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.

Meeting Flint (and Jacey... and Aaron...)

3/17/2012, 07:00 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:
Flint
Obvious exits:
Meadow House

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.

Flint
Flint stands just shy of five and a half feet tall, still slight of frame and build. Black, partially untamed hair hangs past his ears in need of a haircut, framing a slender, fine-boned face and equally dark eyes. Much of the time, his hair is pulled back with a simple tie, leaving only the occasional strand loose to fall in his face. His fair skin is freckled across his face and arms, though not discernibly tanned.
His clothing, visibly secondhand or hand-me-down, hangs loose on his gangly frame. Most often, Flint is found in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, or other similarly loose items.

Early enough that it's still pretty dark inside, but thanks to the miracle of electricity, the inside of the garage is merely insufficiently light. A mere matter of letting the eyes adjust! Down on the first floor of the garage, with coat, scarf, cardigan, and satchel all set in a reasonably neat pile several feet away, Izzy is currently having an altercation with the punching bag. It would probably be more accurate to call it a striking-and-kicking bag, at present.

The door from the meadow shakes a little bit, a scrabble of paws and then a thunk as someone regains his footing. The door opens to admit a slight teenaged boy pulling a jacket around himself against the chill from outdoors, and when the door's shut behind him, Flint rubs his hands together slightly, looking over to watch Izzy but not interrupt.

Izzy glances toward the sound at the door, tensing slightly, but when it opens and doesn't admit anyone or thing that looks immediately threatening, the cub relaxes a bit again, calling over fairly cheerfully, "Morning!"

Flint yawns widely. "G'morning..." Flint calls out, brow furrowing to watch Izzy, trying to sift through his memory to see if he recognises her. And to no avail, the Glass Walker just stares for a moment, then shrugs almost to himself. 'I will, I will,' he mutters as he pulls off his jacket. "Flint, called Requiem. Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children by deed, cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers." Pause, and the low tones return, addressing ... well, certainly not talking to Izzy. 'See, happy now?'

"Oh, um. Izzy Sparks, not called anything else yet. Silent Strider and Philodox cub. Nice to meet you, Mr. Flint." Izzy has both hands on the punching bag at present, steadying it from the previous impacts that had set it swinging, and watching Flint curiously. "...who are you talking to? I mean, aside from me."

Flint grimaces a little at the more formal tone of address. "Just Flint is. Will be fine, as long as there's none else around. I don' do formality too much," the teen says, pulling off the black beanie and running a hand through hair that reaches nearly to his shoulders, and then moving over to find somewhere not too far from Izzy to sit. "Myself. Well. Not quite myself, but... It's. It's a bad habit."

Izzy hesitates, curiosity clear, but that =was= a fairly clear suggestion that Flint doesn't care to go into it further. "...okay. Glass Walkers is one of the other tribes, right? I only know about a few of them so far." The cub releases the bag and moves slightly back, starting in to attack it again, but with some attention still on the other garou.

Flint draws a knee up to his chest and rests his head on hit, half-watching Izzy. "Really," he tells the cub with a grin. "It's. Ask your elders about. Ask what happens when some Garou have-- they have a connection to their ancestors sometimes." This seems to be the most explanation that the Galliard cares to offer. "But I'm not s'posed to talk back aloud. Except, when I'm tired I do anyway." Shrug, and then he nods to her question. "Yes. The Glass Walkers are Cockroach's tribe," is offered with a wry smile. "We're what a lot of Garou call, they. What a lot call Urrah. Because, we live in the city, and we like the city."

"Okay, I will," Izzy answers, and almost certainly =will= ask, too. Something about the tone makes that clear -- like there's mental note-taking going on. There's a bit of a pause before the cub says, "...is that a neutral thing or a bad thing to call someone? Urrah? And does that mean the rest of us don't live in the city? 'cause it seems like there'd be kind of a lot of Dwelling and Breeding going on there if most of us wouldn't go near it."

A moment passes in pause and thought. "It depends, as far as. Whether if it's a good thing or not. A lot of tribes, they'll use Urrah as an insult towards us--the Glass Walkers--and the Bone Gnawers. The Bone Gnawers are, they're the other city tribe." The Galliard speaks with pauses and moments of hesitation, but so far, those seem to be normal for the teen. Flint watches Izzy, carefully, then continues. "A lot of the tribes prefer not to. Not to live in the city. It can be hard, because, humans--regular people--can feel Rage, and it. It makes them uncomfortable around us. Especially Ahrouns, and often. Often Galliards and Philodox too." Flint wrinkles his nose a moment, then shrugs.

Izzy considers that quietly, or at least as quietly as one can while still practising strikes on a punching bag. "...can they feel it before we change, too? 'cause I thought it was just a junior high thing that a lot of people I knew didn't really want to hang around me anymore, but maybe it was that. If they can, I mean." A good, strong kick to the side of the bag, fairly high, and the cub steps slightly away from the thing, with a small, satisfied nod. "Um. When you say it depends though, is that like you take in account how someone's saying it, or more like if you're a city werewolf you can say it but if you're a country one you prolly shouldn't?"

Flint gives the cub another looking over, and this time, Flint's expression has both understanding and sympathy. "Something like that," he says. "I. I got kicked out of class a lot, when I even went to school. Or I got ignored, and I. I got in fights, got sent to the office but the office didn't. They didn't want me sitting around, either. And I thought people were just, you know. Stupid. But it was the feeling Rage thing, too. When. When I first met Kavi-rhya, I was pretty surprised that he even talked to me, an' was nice to me, before they explained th' whole Garou thing." A nod. "Yes, pretty much. That. I mean, I'm okay saying I'm Urrah, because-- because I am. I miss the city, being away from it, the city's home for me. But I don't like being called Urrah scum very much." Which implies that it's happened a time or two.

Headtilt. "...I think pretty much once someone puts scum on the end of a thing no one wants them calling them it," Izzy muses. "I mean. 'Genius scum' or 'millionaire scum' or, um... 'chief justice scum'... 'rockstar scum'..." A headshake, and the cub comes over to take a seat in chatting distance of the other teen. "I didn't get in a lot of fights, I mostly just got ignored. Which is prolly better, all in all." Quiet a moment. "I liked the city okay. It's really big, though."

Flint grins faintly, but it's a distinctly tired expression. "Yeah. I. Really didn't like getting into fights much. But. It happened wh-- whether I wanted to or not. And I was lucky," Flint adds, too. "I was lucky, none of the fights I got in ever pushed it too far and I. I had a kinfetch."

Izzy winces faintly at the idea of one of those fights going 'too far'. "...yeah. That would've been, um. Awkward? Difficult to explain for sure. I had a kinfetch too, and when I changed I couldn't even stand up, but Mr. Mesu-Ma'at had to hit me in the back of the head until I passed out to get me to stop trying to attack Alexandra =anyway=. So that'd. Prolly not go down really well at school. All in all."

Flint nods. "Yeah. It woulda been a lot more to deal with. It happens, sometimes, but. Yeah." Flint purses his lips, shrugs, and draws both knees to his chest, arms linking around in front. "I. For me, Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya and Devon took me down to the basement. And then it didn't take much prodding before I changed. And well, Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya were. They were ready, and expecting it, and all." A grin, and a twinge of... yep, homesickness again, as both of Flint's elders are spoken of fairly fondly.

"I don't think I've met any of them yet," Izzy says. "...well, I guess that's kinda obvious, actually, or else I'd prolly have heard about Glass Walkers already. But, yeah. Why do they have names that end in rhya? I think I've heard of a couple other people with that, too. Is it just coincidence or does it mean something? And, um. For mine I'd been having kind of a bad day, and we'd just gotten here and Mr. Mesu-Ma'at asked Alexandra to show me crinos and lupus, and I kind of freaked out a little. So I think he was kinda expecting it too."

Once more, Flint nods. "I'd been. I was having a bad day too," he tells Izzy. "And, well. -rhya is. It's a title of sorts, it's not a name. It means that someone's above you in rank. Like, that I'm a cliath, and you're a cub," the explanation continues, "except please /don't/, jus' like I asked you, not to. Not to call me mister." The Galliard grins at the other teen, sticking his tongue out for a moment. "At least, not while there's no need for formality. Kavi and Mouse-- they're my elders, and so."

Izzy nods at that, grinning back a bit. "Okay. So I would call you Flint-rhya, except of course that you asked me not to so I won't. ...I like that, I think. Have you been a cliath for a long time? 'cause you don't look that much older than I am. Um. If you don't mind me saying so. But I think Alexandra's younger than I am, and she was a cub before I was..."

"I've only been cliath for," and Flint pauses, pulling one hand to count on fingers. Yep, it hasn't been long at all. "Just over a week and a bit. I'm fourteen, and I. I don't mind. And yeah, Lex is younger." There is a grin at the mention of the Shadow Lord cub. "I. I only found out about. You know, the whole Garou thing, in the end of December." And then Flint peers at Izzy, almost expectantly. After all, she brought up chronological age, so.

Izzy laughs. "You levelled up a few days before I changed, then. And I'm 14 too. Until April 14th, anyway. I didn't really know about the Garou thing until a week ago. There's a whole lot of stuff to learn for it, you know? ...how long did it take you to learn Mother's Tongue? I feel like that's going to take a while. The only thing I can say so far is 'sorry'."

Flint pulls his fingers through his hair and eventually comes up with a hairtie out of his jacket, easily and quickly pulling -most- of his hair back and out of his face. "There is a lot. I. A few things, are easier for me. Because I have the, the connection to my ancestors," the cliath explains, "but that's not over-common, and. But it made learning Mother's Tongue a. A little easier. And I'm a Galliard, and talking. It's part of-- talking and telling stories is a part of what Galliards do, and languages aren't hard for me to begin with." Though maybe speaking gets to be.

"I wouldn't mind having some kind of connection to my ancestors," Izzy says, a touch wistfully. "I never even met my grandparents, and I'm pretty sure you have to go at least that far back to count. So... do you tell a lot of stories, then? What about?"

Flint offers a sympathetic glance, and nods. "I don't even know a whole. A whole side of my family, myself," he says. "My dad was-- he was Garou, we think? And my mom's normal, and she couldn' deal with it, and neither could. He couldn't either, or he died, or somethin', and. He was gone before I can remember, I don' even know his name. It's not. It's not on my birth certificate, or." He forces a shrug. "And my mom up and left, and her parents. They're human--normal human--too."

Izzy returns the sympathetic glance. "That must've been really hard. I mean, with them all being normal. I mean, it's one thing for kids at school to have trouble dealing with you, but... yeah." A pause, and then a little quieter, "My mom's Garou, Mr. Mesu-Ma'at says. She wasn't ever around much, and now she's missing. That's how I ended up here, the last postcard we got from her was from here, back in October. He thinks my dad was kin, too. He." The cub looks down, examining hands that are perfectly clean but apparently MIGHT have dirt on them and this must be checked just in case. "He died in November. Dad, I mean. Um. Sorry, I know that's kind of awkward. Anyway. I kind of... I dunno, I think this whole Garou thing is maybe sort of like what having cousins would be like. Like, you don't necessarily all like each other all that much, but it's still kinda...um. I dunno how to say it. Prolly a good thing I'm not a Galliard." Tiny half-smile.

There's a reassuring smile for the cub from Flint. "It's okay," he says, quietly. "And yeah. It. It can be. Your tribe... they're your family now, just as much." His tone by itself indicates just how strong the belief from which he says that is. "Even if you don't, if you don't necessarily get along with them. And. And Wisdom's Path-rhya and Tim-rhya are both good people from what I've seen. And so is Sera-rhya."

"Mr. Mesu-Ma'at is awesome," Izzy says, with what sounds like entirely genuine admiration. "He answers all my questions and hasn't gotten annoyed with them once, yet. And keeps coming back and teaching me basically every day. And I only met Mr. Tim once so far, but he was cool too. He showed me this thing he can do where he just disappears. Which is pretty impressive. I don't think I met Ms. Sera yet." A pause, brow furrowing. "Unless... I mean it's not that unusual a name but I did meet one, briefly. At Garcia's. She was, um. About my height and around my skin colour and really skinny, and she had a cowboy hat over her hair, so I dunno what that looked like. And sunglasses, so I dunno about her eyes either. Which I guess isn't really much of a description, come to think of it."

Flint grins. "That'd be Sera," Flint muses. "I'm sure. I'm sure you'll meet her again soon, or. She's around Edgewood a lot." The Glass Walker leans back on his hands, relaxing somewhat. "The disappearing thing is cool. It's. It's a Ragabash gift. Has... has Wisdom's Path-rhya taught you much, about the auspices yet?" There's a slightly unidentifiable twist of expression, Flint going distant and shaking his head to himself for a moment.

Izzy considers. "Well. It's kind of hard to say 'cause I don't know how much I don't know yet. But he told me there's five auspices, and their names and moons and the kind of stuff they mostly do. And yeah, they told me that was a Ragabash gift, but apparently also it's from Owl, too, so he can teach it to us. Well, not to me for a long time, I think. But eventually. That would be pretty cool. And Mr. Mesu-Ma'at can do one that tells him if someone's telling the truth or not, which he said I can learn later. And I know there's one for sensing whether something's Wyrm or not, too, but that's all the gifts I know about so far."

Flint nods several times. "The truth-telling gift is. It's a gift of your auspice," the Galliard says with a smile. "I. I have a Gift that lets me hear things that've been said in a room before, if. If it's empty while I try." The Glass Walker grins. "And, that's a good start," he adds, to what the cub knows or does not know. "There's a lot more, but that's a. It's a real good start."

"So you can kinda eavesdrop in retrospect? That's pretty neat." Izzy pauses. "Don't you kinda get tempted to try it every time you're in an empty room, just to see what was going on before?" The cub's sitting near Flint down on the first floor of the garage, chatting -- the coat, cardigan, scarf, and satchel are currently in a neat pile nearby. "...and thanks. I'm trying to learn everything, but there's so much stuff I end up having to keep a whole mental list of questions I haven't got to yet."

The Glass Walker grins at the first question. "A little. It. Especially since I just learned how to recently. But then there are times where I. Where it's something I actually /need/ to be able to do, I try not to do so. For no reason, if. Does that make sense?" A pause from Flint after he asks the question. "Plus, it's not really quite so easy, sometimes. It takes concentration and effort if. If I want to hear what I'm looking for."

Jacey
Still just a child, yet Jacey has grown to a couple inches shy of an even five feet. Still she retains a lanky look, almost atheletic in its build. There is toned muscle lining her frame, but a youthful skinniness belies the strength those muscles show.
She's a cute kid, despite some recent scarring, with short strawberry blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a smattering of freckles across both cheeks. There is still the half inch thick line that runs along the left side of her neck from the hairline in back to the collar in front. Newer still is a trio of thin white lines that start at the top of her right cheekbone and end at her lips. This addition doesn't seem to detract from her appearance much.
Jace is usually seen wearing jeans, most often overalls and T-shirts, and occasionally a jacket in cooler weather, all of which are noteably newer and cleaner than she'd previously been seen in. No more does the outdoors cling to her clothing or shoes as it once did, though evidence of her woodsy hauntings can be seen in minorly worn out knees and frayed cuffs.

The barn door opens slowly, spilling some of the weak light from outside onto the garage floor. It's barely wide enough for someone to pass through, yet someone does. Silhouetted from behind, the one entering stands be little more than a child, and a child in truth as the door closes behind and seals out the daylight to reveal the disruption.

Izzy headtilts. "...yeah, mostly. I mean, I get sorta... wanting to respect a thing by not treating it like a toy, I guess. But, if it's hard sometimes, that seems like a reason to do it more, for the practise." The cub breaks off at the sound of the door and the change in the light as it opens, and squints toward the newest arrival. "Um. Hello!"

Flint turns first his head and then his entire sitting posture to face the girl entering. For a long moment, the Glass Walker's silent, but when the door closes and reveals who it is, Flint breaks into a wide grin. "Jacey-rhya!" he calls out, evidently quite pleased to see the other Galliard.

Jacey looks back when she notes voices inside, surprise on her features. "Oh," she says quietly, then "Oh," again more loudly, grinning. She raises a hand, "H'lo, Flint, new girl. I knew there were people inside, just not in here. Sorry if I'm interrupting."

"Um. Hi," the cub replies, lifting a hand in return. "I'm Izzy Sparks, no other names yet, and I'm a Silent Strider cub and a Philodox. Which, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to tell you 'cause Flint called you -rhya. So I hope I didn't mess that up. And we were just talking about gifts and stuff."

Jacey squints at Izzy, stepping further into the garage. "Or boy." She shrugs, then grins anew. "Nope, you did pretty good. Flint's a good kid to talk to. Or, I think so. Only seen him around a couple of times, but such is the busy life of Garou."

Flint bounces to his feet, and grins at Jacey a bit more. "Yeah, busy indeed," he says. "I. Mouse-rhya and Kavi-rhya set a task and. I passed, and I'm cliath now." The words come out in a rush, with a faint tone of excitement. "And, things've been. Better, too." A smile and nod are offered over to Izzy.

Izzy gives Flint a small grin for the excited-talking, and looks slightly relieved at Jacey's assurance. "Thanks. He's been good to talk to so far. What kinds of stuff are you mostly busy with? I'm, um. Kind of new." As though 'cub' didn't suggest that already, but hey.

"Just... the normal things." Jacey offers a shrug. "Protecting the Bawn, talking with my pack brothers. Hopefully soon we'll be going into the Umbra to find our Totem."

Flint gives a weak laugh. "Normal stuff sounds like it'd. That'd be nice," Flint says quietly. "But at least. It's never boring."

"It sounds pretty interesting," Izzy agrees. The cub's sitting near Flint in the lower floor of the garage, and looks over to him next, asking, "What kind of task did they set for you? Was it really hard? Mr. Mesu-Ma'at mentioned the Rite of Passage thing but he didn't get a chance to really tell me much about it yet."

Hearing conversation from outside of the Garage, Aaron opens one of the side doors and takes a peak inside of the building. Seeing the three individuals, the Gnawer raises his hand in a semi-wave by way of greeting.

Aaron
This man has a roguish "life on the streets" but handsome figure. Almond-shaped dark eyes stare intensely with inner-sovereignty between a masculine nose. Curly raven hair is cut short and styled and from his chin is a clean-shaven goatee. His fair skin shows the physical pains he has had to endure. He has a variety of small scars from childhood scrimmages and a few from adulthood. The worst scar is the one that begins just at the bottom of his ear and runs down to his shoulder. While he doesn't have a bodybuilder's body-type, his figure is completely muscle and athletically built. The lingering smell of spicy, cheap aftershave rises off from his body. He is often found wearing a pair of durable blue-jeans and a tee-shirt that fits snuggly over his to show the forming abdominals and pectorals of his muscular body. On cooler days he wears a hooded sweatshirt. Also he has on a pair of worn tennis shoes that almost seem too big for his feet.

"No," Jacey agrees. "Never boring. Better that way, it gets weird when there's nothing to do, like we're just waiting for something to happen." She glances over her shoulder when the door opens, squinting again then nodding to Aaron. "Everyone's Rite of Passage is different, she continues, her attention returning to Izzy. "Every tribe does it different, and it's not quite the same for every auspice either."

Flint peers over at Aaron, then abruptly sits back down, crosslegged this time. "I had to learn stories of members. Of members of my tribe who've fallen in defense of the caern, and I came up with something, to make a memorial." A faint grin. "And then. I. I had to tell the-- my idea to Kavi-rhya, Mouse-rhya, and Salem-rhya."

Flint: Btw, skip me a few rounds, parents need me.

Izzy glances over at the sound of the door opening, and -- seeing Aaron's semi-wave -- gives a semi-wave in return, and a polite, "Hello!" Jacey's remarks get a thoughtful nod, and Flint's explanation gets some consideration, too. "That does sound like a kind of, um. Galliardy thing. What did you come up with for making a memorial? Or is that a secret kind of thing?"

Flint skips PO to make that work.
Izzy: Sorry about that, chief.

Flint looks over at Izzy and shakes his head as his phone buzzes in his pocket. "Um. When I get back, maybe?" Aaron gets a nod, and Jacey gets a wide grin, "Jacey-rhya." And then the cliath's making his way right out the door to the meadow, phone held to his ear.

Aaron decides to slip into the barn. His head moves around on his shoulders as he takes in the building as if he were seeing it for the first time or has not need it in a very long time. His gaze finally travels towards Jacey and the others and he smiles politely in silence. Anyone spending more than a few moments glancing at the Gnawer will notice that from one of his ears down to his shoulder there is a scar far gruesome than any other that are visible on the Ahroun's skin. Either he is being polite or his silence has a reason.

Jacey watches Flint take his call and shrugs. Her gaze lifts to Aaron, watching him move into the barn with a curious look. "H'lo," she offers as well, a brow lifting just a little. Her weight shifts some, placing herself sort of between the cub and the newcomer without actually blocking either of them.

Izzy nods to Flint, and looks over to the newest arrival again as well. "Um. How are you?" the cub ventures, looking fully aware of the awkwardness of that attempt at opening some conversation here.

The Gnawer notices Jacey's body language and sobers his smile to something a little more neutral. 'I am Aaron,' he speaks in nothing more than a whisper and sign-language. If one cannot hear Aaron, all you see is his mouth moving. 'Sorry, I was just looking - this place has changed since I was last here.'

"I'm Jacey," the elder Galliard returns with a small nod. "Good to meet you, Aaron. You... are a friend of the owner's family?" She indicates the house, as she voices her question.

"I'm Izzy," the cub volunteers, and leaves the important questions to the Fostern.

'I am also named Lionheart, I don't believe any of you remember me as Savages-Enemy, and I am Ahroun Bone Gnawer of Fostern-rank.' It takes a lot out of the Ahroun to speak as much but he manages and slowly begins to smile again.

"Before me," Jacey says with a slow shake of her head. His response eases her own subtle tensions, though, and she turns to include the cub in her introduction. "Known also as Reforges the Lost, Galliard and Fostern of the Fianna."

Izzy leans in a little to hear Aaron better, and gives Jacey a small smile in recognition of the inclusion for the introduction before looking back to the Gnawer. "I don't have any other names yet. But I'm a Silent Strider cub, and a Philodox. Nice to meet you both."

Aaron smiles at the cub, 'You'll have one soon enough.' He looks over at Jacey and gives her a glance over. 'Ah, Fianna are good folk.' he smiles broadly at her. Then back to Izzy, 'You've been on four-legs yet?'

The door from the meadow opens again, and Flint returns with a faint smile that turns into a hint of tension at not recognising Aaron. But rather than say anything as he walks in, the teen just looks over to Jacey, a half-question in the gaze he gives the other Galliard.

Jacey looks past Aaron to Flint, meeting question look with questioning look.

Izzy nods to Aaron, and smiles a little in return. "Thank you. And yes sir, I have. It's fun, now that I figured out how not to fall over the legs I'm not used to, anyway. Though, I can't go up the ladder yet. I'm gonna practice that later, I think."

Aaron looks silently between Flint and Jacey. Since the Gnawer has no clue who Flint is, he just looks at Jacey with a question gaze of who goes first. Then he looks to Izzy, 'Just be aware that when you are named, it might be something that isn't too flattering; for instance, mine was Slower-Than-A-Speeding-Bullet but it did press me to work on that...'

Flint watches a moment, seeing Aaron speak but not /hearing/ it and that look of question is directed to Jacey again before the cliath just shoves his hands in his pockets and takes the initiative to go first. "Flint, called Requiem," the teen states, not quite flatly. "Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children by deed, cliath and Galliard of the Glass Walkers." And then, half curiosity and half to hear better, he walks over to within a few paces of where Aaron stands.

Jacey shakes her head at Flint then grins at the cub and Ahroun. "My first cubname was Head in the Clouds," she admits. "But I did things, and was given the deed name Rift Mender. You never know what you'll get."

Aaron doesn't appear to mind it when the others come in a little closer to hear him. He also accompanies all of his whispering with sign-language out of habit. 'Aaron, Lionheart, Bone Gnawer Ahroun of Fostern-rank.' He then smiles and nods at Jacey and Izzy.

Izzy can't help laughing a little at both the cubnames. "Now I'm kind of worried! ...well, okay, not really. I could live with something like those. I kind of like Slower-Than-A-Speeding-Bullet, actually. I mean, people should worry more if you're not, you'd prolly deafen them as you ran by." The cub doesn't seem to know the sign language, but does pay fairly close attention to Aaron's lips when the Gnawer talks. It's almost certainly the whispers that actually work, though.

Flint nods, easing and taking a half-step back to restore personal space regardless of the Bone Gnawer's volume. Another glance is given to his phone before he shoves it into his pocket, and for all that the teenager seems weary, whatever he sees on his phone makes him less so.

"Again, Izzy," Jacey says easily. "It depends on the tribe, the elder, the mood. Lots of things. My cub brother was called No Name is as Great as His before he earned his deed name of Grudge Ender. And his Cliath name was entirely different as well, Tames the Foxes in the Hen House."

The Gnawer gives a concern expression to Flint's weary look. 'I talked to Kevin-rhya a few days ago, he seemed to remember me pretty well... you two know each other that well?' he asks. Then, to Jacey's comment to Izzy, he simply nods in agreement.

Izzy blinks at that one. "...how did he get 'No Name is as Great as His'? I mean, the others are interesting too, but that sounds more like one of those God references some people use than, well, a cub."

Flint sinks to a crouch and then a seated position, offering a half shrug to Aaron. "I'm fine. Have just been busy. Better. Better now that we know Rajani is not dead," he explains off-handedly, falling silent once more.

Jacey cracks a smile and shrugs. "He's Get of Fenris," she says as though that explains it all. And perhaps in her mind it does. "--Rajani might have been dead," Jacey asks, a pointed look settling on Flint.

Aaron shrugs his shoulders, 'I don't know who Rajani is,' he whispers. Then he digs into his pocket when his cheap phone vibrates. He looks at the display before looking up and smiling. 'Pardon me,' he says. 'It was nice meeting you all.' At that, he turns and starts to make his way to the door.

"...like Mr. Owen," Izzy says, though possibly not for anyone else's benefit. The Strider brightens a bit at Flint's remark. "Really? People mentioned her last night and they thought she was, I remember the name. They'll be happy, I think." Aaron gets a wave of farewell.

Flint pulls a knee to his chest and nods to Jacey. "There was a shapeshifting fomor that impersonated her. It tricked Riley and attacked Riley, and Riley had no memory of any of it. We only found out when I listened to what happened on the roof, and looked at the security logs. It walked /right out/ of the tenement, plain sight." The cliath sighs, rubbing his forehead. "The fomor-- it impersonates people, it plays mind games and mind control. But, Kaz-rhya and some others, they found Rajani actually, though if Rajani is not with Kaz-rhya, Tim-rhya, Keir-rhya, or Lefty-rhya, it is still the fomor." Explanation given, Flint falls silent.

"My kingdom for the days when important information moved faster than it does," Jacey sighs. A hand raises to rub at her neck, trouble brewing on the horizon of her visage. "I don't expect them to accept my offer, but if it's needed, I'll offer whatever assistance I can."

Izzy blinks. "=Kaz=-rhya," the cub says, sounding surprised and rather pleased about that name. "Um... what exactly is a fomor, if it's okay to ask you guys? I've kind of been assuming it's a Wyrm thing, but I didn't get a chance to ask Mr. Mesu-Ma'at for the details last night before he had to go. And why wouldn't people want whatever assistance there was with it?"

Flint shrugs at Jacey, expression turning apologetic. "Sorry Jacey-rhya," he offers. "I'd have brought it. I'd have said sooner, but. I was waiting for Kaz's or Nieve's phone call and kinda limbo with. Everything, and." The words are interrupted by a large yawn that indicates just how much sleep Flint may or _may not_ have gotten in the past week plus some since he's become cliath, and the start of his Rite of Passage before that.

"No, I know," Jacey offers, in haste though trying to be soothing some. "Just annoying how people complain about information not being shared, and here we are, Galliards, and no one's sharing anything." She growls, very throaty and more frustration. But the moment passes and she looks at Izzy. "Fomor are... people or animals, tainted by the Wyrm. Bad, nasty things. If ever I meet Mister Mesu-ma'at, I'll ask him proper about telling you things, but I think it's fair for you to know about what you'll someday face. Don't worry about it now, though." As for why her offer may not be accepted, she doesn't answer or even acknowledge the question.

"...I met a Nieve before I got found, too, and there's prolly not hundreds of them either. Man, is anyone in this city NOT secretly a werewolf?" Izzy asks, though the question is probably rhetorical and certainly doesn't sound unhappy with the new information. Fomor, however, are a different matter altogether. "...so they start out normal and then the Wyrm corrupts them and they get superpowers to use for evil? And thank you." No pushing on the ignored question.

Flint looks over at Izzy. "I met Tim and April, both, before I got found. It. It was disconcerting when I... met them again and all. Kinda what-the-hell," he says, another yawn interrupting the words, head resting on his knee. Too tired to be grumpy, it would seem. "Nieve-rhya is one of my tribemates," Flint adds to Izzy, "she's a Theurge, and Adren."

"I don't remember meeting any other Garou before I changed," Jacey muses, grinning some. "Didn't meet them until I was cubnapped, and..." Stopping herself, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her own phone. Her expression goes rather blank and the phone is pressed back into her pocket. "Sorry, I'm needed... Nice meeting you, Izzy, congrats, Flint. Looking forward to working with you."

"Nice meeting you too, ma'am... um... Jacey-rhya." More accurate! And also it's slightly weird to ma'am someone who's probably younger than you are. "Good luck with... with what you're needed for." Izzy looks over to Flint, head tilting a bit again. "I met her in Harbor Park a couple days after I got into town. I liked her. And you look really, really tired."

Flint watches the other Galliard for a moment, a nod and a smile offered along with a soft 'okay, seeya', before he turns back to Izzy. "You might be really right," he says, humour twinging into his voice. "It's not a big thing, though. I've just had a lot, to do recently, and less sleep."

Izzy points up at the lofted area. "You could take a nap. It's pretty comfy there. And... I mean, I know I don't know a lot yet, but it kinda seems like a lot of the stuff you might have to deal with, it'd be better to be rested and healthy and stuff."

Flint shrugs. "I got some sleep last night. And. It's not so bad, in the other forms," the cliath says. "Right now, I. I'm waiting on another phonecall. If I fall asleep, I might. I might miss it. And I can't sleep, anyway." A grin is offered to Izzy. "So, it's okay, thanks though." The last few words are reassuring, ringing true as if to push the lack of importance of the subject.

Flint persuasion. He's all like "neeeeeh I am an adult I can decide when to sleep".
Flint: (Not that she'd recognise Persuasion, but.)
Flint: also really, mostly a touch of it, no wp spent or too much effort. he just doesn't wanna be told to sleep. XD

Izzy looks more than slightly dubious about this 'can't sleep anyway' thing, having seen all the yawning and related being-obviously-exhausted. Still, there is that waiting for a call thing. That's a pretty good argument, right? "Well, I mean. It's up to you, obviously." The cub shrugs, reaching up to wrangle some unruly bangs.

Flint chuckles a bit. "No worries," he assures Izzy, stretching arms out above his head and then sideways for a moment. "Once I get the call I'll prolly sleep. Once all this settles, I'll. Sleep for a few days." A grin.

"Just don't sleep the long sleep," is the reply, the last three words in as exaggeratedly ominous a tone as the cub can conjure up, before grinning back. It's brief, as usual, but genuine. "How about eating? That won't interfere with calls, as long as you don't eat a whole lot of peanut butter in one go or something. We could go see about lunch."

Flint pushes to his feet. "That sounds good. And you. Maybe you can tell me some of what Wisdom's Path-rhya's already taught you? While we eat?" The cliath offers a smile. "I know, for me while I was a cub, that made things stick more. Being able to go over them. And. As long as you're just telling me... what you've been taught, then it's. It's not out-tribe teaching, or anything." With that, the Glass Walker begins moving towards the loft, upstairs, and eventually the kitchen.

Izzy: Izzy will happily go with that. Okay to end there? My brain is rapidly turning to goo.
Flint: Sounds good.