House of the Earth Mother

[hazlogs]

It is currently 14:17 Pacific Time on Tue Mar 29 2016.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.20 and rising, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 35 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (60% full).

House of the Earth Mother - Nave(#3281RJ)

What was once a traditional church allowed to fall into disrepair has been transformed. The original thick stone walls remain, but the tile roof has been replaced with glass; large windows that open to the elements at need, allowing sun to shine down onto the grass-carpeted floor, the greenery broken up here and there by beds of wild flowers, and a wide, winding flagstone pathway leading from the main door up to the back. Stained glass windows have been replaced, showing scenes of verdant greenery and vibrant colour rather than staid saints.

Stone columns help to support the unnusual roof, and are wound-around by climbing plants; honeysuckle, maigold rose and clematis add delicate fragrence to the room. Near the back of the room, a stone pulpit stands central, with vine-like relief decorating the stonework, while at the very back, two doors lead out of the otherwise open room; one to a small vestry, the other to stairs that allow access to the basement.

Somewhat past midday, perhaps 2pm, and the House of the Earth Mother is quiet. Today's gathering has been and gone, leaving Tamsin here alone, working in her office at the back, though the door to said office is open so she can see anyone coming in through the propped-open front doors.

The main nave is a tad on the gloomy side; the cloudy day above means there isn't a great deal of overt sunlight, but hopefully the scent of greenery and perfume of flowers, not to mention the busy hum of a handful of bumblebees, will help keep the mood pleasent.

Two figures come in the front door. At first glance, it's a woman, walking a very large to her dog, but the young woman is recognizable as Linnaea, wearing a white cable sweater and rainbow leggings, carrying the usual messenger bag, and talking to Fetches-Stars, who walks next to her. "See, this is the place I told you about," she says aloud. "I mean, all these flowers and green things, here... it's fair wonderful, isn't it?"

Bad-Boy's nose is stuck into so many green things to take in their scent. Flower! Green Thing! Bee! Another flower! He looks up at his packmate, tail wagging in agreement. It's wonderful, yes!

Clearly one of the parents of this wolf wasn't actually a wolf. Judging from the sheer size of him and his long, shaggy coat, it was probably a buffalo or a yak or something. From the looks of things, he's about a good thirty pounds heavier than the average wolf and his body thicker and blockier than what you might find while standing a good hand taller. His fur is a deep, shaggy black, longer and thicker than anything you would find on his brethren. His face, though, is still clearly wolf despite the slightly blockier appearance. His muzzle is also the only place where you see any real color to him, having picked up the color and markings from his wolfish parent.

Linnaea nods and grins. "Do be careful of the flowers though, people worked hard to plant those. So many green things though, yes." Her hand ruffle's the Gnawer's fur and ears, and she calls out a greeting. "Hullo the... house?" Well, it's not a house, but close enough.

Hearing arrivals, Tamsin rises from behind her desk and comes out to the nave, smiling a little when she sees Linnaea. "Welcome back," she greets the Gaian, her gaze then naturally dropping to the wolf-ish-dog-ish-giant-ish Bad-Boy. "This is the friend you mentioned?" she asks then, clarifying, "From your pack?"

Bad-Boy looks friendly enough, tail wagging and giving Tamsin a goofy, lupine grin after taking his nose out of one of the flowers, leaving his muzzle spotted with pollen. I am!

There is another nod. "He is. Tamsin, this is Fetches-Stars, or more frequently Fetch, cliath theurge and child of Rat, packed with me under Otter. Fetch, this is Tamsin, who I was telling you about who owns this place." The Gaian offers a broad grin, even as she looks down at her packmate. "You have flower-dust on your nose," Linnaea says, drily.

Salem arrives via bicycle, which probably accounts for him being a little sweaty despite the chilly spring day. After finding a place to lock up the bike (and give it a light pat -- Glass Walkers and their machines, am I right?), he heads into the converted church.

This short, skinny white kid is only a few inches over five feet tall and looks to be around twelve or thirteen years old. His straight black hair is cut in a basic, functional style that requires little maintenance -- super-short on the back and sides and only slightly longer on top. He's got a thin face with a beaky nose, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. He's not a bad-looking kid, quite the opposite, but there's still something about him that makes most normal people uneasy, a feeling of potential violence, of predatory intensity.

He's typically dressed in jeans and t-shirt and sneakers, typical casual kid-wear, with a grey hooded jacket for outdoors. Apart from the footwear, his clothing is all a little bit too big on him, but one might imagine that he'll grow into it in a year or so.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Tamsin smiles to the lupus, one hand lowering to be at the right hight for his nose in case he wants to take in her scent, though not coming any closer than perhaps a foot. He's not an actual dog after all. She's about to say more when Salem arrives, and instead straightens and smiles politely towards the Walker. "Welcome to the House."

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)

Bad-Boy leeeeeans forward to take in Tamsin's scent, snuffling mightily until he's got a nose full of kin odor. Once satisfied he sneezes, sending a puff of pollen all over the place. It is good to meet you too, he says, sitting and and grinning with a lolled out tongue.

Linnaea grins a bit, and idly rests one hand on Bad-Boy's shoulder once he sits. "I'm glad we were able to come back," Linnaea offers to Tamsin, and then she spots Salem entering, and one brow goes up. And then the other, and then there's a bit of a restrained chuckle. "Hey, Salem," she offers, her free hand waving in greeting. "This is what you meant by 'most likely'?"

Salem looks only momentarily surprised; he grins crookedly and heads over to join the others. His gaze roves the interior of the House, and he looks quite impressed by what he sees. "Pure coincidence, I promise." He pulls his hood back and wipes his forehead with a sleeve.

Oblivious to Bad-Boy's response, Tamsin glances to Linnaea, the obvious question in her expression, but when she turns back to Salem she simply inclines her head. "May I help you with anything? You're welcome to sit and meditate, or I can make tea."

Bad-Boy's gaze shifts over to Salem curiously, looking up at his packmate as if she said something confusing. He gets up and trots over to Salem and leans towards him, nose first, sniffing, eyes narrowed in suspicion. It doesn't take long before he concludes, Salem! You're not old!

Linnaea untwines her fingers from Bad-Boy's fur entirely on cue, and grins, potentially at whatever is unsaid. There's a bit of looking around the hall, and Linnaea crouches to trail her fingers over a vine and its flowers, "Why doesn't that sound wholly convincing, Salem-rhya?" Towards Tamsin, she says, "I was impressed by the turn-out last night. More people showed up than I expected would, especially for a gathering happening at midnight. It was nice."

"...Pretty much the opposite, yes," Salem says to the lupus Gnawer, his smile getting a trifle thin. He turns his attention to Tamsin. "I'm guessing you're the lady in charge?"

Think, think. Tamsin casts her mind back to her lessons. If Lin is calling Salem 'rhya', he must be at least Fostern, even though he looks barely old enough to have had his first change. So it is that she bows properly from the waist. "I am, sir," she agrees quietly, her crisp English accent adding a certain formality to the words. "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."

Linnaea watches the interaction between Salem and Bad-Boy. Then, she continues to trail her fingers over the flowers and all the way into the air, lips pursed in some sort of momentary discontent.

Bad-Boy is paying attention to the kin when something catches it from the corner of his eye. Ears forward at full attention, he turns to look at what it is. //You.// he says, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. Suddenly he tears off after a squirrel of all things, barking madly. YOU! YOU DARE SHOW YOURSELF AROUND HERE! THIS IS NOT A PLACE FOR YOU!

Salem raises an eyebrow at Tamsin's introduction but doesn't look /too/ surprised; the kinswoman's Fangly pedigree is obvious. He's about to return her introduction when Bad-Boy goes into attack mode; he startles visibly, lips peeling back from his teeth in reflexive grimace, and it takes him a moment to regain his composure. "...Christ." Despite the twitch of Rage, he doesn't seem angry at the Bone Gnawer. Even so, it makes his introduction to Tamsin a little more clipped than he probably intended. "Jack Salem, called Scar, Adren Philodox of the Glass Walkers, alpha of pack Sagacity under Chimera and tribal beta."

"Something about squirrels /always/ gets him," Lin says, shaking her head as she watches her packmate tear off, both hands up in the air in a sort of 'what can I do?' motion after she's pushed to her feet. "Apparently, this is not a place for that squirrel, and he'll probably chase it across half Kent Crossing before he comes back and takes a nap."

Tamsin is also startled, jerking away from Bad-Boy when he begins to growl, as if she's afraid she might have offended him. When the lupus launches himself after a squirrel however, she settles somewhat, a slow breath helping her calm a startled heartrate. "It is an honour to meet you, Adren. Can I offer you both some refreshment downstairs? I have tea and coffee, and food if you would like to eat." Though the offer is clearly to both 'rou, she's looking to Salem for an answer, given he has the highest rank.

"Squirrels are more of a menace than they appear, especially if they lose their fear of people," Salem says, glancing at Lin. "They can and do bite." To Tamsin, he says, "Just, ah, just 'Jack' is fine. And only if it's no bother."

Linnaea casts a glance in the direction her packmate went off in, and grins. "True," she admits. "But at least we're safe from that particular squirrel now." That said, there's more indistinct muttering to herself from the cliath for a moment, before she remembers her manners, still tracing the space above the flowers with her fingertips nonetheless. "Tea again would be lovely, but only if it's no bother. I do appreciate it."

"It's no bother." Tamsin echoes the words of both Garou, and turns to lead them towards the closed door at the back of the church nave, with a view to taking them downstairs as indicated. For tea. And possibly custard creams.

Salem inhales a breath and lets it out, still reaching for the more pleasant and calm mood he was in when he arrived, and follows after the Fang kin. "You've really done excellent work here," he comments.

The main door of the church swings open to reveal a tall, thin, long-legged man with a mass of unkempt wavy hair. He takes a couple of steps inside, looking around with a nervous and somewhat hangdog expression, as though he feels he's somehow trespassing by entering.

Kevin Lockwood is now into his twenties, and physically, he blends in pretty well with those who would outwardly seem to be his peers - he's taller than many of them, leaner than most, and perhaps a little more mature-looking than the average. As ever his face contains a long chin, large nose, heavy eyebrows and brown eyes. He's resumed his previous style of long wavy hair combined with a clean shaven face.

His clothing seems to run pretty much entirely to black. Black jeans, a black t-shirt with the CND 'peace' symbol being struck by lightning, and a smart black windcheater jacket over the top of it. Also black, though rather less expected, is the studded leather dog-collar he sports around his neck.

He's a couple of inches over six feet tall now, much of it his long legs, as ever; sometimes, particularly when sitting down, he doesn't seem to know what to do with those legs, crossing them, tucking them under himself, swinging them sideways, or a dozen other uncomfortable-seeming positions.

Linnaea trails after, pausing and unfolding her cane from her messenger bag not long before the door towards the stairs. Which is enough that she spots Kevin as he enters, and he gets a bright wave and a smile in greeting. "Well I'll be jiggered and call me... So today's full of coincidences," comes the observation as she pauses and turns around. "Long time no see!"

"Lin, would you mind showing Jack downstairs? I'll just greet this guest and I'll be down," Tamsin begins, then realises that the Gaian knows the most recent arrival and falls silent for a moment. A glance to Salem and she asks quietly, "Should I perhaps extend the invitation?" Because it seems that would be the polite thing.

Salem takes Kevin in at a glance and waves him over. "He's a tribesmate of mine," he tells Tamsin.

Kevin does a slight double-take at the sight of Lin, but at least it makes him shed his furtive air. "Wha'th'ell?" he blurts. "You're behind all this?" And then Salem reveals his presence, making Kevin blink for a second time. "Or is this all your doing, Mister..." He swallows, as though the honorific is sticking in his throat. "...Mister Salem?"

Linnaea giggles and grins. "I--" comes the answer to Tamsin, put on immediate hold, and then she turns to Kevin. "I wish, I'm just a poor excuse for a civil engineering student and a theurge who couldn't have come up with this if she /tried/." The Gaian waves to the kinswoman. "This place is to her credit, I'm just lucky enough to get to enjoy it." Pretense of composure goes out the window, though, and Linnaea moves over to Kevin, giving the newly arrived Glass Walker a brief but enthusiastic hug. "Where've you been?" Her regional accent has come out more in all of the excitement, too.

As she is gestured to, Tamsin offers a smile to the Ragabash. "Welcome to the House," she greets, as she does everyone who is here for the first time. "Would you like to join us for tea? We were just about to retire downstairs."

Salem, with a tone of forced patience, says to Kevin, "Just 'Jack'. Or 'Salem'. 'Mister' is just... not appropriate right now."

Kevin goes slightly pink. "Okay, M---- okay, Salem." He seems to find it even harder to address his youthful tribemate without his title than with it, and is glad to turn to Tamsin. "Hi! Thanks! I just s-saw this place being worked on and wondered what was going on. Is it still, you know, a church?" He puts a cautious arm round Lin's shoulder in return for her more enthusiastic hug. "I've not been anywhere, really. Just kept a low profile lately. Seemed wise in the circumstances."

Linnaea tilts her head over towards the door to the downstairs, more or less using the cane only for balance, and then there's a nod. "Well, I can't say as I don't know the feeling. I've been so much of at work that I barely get out, or know if people are here or done gone or..." she shrugs. "It's good to see you, though." There's somewhat of a raised eyebrow and simply watching the interaction between the two Walkers, but the Gaian says nothing about it except for a twinkle in her eyes.

"Not in the traditional sense, no," Tamsin explains to Kevin. "It doesn't have sermons or a choir or a holy book. It's just a place for people to gather, talk about things, maybe listen to an educational speaker if they feel like it, and for those who remain behind after each meeting, a place to plan low-cost projects for the city."

Salem scruffs fingers back through his hair. "Have you had one of the Sept's Theurge take a look at the Umbra? What you've done /should/ attract some Gaian spirits. If someone can persuade one or two to make a home and act as watchdogs..."

Kevin seems to be relieved when he hears that the church is no longer consecrated. "Sounds peachy," he murmurs. "By the way, my name's Kevin. I'm a relative of... of this guy here." Nope, he still can't find an appropriate name in his head for teenage Salem.

Linnaea makes a half a sound, and then takes a deep breath in, and looks at the floor. "Er, I kind of did that this morning, actually, Salem-rhya." There she goes with the titles again, though there's a sort of pause as though she can't /quite/ bring herself to address the philodox without it. "Last night, somewhere in there, after people had gone home from the midnight gathering, which I had come to." She takes another breath in. "Tamsin and I were discussing things that she could continue to do here to attract Gaian spirits, as well as things that myself and others could do on the Umbra side. It has already attracted many of the smaller spirits, as well as others who are curious and coming to see what is going on."

Heading to the closed door at the back, Tamsin opens it and motions for the three 'rou to follow her. "If you'd like to come downstairs?" she suggests - mostly for tea, but also because there's much less chance of sensitive words being overheard by a random visitor.

House of the Earth Mother - Basement(#3335RJ)

The basement runs the full length and width of the upper floor, and the otherwise oppressive darkness is brightened by skylights and careful use of mirrors during the day, and daylight bulbs in wall sconces when dark. The majority of the space is given over to a combination lounge/kitchen, the former starting at the bottom of the stairs and leading into the latter halfway along, the two notionally separated by a breakfast bar.

The lounge has three large leather sofas set around a square coffee table, a large bookshelf running all the way along one wall and around the corner and a small music station, while the kitchen is set up with a wood-burning oven and gas hob, a large fridge/freezer and plenty of cupboard space.

Two doors lead off the back; one to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom.

Salem grins at Linnaea. "Oh, good. /Good/. The place is in good hands, then."

Kevin looks around the crypt with some interest. "Hey, wow. This actually looks really good..." He tilts his head on one side a little, looking expectantly, or perhaps hopefully, at Tamsin.

"Please, take a seat," Tamsin bids to the trio, before smiling politely at Kevin. "My apologies; with the open nature of the House, I'm always a little apprehensive about introducing myself upstairs." One hand is extended towards him. "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." Brief pause. "But Tamsin is fine."

Linnaea gets down the stairs and folds the cane away when she's done, and something in what Salem says makes the cliath go stone-still, although still perfectly calm. "Uh-huh," she remarks, brows quirking upwards, then furrowing far enough to put lines into her brow at which point she's looking at none of the others present. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, sir, but." There's some amount of self-derision in her words, not as well hidden under the layers of politeness as it usually is, and after a few more moments of standing still her jaw unclenches, muscles relax. All of this somewhat but not quite at the same time as Tamsin is introducing herself to Kevin.

Salem's pocket makes a mechanical chattering noise not unlike an incoming telegram. He'd been eyeballing Lin, perhaps meaning to press her about that 'but'; instead he sighs -- somehow 'put upon by the world' is an expression well-suited to his new appearance -- and pulls out his phone. "...Mm. Tamsin, I apologize, but I'll have to take a raincheck on that tea. Good seeing you again, Lin, Kevin." The words are barely out of his mouth before he's heading out, texting as he goes.