become more prone to asking questions and thinking sideways."

Izzy considers that a moment, and nods. "I could start lifting weights, which, I dunno, maybe I should?" the cub says, glancing at the free weights, "But I don't think I could stop thinking questions. I can stop asking them out loud when people get annoyed, but I still think them. So I guess starting to if you don't would probably be hard too."

Djehuti looks alarmed. "Please don't. I would be sad if you did that. I really enjoy them."

"I wasn't planning to," Izzy assures, "Just, sometimes people've asked me to before, so I did. Mostly. I am really glad you like them, though, 'cause this would be... really frustrating if I had to try to learn it all without asking them."

"Speaking of which," Djehuti says, looking at her thoughtfully, "Has anyone explained nomenclature patterns and cub names to you?"

Izzy thinks about it a moment, then head-shakes. "No, not really. I've heard some people's names, I mean the ones that aren't like 'April Rains'... although that one's kind of unusual... and they kind of remind me of how movie-Indians get named, but no one's really said that much about them. Except that cubs get cubnames eventually from their elders, and a lot of them aren't very complimentary. Like Jacey-rhya said hers was Head-in-the-Clouds, and Aaron-rhya said his was Slower-than-a-Speeding-Bullet, although actually that could still be really fast, considering. And someone Jacey-rhya was a cub with got 'No Name is as Great as His', which I still think sounds more like one of those really religious people who won't say 'God' talking about God."

"There is no God but God, and Allah is his name," recites Djehuti with a smile. "Yes. Generally, for adult Garou, their deed names -- what they call themselves in the lupine forms -- are based on either deeds, or philosophies tied to important figures. You'll find that the Striders, the Get, the Fianna, and the Furies often focus their names around Gods or translations of Gods' names. Others work more generally with deeds, or, in the case of Bone Gnawers, food. And I swear I am going to go over the tribes next." He stops. "Mine, Takes The Long Path of Wisdom, is more a philosophy, obviously, though it's also a translation of a God's name. In any case. Cubs get dubbed via useful identifiers, for the most part, and yes, some of them are mildly abusive. I tend to find that pointlessly middle schoolish and puerile to boot, so I steer away from that." He takes a breath. "So, you see, the original reason I diverted onto this increasingly lengthy side-question was that it seemed to me that a handy identifier for you when you are in non-homid forms, to wait until further deeds occur, might well be Asks The Next Question. Would that be workable, or would it niggle at you in less than useful ways?"

"Exactly!" Izzy exclaims to the recitation, and goes quiet again to listen to the rest, with a couple nods here and there. There's a mouth-opening with an expression that usually portends another question, but the cub pauses and apparently files it for slightly later, instead echoing the proposed name as though checking how it tastes. "Asks the Next Question... I could do that. I like that. 'cause it feels like to me the next question's important -- like, not just stopping at the first layer, kinda. And I don't want to just leave things at the surface level 'cause then I prolly don't really understand them. So. Um. Yes, I guess would've been shorter."

DeHooty says, repressing a grin, "Perhaps shorter, but not at all in character, and also, far less interesting. Good. Thank you. I'd been wanting to bring that up for days now and it kept slipping away." He goes to fetch his pack, and adds, over his shoulder, "And you were going to ask...?"

Djehuti says, repressing a grin, "Perhaps shorter, but not at all in character, and also, far less interesting. Good. Thank you. I'd been wanting to bring that up for days now and it kept slipping away." He goes to fetch his pack, and adds, over his shoulder, "And you were going to ask...?"

Izzy grins, head ducking slightly. "Oh, it was, which god's name is it a translation of? And how'd you get it? Do people pick them themselves, once they're not cubs?" A slight pause, brow furrowing. "And are =gods= real? I mean, aside from Gaia, if she counts as a goddess that way. If they are, do they care one way or the other about people borrowing their names?"

"That, is a complex and interesting theological question. Also historical, for many of our tribes." Djehuti retrieves his bag and returns with it. "However. To your first question, do you know the concept of Ma'at, or balance, in Egyptian mythology?"

Izzy nods. "I saw a show about it -- Egyptian mythology, I mean. And Ma'at was the goddess of balance and truth and justice and things like that, I think. And when people died their heart got weighed against her feather, and if the heart was heavier I think it got eaten by a lion and they had to stay in the underworld, and if it was lighter they got to go to heaven, only it was called something else I forgot the name of." The cub hesitates, adding, "It was a couple years ago so I might've got some of that mixed up."

"Aaru," agrees Djehuti. "We Striders actually have a Rite similar to that, which I will likely use on the Black Spiral Dancers we go to hunt this evening; it determines if their souls are completely given to the Wyrm or not." He settles on the ladder. "The thing with Ma'at is that She is both Goddess, and, yes, philosophy and principle, for the Egyptians. It is the balance of how the universe should be; it is a guide for how to engender and nurture a diverse community; it is a guide for proper application of law, which is to say, living by the spirit of justice rather than the individual niggling letter of the law. And it is many other things. And so, although I felt... less than no connection to Egypt, when I first changed and was Rited, I took that name as a resolution to try and live under this balance, in both Garou and human worlds." As an aside, he adds, "I had thought I was Gaian and not of the people of Khem, and so I was not prepared." Fingers laced into a backpack strap, he goes on, "The other name I often give, Son of the Ibis, is the name given to me after my Rite of Passage. Thoth is the name of the God of among other things knowledge and writing, and he is often depicted as a man with the head of an ibis. So. The Son of the Ibis. But also, Djehuti is another name for Him."

"...you mentioned the Gaian thing before," Izzy notes, "How'd that happen? I mean, how'd it get gotten wrong, and how'd you find out otherwise? And if Djehuti is a name for Thoth, who's being called the Ibis, and you're both Djehuti," the cub has managed to learn the pronunciation half-decently now, "and also the Son of the Ibis, is that like... the thing where people says Jesus is God and also the Son of God? Or is it more like being, um, Ibis junior?" Another small pause, shifting position slightly. "Am I supposed to have a connection to Egypt? I mean, it was interesting to learn about, but. I haven't... been there or anything."

"Yes -- I wanted to tell Tim because it matters, at times." Djehuti hesitates, then says, "There is more I will tell you on Egypt, once I have told you of the other tribes and some more context. But in brief, the answer is that Egypt is the wellspring of our people, and it is our lodestone. Blessing and curse. So you don't actually /have/ to care or have a connection, but it is relevant to our magics, our history, and our current state of being." He opens the pack again, rummaging in it briefly to find his knife. "I do not consider myself to be /part/ of the God, no. I name myself that in respect for him, and as an indication of the kind of wisdom and precedent I wish to follow. So more like Ibis Junior, yes. As for my origins--" Djehuti stops to think. Apparently going for succinctness, he says, "My birth father impregnated my mother, and then left. Quite soon after, my mother married my adopted father. Events ensued."

Izzy thinks about this for a few moments. "...does that mean your birth father was a Strider and your adoptive father was a Gaian, then? Um. Sorry if I'm being too nosy. And, okay. I can wait on Egypt until after the tribes and stuff. Right now I think I've heard of about..." A pause for counting. "Seven tribes? I think? But you said there were thirteen, like there are Litany laws. So I think I'm missing about half. Ish."

"Yes. Wait. No." Djehuti laughs, just a little, as he fiddles with his knife. "I have an unruly history. My birth father--" His tone here is a little wry, a little grim, a little bitter. But not very. "--Who I met later, was Strider." His tone evens out, becomes fonder. "My mother is Gaian. My adoptive father was Glass Walker. My sisters are Gaian, my brothers are Glass Walkers. It is an agreement my mother and father -- my adoptive father, Walter -- came to before they married. I do not mind talking about it, though parts of it are-- Occasionally uncomfortable. But I do not care to hide it." He considers Izzy, now. "How about I go alphabetically? I know I've been chary with details on most of them, so I can be somewhat more extensive?"

"Oh, you have siblings! That's cool. Are they garou too? Or... or kin? And alphabetically works, especially with details. I keep getting the feeling I'm missing... things. Like people say things and everyone else knows a lot more from it than I get." Izzy adjusts position again, settling in to listen.
"My sister's Garou. She's Gaian, but I mostly only see her at family gatherings, because she lives with her pack in Greece. My other sister, Casey, she's Kin -- she's married to a Fury Kin, Catriona. Almost legally now, even," adds Djehuti with his quicksilver grin. "My brothers are Kirk and Rory -- they're both Kin. My mom's actually moving here in May, and a couple of my brothers are talking about coming with." This seems to please him inordinately. He stops to think. "Rory has a Garou son. He lives off in New York." He considers this, and concludes, "I have a large family," with a slight shake of the head, and then goes on, "OK. Black Furies. They are originally from Greece, and are, save for their metis, all female. Gaia gave birth to them to defend her wild places, and the women. They seek fetishes held in the hands of the enemy, at times, in order to defend that wilderness. They take inspiration from Artemis, as the fierce and pure huntress -- if you think of them as Her Daughters, it would not be far from the truth. They are thought of as feminists and lesbians, but both of those are modern concepts. What they truly are, are manifestations of nature in her female aspect. Nurturing, and yet also red in tooth and claw."

Izzy apologises, I got an unexpected phone call. I'm back, but I think you gave the 30 minute warning 30 minutes ago. :}
DeHooty did, actually, and was just pondering that fact. It is annoying. But reality dictates this sleep thing. So. You good with fade? Dje goes off to fight things, rar?
Izzy can do that, yeah. Thank you. :D

Litany GET!

3/18/2012, 02:41 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

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. The walls 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, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor, 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. A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house.
Contents:
DeHooty
Obvious exits:
Meadow House

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (28% full).

Djehuti does not normally sleep at Edgewood. Where he does sleep is an open question, though not exactly an urgent one. He is, in any case, sacked out in lupus underneath the punching bag, curled up on a small bunch of the cushions. His bag and puffy coat are in a tidy heap next to the ladder.

Izzy's coat and satchel are sitting in the loft -- but not the scarf, and not Izzy, either. The why and where, if anyone asked, are answered as the outside door to the garage opens and admits a breathless, flushed cub well-wrapped in scarf and with a pair of gloves that probably came from the random clothes for cubs box. It's still damn cold out there.

The cold (and the noise) wake Djehuti, and he makes a quiet whining protest, before he wakes up more fully. He stands, shakes himself out (staggering sideways), and sneeze-chuffs.
Izzy closes the door and stops a moment, hands on thighs, regaining breath. Djehuti's protest gets a look of chagrin. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I would've been quieter coming in."

The wolf shakes himself out again, lolling his tongue at her as if to say, "No worries!" He trots over and leans against her, shedding fur as he does so.

Izzy laughs, still a bit out of breath, and reaches down to scratch Djehuti behind the ears. Then hesitates. "Um. Is it rude to scritch your teacher? It's kinda never come up before," the cub asks, grinning, but probably at least half serious about the question all the same. "I was having a run. I wish it'd stop being so cold outside, though."

Dje doesn't think so! He says this while leaning into her legs, clearly enjoying the scritching immensely. But then his ears splay backwards, and he shivers. (Since it's not actually cold in here, this is clearly just an agreement with her.) He doesn't shift yet, perhaps because he wants mileage out of the scritch.

Well, hey, as long as it's not rude or otherwise inappropriate, let there be scritching! There may, in fact, also be some rufflings and fuzzlings to go along with it. In, you know, a respectful sort of way, of course. "I guess there's no new news or anything?" Izzy asks, and brightens suddenly, "Oh! It's not my news, but. You and Detective Konstantopilous were mentioning a Rajani and she thought she was prolly dead, but when Flint was here he got a call saying she was okay. So in case no one else said yet, I thought prolly you'd be glad to know."

The jackal brightens. Oh, good! After a moment of enjoying the ruffling, he sighs and backs up a pace or three, melting through the forms into homid. He goes over to his pack and then brings the phone back, offering it over. "I only met her once, to be truthful, but I did like her, so that is well to hear. Do you know if they also defeated the bane?" He rakes a hand through his hair, to tame it a touch, and then smiles. "As for the scritching, I would recommend against it if you meet a wolf-born. They most of them consider it to be an insult. Myself," he says, twinkle in eye, "I think that is needless deprivation, but the world is a diverse place."

Izzy accepts the phone, immediately checking it for messages. None, alas. "Thank you. And even so, mostly it's better to find out someone isn't dead." The cub pauses a moment, trying to remember what was said. "He said... he said, like the Detective said, there was a shapeshifting fomor that was impersonating her, only Kaz-rhya and some other people found the real Rajani and she's okay. But if you see her and she's not with Kaz-rhya or Tim-rhya or... a couple other people I haven't met, um... Lefty-rhya and... something that starts with a K, I'm sorry, I can't remember it... anyway if she's not with one of them then it's still the fomor. I'm pretty sure that's what he said. And I'll try to remember not to scritch the wolf-born. So we do come from both kinds, not just from humans? And I guess metis..."

"You're welcome," he says, and then supplies, as he listens, "Keir and Lefty. Keir is ahroun, Lefty Ragabash. She has lost her right hand, so..." He trails off. "Yes, it shouldn't matter if I know them or not, but I am not a beatific entity, so it does. I will hope this will allow them access to the fomor." He nods, as he returns to his pack to close it. "Some wolf born, most homid born. The wolf-kin have, after all, been hunted. This is why many of the wolf-born Garou -- not all, but many -- are not friends to those who retain more of the human-nature than others."

"...so," Izzy agrees, nodding a little. "I guess I can kind of understand that, but shouldn't we all be trying to get on with each other the best we can? Otherwise won't something Wyrm find a way to take advantage of it? Which reminds me, what should I know about fomors? And are there a lot of them out there?"

"Well, as a philodox, I tend to think that would be best," Djehuti says, getting his knife and some bread and cheese out of his pack before closing it. "But, I also think that diversity -- of upbringing, tribe, philosophy of living, and more -- is the best way to go, and that diversity will always lead to some tension in the outlying spots. It is the price of /having/ diversity, and one worth, to my mind, working with. Others have and do disagree with me." He settles the plastic bag the bread came in as a sort of plate, and starts cutting bread and cheese. "There are many different fomori, fomors, however one pluralizes it. They are created when a human or animal is possessed by a bane. It is... exceedingly rare... to be able to save them, once they are taken. Their powers differ, but generally, once they are noticeable at all, they should be killed as soon as possible, in part because the possession causes insanity, and. Well."

Izzy clambers up into the loft, getting the coat and satchel and bringing them down, the latter, it transpires, to get the charger out and find a place to plug the phone in, while it's here. "I like fomori. Um. As a plural for the word. Not the things. A bane is a Wyrm spirit? How do people get possessed by them? Can it just happen to anyone, like, sitting on the bus? Or do they have to kind of invite it, like in shows when people try to summon demons and stuff?"

Dje offers Izzy some cheese. (Cheddar.) "Bane is a Wyrm spirit, yes. People get possessed just sitting on the bus, also yes, though there is a marked tendency for a bane to possess someone who is already somehow aligned with the Wyrm philosophically in some way. But the demon summoning is myth, not reality. Well, about the Wyrm, at any rate."

Izzy shivers. "That's messed up. I mean, just normal people going about their lives and then getting all Wyrmed up and basically doomed." The cub sighs, sitting down by the elder Strider, and accepts the cheese. "Thanks. Is that the kind of thing where you'd use that enemy-sensing gift you mentioned? 'cause I figure you can't just ask people if they're possessed by evil and check whether they tell the truth, in case they, y'know, aren't."

"Yes. It is not..." Djehuti trails off. "A comfortable thing." He also offers some of the bread. But no butter. It's an inadequate sandwich. "Yes, though it is often not of great use in the city, as the general Wyrm presence there is higher than in other locales. But they do, indeed, smell of the enemy, once they have been possessed."

No butter? What torture is this?! Izzy suffers through, however. Even seems fairly pleased with both the bread AND the cheese, though they get eaten separately. "Are cities inherently Wyrmish? Flint mentioned that some people don't like Glass Walkers and call them 'Urrah scum' 'cause they live there on purpose. But I thought, if big cities happened because the Weaver and Wyrm got corrupted, then there should prolly be a lot of dwelling and breeding going on there and someone's got to combat it, don't they?"

Djehuti himself tends to nibble cheese, then bread. "Cities are, hm. Weaver and Wyrm gone out of control. I don't think they are inherenty Wyrmy, but I do think that, given the imbalance, they often are home to more malevolent things than other places. As for the Urrah part--" He smiles, shaking his head faintly. "That is that they are /comfortable/ there, and less that they live there on purpose. Those tribes that call them that tend to fight in the city, but would not live there on purpose. To my mind, that sort of divisional thinking is short sighted, but it is deeply held onto."

"Why? I mean, why hold onto it? Does it just make them feel superior or something?" Izzy sighs, shifting position slightly to sit more comfortably, one knee up and acting as an impromptu table. "...anyway. Oh, also he said something about having a connection to his ancestors and basically that I should ask you about it for more information. I think."

"He has a connection to his ancestors," Djehuti says promptly, repressing a smile. Briefly, it seems as if that's all he's going to say, but then he goes on, "Some of us do. They give us hints on how to do things, sometimes just enable us to do them without even knowing how. Those who have a very strong connection can be taken over by those ancestors, for a short time. It is... disquieting, for them (once they wake up), and for those around them. But these are the ancestors who have not come back to this world." As if this is just standard. "But, Izzy. I came here, originally, before I fell asleep, with the intention of telling you more of the Litany. Would this work for you?"

"Well, he was talking to... them... I guess. Which is why I was curious. Wait, ancestors usually come back to this world?" Izzy looks torn, but nods. "Yes, okay. Sorry, there's just a million things I don't know. But yes, please. We were up to five next, I think."

Dje says, "Well, there is the possibility, for some tribes, yes. It is rare for the Glass Walkers to have ancestors living in their head, actually." Then he grins, swift and soon gone. "I do not have an issue with more questions. I merely wish to have some focus, as well. OK. So. The next one, again, ties into the lupine nature." Carefully, slowly, but still coming out as a sentence, he says, "Submission to Those of Higher Station. Keep in mind, submission merely means letting it be known through posture and action that you know your elder is your elder. You can still /disagree/ with them all you want."

"Submission to those of higher station," Izzy repeats slowly, and nods. "I think I get that mostly. I'm, um, not entirely sure I know what the right postures and actions are, except for not looking higher-ranked people in the eye too much. When you say I can disagree all I want... out loud? Or just in my head?"

"Well, in part, that comes of experience. But, not looking them in the eye, showing throat, looking a little smaller, and so on. When you're in lupus sorts of forms, it's more obvious -- you have seen dogs who are telling their owner they know it is in charge? That sort of thing. And wolves, they will lick another's muzzle? Or greet the other by lying on their back? And dominant wolves often raise their tail higher. Just as a few things to think about. And--" He looks rueful. "Not to resort to this answer yet again, but it depends. With me, I do not mind disagreement if we are not in the midst of combat. Some elders are..." He searches for words, and ends up with, "Less patient."

Izzy nods, taking a moment to chew and swallow the last bit of cheese. "Okay. So, same as at school basically. Except I'd prolly get beat up instead of detention with the not-patient ones. Okay. I think I can do that stuff. Are we okay to hit number six?"

"Yes, rather like. Though at least some of us are not adolescents anymore, for which much thanks." He and Izzy are on the ground near the ladder, some bread and cheese on a plastic bag in front of them. "I think so. The First Share of the Kill for the Greatest in Station," he says, carefully. "Which is, again, lupine at base, but applies across the board."

The door to the garage opens, and Tim lumbers in. His glabro form might not be recognizeable, and the old, oversized, Phoenix Suns sweats he wears in this shape aren't precisely becoming. Seeing Izzy and Djehuti, he gives them a near-man's gruesome smile. "Hey you two. How's things?" His movements are stiff and slow, and a few gashes and puncture wounds are evident around his collar.

Tim
At just under seven feet in height, this Neanderthal-like man is clearly a man, but how much of one is in serious doubt. Tim's black eyes glare sullenly out at the world, and his body is covered with tawny-gold hair so thick it could practically be fur, putting it at odds with the black, matted hair on his head. His face is blocky and square, like the maker ran out of time before it could add in refinements, and the strange, awkward length of his arms and legs give him a truly un-evolved appearance. Those long arms end in equally strange hands topped with long, thick, blunt fingernails, though despite all of this he moves with an eerie semblance of grace.
Carrying:
Mysterious Sealed Box
Shoulderbag

"The first share of the kill for the greatest in station..." Izzy takes a second or so to think that one over. "Okay, I guess? I mean, I don't really have an issue with that, I'm just not sure I get why it is..." The cub trails off as the door opens, and stays quiet for a second or so more at the sight of Tim, eyes a bit wide. By way of greeting, the elder Strider gets, "...are you okay?"

"Hi," Djehuti says, fairly casual. "What did you run into?" (Though his casual tone is belied by how carefully he looks Tim over.) Then he adds, "Come on in. Things're fine; I'm just going over more Litany." He gestures at Izzy with a piece of bread. Since he talks with both hand and voice. "The thing with this one -- First share of the kill," he explains to Tim, "Is that it's also meant as a general statement, many argue, about an elder's role in the community, how people should view them overall, and, more specifically, whether they will get first try at things such as the take from the stash of a fomori drug-lord. It applies to more than just bones and meat, in other words."

Tim pokes at the injuries around his neck, winces, and says, "I will be, probably tomorrow or the day after." After a moment, he adds, "This is the near-man form. You can speak human languages in it, but it lets you heal like the other non-breed forms," for Izzy's benefit. He has a seat on the floor, and observes, "One issue with it is if you have leaders who don't realize, they can't hog good stuff. That weakens their subordinates, which actually just weakens them."

"Like if the alpha ate all the meat and didn't leave any for the cubs, for normal wolves, then they wouldn't grow up strong enough to hunt well, if they even lived?" Izzy suggests, glancing between the other two Striders. "Is it an issue a lot? And are there official ways of determining what's a share and who's greatest in station? I mean obviously everyone's greater in station than me at the moment, but, like... if you had two Fosterns and a Cliath, how would they know which Fostern went first?"

"Rank among equals is a constantly shifting equation, as I think I went on a discursion about at some point. So at any given time, I'll know if I'm dominant to--" He stops to think about who Izzy's met (that he knows of), and then just finsishes, "Any given other Fostern, though generally instinctively. So the only conflict will be if we have different internal delimiters, at which point, more obvious dominance and submission efforts will come into play. Or--" He flashes a smile. "Sometimes, people just give way. And -- Yes, like that, or the Sept would be slightly weaker. When it becomes obvious is when the elder is challenged for their official position of leadership."

"Exactly," Tim says to Izzy, nodding. "So like, if it was you and three other cubs, you'd have to sort out who between you was the dominant one."

Izzy nods back, looking thoughtful. "...I was gonna say prolly not me. But I think maybe I shouldn't think that way if I'm going to be a good werewolf. So maybe me." The kid grins a little. "Okay, I think I've got that one pretty much. Can we try the next one?"

Dje considers Izzy. "It is a thing to think about," is all he says, eventually. And then, "Next one. Yes. I do not think you will have issues with it. Ye Shall Not Eat the Flesh of Humans," he says, in that slow voice which distinguishes words, and yet still forms a sentence. "This was initiated at the end of the time we call the Impergium, when we in fact culled humans, to keep their numbers down, for there were those among us who were convinced that they were helping the rise of both Weaver and Wyrm. As it turns out, of course, they were not. But it has led to their being terrified beyond reason by our crinos forms, and led to this law."

Tim shudders at the mention of this law. "Also, a lot of our Tribe *weren't* involved in that--we still lived in Egypt then, and many of us had withdrawn from the Nation. But some were, and held to it." He shrugs in a 'what can you do' way.

For once, Izzy doesn't repeat it first off. "Ew. Well, that one's not going to be hard to keep, I don't think. And... that's. Um. When was the Impergium? It was a really long time ago? ...Ye shall not eat the flesh of humans. Or wolves? Or does that just go without saying? Except I kinda thought the human thing did too and I guess it doesn't."

"Some tribes, particularly the Red Talons -- who are all lupus-born, and not friends to humans -- Do add wolves to the list. But we, as a people, never hunted wolves. And, too, for reasons I don't care to speculate on, humans produce low level Wyrm taint if too many are consumed. Which wolves do not. And so, the law. But--" Djehuti's jaw sets. "The Impergium was before the first cities, and by its release, they became able to grow. So there are some few, some very conservative few, who would take it up again."

The look on Tim's face says that he doesn't think those conservative Garou are as 'few' as they should be. What he says, is, "It was thousands and thousands of years ago. Some Tribes didn't even exist back then--one story says that the Children of Gaia formed to end the Impergium."

Izzy nods, bottom lip gnawed slightly at all this. "That's another tribe too? Children of Gaia? Or a different kind of group? Either way that sounds like a good thing to form for to me. But, okay. No eating people. I definitely don't intend to do that."

"Children of Gaia are a tribe. A philosophical conglomeration of those who feel that violence is not the first or best answer," Djehuti says, with the ghost of a grin regarding the eating or lack thereof. "And. The next tenet, most do not have a problem with, though its application can be... somewhat spotty. Respect for Those Below Ye in Station; all Are of Gaia."

Tim mmms, and grins. He doesn't comment just yet, though; he seems more interested in hearing what Izzy has to say, and watches her for her response.

Izzy headtilts a little. "Do we think violence is the first or best answer? I mean, it hasn't looked like it so far, which is good for me 'cause I don't generally think it is. Or I'd've gotten in WAY more trouble at school. So... is there more to it than that?" A glance to each of them, and then, "...respect for those below ye in station; all are of Gaia. So... basically people shouldn't totally dismiss lower ranked people or treat them badly? 'cause I can see why people are okay with that. And also how that might not always happen."

"Well, /I/ don't, but much of the Nation does. It's rather endemic, sadly." Djehuti nods, a little, as he gets more bread. "There is far more to the tribe than that -- I grew up thinking I was Gaian -- but I will happily cover it when I cover the tribes in more depth. As for the other -- Indeed. It's far more difficult to enforce, as well, for reasons I assume you can conjecture."

"Not everyone *is* okay with that," Tim explains with a rueful look. "Or, at least, they don't act like they are. It's a law meant to say that dominance is not free license to abuse people, but you'd have to be willing to go to a halfmoon on that. And what if the halfmoons don't agree with you that this person's abusing their dominance in violation of the Litany?" He arches one brow, inviting Izzy to consider the ramifications.

"Then you're in a worse condition than you were before, 'cause now they still don't respect you AND they're pissed, and if they were treating you badly =before= you pissed them off..." Izzy trails off, making a face. "Although, they'd still have to not go far enough that the philodoxes'd change their minds. But they'd prolly know how far that was. And anyway then you might look like a whiner, and no one likes a whiner." The cub shifts position, stretching the previously bent leg. "So bullies usually get away with it, basically. Which sucks."

"And, also, they can make the Philodox's life who tries to reprimand them hell, as well," Djehuti says. "Which is when you get into the long term effects of being a bad leader, which is to say, they won't stay a leader for /too/ long if they continue on that kind of road. But I /have/ known people to be prosecuted for this, successfully, so it is not a complete lost cause." He makes a small face. "Just... More often than I'd like."

Tim grimaces, and nods at Djehuti. He gestures at Izzy, saying, "Bullies don't always get away with it, mind you. But you have to be ready to think around them. I don't mean you have to play at politics--though that helps--just that you have to think about how to approach dealing with them." He flashes his blocky teeth in a grin. "In my case, it's about how to yank their chains as delicately as possible. In yours, it's how to reprimand them without too much fallout."

Izzy nosewrinkles and nods. "People mostly don't like being told off. Or even corrected nicely, if they didn't ask. I guess I'll have to think about how that kinda thing should work. And watch, if I can. Are there, like, courts or something similar? And. Honestly chain-yanking sounds more fun than reprimanding, all in all."

Djehuti grins, but it's somehow tired. "There are, sometimes, councils of Philodoxes. Particularly in situations where you're going after someone dicey. But I prefer working in smaller groups, to the all-Sept Philodox councils. That can get... clunky. Inelegant. As for chain yanking--" Djehuti glances at Tim. "That can have its own problems. But overall, I consider the Ragabash role, when put that way, at least, to be more overtly fun. But I do love the counseling and the teaching..."

"It's fun if you know how to run the fuck away," Tim says, only half-joking. "No one likes a smartass, and yet we're the ones who are allowed to actually do that as a way to show someone what they're doing that's out of line." He shrugs. "All the roles are needed, all the roles are necessary."

"You're a good teacher," Izzy tells Djehuti, quite decisively. "...and I'm good at running, but. I'm better at trying to make stuff make sense and be fair and things like that than I am at yanking chains. Though I =am= pretty good at asking questions." The cub grins briefly. "So, okay. Respect for those beneath people is required but not always supplied. I think we're on... nine?"

"Why thank you," Djehuti says, a little surprised. Then he nods. "That you are, m'good Izzy. Questions your specialty." This is said with the smallest of grins. "And much appreciated that fact is, as well. Ok, next one's been phrased to you in other ways, but this is the official words version. The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted. The secrecy aspect, as is obvious."

"And this is a pretty serious thing for us, as a Tribe, which one of us will tell you eventually," Tim says. His expression is gentle and firm, and brooks no argument. "You really can't tell anyone. Even your closest loved ones, if they're not Garou or Kin."

"The veil shall not be lifted," Izzy repeats, "Right, 'cause it'd freak people out and they'd prolly try to kill us, like on every movie with monsters or aliens ever, and there's a LOT of them. And maybe other reasons too?" Tim's last admonition gets a glance away (toward where the phone is currently plugged in, Djehuti might note), and the cub's voice goes slightly quieter. "That. That isn't going to be a problem."

"Kid's mother's Garou," Djehuti tells Tim. But then at something in Izzy's voice, there is the ghost of some frown from Djehuti, mostly in his eyes. But all he says is, "Basically, yes. The scars of the Impergium go deep."

Tim's expression holds only sympathy for the cub. "Right." He clears his throat, and asks Djehuti, "Found anything out about her?"

"Jennifer, Seshat Follows the Sun," Djehuti says. "Adren Galliard. Good lady, her. I've met her a time or two. She appears, though, to be missing. Which is..." He trails off. "A concern, obviously. I'm emailing my old pack, to see if they've seen her lately. They said they'd put the word out, but if you know folks more in the US than I do..."

The cub's quiet a little, toying with a small bit of bread. "It seems like the last record of her in normal ways is in Montana. But that's all I know so far."

Tim says, "I know a few people," in a way which suggests this is a huge understatement. "I'll see if anyone's heard anything, or has the time to go looking." His expression is one hundred percent reassurance for Izzy.

"OK. Thank you." Djehuti glances from Tim to Izzy. "Next one? Just so," he says, with a small, sad smile, "We can possibly break the mood and not exude sadness for the next 20 minutes?"

"Thank you. And yeah. Um. Sorry." Izzy manages a small smile, then takes a breath, sitting up. Shoulders back, chin up. Posture is the key to everything! "So. Number 10, then."

Tim nods in agreement about not exuding sadness, and waits for Djehuti to give the next law.

And, indeed, Djehuti does it as a matched set. "The Leader May Be Challenged at Any Time of Peace. The Leader May Not Be Challenged in Time of War." He goes on, "They are separate laws, but, obviously, tied together. We do not change leaders in midstream, during declared war. This can be abused, but there are," he coughs, once, "Ways around that abuse."

"The leader may be challenged at any time of peace; the leader may not be challenged in time of war," Izzy echoes, and pauses, brow furrowing slightly. "Who declares wars? And decides when they're over? 'cause if it's The Leader, I think I see where the abuse part might come in."

Tim doesn't answer; he looks to Djehuti, maybe intending to, as he has been, add on to anything the Phlidox says.

"Generally, the leader, yes. Though many Septs have Elders' Councils, of the tribal elders and Sept elders who are extant. And sometimes, it is they who declare war." Djehuti adds, "It is more administrivia, but it also makes for checks and balances, to a minor extent."

"Around here, we've had both the Sept Alpha and the Claw do it," Tim says on the heels of Djehuti's explanation. "Also, you have to be careful about how you apply this. If you're at War too long, how will anyone rank up, or call people out on things by CHallenging for Honor? Sometimes, a Sept will agree to allow Rank Challenges during War, and just interpret it to mean leadership roles."

"'The Claw'?" Izzy asks, "That sounds like the villian in a comic book. Like, someone Batman would fight. And... people keep saying Sept. That's like a group of Garou that's bigger than a pack? Or from some particular place? And if rank challenges and stuff are a problem in wartime, does that mean 'the leader' is basically anyone who outranks you, all at once, not just the one person who outranks everyone else?"

"I believe, in fact, that The Claw was a Golden Age comics supervillain. That said, the Claw is often a position for ahrouns, as warleader of a Sept, or a particular attack." Djehuti stops to chew a piece of cheese, then launches into verbiage. "A Sept is a group of Garou who gather together to become a community. Most often, they gather around a particular Caern, or place of Gaia's power made manifest, of which more later. In the case of this particular law, the leader is both, the person in charge, and also, the people in charge of the tribes and the Sept. And it often applies to the leaders in general, hence not allowing challenges at all. Some Septs do not interpret it that way, and have it be only the leader of the Sept, that is, the Alpha."

Tim looks amused at the mention of The Claw. "He was also the villain in Inspector Gadget," he adds, possibly dating himself. "Well, Dr. Claw was." He sets that business aside and says, "And, really, if someone is using time of War to prevent their position being Challenged, you can argue that's a violation of the Litany too, in not respecting those of all stations. Or, you know, you can leave--that's always an option."

Izzy laughs, looking briefly delighted about the confirmed villainy of The Claw (PhD). "Okay. So who counts as The Leader kinda depends on the Sept you're in, and you can go to a different one if you don't like how things are being handled at the first one... though if you're in the middle of a war that would kind of suck. Then again I guess if your problem was that you thought really it was peace and people should be able to challenge, that kinda solves itself."

Djehuti can't help but laugh, himself, a brief gout of it. But then he nods. "Exactly. Permutations, applying themselves. And now, the last one, and the return of the Caern. More specifically, Ye Shall Take No Action That Causes a Caern to Be Violated. Which, yes indeed, does have broad application, for good reason. The loss of a Caern is... incalculable tragedy. And so, we all have to be wary of it."

"Caerns can't be replaced," Tim says by way of expanding. "And the spirits that tie themselves to those caerns may be lost forever if a Caern falls. Of course," he gives Djehuti a rueful smile, "what's an action that leaves a Caern vulnerable? Going on a trip to see someone in a neighboring Sept such that your Sept was missing some key resource only you had?"

Izzy nods. "Ye shall take no action that causes a caern to be violated. But yeah, what Mr. Tim, I mean Tim-rhya said. There's a whole lot of things you might do every day and then in some situation they could turn out to be the thing that a caern getting violated hinged on. Like Donna Noble turning right instead of left that one day would've meant the Doctor died and the Titanic would've crashed on London and, you know, et cetera. But people have to make choices like that all the time, so. Even if it's only bigger things it seems like you'd have to be really worried any time you went to visit someone, or something." A slight pause. "How do they get violated, anyway? I'm guessing Wyrm stuff?"

"In practical application, it's generally only used when someone really really does something broadly and irrefutably problematic," Djehuti says, as he rises to his feet, smoothly. "Generally Wyrm stuff, yes. Or mages. That is, humans who can bend reality. They gain power from the kind of energy produced by Caerns, so you can see how it would be a conflict."

"Again, unless someone has an agenda, it's not gonna be used for things like I said." Tim's eyes harden. "And the punishments for it can get pretty severe. Down in Arizona, they ah, used Shattered Soul on a guy." He trades a look with Djehuti that's meaningful.

"What's, um." The cub hesitates, looking from one of them to the other. "What's Shattered Soul? ...and yeah, I can see how it'd be a conflict if mages suck the energy out of them and they can't make more. Though, what do they do, exactly, caerns? I mean, I know they're good and important and places of Gaia's power, but I don't entirely... know what that means."

Djehuti regards Tim a moment, eyes hard. Then he shakes his head, and looks back to Izzy. "It destroys one's soul. So that one cannot go to one's tribe's homeland, one cannot be reborn, one cannot visit one's relatives, down the line. They are /gone/." He hesitates. "It is not a Rite I would ever learn."

"If you weren't raised to believe in reincarnation and the cycle of the universe, it's maybe not immediately obvious how significant this is." Tim's voice tightens briefly, and he has to take a steadying breath. "But the cycle of rebirth ensures we don't lose the things we learn, and lets us all, eventually, reach Brahman. And we know that it happens; it's not a matter of faith for us. We meet Garou who are born with the touch of their Ancestors, and speak with ours in our homelands." There's a reservation about him, something he's holding back, but it's hard to pinpoint in all he's said what it would apply to.

Izzy nods again, looking up at Djehuti, and then over to Tim. "...but usually we DO get to visit our relatives... and be reborn and the other stuff? So basically they killed all of him forever? ...and we really for real do?" The cub goes quiet a moment, then recites, ticking them off on fingers, "Garou shall not mate with Garou. Combat the Wyrm wherever it dwells and whenever it breeds. Respect the territory of another. Accept an honourable surrender. Um, Submission to those of higher station. The first share of the kill for the greatest in station. Don't eat-- you shall not eat the flesh of humans. Respect those beneath ye; all are of Gaia. The Veil shall not be lifted. The leader may be challenged at any time during peace; the leader may not be challenged during war. And ye shall take no action that causes a caern to be violated... that's only twelve? What did I forget?"

Djehtui says, "Garou do, yes. And so, that is... Extraordinarily severe." He's silent a moment, then he shakes his head and listens, as she recites, and then laughs, just briefly. "You simply combined the two. And you asked about Caerns -- basically, they are a uniting point for Umbra and Realm, a place where Gaia's power as it used to apply everywhere, still applies. It is a spot of tremendous beauty, and tremendous energy. It, in itself, does not /do/ anything in particular for us, other than be a wonderful thing which is worth protecting. Though all Caerns do have their own Totems, and these can lend the Garou aid and surcease. But even had they no Totems, we would love them and care for them. You cannot truly understand until you see one. Which we will, eventually, do."

Tim nods at Djehuti and adds to that, "A Caern is kind of like a lake or a river. The lake or the river don't specifically do anything, but they *provide* things. Plants need water to grow, fish and insects live in water, boats sail over it. It's very presense and existance are a significant impact on everything they touch."

Izzy pauses. I think we did actually miss one of the laws, though, 'cause I seriously only count 12. OH did we do tending sickness? We can just take it as read that it happened if you want.
Tim: Ah ha!
Dje: Oh shoot. Silly me.
Dje: Yah, I think the "this rarely happens, particularly because we heal so well" thing can go as read. If you don't mind.
Izzy salutes!
Dje: Sorry. I THOUGHT it was /in/ your paragraph. *whap*

Izzy nods at both explanations, and the lake analogy in particular seems to register well. "Okay. Okay, good! I hope I can see one soon, then. Is there one near here? And... and in the meantime, what should I be doing? I mean, when you guys aren't here to teach me things?"

Djehuti gets a curious kind of briefly stifled look. It might, on a less phlegmatic man, indicate repressed hysteria. Eventually, he says, "Well, that's a funny story..." and trails off. "Our Caern, which is less than 20 miles from here, is currently asleep. We put it to sleep in order to save it from a spiritual invasion, of... wasps looking for a nesting ground. They will be able to use it, still, but it will not be overwhelmed. Once it is back awake, presuming we are able to wake it, we will happily show you. Or, perhaps--" He looks to Tim-- "We could take a field trip to Vancouver?" Then he goes on, promptly, "Forms, fighting, what the other tribes think about things, what /our/ tribe thinks about things, what the spirit world is like and how to navigate in it in rudimentary ways, more fighting, Litany permutations, the creeds, and much more."

Dje: Until/unless Two Stripes specifies, let's assume Dje's doing some minor exercise/fight training/running around, pretty much daily.
Izzy: Works for me. Izzy would be running around and trying to keep up on hapkido anyway, so it's not a hard sell. :)
Dje: Hey, Dje can learn Hapkido! Or something.
Izzy will attempt to teach! :D

"And remember," Tim says, tone firm, "everyone is entitled to their wrong opinion. Just because the other Tribes feel differently than us and you're a cub, it *doesn't* make them right and you wrong. You're welcome to let them orate at you and compare their creeds to ours, but remember. You're one of Owl's, not one of theirs." He nods about Vancouver. "Or Gaia's Bones. I ah, kind of need to go there anyways. I'll talk to you about that later, though."

Izzy blinks. "...Invasion of spiritual wasps. O..okay. They're not going to be flying around outside it and stinging people or anything, right?" This is apparently one of the more pressing questions. "I hope it wakes up okay, though. Um. Can I have something like a note saying it's okay for other people to tell me stuff, maybe? 'cause I think they're afraid you guys will be mad at them if they do. And I figure the spirit parts and what our tribe things about stuff, that I prolly need to save for when you guys are around, yeah? And I'll remember what you tell me has priority and all."

"Not outside it, no," Djehuti says. "We have been rather firmly told by the Totem of the Caern that if we stayed /at/ the Caern, there /would/ be death, but outside it, that seems fine." Then, "A... note." He glances at Tim, faintly amused. "Think that'd be effective? Also--" The amusement fades. "I told Izzy that if she pledged to follow the Litany to the best of her ability, once I'd told her the basics, her phone would be remanded to her. Netbook, too. You good with that?"

"Yeah, I think that's reasonable. And we don't deal much in notes like that. We do word of mouth, because of the Veil. Which, I will get the word around, and Djehuti can as well." Tim raises his eyebrows at the Fostern, to see if that works with him.

Izzy looks relieved about the wasp issue. "Well, I figured it could just say, like, 'It's okay to teach Izzy stuff, within reason' or something like that, not necessarily anything, you know, specific or dangerous. But telling people'd be okay too, I just noticed they got all uneasy about answering stuff. Which makes things confusing when I don't know what they're talking about yet." A small pause, and a little smile to them, "And thanks. For my stuff back, but also for teaching me all this stuff."

Dje: Honestly, other than a bboard post, I think a note /would/ be the best way. "Feel free to teach her. We say so. The end." Because the culture of Do Not Teach is strong, lately.
Tim: I am OOCly down with that, then. I was just gonna bboard post.
Tim: BBoard post saying 'word is passed around that' etc.
Tim: But so many people neeeever read them so.
Dje: Oh, sure. I just think you'll have people going, "Oh, really?"
Izzy grins. Both! :D
Tim: (Though Izzy can point them TO the bboard.)
Tim: Either way. Feel free to advocate a note!
Tim: Tim is just paranoid.

Dje regards Tim a moment, then scrawls a small note. (It says, "Feel free to teach Izzy, so long as it does not involve permanent harm. -- Djehuti".) "Word of mouth often does not reach the most relevant people at the time," Djehuti says. A moment later, he adds, "Keep to Edgewood and the Bawn, until we fill you in further, please, on some of our tribal intricacies. Then we will allow you to wander elsewhere, with company."

Dje: (He shows Tim the note, too.)
Izzy: 'What's a bawn' is actually on Izzy's List of Questions I Have Not Gotten To Yet.
Izzy: (Which Tim will be pleased to know is stored mentally. ;))
Dje has disconnected.
Dje has connected.
Dje ahems. I think my net is telling me things.
Izzy: It might be. >_>
Izzy: Sorry for keeping you guys up all night, but thank you, also. :)
Dje is fan of it. So no issues. Do you want a pose-out thing, or is fading OK?
Izzy is okay with fading.

Tim considers the note, then shrugs and seems willing to let it go. "You can scent for the boundaries of the Bawn in your wolf or near-wolf forms, or ask one of the Guardians to show you," he tells Izzy. "The Guardians are Zosia, BJ, August, April, Melodie, Jacinta, and Morgan." He ticks off the names in slow succession, to make it easy to hear them, though chases the list with a yawn. "And now, if you two don't mind, I need to sleep." With that, he shifts to his wolf form and curls up in a convenient corner. Sans clothes, the array of slashes and punctures are easier to see, but thankfully none of them are oozing and they all seem to be healing clean.

Crinos in the face!

3/17/2012, 12:25 AM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

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. The walls 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, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor, 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. A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house.
Contents:
Djehuti
Obvious exits:
Meadow House

Djehuti sets, or you?
Izzy ponders. I'm okay either way. Time of day preference?
Djehuti is good with earlier, if you want. I wasn't on earlier.
Izzy: Earlier sounds good. midnight-30 seems a bit late.
Izzy: Shoot, one sec
Djehuti grins. Yes. *then waits*

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (39% full).

The sounds in the garage are a bit odd, at present, if not particularly loud. Paddity-paddity-paddity-THUMP. Pause. Paddity-paddity-paddity-paddity-paddity... more paddities. THUMP. Since the place is somewhat soundproof, it's not obvious until one's really close, or perhaps even opening a door, and in the latter case the source is fairly clear as well. There's a large jackal running around the place, and periodically leaping at the punching bag or a large pile of pillows and blankets that have been piled in another corner. Thump.

Djehuti peers in the window, and then disappears; soon enough, a door opens up upstairs, and another jackal goes clamber-falling down the ladder, and lights off after Izzy -- He himself clearly is doing it far more in the spirit of play than in anything else, though whether that suits Izzy's mood is another matter entirely.

Izzy's entire demeanour says, appoximately, "!" at suddenly being pursued, and the path gets windier -- which is to say, curvier, not breezier. The cub's pretty fast, and has clearly been practising, no longer tripping over the extra legs while running.

Long-Path is not as fast, at least not anymore; instead, ears splaying happily, he tries to time it so he lunges for her just as she zigs. Or zags. This may well just result in his thudding into the punching bag, of course.

It occurs to the cub that in a small spot, creating a circle could reverse the matter of who's chasing whom... but the idea is thwarted by the elder Strider's wily zag-lunging strategy kicking in just as she tries to implement it, and the pair of them go tumbling. Into the punching bag, so, hey, two for one there.

Long-Path pins the cub just briefly, and gnaws on Izzy's ear. Then he's getting off, nipping at that same ear challengingly, and taking off -- zooming up the ladder and strewing pillows about upstairs.

Izzy gives a tiny yelp at being nipped, and attempts to hop to her feet -- that's been practiced slightly less than the running, and there's a tiny stumble before she can take off after Long-Path. But then, zoom! Mostly zoom. The ladder turns out to be a bit hard to sort out, with the wolf body conflicting with 'how to climb a ladder' in the cub's brain.

A pillow lands on her face as Djehuti frolics. Then he peers down the ladder, now in homid, and says, "Don't think about it, just do it. Or better yet, try it in crinos. More opposable thumbs, but quicker."

Okay. The cub backs up slightly, eyeing the ladder as though considering another go in this form, but the 'better yet' is taken into account, and she goes for shifting up. The balance here's a lot better that it was last time Djehuti saw it, too, and the more bipedal body (plus thumbs) makes ladder climbing far faster and easier. And reaching the top, Izzy makes an attempt to LEAP right off it and tackle Djehuti.

Aaaa! Crinos in the faaace! Djehuti blurs in the space of a moment, melting from homid and into crinos, himself; he rolls with her leap, ending up a number of rolls away, bumping into the wall, underneath the cub. "Ow," he says, English word forced out, gutterally, from crinos throat.

Izzy rolls off, sitting up and looking about as sheepish as a crinos face is able to. The ears and tail seem to have connected with the instinctive wolf bits fairly well, since they're saying the same thing. "Um. Sorry," the cub tries to say, though if it's intelligible at all it's probably only from the cadence.

"S'aright," Djehuti manages in English, and melts (slowly) into glabro. "I invited it." He adds demonstratively, ~Sorry,~ in the Mother Tongue, the words matching with a briefly lupine-apologetic body language.

~S'rry~, Izzy tries to echo, mirroring the body language more accurately, and then tries again, ~...Sorry~. And then there's a pause, the lupine portions of the crinos's body language suggesting that the cub is trying to work something out.

Long-Path grins. "No big deal, honest, I just let my own momentum mash me, more than anything." At her pause, he pauses, and then asks, curiously, "Mm?"

More pause, and then Izzy gets up and moves back somewhat, picking up one of the blankets and wrapping it around like a large, fairly-all-encompassing shawl. And then shifts down far enough to reply, with a very faint blush, "I can't talk that way yet and also all my clothes are in the corner."

Djehuti politely looks away. "I will, therefore, ask you things when they are /not/ in the corner?"

"Um... yeah. That seems like a good plan. Or, um, if you don't mind hanging out down there while I change then you could probably ask me things at the same time, I think?" At least the blanket is more than all-encompassing enough while the cub's in homid. You could probably fit three Izzys under there.

Djehuti admits, "That could work," and spiders over to the ladder. He slides down it, practically, and ends up near the punching bag. He lowers himself down on a pillow and says, "Honestly, I mostly was just wondering what you were thinking."

"...about what?" Izzy asks, disappearing toward the back of the loft area amid various noises of moving about. "I mean, in particular, or just in general? Like, about the Garou stuff, earlier I was thinking I better get good at having four legs, so that's why I was in here. And in general, I was thinking it's been. A really long time since anyone saw my mom, now. And when my birthday comes it'll be more than half a year."

"Well, mostly, when you got that look after you tried apologizing while still in crinos," Djehuti says, finding another pillow as a backrest.

Izzy gives a very small laugh. "Oh. Um. I was thinking, 'oh man that's the only thing I know how to say in this form, but if I go back to normal all my clothes are over there,' and trying to figure out what to do about it. 'cause I couldn't even explain the problem that way, you know."

Djehuti laughs, a rather longer laugh than his normal brief gout of it. "Ah. OK. Sorry, I just--" He stops. "Anyway." Then something visibly occurs to him. "Oh." He gets her phone out. "No voice mails as far as I know, but I came over because it may need charging?"

"What did you just?" the cub asks, still not yet visible. "Oh! Yes please. It only takes a couple hours, and I don't want it to run out of juice. ...I don't know what I'm supposed to do now though. I mean, when I do get a call. I kinda just assumed I'd follow the trail until I found her, or my cash ran out, except I was basically figuring I'd find her first. Only, I don't think you guys are going to let me just run off." A small pause, and slightly quieter but still audible, "...and also if she's a werewolf too, then I kind of have to wonder. What kinda thing would stop her from checking in with anyone."

"That, I will admit, has been my concern since I heard she had not checked in," Djehuti (redundantly) admits. "But the email chain runs slow, so I won't get worried on my end for a few weeks. For all I know, she was required urgently in the Umbra, where time can often do odd things." He puts the phone to the side, and repositions his back pillow. "The process to learning enough to go on a Rite of Passage -- that is, your passage to adulthood -- takes some months. It can be as little as one, and as many as... However long it takes. I advocate, and suspect my elders will require, your passing it before you are able to go in search of her. So what you are supposed to do is to learn, I suppose." And then, after a brief quizzical look at his feet, he says, "Oh. Yes. I had just been assuming you had a specific question for me, up there, since you are very good at specific questions. That's all."

Silence for a couple seconds, and then, "...so sometimes going in the Umbra, you get accidental time travel? Like you aim to go for five minutes and it's twelve years later when you make it back? And I do have a whole bunch of specific questions for you, just... I wasn't thinking about any of them right that minute. But I think I have about," another pause, in which Izzy is presumably counting or at least estimating, since the sentence finishes, "twenty-ish? Or maybe twenty-five?"

From afar, Djehuti snerks.
Long distance to Djehuti: Izzy grins.

"Yep," Djehuti says. "I have never heard of someone coming out before they left. But just because I have not heard of it, does not mean it does not exist. But I doubt it, basically. The Umbra that we initially go to, that is just," he gestures, somewhat uselessly since she's still upstairs, "Around here, that does not usually do that. It's the further away realms, generally, that do." At her estimate, he gets a very careful smile on his face. "Ah," he says, a great good humor in his voice. "Care to ask a few of them?"

Izzy is probably at least a little disappointed about the never-before-you-left part, but it's hard to tell from down there. "Yes, please. There was a whole bunch of stuff last night that I didn't know what was going on and I prolly should ask about it before I forget, for starters. So, um. Okay, the lady last night, who said her name was April Rains. She had a weird thing with her, it was like... dog ears on a string? Do you know what that was?"

"I have no idea," Djehuti says freely. "I'm assuming from what she was saying when we got out there that she's making them into talens for some reason, but it's possible it's a fetish. Which are," he adds, glancing upwards with a grin even though he can't see her, "A one time magical item that has specific powers, and a permanent magical item that has specific powers, respectively."

"So like... the Doctor's sonic screwdriver and psychic paper would be fetishes? And... um... I can't really think of things that'd be talens. Oh, no wait, like the mushroom from Alice in Wonderland. Okay." A slight pause. "...and we can make them? Does that mean I could =have= a sonic screwdriver? Because that would be really amazingly awesome." Izzy seems satisfied with that answer as far as the ear-thing goes, at least, moving on to, "Okay, and she said she was of the Black Furies, and then you pretty much all said you were children of things, and I got the rank and auspice parts of those introductions, but most of the other parts were confusing."

"It takes some years of effort to make a fetish, and most of those who make them are theurges, but that does not mean it could not be one of the foci of your life, if you decided to turn it in that direction," Djehuti says. "And I expect that you could, at least in its essential use. Were you to do that. And there are fetishes that can be rediscovered in the hands of the Wyrm, and in other places. Inherited. So it is not /only/ a matter of making them." He sluffs his pack off, and rummages in it as he speaks. "Hm. The Black Furies are, obviously, one of the thirteen tribes. They are primarily women -- feminists -- and primarily of Greek origin. The Amazons." Then he stops to think. "I said I was a child of Owl, as Owl is one of our Tribal Totems, and I tend to use that in introductions, at times, when I want to be oblique yet relevant. He -- Sergei -- followed my lead. Grandfather Thunder is the patron of the Shadow Lords. They are primarily of Eastern European origin. I could not tell you all of what Owen's introduction portends, but suffice to say, his lineage is important to him, as are his deeds. But I suspect you have more specific questions along those lines?"

Izzy actually makes a slightly disappointed noise about the 'years of effort' part. "Well, that mostly covers the ones about who Grandfather Thunder is and... and some of the stuff you translated for me for Mr. Owen's. But yeah, I was wondering about the Grandmother Tree thing and if she's related to Grandfather Thunder, and... well I think I worked out the pack things, there's one called Heartwood that Miss Rains is in and one called Equinox that has Mr. Balic's relative on their territory. Which he can't go to without their permission because of the third law. Oh, okay, that reminds me, what did Mr. Owen mean about a name being dead?"

"Ah!" Djehuti snaps his finger. "Sorry. Packs, I believe I mentioned, gather under the auspices of a Totem. I did not mention that these Totems lend powers to the Garou who pack under them, and give them a... philosophy of their own. A pack that works under the Totem of Raccoon is very different from one that packs under Grandmother Tree, who is wise, slow, and has provenance over forests, unsurprisingly. April is, indeed, in Heartwood, with four other people. I think four. Some number. Grandmother Tree is not the patron of a Garou tribe, however, as Grandfather Thunder is." He stops to think. (He's downstairs, sitting against the wall near the punching bag. Izzy is upstairs, doing other things.) "Equinox is the pack Tim is part of. It works under Dragonfly. As for Andrei's old name being dead -- he underwent a Rite that is called Break With The Past, to change his name of the heart; he did this in part to try and hide from our tracking methods, and in part to signify that he wished to change his old life, and become a new and better person."

Val: So, Izzy was saying it's eveningish IC?
Djehuti forgot that part. Yes! We started as, not quite sunset, I think.

After a quick scan of Edgewood grounds, Val alights near the woods and shifts up in to the form of her birth. She walks around the building, peeking in windows, before heading up to the front door and letting herself inside. She pokes about, finds no-one, then goes back outside to check out the garage. Opening the door to the adjoining building and poking her head inside. "Hello?"

Izzy is indeed up in the loft, currently being Not Visible to anyone below! Anyone above, however, would note that the cub appears to be finishing off getting dressed. "Does everyone join a pack? Are you in one?" The questioning breaks off at the sound of the door, though, and the cub comes over to the edge of the loft to peer down.

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 consists of a light blue button-down shirt tucked loosely into old but presentable jeans, accessorized with aged black high-top converse, navy suspenders, and a navy bow tie with little silver polkadots. There's an unbuttoned cardigan over top, dark grey and oversized enough to need pushing up at the wrists, and when it's cold enough an ankle-length tan wool coat is added to the outfit, along 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.

Val
A woman in her late twenties to early thirties, Val is whip-thin, with a an angular face, prominent nose, pale skin, and jet black hair is cropped rather short. The woman stands just under five feet tall, which accentuates how thin she is. Val smiles a lot, a cheerfulness that is hard to ignore and is almost contagious in nature.
Currently, the small woman is wearing a pair of black jeans and a white long sleeved shirt, with the image of a tree on it. The tree lacks leaves and a number of stylized bird silhouettes sit amongst the bare branches. A miniature leather backpack sits in the middle of her back, held in place by straps across her shoulders. Around her neck she wears a thick silver torc, and continuing with the silver theme, several rings adorn the fingers of her her hands.
As protection against the chill weather, she currently wears a heavy black leather jacket. Her head and fingers are protected from the cold by bright, rainbow colored woolens.

"Not everyone, though it's considered mildly peculiar not to, since we are, in general, a sociable ra--" And then Val pokes in. "Hello, ma'am," Djehuti says, rising to his feet smoothly. "Can I help you?" Quite polite.

Val pages: The braid is gone. Used to go down past her butt. The way the hat is sitting, it looks like she doesn't have much in the way of hair left.
You paged Val with 'Ooh.'.

Another figure begins to make her way towards the garage, this time coming in from the wooded area. A hoodie is pulled down on Quiet's features as she hugs it to herself, trying her best to fight off the cold. Sounds from the garage snags her interest and the Ahroun begins to make her way towards it curiously and suspiciously.

Val smiles at Djehuti, but her body language radiates a rather high strung nervousness. "Hi," she repeats. "My name is Val. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm just trying to make the rounds and talk to people about some things, particularly with recent events and..." And that is when the woman catches sight of Izzy and her jaw hangs open for a moment. "What are /you/ doing out here?" She asks Izzy. "Does Nick know you're out here? Oh. Gah. Where did you say he'd tracked your mom too again?"

Izzy's brow furrows at the new arrival. "...Detective, um, Konstantopilous? I. Um. Hello again. And no, I haven't heard from him again since he had to go away. Is he back yet? He said, Montana. Last time I heard." The kid climbs fairly swiftly down the ladder, and pauses there. "...did you cut your hair?" Because that is clearly of import at this time!

Djehuti blinks, once or twice. Though he casts a wary -- and possibly offended -- look at Val's silver, he does unbend enough to admit, "Andrei did in fact mention your existence," before he stops to watch Val and Izzy interact, eyebrows bobbing up in confusion. His main question seems to be, "Nick... Dalton?" in a vaguely skeptical voice.

Quiet: Is the garage door open?
Izzy doesn't think so -- well, the one Val poked her head through might be? It's cold in here if they're left open, though. :)
Quiet: Good point XD
Djehuti re-reads the desc. The bigger garage doors don't work as doors anymore. I don't think Val specified if she closed the smaller door again or not.

Leaning against the garage door, Quiet confirms the sounds of voices within. With a grunt she makes her way to the front door, through the living room and towards the garage. Slowly and quietly she approaches Val's back, looming over her like something that looms very well.

"Yea, that's him!" Val says cheerfully. "And no, the hair was an accident, I..." And then the looming happens. One moment there is a woman and the next, there is a raven and it's not sticking anywhere close to the ground. Memory flies straight up, while voicing a slightly panicked kek kek kek sound.

Quiet
The girl can't be more than eighteen years old and stands tall at five foot seven. She is built like an athlete with a body that will always be more fleshy than lanky while maintaining agility and strength. Her skin is naturally pale and creates a striking contrast against her black hair. Usually cut in long layers with bangs that hang low over her almond-shaped brown eyes, her hair has since outgrown the cut. Now it brushes well past her shoulder blades and her bangs easily drape half way down her nose when not pushed away. Her face is heart-shaped with sharp cheekbones and a straight button nose set above her expressive lips. Overall her feature have a bit of a Baltic touch.
She is wearing a very old black tanktop that barely reaches her mangy grey, baggy cargo pants. The pockets of her pants appear to be full and heavy, weighing them down. Black, clomping and heavily scuffed labor boots adorn her feet. Her only accessory is are silver ear cuffs on both her ears, similar to the one Riot used to wear.
She has a scar on the curve of her left shoulder. It looks like an animal bite that's a few years old by now.

Izzy 's jaw drops open at the sudden change, gaze following the raven's flight and then looking over to Djehuti, as though expecting him to have all the answers to this latest turn of events.

Djehuti rubs the bridge of his nose. "There are, in addition to the wolves, raven, cat, bear, spider, rat, fox, coyote, and other shifters," he says pre-emptively, in the direction of Izzy's open mouthed astonishment. "She is, obviously, a raven shifter." Then he says plaintively to Quiet, "Ma'am, could you stop being scary? Despite the silver, ravens -- Corax -- are all about information, and I think probably it would be useful to find out what she wanted to tell us. Also," he adds, after a moment, "Have you a name?"

As Val shifts to raven form, Quiet is just as surprised as Izzy. While she doesn't look as confused she just seems astonished that a Corax is in the midst. At Djehuti's words Quiet snaps her eyes away from the keking raven back to Silent Strider Fostern. "Quiet, 'The Cold Wrath of Thunder'. Shadow Lord Ahroun Fostern. Yours?" she returns gruffly before glancing up towards Izzy, showing she is quite aware that there is someone else up there.

Izzy is actually not up anymore -- came down the ladder, is standing by the base of it. :)
Quiet: Osnap! Ahrm. towards the 'descending Izzy'. There XD

Memory finds a perch somewhere in the upper part of the building, turns around and starts squawking out what can only be assumed are obscenities. Or, at the very least, she doesn't sound all that happy.

Izzy watches the Corax a bit more, giving her a rather apologetic look since the raven seems... well... annoyed. Let's go with annoyed. The introduction gets some of the cub's attention, however, and a quiet question toward Djehuti: "...so, the same as Mr. Balic was? Except one rank more. Right?"

Djehuti nods to Izzy. "Correct. One rank more and," he adds, deadpan save for the glint of humor in his eyes, "Female. And now you will introduce yourself?" To Quiet, he inclines his head. "Djehuti Mesu-Ma'at, or Derek Ramsey if the pronunciation is difficult. Among the Garou, I am known as Wisdom's Long And Twisting Path, or the Son of the Ibis. I am Silent Strider, and Philodox, and Gaia and I have a mild disagreement over whether I am cliath, or Fostern. Well met." He glances up at Val, then down at Quiet. "D'you promise not to eat her?" he asks, a touch of amusement showing in his eyes, though well buried in his voice.

Memory seems to have gotten over her initial fright and she eyeballs the Garou beneath her, before hading back down to the ground. She keeps well away from the Garou, even as she shifts back in to her birth form. "Don't bloody do /that/ to me," she complains, taking off her hat and rubbing at her head. The woman is sporting a haircut that comes rather close to a full shave. "I've had enough surprises lately."

"I already ate," is Quiet's deadpan answer as she eyes the Corax briefly before quirking her eyebrows at Izzy's question and Djehuti's answer. It is rather obvious she isn't sure who Mr. Balic is, but the mention of her feminity causes the Ahroun to narrow her eyes grouchily at Djehuti. "Well met," she offers gruffly. As Memory comes down and shifts back to human, Quiet's gruff exterior melts into one of amusement. "Introduce yourself then, Corax. And you cub."

"Oh! Yes. Um." The cub looks to Quiet, takes a breath, and tries, "...Um. Hi. I'm Izzy Sparks, and I don't have any other names, but I'm, I'm a Silent Strider and a Philodox. And a cub, only you worked that part out already. Hello. Nice to meet you."

"Well, it matters. In that Sergei -- Mr. Balic -- is in many ways not like you, but he is ahroun and Shadow Lord." Djehuti shrugs, and doesn't seem to have meant it in a 'girls are silly' kind of way. "In any case. Sorry about that, Val. What was it you wanted to mention?"

Val runs her hand to where her braid used to be, pulls a face, then lets her hand drop. "Val. Just Val is fine for me. Look, I really just swung by to make certain that everyone has heard about the Evil Wolves in the area and that the Plasticorp Fomor is on the move. I did try warning people about that damn thing awhile back," Val says, sounding more than a little flustered. "It's running around pretending to be other people and it can mind-fuck you in highly unpleasant ways."

"Not many Cliaths don't know about the Fera and they know to introduce themselves." Quiet returns towards Izzy before pressing her lips into a thin line. She snaps to attention at Val's mention of bad wolves and fomor. "What?" she growls, stiffening already. "Is anyone looking into this?"

"The evil wolves -- that is, Izzy, Black Spiral Dancers, of which ask me later -- are part of the trouble in your tribe, actually, Quiet. We've recently killed bane connected to the issue, and I believe there will be a scouting party to seek for Gerik-ikthya, the source of the trouble. Ky is his nephew and he wants him back, you see. However, Val--" He looks at her with sudden intense interest-- "Do you know how to /find/ these other Dancers? We seem not to be having luck on that front. As for the other--" He looks back to Quiet. "I do not know, with regards the other. It may have to do with the fox shifter who is in the area?"

The flustered thing is apparently going around somewhat. "I did't... I wasn't saying you SHOULDN'T have figured it out or anything. Just that you already knew that..." Izzy moves further toward where Djehuti's ended up standing, and after a breath adds, "...and I didn't want to introduce myself until I knew for sure it was okay to, because what if I introduced myself to someone I shouldn't? Or even just when I shouldn't." The elder Strider's aside gets a silent nod.

Val rubs at the top of her head again, then crams her hat on. "Damn. I miss having hair," she complains. "I'm not certain how to find Gerik, or Dancers, but I might be able to draw them out with a show. I can mimic voices very well and I could pretend to be one of the two that they are hunting, or something. That combined with some sort of scent trail for them to follow might work? The fox-shifter, Rajani, is gone. She's probably dead, unless the Fomor has her stashed somewhere to try and pump her for more information. THe Fomor has been running around and pretending to be her. It seemed injured when I found out what it was... But it got away. I've been trying to warn people."

A grunt escapes from Quiet at the mention of her tribe being associated with the Black Spiral Dancers. "I have heard of that. I will need to speak to Andrei and Ky soon once I have permission to enter Equinox's land." Izzy's flustered words gets a look from Quiet, a narrowed look that just screams 'calm the fuck down and get over it'. Her glance doesn't last long however as Val easily distracts her with more information. "Mimic voices? Yes, a trap would be ideal. Ambush them and take them down, one by one..." She trails off, musing at the thought. The mention of a dead Kitsune doesn't seem to garner much sympathy from the Shadow Lord, she just tilts her head curiously in thought. "And now it knows that we know what it is?"

Djehuti makes a connection he had evidently not made before. "Oh. I'm-- Sorry to hear that. I didn't know her well, but..." He trails off, as he listens further. "That," he says, "Would be a /marvelous/ thing, yes. To help the hunt for those aiding Gerik."

Izzy's jaw and shoulders tighten at that look, and for just a fleeting moment it gets returned -- and then the cub's chin lifts slightly, gaze redirecting a couple feet to Quiet's right, expression going rather deliberately blank.

Val sighs. "It's known that it was poked at awhile back... I was digging around the place and it noticed me. It likes to get in to your head." The woman trails off, scowling. "I tried asking a stormcrow I knew to hunt down Gerik for me awhile back. It went badly. Gerik captured the spirit and gave it to the Hunter Bane as a chew toy. They squeezed the spirit for info, then started playing games with me. Leaving me little happy-fun surprises in the place where I was staying and at my work. I was able to figure out what was going on eventually and I pulled a fast-one on the Hunter Bane and rescued the Stormcrow from it. Not that the fellow is going to be himself again, any time soon."

At Izzy's returned look, Quiet fixes her eyes back on the cub and tenses in a warning look - however when Izzy blanks her stare and lifts her chin, the Ahroun seems to accept that well enough as she returns her focus on what is being discussed. She scowls at the mention of what Gerik did to the stormcrow. Quiet digs into her pocket to pull out a very beaten up pack of cigarettes, pulling one out before offering the pack to all, including Izzy. "And Stormcrow of course has no recollection of where it was held, or if it was held somewhere of importance. You say he wants Ky? The nephew?"

Djehuti watches Izzy and Quiet carefully, until Izzy looks away, at which point he smiles minutely -- perhaps a bit wryly -- and looks back to Val, listening to her. "No thank you," he murmurs to Quiet's offer. "And yes, he seems to. We already used him once as bait, for the hunter-bane."

Izzy relaxes faintly after a few more sentences passed among the grown-ups, and settles into just listening to the discussion, apparently paying fairly close attention. The offer of cigarettes gets a soft, "No thank you, ma'am," but the cub is otherwise silent.

Val grins. "Well, the one upswing in the whole business, is that good Ol' Thunder seems to be mightily pissed about the whole thing. Judging by the big Umbral storm that showed up when some folks had a chat with some of his Stormcrows. Not that I can blame him, really. He has one of his turn to the Wyrm and cause and entire Caern to fall. Then Gerik goes and sends this massive Bane after the few Shadow Lords that survive the slaughter and then, to cap it all off, the guy grabs one of Thunder's crows and tortures the guy for shits and giggles. I'd be pissed off as well. Anyway. Have someone call me, if you want me to play at being the kid. I can get away easier than he can."

The mention of a pissed Grandfather Thunder forces Quiet to tense up considerably. "He also walked out of a Caern in Philadelphia a few years ago." Nope, not a happy spirit at all. "It would explain things..." Quiet murmurs, more to herself than anyone. She pulls out a cigarette and places it between her lips, tapping her pockets to find a lighter. "I will, Val. Your help is noted." And appreciated, though that bit is more implied rather than said. Her eyes then flick to Djehuti and Izzy, watching them both curiously. "The bait did not work then..."

Djehuti narrows his eyes, as if trying to remember something. "...Iron Well?" he hazards, at Quiet. Then he shakes his head, grimly. "Oh. It did work. It is how we killed the hunter and his hounds, and removed its spirit from Gaia's lands."

Izzy continues listening quietly, and shifts position just slightly -- hands clasped behind the back, stance well-balanced as if suspecting the standing might be going on for rather a while, at this point.

"But there are still some Evil wolves out there, that Gerik sent for the kid," Val elaborates. "Anyway, I should get going. It's late and I want to get home before the big owls make an appearance. I tend to look like a snack to them, when I'm on the wing."

Quiet bobs her head to show that she is listening rather intently. "But we still have Gerik to deal with. I will speak to Andrei and Ky soon." As Val announces her departure, the Garou lets out a grunt as she peers at the garage door, as if expecting to see the time on it. "Understood. I will be leaving soon as well." She then shakes her head at Djehuti, "Thunderous Creek. The Gaians have taken over and Salmon is their current totem." Her left eye twitches at that but thankfully the Ahroun keeps her mouth shut about her thoughts on that matter.

Djehuti inclines his head to Val. "Farewell. I suspect I'll see you around." Then he raises an eyebrow. "I see. ...Curious change," he eventually says, a little as if he doesn't actually want to comment on it but it would be impolite not to. (Since he brought it up in the first place.)

"It was nice seeing you again, ma'am," Izzy tells Val, adding with notable sympathy, "and I'm sorry about your hair. I mean, it looks nice this way too, but. Since it was an accident and all." The woman gets a small smile, and that would seem to be it -- except that the cub suddenly adds, "Oh! And um. If Mr. Dalton is back would you please tell him hello, and I haven't got any other leads in the meantime?"

Val grins rather mischievously and nods. "Oh, I'll talk with him for you and let you know if anything comes up," she promises. "Bye." That said, the smallish woman lets herself out of the building and in to the cold night air. The door closes behind her, allowing some of the warmth to stay inside.

Slowly Quiet pushes away from the wall as well, placing the unlit cigarette between her lips. "I will leave you two to finish your tribal business. I must seek out Equinox." With that she gives both of them a curt nod before making her way as well, following the raven girl towards the door.

Djehuti inclines his head to Quiet. "Walk well with Gaia."

"Good night," Izzy adds to that, nodding back -- albeit probably less curtly.

Djehuti sighs, as he watches the door. Eventually, he asks Izzy, "Dinner?"

Izzy considers that, and then nods. "Yes, please. I can still ask you more stuff while we eat, right? Or do you need a break?"

"You may ask me stuff while I am exploring the Marianas Trench," Djehuti says. "Dinner is no problem, I assure you."