Pig Arrives

[hazlogs]

It is currently 16:52 Pacific Time on Tue Feb 2 2016.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 10 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.19 and rising, and the relative humidity is 68 percent. The dewpoint is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (37% full).

Bawn: Southern Forest(#3017RAJ)

The vast temperate rain forest is dominated by Sitka spruce, western hemlock and other giant evergreen trees that spread their overhead branches wide above the forest floor. Each tree limb intertwines with its neighbor, forming a thick overhead canopy of pine branches that leaves the forest floor dim even at noon. The land undulates here, rocky outcroppings breaking up the otherwise overwhelming vegetation. The occasional call of an owl or the startle of a deer create an unease that seems to permeate the forest. It's not hard to believe, standing here, that someone or something is watching--perhaps even hunting. Remnants of the Wyld surge still remain here and there in the form of unidentifiable plants--some of them still bearing their weird fruit.

The bawn continues to the north, east and west, while the railroad tracks to the south mark where the bawn ends and the mundane forest takes over. A variety of other trails converge here, as well. The Ash grove, the sept compound, and the half moon pool can all be easily accessed by their respective trails.

*very formal Howl of Introduction, stiffly and awkwardly delivered* ~Greetings to the Sept from Pig Key-Finder of the Stargazers, Metis Theurge and Cliath.~

Once the howl echoes off, the sight of the large viking trudges into view after a few minutes. The Fenrir is shirtless and wearing a pair of snug boot cut jeans. In his hands is a double bladed war axe that twirls about by the handle as he sizes the new face up. Squinting one eye, he rumbles out to her, "I am Brom Gustafson of the Get of Fenris. Fostern and Half Moon. I am the acting Alpha of the war pack Blitzkrieg under Hummingbird and guardian for the bawn."

Pig must have shifted down after making her howl, 'cause she's in homid now, picking at her fingernails and looking solemn. She eyes the big Get kind of sidelong, her gaze flicking up to his face and then moving to his axe. "Uh, Pig Key-Finder, like I said. I howled."

"Does that mean you find keys that belong to Pigs, or is Pig your name and Key Finder your rite name?" Brom asks as he continues to look her over. "I also thought all your kind took off to the Umbra to pray or some shit."

Pig shrugs and looks down at her hands again. Plenty of dirt under those fingernails. "Pig's m'name," she mumbles. "Key-Finder's from my, uh, Rite."

"Cool. So, what brings you here?" Brom asks as he grows closer, taking a look past her into the woods as if trying to search something else out that may be lurking.

Pig seems to be alone, as far as the Get can tell. "Uh, my guardian was a member here, a long time ago. Before, uh, before I was born." She shifts her weight a little, then folds her arms across her chest, tucking her hands under her sleeves. "After I rited he said I should come here and join. Be, uh, part of a Sept."

"Homely" would be a nice way to describe this young woman, but "ugly" would probably be more honest. Her coarse beige skin sports angry red rashes of acne, especially on her cheeks and forehead. Her brown eyes are heavy-lidded and have a bruised, sleepless look. She has a heavy brow-shelf but no actual eyebrows to speak of, and her wide nose is turned-up in a way that looks pretty swinish. Her lips are thin, her chin weak, her hands wide and mannish, her voice low and rough, her posture slouchy.

A yellow-brown beanie covers her entire scalp along with her ears, not a bit of hair shows past its brim. The rest of her clothing is shapeless and oversized, hiding the details of her five and a half foot frame. The details often change, though usually consist of jeans, sneakers, some kind of sweater or sweatshirt over a tshirt, and a big green overcoat at least two sizes too big, with the sleeves rolled up.

"Yeah? So where is /he/ at? Why is he not with you to rejoin the Sept?" Brom asks what appears to be a valid question in his mind. He uses the butt of his war axe to scratch an itch against his head, then swings it around about in his wrist. "You from another Sept?"

Ximena pushes her way out of the trees, mostly just drawn out of curiosity. And another newcomer. She slides her hands into her pockets and leans against one of the Sitka when she realizes Brom is already talking to said new arrival. She studies both of them from her spot.

Pig grimaces at the continued questioning and shrugs again. She glances over at Ximena, then back at Brom. "No. Portland, uh, there's no Sept in Portland. I only just Rited."

This is a tall Hispanic woman with lightly tanned skin and dark brown eyes. Her black hair has been styled into a short, punky sort of a cut. She wears no make-up, and she dresses simply enough: soft grey boots, distressed jeans, grey tank-top. Anyone who looks closely enough would see that it's a fair trade brand. She does wear metallic feather earrings in either ear, and there is a sunglasses case bulging at her pockets.

"So, why did this mentor of yours not come with you? Or is this a Stargazer thing?" Brom grunts out again as he watches the young metis, ten glances over to the Child of Gaia. "Hey, tree hugger. Come over here and meet this Stargazer. You're better at this babysitting shit than I'll be. Get to know her while I secure the area." He says as he lurches forward back into the woods.

"Uh. Sure thing." Ximena says, as if not entirely sure what to make of /that/. But finally she smirks and pushes off the tree. She offers a hand. "Hey. I'm Ximena Eye of the Storm, Fostern Ahroun of the Children of Gaia, newly arrived as well. This being the new kid shit is awkward as fuck, isn't it?"

Pig looks at the extended hand for a beat before sticking her own out for an awkward shake; her palms are unpleasantly clammy. "Pig Key-Finder Metis Theurge of-the Stargazers 'n Cliath," she mumbles. "Don't know why he didn't come. Uh, I guess because I'm not a cub anymore."

The Fenrir disappears past the trees, followed by loud crunching of his boots upon the ground as he stalks from left to right.

Ximena makes the effort not to wipe them off. She manages not to do it overtly. Instead, it's a surruptitious slide of her hands back into her pockets. Go go, pocket-magic. Wipe the palms, maintain basic etiquette. Restoring pleasant dryness AND not being a douche--score! "Nope, you're not," she agrees. "I doubt your mentor's absence is a true problem."

Pig folds her arms across her chest again, hands tucked, shoulders hunched. "...He, uh, I didn't think it would be," she mumbles, glancing over toward the sound of Get of Fenris Crashing Through Innocent Undergrowth. "I guess now I'm supposed to offer chiminage? I, uh, I know some, uh, some rites."

Heading back to the pair, Brom gives the Stargazer the stink eye again and says, "We don't do that anymore. If you wish to join our Sept, you gotta pledge your loyalty to us and then make yourself useful in some way. The days of trading favors for stuff is over with. You gotta get sniffed out though." He squints at Ximena. "Tree hugger, you know how to sense for the Wyrm?"

"Not really my area. My pack's theurge or philodox did all that, back when we had one, Stompy." If he's going to call her Treehugger, she's going to call him Stompy. Ximena shrugs her shoulder. "Sorry about that. Guess it's something I can look into though. Useful for anyone I suppose."

Pig mumbles something that sounds like 'oh okay' and shifts her weight again, looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Rocking his shoulders back and forth in a limbering manner, Brom gives a nod of his head to Ximena. "She's under your watch for now. Stick to only the bawn. No caern access until she's been sniffed. Take her to Edgewood so she can settle in and get some food in her."

Ximena tosses a salute..."Sure thing," and says, "C'mon, Key." She is /not/ calling this woman Pig. "Let's see if I can remember the way without getting us hellalost." The Ahroun glances to the East...was it that way? Shrugs. East is bawnside still, so if they get lost it's a learning experience, right? Right.

Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RAJh)

The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)

Pig follows obediently after the Child of Gaia after giving the big Get another sidelong glance.

Following after them, Brom stares at Pig with a grin upon his face as he lumbers along. The axe in his hands swing back and forth with his movements, letting the blade whistle through the air.

"You like roast beef, Key? I think there's some of that," Ximena says, sticking her head in the fridge. "There's also some ham..." she trails off on that awkwardly and says rapidly, "And. Other. Stuff." Rapidly, she puts out bread and mayo and mustard and all of the standard and sundry sandwhich fixings.

Pig trails uncertainly after Ximena, joining her in the kitchen. She doesn't move to remove her coat or hat. "Uh, whatever," she mumbles. "I'm not, uh, picky."

"Whatever you make, be sure there is bacon." Brom says as he puts the axe down on the coffee table as if that is where it belongs, then heads into the kitchen. "Pig, you drink beer?"

There's a knock at the front door, about then. A solid rap, as if the person behind it isn't shy about making their presence known.

Ximena double takes as Brom just...soars right past that and asks for bacon. "Yeah, okay," she says, digging around for that. She frowns for a moment as if something has just occurred to her, something she likes not one bit. She stares after Brom, then shakes her head in real irritation. There's a roll of her eyes as she slaps bacon into a pan and sets it to frying, and snaps an irritated, "Someone else get the door though, I'm happy to help but I'm not a goddamn butler."

"Uh," says Pig in answer to Brom's question, and then -- after and awkward moment of hesitation -- goes to answer to door.

"Don't you eye me, woman, or I'll put you through the wall. If you got something against bacon, you can get the fuck out of Washington." Brom says as he opens the fridge with a jerk of the handle, then snags a trio of beers. Iron City for him, Buds for Pig and Ximena. He cracks the top of one and puts it in front of Ximena and smirks. "Do I look like the kinda guy to get chippy with?"

It's on that note from Brom that Nolan steps in through the door. He looks at Pig, looks past Pig to the kitchen, and then back again. "Nolan," he says, by way of greeting, a slight tip of his head, expectant.

A young man of average height and athletic build, he is generally seen with a cunning smile and an easy manner. His dark hair is cut short, just enough length that the waves take form. (If he let it grow out, it would probably lead to unruly curls.) His eyes are green, or perhaps hazel, depending on the light. His skin is pale and freckled, and his cheekbones, while not extreme, are prominent. The straight nose and strong chin can lead to a more stern impression, but it's broken easily when he grins.

Today he wears a simple grey hoodie with a Red Sox logo on the front. His denim jeans are, if not new, well cared for, as are the blue and grey tennis shoes beneath. Around his neck, visible against the grey of the sweatshirt, he wears a pendant of carved, black stone strung on a thin cord of braided leather.

"I don't got a damn thing against bacon. I thought maybe it might be a touchy topic for the kid. Bacon, ham, and Pig?" She snorts and takes the beer, saluting him with it with a slight smirk of her own. Well, he got her a beer and now her mood's better. Still, she asks dryly: "Do I look like a wet-behind-the-ears puny-ass Ragabash who is afraid of getting defenstrated by you, Stompy? I was just wondering how the fuck I got stuck on make-me-a-sammich duty. I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and am assuming you're shit at cooking."

Pig looks unsmilingly at Nolan and then down. "Pig." She steps back, opening the door wider to let him in and offering no other greeting. Not even looking at him again.

"Ha! You think it'd be cannablism or something if she ate bacon? Hilarious." Brom cracks the top off his Iron City and takes a long swig, then smirks at her. "I'm fantastic at making sandwiches. I just figured a tree hugger like you would be used to the kitchen. Didn't want to steal your thunder." With a tilt towards the living room, he hollers out, "PIG. COME GET YOUR FUCKING BEER."

Nolan gives Pig another sideways glance and then heads past her toward the kitchen. "You treat everyone so well?" he asks of Brom as he steps into the room.

"Would you like a sandwich?" Ximena asks Nolan. She takes a long swig of the beer. She flips the bacon. She puts it on a plate with a paper towel. There's a grim scowl on her face, a slow tension in her body, a deliberate sort of growing anger that radiates in corded neck muscles. She continues making the food in spite of it, for the moment.

Pig wanders into the kitchen after Nolan, scratching at reddened knuckles and not really looking at anyone. She takes the can of beer Brom's gotten for her, then hunches into a chair and cracks it open.

Giving Ximena another grin, Brom nods his head for a moment before he looks to Nolan. "Not everyone. Barely anyone. You want a beer?" He looks pleased as Pig cracks her beer open. That's somethign to work with.

"I take it this is a 'help yourself' sort of place," Nolan says with a nod toward Brom as he reaches into the fridge for himself. "Beer'll do," he answers with a nod toward Ximena. "Already ate, though, but thanks." With the drink in hand, he circles around to the other side of the kitchen where he can watch.

Ximena makes the sandwiches with a tight nod. She makes two, and she's sort of throwing them together. She's muttering something under her breath with a constant snarl, some sort of mantra. If one pricks their ears they'll hear it said like a reminder: "The promotion of peace is battling the Wyrm wherever it lives and wherever it breeds. The promotion of /peace/ is the motherfucking battle. The promotion of peace is battling the Wyrm wherever it fucking breeds, Gaia damn it all to Malpheas." She sets the plate down in front of Pig. "The promotion of peace. The promotion of peace. The promotion of peace." SLAM goes the plate right in front of Brom. The sandwich shakes as the plate cracks. "Bon appetite," she snaps. Then she turns and goes striding towards the door. "She's at the house, she's fed, I'm done."

Pig, drinking her beer in delicate sips, blinks at the SLAM and then watches the Child of Gaia storm off. And blinks some more.

"Hey, you didn't eat your fucking sandwich. I didn't ask for one. I just said whatever you were making for Pig, make sure you put bacon on it." Brom calls out after Ximena as he stares down at the sandwich on the broken plate, then takes another long sip from his beer. "You're the bitchiest tree hugger I ever met." He says, his grin widening around the mouth of his beer. With a glance down at the sandwich again, he reaches to his belt and pulls off his knife, then cuts it in half. Picking one side up, he follows after the Ahroun.

Nolan watches the interaction, his expression of amusement half-hidden behind his beer. When first Ximena and then Brom leave, he looks to the newer arrival and raises his drink in salute. "Well," he says. "They're a laugh and a half."

Pig looks up from her beer at Nolan, then back down. She takes another sip, the puts the can down and picks up the sandwich that Ximena made. "I think he said he was a Philodox," she says, mumblingly and in the middle of a bite.

Ximenia's snort quivers with self-depreciation, even as her slight snarl betrays Rage that's still riled. "Yeah. Well. There's a real big difference between believing a thing and being good at the follow-through, Stompy. But I didn't break the plate over your head, so score one for Mother Unicorn." She flips a sardonic thumbs up.

Smirking, Brom holds out the sandwich to her. "Here, you made it. At least take half. You made the bacon crispy, which means you're okay in my book. And if you need to hit someone, you let me know and we can work that out in the barn. I'm always good for a throw down."

Nolan takes another sip and then sets the can on the counter. "You weren't at the little gathering," he says to Pig. "Though I gather that was more the norm than not." He nods in the direction Brom went. "Made a challenge. Thinks he's ready for Adren. Interesting thought, don't you think?"

Pig slowly finishes chewing her mouthful of sandwich, like she's using the time to think of an appropriate reply. She washes it down with another small sip of beer, too. And after all of that, her only answer is a shrug.

The Ahroun takes the sandwich half with faintly narrowed eyes. Then? She snorts a laugh. "Cojeme. You're alright, Brom," she decides. The Rage flows away, and she goes right ahead and takes a bite. Then she starts laughing and fishes a chip of the plate out of her mouth. She flicks it aside. "A throw down sounds fantastic."

Thumping her shoulder with a large hand, Brom tilts his head for the kitchen. Turning, he heads back with a lumbering stride as he sizes up the pair of cliaths. Plucking up the other half of the sandwich, he checks it for plate chips, then takes a large bite out of it.

"No?" Nolan says, his gaze still on the threshold through which the others went. "What are your thoughts, then?" He asks, turning his full attention to the metis.

Pig shrugs again, glancing past Nolan toward Brom, then back down at her plate. "I jus' got here."

Ximena settles down on the front steps to eat her sandwhich. She could hear Nolan talking to the newcomer, trying to draw her out a bit, and decides not to interrupt that. She has her sandwich, she's calming down by a considerable margin. By the time she's done with the thing she might be fit to live with again.

After a few more bites, Brom point blankly asks, "Thoughts about what?"

Nolan nods at Pig, though there's something in the gesture, in his posture, that speaks of disappointment. When Brom speaks, he turns to the larger man with a grin. "Anything. The price of tea in China, if you like."

Pig keeps her focus on her sandwich and, when that's finished, her can of beer. She continues to drink it in little sips, nursing it.

Ximena stands up to bring her bottle inside. "4 yen and 99...yen cents," is her guess, just sort of off-the cuff. She tosses it into the recycle bin, wherever that happens to be. "As they keep telling me repeatedly, Key, you can relax. Truthfully, everyone here seems to be really cool. I don't think anybody's going to push you around if you want to edge your way out of the shell a half an inch."

"Heh." Brom says in reply to Nolan, then takes another bite of his sandwich. "It was nice meeting you, Pig. I'll make sure the Alpha knows you are here so you can introduce yourself to him." Grabbing his beer, he heads for the back door. "See you on patrol later, Ximena." Not tree hugger.

Nolan reaches for his beer again as the Get moves to go. "Have a day," he offers, saluting with the can. His attention shift to Ximena, and the grin turns a little sideways. "Relax?" he asks her. "Because life is simple and smooth for a stranger to the sept?"

Pig glances up long enough to watch Brom go, then turns her eyes back down to her beer. The top of the can must be /fascinating/. Likewise the arrangement of crumbs on her plate.

"Of course not. I haven't successfully taken the advice yet myself," Xi tells Nolan. "See ya, Brom." She'll drop the Stompy stuff too, since he's dropped the rest. "But you know. You can help her out, by the by, if you can sniff out the Wyrm. It's not one of my Gifts, so I can't vet her."

One eyebrow arches at that, and Nolan's lopsided grin becomes a brief smirk. "So we invite people into our safe places before we've vetted them? All right. Good to know." He shifts his focus back to Pig and smirk is gone. "I can check, if that's all right with you."

"Yes, okay," mutters Pig, poking a little at her crumbs and pushing them around with a finger.

"Dude, I've been here less than a week. Don't ask /me/ why shit's done the way it's done. Brom said to bring her here and feed her, and since he's in the acting Guardian pack, that's what I went with." Xi says with a shrug. "She was already on the bawn where she did her howl, and she isn't allowed on the caern. That's what I know. If she sniffs out clean I'll go pass the word on though."

"Okay," Nolan says to Pig and then casts a sidelong look to Ximena, and offers a small shake of his head. "This'll take a second," he says to both, and then closes his eyes for a moment in concentration. Those familiar with the gift typically used for the purpose might find the behavior odd, there's no sniffing at the air, just a few slow, deep breaths.

Pig tilts her head, watching Nolan in a sidelong kinda way.

Ximena gives Nolan a, 'dude, /what/?' sort of a look at the sidelong shaking of his head, confused by his reaction, but leaves it be as he does his meditative breathing version of the Gift. She knows she has never seen it being used that way, but...to each their own. What she doesn't do is talk while he does it. No sense screwing up the results.

Deep breaths in, slowly released, last for several seconds, and then the man opens his eyes again. He casts a smile at Pig, warm this time, rather than humored or sarcastic. "She's clean," he says, shifting his focus to Ximena again.

Pig lets out a breath and gets up, taking her plate and can of beer with her. "...Is there a recycle bin?" she asks no one in particular.

"Right over there." Xi says, nodding to it. She nods to Nolan. "Thanks. I'll go let the appropriate and sundry know." To Pig, again, "Stiff upper lip, kid." She heads back towards the door, this time, of course, without the Rage. "Still wouldn't leave here until someone shows up to say you can though. Just to be on the safe side and all that." And with that, she is off, closing the door behind her.

Nolan looks over to the can when Ximena indicates it, and then turns his focus back to Pig. "So," he says after a beat. "All alone. No hulking beasts or angry cooks around. What brings you here?"

Pig drops the beer can into the recycle bin and pushes her sleeves up -- coat and sweater both -- to wash her plate. And the pan the bacon was cooked in, for good measure. The skin of her arms is pimply, and hairless but for a few stiff black bristles. "My guardian used to be a member here," she says into the sink. "After I Rited, he said I should come here."

"Why here?" Nolan asks, almost unable to stop himself.

Pig shrugs. Still talking into the sink, her back to Nolan, she says, "He said this place was special. He said I'd figure it out when I got here."

That brings a laugh from the man and a nod of approval. "All right," he says, still grinning. "When you do, I'd love to hear what you've figured out."

Pig finishes washing up and steps back from the sink. She wipes her hands dry, neatly hangs the dish towel back, then pulls her sleeves back down. "Uh. Okay. I'm, uh, going outside now. I won't go far."

"I'm not your keeper," Nolan tells her. "I'm not one of them, and even if I were, I wouldn't be trying to tell you what to do. Go," he says with a small salute, two finger at his temple. "Learn what you need to learn. Figure out what you need to figure out. I'll be around when you do."

Pig stares at Nolan for a heartbeat or two, then hunches her shoulders and heads outside.