Introducing Tamsin

[hazlogs]

It is currently 14:15 Pacific Time on Wed Mar 2 2016.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.93 and falling, and the relative humidity is 77 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waning Half (Philodox) Moon phase (41% full).

Edgewood House

Mid-afternoon on a mild, cloudy day, and Edgewood is quiet. This is Tamsin's second visit, let in by previous people and now left to her own devices, she's busy putting away what looks like an entire bakery's worth of goods. Pies, sausage rolls, wraps, doughnuts, turnovers - basically four of everything. Except pies; one of those got 'et already.

Tamsin is tall at 5'10", slender and long-limbed, with white-blonde hair, smooth caucasian skin, sharp blue eyes and exceptional bone structure; in short, everything one would expect from a Silver Fang in her mid twenties. Elegance and grace have been trained into every movement, a practiced perfection rather than something inborn, and there is no doubt an army of maids and a drawer full of ever-so subtle cosmetics maintaining those looks. When she speaks her voice is soft - never raised - and always with received pronunciation; the Queen's English, if you will.

There is nothing so gauche as wearing a label, so Tamsin's clothes are well-fitted but without a specific stylist or logo. Today she wears a cream silk blouse with just a touch of lace at the shallow v-neck, with pearl buttons to accent. Smart black jeans cover her legs, decorated with a row of silvery studs down along the seam, snug at the hip and thigh then looser after the knee. These rest over polished black boots with a kitten heel. Should the weather demand, a long duster made from charcoal grey wool covers all of this, with a red cashmere scarf tucked in under the collar.

(Silver Fang PB 4)

Samantha carries a package of her ouw as she emerges from the woods to the east in homid. It's carefully wrapped, though there looks to be a little blood seeping through as she heads at a casual walk towards Edgewood house.

The back door opens up to reveal the tall viking that is Brom. The large man strips out of his shirt as he enters the kitchen, giving his broad muscles a few reflexive flexes to loosen the joints up. As he heads for the sink, he pauses at the sight of the woman and tilts his head to one side curiously. "Hey." He rumbles out in a thick Germanic accent, mingled with east coast. "You're a new face."

Standing tall about six foot five, Brom has the body of a brick wall. He obviously works out on an obsessive basis. His arms are thick and his chest broad, giving off the look of perhaps a well in shape football player. He has a pair of intense blue eyes that always seem to border on anger, and a well developed scowl.

Brom has long hair to about his shoulders, a dirty dark blonde that is typically tied up into a tight pony tail, pulled back from his head. He has a jagged looking scar along his neck that dips down into his shirt, and a few more along his arms that appear to have been made by claw marks. He tends to dress very plainly, a pair of beat up blue jeans with slashes and holes in them, a tight fitted black muscle shirt and a beat up looking leather jacket. Shit kicker boots adorn his feet and a large belt buckle with the picture of an axe on it.

"That is correct, sir," Tamsin agrees to Brom's observation, closing the fridge door with two meat pies still left on the side. Presumably for drive-by snacking. She turns to face him, bowing her head slightly. "I am Thomasina Elisabeth Portia de Montford, daughter of Thomas Arthur de Montford and Elaine Felicity de Montford, the latter also called Argent Wing's Glory, Adren Galliard under Falcon. Granddaughter of Sarah de Montford, also called Clears The Muddied Waters With Sound Words, Athro Philodox under Falcon, and also granddaughter of Winston Cavendish, also called Moon-Laden-Wisdom, Adren Theurge under Falcon." A short pause. "Or Tamsin, if you prefer a short version."

Samantha slips into the house in time to catch the last half... quarter.. of that introduction. Her package, she carries quietly towards the kitchen. She's a shadow, a leaf on the wind, don't mind her?

This young woman stands at around five feet and four inches in height. Straight black hair is in a stylish cut as the strands of hair reach down to just below her shoulders. Soft brown eyes contrast gently with her tanned complexion, and high cheekbones and her facial structure speak of clear Native American ancestry. Her shoulders are of average width, but she has a woman's figure. A small waist, wider hips, and long legs. her arms show the scars of long healed scratches while her torso on the left side shows the scar of what must have been a savage puncture wound. Her clothing is a simple leather shirt and pants that thanksfully fit just right to cover and still provide full range of motion. Upon one hip at her waist is a small beaver pelt pouch, cinched shut with a small leather thong.

As he listens to the very long resume that is her name, Brom gives her a wide grin. "Nice to meet you." He rumbles back to her. "My name is Brom Gustafson. I am known as Rules Without Fear. Fostern and Half moon for the Get of Fenrir. I am the current Alpha for the war pack Blitzkrieg under Hummingbird. I am also a guardian of the bawn and caern. Since the moon is low, if you want an escort out there, I'd be happy to take you and show you around." As he spies Samantha heading to the kitchen, he eyes the box, then turns his attention back to the kin.

Pig wanders slowly down the stairs, her attention mostly on the battered paperback with no cover that she's reading.

"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.

A faint hint of concern causes Tamsin's brow to furrow just a fraction as Brom makes his offer, the kinswoman seeming perhaps a little confused. "I.. have never been on a bawn before. Or seen a Caern," she offers slowly, as if giving the offer some serious thought. "Is that allowed here? I mean, I'm sure it must be if you're offering.." she continues, before offering the Get a pie. Steak, for reference. A second is offered in the vague direction of the door, as if Tamsin means to pacify all arriving Garou with food. Oh dear, there's a third - automatically, she's turning towards the fridge.

Samantha offers a smile for Brom as she carries her package over to the counter, her eyes glancing over towards the kinwoman for a moment. "Thought you might want something fresh." she offers towards the Get, since I was able to tag you the other day. "Good, fresh rabbit." she offers, opening the package for him to see.

Reaching out and taking the pie, Brom glances down to it and gives a lick of his lips. "Yeah, kin are allowed in the bawn and caern. Long as you've been checked out to be one of the good guys." He squints his eyes. "Which I'm assuming you have if you are here and still standing. Kin make excellent rangers. They've been known to help keep the place clean and patrol with us time to time." Samantha's offering of a rabbit gets his curiosity and he peeks into the box. "We can put it on ice for now and I can cook it tonight. Hey, Pig! How're you doing?" He calls to the Metis.

Pig looks up from the book. "Fine," she says to the Get. The others get a dubious look, but rather than wander off with her reading material, the ugly girl stuffs the mutilated paperback into a pocket of her coat and slouches over to join the others.

"Um, no. I don't think I have, but I'm not sure," Tamsin admits up-front to Brom. "You see, I came here on tribe business, to see Theodoric Duncan, with a referring letter from his Aunt Iona. Does that count as being vetted? He told me I should come here to meet more people." She sounds uncertain, a certain level of cautious concern faintly inflecting her otherwise pristine accent. Her glances to Samantha and Pig only serve to increase the amount of caution colouring her body-language.

Samantha smirks at Brom's words. "So much for keeping it fresh. But, whatever." she remarks. Once more she eyes the kinwoman, even as she moves to place the package she brought in the fridge. "You look nervous." she remarks towards Tamsin before scooting away from Pig a little.

"Dirk? He's a good guy. If he sent you here, you must be okay then. So, let me know if you want a tour and I'll give you one. Would give you a chance to meet the rest of my pack." Borm says with a bolstering grin on his face, then smirks at Samantha. "It will stay fresh if we put it in the freezer." Studying Pig for a moment, he asks, "Reading anything good?"

Pig shrugs. "Human fiction," she says dismissively. She leans against a wall, arms folded across her chest.

A touch less anxious, but not entirely relaxed, Tamsin turns so she's got the counter behind her, and is able to face all three Garou more or less easily. "I.. yes," she confirms simply to Samantha, before folding her hands in front of herself and simply nodding. "I would like that, thank you," she then confirms quietly to Brom, offering a brief and ever-so-slightly grateful smile to the Get, before looking with a hint of curiosity towards Pig when books are discussed.

Samantha grins then at Tamsin. "Well, I'm Samantha, known as Unfinished Business Wakes the Bear, Cliath of Wendigo. Don't let these guys scare you. They might be wyrm bringers, but they're not bad, most of the time."

"Don't make me use you for a sparring dummy." Brom says with a smirk to Samantha as he gives her a shove to one side at the shoulder as he nudges past her to put the meat pie back in the fridge, then heads for the living room. "I'm going to take a quick shower upstairs." He calls over to Tamsin. "When I get back, we can head out if you want."

"Pig, deed-named Key-Finder," says the metis, offering up her own introduction without much enthusiasm. "Cliath Metis Theurge of the Stargazers."

There's a level of uncertainty now. Tamsin has no idea how much of her introduction the two Cliath heard, so of course she gives it again. "It's nice to meet all of you," she adds at the end, nodding to Brom. "Are there by chance any walking boots here I could borrow? These are.." she asks, motioning to her probably-very-expensive and certainly-not-suitable-for-cross-country-walking boots, "Not very good for walking in a forest." Which, she assumes, is where one would find a Caern.

Samantha leans over to peer after the way that Brom went. Hey, she didn't strike back earlier when he brushed past her. Yay, she's growing! "Why not go barefoot?" she asks as she looks back to tamsin. It's the way people went before, it's still a good way now."

"I don't think my boots will fit yah unless you can wear a size fourteen." Brom laughs as he heads up the stairs with a heavy thump thump thump of his feet. "I'll see what I can find up here."

"There's borrow-able clothes upstairs, too," says Pig. The way she eyeballs Tamsin is not especially friendly.

"They did, but my soles are soft. People who walk continually barefoot usually have a very thick and toughened sole gained through years of exposure, so they're less susceptable to injury," Tamsin replies to Samantha. "So I think that might not work so well for me, but thank you for your suggestion." She looks down for a moment, then over to Pig, a hint of a wrinkle furrowing her brow, though she doesn't query that unfriendly look directly.

Samantha shrugs her shoulders. "Up to you. Barefoot, or hand me downs. Either way." She moves then to hop up onto the edge of the conter, swinging her legs a little. "So, why did you come here anyways? There's a lot of other places to go do things at."

Pig excuses herself and disappears off into another part of the house.

"Come here to Edgewood, or come here to St. Claire?" Tamsin wonders of Samantha, seeking clarification on the question asked. With Brom and Pig now outside of her immediate space, she does appear to be a little less tense, a little more confident in herself.

Samantha shrugs her shoulders as she leans forward once more to see where Pig heads off to. "Either, both." she answers distractedly before looking back to Tamsin once more.

There's a nod, and Tamsin answers both. "Tribal business with Theodoric Duncan is my reason for coming to St. Claire. He then suggested I should visit Edgewood, to meet more Garou and Kin." Simple, succinct. "Also suggested a Glass Walker place in the city, but I haven't been there yet."

Samantha nods as she listens. "It's way better out here in the wyld." she offers. "Yea, you got clubs and parties and whatnot in the city, but you also have all those other weirdos that like to cause us trouble. At least, out here, you can see them coming."

Glancing down for a moment, Tamsin allows, "I don't tend to go to clubs and parties. Or go out in the wild." She's certainly not the athletic-looking sort of kin, anyhow. "Though the forest around the Hermitage is pretty."

After the shower shuts off, Brom heads back downstairs after a few minutes. He is wearing a cleaner pair of jeans and a snug shirt that clings to his body. He also has a pair of boots in his hands that he offers to Tamsin. "Not sure if this will fit. Probably be a bit big on you but it's the smallest size I found out there in a closet."

"Bah, didn't they let you do anything fun?" Samantha asks before frowning as Brom comes back. "Maybe you guys should remember we're not all huge brutes." she quips before looking away and towards the ceiling as if wondering who said that.

There's a small smile at that. "The opportunity for fun didn't really present itself until I reached my majority, by which time I'd already decided I liked books more than parties," Tamsin admits to Samantha, then looks towards Brom and the boots he's offering. "Thank you, Fostern," she responds, moving away to an armchair, so she can sit and swap into those.

"No problem." Brom opens up the fridge and takes out a few pieces of jerky. He takes a bite off one chunk, then gives a glance over to Samantha. "So, you fought that rabbit just for me?"

Samantha shrugs her shoulders once more. "I thought you might like it." she offers. "Fresh, appreciated and honored. It should taste delicious, I almost ate it myself."

Pig slouches back into the kitchen, hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

Attempting to put on the boots.. well, Tamsin looks like she's trying to wear her dad's footwear. "Um. I don't think these will work," she tells Brom quietly. "Perhaps later? If I go and fetch some boots?" she then asks, a faint undercurrent of hope in her voice.

"Sure, of course. I'm always around. I try and keep the firewood filled." Brom says with a nod of his head and a reassuring smile to the kin before he looks to Samantha dubiously. "Well, I appreciate the gesture and I'll make sure to cook it tonight."

"Good." Samantha says simply before grinning at the man. "If you actually like it and don't bite my head off the next time I count coup on you, maybe I'll bring you another, or maybe something bigger."

Pulling her own boots back on, Tamsin sets the other pair out of the way, shouldering her purse. "I'll be back a bit later then. Thank you again, Fostern," she voices to the Get, then nods to Pig and Samantha. "Cliath. Cliath." Then she's off! Out of the house, to her car, to zoom home.

(Brom leaves shortly after Tamsin does.)

"I don't think she actually wants to go to the caern," mutters Pig, scratching at a scabby red patch on the back of her hand. "Not if it means trekking through thick woods."

"WEll, I didn't want to go to the woods either before I was kidnapped and brought out here." Samantha states before hopping down from the edge of the counter.

This young woman stands at around five feet and four inches in height. Straight black hair is in a stylish cut as the strands of hair reach down to just below her shoulders. Soft brown eyes contrast gently with her tanned complexion, and high cheekbones and her facial structure speak of clear Native American ancestry. Her shoulders are of average width, but she has a woman's figure. A small waist, wider hips, and long legs. her arms show the scars of long healed scratches while her torso on the left side shows the scar of what must have been a savage puncture wound. Her clothing is a simple leather shirt and pants that thanksfully fit just right to cover and still provide full range of motion. Upon one hip at her waist is a small beaver pelt pouch, cinched shut with a small leather thong.

The Stargazer hmphs and slouches toward the fridge in order to rummage around inside it.

Samantha grins at the Stargazer's back before heading for the door. "Dare you to eat a portion of the rabbit without telling Brom." she dares as she seeks to slip out.

Pig looks up and frowns at the Wendigo. "...Why would I do that?"

"To see if he notices, duh!" Samantha replies with a laugh before running off.