"Do you have a plan for all that?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 16:55 Pacific Time on Mon Jul 24 2017.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 80 degrees Fahrenheit (26 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.98 and falling, and the relative humidity is 42 percent. The dewpoint is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (7% full).

Caern: The Stone Firepit

A subtle undulation of the land forms an curious, natural spiral in the open ground. One side of the formation rises to create a half-circle or crescent of earth surrounding and encompassing the spiral. The ground is littered with rock and flagstones, both large and small. Someone has carefully gathered up a trove of these and erected a clear fire pit. Flagstones with smooth surfaces have been laid along the upper lip of half circle of earth around the fire pit, turning it into a nice seating area. All debris and flammable material's been removed from within the spiral, and a fire has been laid. Just beyond the spiral's edge, wood has been collected and piled for future use. Surrounding this, the rugged walls of the canyon have been half buried by the Wyld surge, making the upper slope of the valley more gentle than it was before. Stands of Douglas fir and white pines mix with hemlock, lodgepole pines, and western larch trees to fill much of the open space, but the trees here are not nearly as dense as they are in the surrounding forests of the bawn. The sparse woods allows a partial view of the sky, and both sun and moonlight filter down to create enigmatic and beautiful shadow patterns on the forest floor. That floor is blanketed with a thick, soft rug of shed pine needles, lichen and leaf debris. The moss-covered relics of old, dead trees occasionally mark a place where once great sentinels loomed above.

The caern expands in two directions from here. The escarpment wall and raised dais form one point of the new triangle, while the center of the caern and its gigantic, Wyld-influenced tree marks the other. The only obvious way out of the caern is the valley slope that leads to the central bawn.

Three From Ashes sits in lupus near the fire, close enough that the light traces patterns over her fur. Her eyes are closed however, her ears twisted slightly back, her muzzle downward toward the flames. If she weren't sitting so straight, one might be tempted to think she were napping.

There's the sound of footsteps making the way through the woods and into the caern. Footsteps with a third sound, the person who they belong to walking with a cane, the folding metal kind that can stow away easily. Linnaea makes her way down and into the caern, carrying a messenger bag slung across one shoulder, and there's a carefulness to her steps, the cane used mostly for balance more than anything else.

Three From Ashes's right ear flicks up, and swivels toward the sound of footsteps, and her nostrils visibly flare. Her eyes, however, remain closed.

Salem drops from one of the trees near the edge of the caern, takes a moment to brush himself off, then makes his way over toward the fire pit at a light jog. The youthful-looking Philodox is sweaty and breathing hard.

Karin isn't out looking for plants for the garden at Edgewood or the Fury House, or even out checking the condition of the bawn, for once. No, she's just out for a regular walk, this time, and it's a miracle she hasn't collided with any trees, because she's obviously rather engrossed in the book she's got in her hands.

There is still a hint of the ethereal about this young woman, though for those who saw her shortly after her return, not to nearly the same extent. She appears to be in her late teens or perhaps early twenties, and stands an inch or two over five feet tall. She's still thin, although less so than before, with pale, almost ivory skin, accented by pastel blue eyes that often have a faraway look about them. Her hair is dark brown, falling almost to her shoulders.

Her attire is typically casual. A plain t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans are most common, accompanied by a comfortable pair of sneakers, all of which are either on the older side or second hand. If she's doing any kind of work up close, she's almost certain to be wearing a pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses. In cold or inclement weather, she wears a deep crimson hooded cloak that is of far higher quality than the rest of her attire -- the material is similar in texture and appearance to velvet, but far more durable and water-repellent. The cloak is clasped with a silver-colored brooch engraved with a stylized Athenian owl.

Linnaea waves at Salem and offers a slight grin, but for the most part the Gaian looks like she's got something else on her mind as she finishes coming down towards the fire pit. "I missed the moot, didn't I?" the Brit asks, and purses her lips. "I meant to go to it but I woke up and it was this morning and not yesterday--" okay, now she's just not making any sense, which... isn't too much of a surprise, to anyone that's met the Gaian. "Hi, Salem-rhya. And Mouse-rhya."

Linnaea is a petite young woman, just under five feet in height when she stands fully straight. Once medium-dark hair with auburn and even lighter blond highlights hangs in many small braids that are all gathered into one braid at the moment, with stray hairs and one stray braid that escape to form bangs and frame her face, and hazel brown eyes. The lower half of her hair, from her ears down, is dyed in a variety of rainbow tones ranging from pastel to bright to nearly as dark as her hair. Her skin is fair but tanned, with freckles across her cheeks, and features that are not delicate so much as they are strong and simply there.

Today, theurge is wearing a pair of black and silver fishnet tights underneath knee length now-torn black denim shorts, and a thin white teeshirt with a British flag on it. There's a silver chain peeking out from underneath. Her shoes, however, plain black slip-ons, look like they have seen better times.

Three From Ashes's eyes slit open for a moment, and then open fully. She regards Linnaea with a half tilted head for a moment, one ear still twisted to the side, and then looks back to regards the oncoming Walker, and Karin. Yes, she says to Linnaea. It was last night. You might want to check with others and see what you missed. Positions were claimed.

Salem jerks his head in a nod of greeting to Linn and Karin. "Which positions?" he asks Mouse. He drops into a sit not far from the other Walker and uses the tail of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

Despite the voices, it takes a bit for Karin to realize there's actually other people present, and she looks up from her book, slightly startled. "Oh." Brow furrowing a bit as she concentrates on what was actually said, going back over it rather than simply tuning it out, she's able to answer the question. "Jamethon and Slug both announced their challenges for Alpha. Copperhead claimed the position of Warder, with Jacinta acting as her mentor, when needed. Yael claimed Master of the Challenge. Which still leaves Master of Rites unclaimed, since if I'm not mistaken, Dakota left along with Alicia."

Linnaea digs into the messenger bag with one hand, though she doesn't take anything out of it. Not yet. "Dakota-rhya came by Terminus before they left," she says, with a nod. "She left me-- the Gaians, really, but I guess that's me at the moment-- the paintbrush that she'd made. I have it now."

Three From Ashes tips an ear toward Karin as she answers the question. The Walker elder pushes up, gives a brief stretch, and then, as if it were merely part of the motion, bulks up into hispo, for easier chatting. It doesn't make her form any easier to look at, of course. She's just as weird looking as a larger wolf as she is regular sized. ~I set terms, but I'm giving it a few more days, in case anyone else wants to take the Alpha plunge.~

This creature looks bizarre, primordial and alien with a dash of cyberpunk. She is massive, a true direwolf, but with a body that almost appears stretched to accommodate the anything but natural spine. Gleaming metal protrudes from the base of her neck and between her shoulder blades, accompanied by small blue lights when the device is active. All down her spine the metal protrusions continue, if smaller, like some sort of robotic mockery of a spinal column, stretching even over the top of her long, thin, weasel-like tail, though the tail appears to remain light enough to avoid dragging along the ground; it instead curls cat-like, just slightly upward. Her fur is thick, mostly grey and brown with white along the muzzle, ears, and ruff of the neck. There's a truly bizarre pattern of even whiter fur that encases nearly her entire left front leg, parts of her left shoulder, and curls over her left ear. The pattern looks as if it had been painted by thick, twisting tendrils.

Even through the thick fur, thin, spidery scars are visible. They cover her entire body, thicker and heavier in some places, only to stop completely and abruptly at her ankles. While most of the scars seem to have been delivered at random, here and there they form intricate, if meaningless patterns. One scar on her chest seems more distinct: a raised, jagged-edged shape roughly the size of a crinos palm. On her right shoulder is a mark most experienced Garou will recognize from stories, if not from experience: a single teardrop shaped scar, impossible to mistake as anything other than the mark of one who has participated and given of herself to create a Caern. Running across her face and muzzle from left to right are five thick, puckered gashes. Most alarmingly, at several places over her body clearly Wyrmish glyphs, many practically incomprehensible to those not deeply familiar with such things, have been seemingly burned straight into her fur and skin. She has not tried to obscure these in any fashion, but other, cleaner cut glyphs have been added around them that alter the original context: glyphs for defiance, and remembrance, and Gaia, so that large parts of her body are a patchwork of some story that only she is likely to fully understand.

Around the beast's neck are two relatively simple necklaces: a small shard of stone and two feathers--one black, one brown and white--held together by tight, carefully wrapped and knotted cord, and a steel pendant with the image of a stag, white-gold inlaid to represent the creature's spots, hanging from a leather thong.

In the distance, a familiar howl goes up to announce her incoming arrival. The dissonant tone unique to one Heart of Fire Forges the Stone Spirit suggests she will be shortly present.

Salem drags fingers back through his hair, combing it roughly into something with a vague passing resemblance to neatness. He looks interested when Mouse mentions terms, but not /seriously/ interested. Emma's howl makes his head snap up attentively; he grins a little, crookedly.

Pack> Salem sends warmly through the pack link: "Welcome back, stranger."

Pack> Emma returns a noticably fond sentiment: "Hey, good to be back. Missed you all like crazy."

Pack> Three From Ashes is welcoming, if strangely distant.

Karin says, "I'll be most curious about who ends up as Master of Rites should Jamethon become Alpha." Not Gatekeeper, though, despite it being the position he'd be leaving. Then, attention turning to Linnaea, "Paintbrush?"

Linnaea removes a long, paintbrush shaped pouch of tanned leather and hide from the messenger bag and sets it into her lap, idly touching the edges and tracing the shape. "It's a fetish Dakota-rhya made." She glances towards the Glass Walkers. "It's supposed to paint visions of what has come and what will happen. Which might... be useful."

There are quieter wolves in the world, for sure, and she's not particularly trying, but Speaks-Truth-To-Power pads her way in the direction of conversation by the firepit and, once again, happens upon a bounty of people she doesn't know. The ratio of people she does know, to those she don't, is improving, however; She pads her way over to Karin for a low-key greeting, one that hopefully doesn't disturb the rest of the group.

Three From Ashes sniffs in the direction of the pouch, but she doesn't seem to have much to say on the matter. Her ears do, however, both sweep up at the sound of the howl, and for a moment all of her attention turns toward it. One paw lifts and sets down, and her jaws part.

Pack> Slug says "Say hi to Nick for me."

Salem glances over at new arrival, one eyebrow rising, then looks at Linnaea. "Wonder why she didn't take it with her."

Karin doesn't pay the howl too much heed at this point, since the one issuing it has yet to arrive. Her tribemate, on the other hand, gets a smile and a greeting as she draws near. "Good evening!" The book is closed and tucked under one arm -- Ovid's Metamorphoses, should one be able to read Greek -- and she replies. "A parting gift to people she cares about, perhaps? It certainly could be useful."

The grey furred wolf with the black-tipped saddle pattern on her back emerges into visual range, ears pricked forward and gait casual yet eager. A chuff follows as she closes the distance, though she seems intent on not making much of a fuss as she lopes into an existing gathering and conversation. All limbs are accounted for it would seem, but a new scar mars the wolf's head from eartip to lower muzzle. Her first greeting is a head lowering show of deference to Three From Ashes, the second is to her packmate and longtime mentor, who gets a more familiar (ie full body brush against a leg) hello. Given the forms of those gathered, she doesn't waste much time in shifting up to homid to more easily take in, and share, news.

Linnaea lifts her shoulders in a shrug, but Emma's arrival gets a bright wave from the cliath. "She said she thought we'd need it, didn't stay around to explain much more other than that she was leaving," Linnaea says, and glances down at the pouch and then up at the caern tree. Speaks-Truth-to-Power gets a glance, and then Linnaea squares her shoulders slightly. "Uh, hi. I'm Lin. Rising-Dawn, cliath theurge of the Children of Gaia." Under her breath, although still audible, she grumbles, "And apparently one of the only ones left in town now."

Salem reaches out to scruff fingers through Emma's fur as she passes. "New scar, eh?"

Three From Ashes steps forward, just enough to bump her large, hispo head against Emma's shoulder, and chuff a wordless greeting of her own.

Speaks, when Linnea offers a greeting, and Emma's entry produces a natural break in the conversation, follows Emma's model and shifts up to homid in order to respond in kind. Once she's done with the shifting, she says, "Sorry, hi. Heather Badawi, Speaks-Truth-To-Power, cliath philodox of the Black Furies."

Heather, despite the floral name, is anything but a delicate creature - though unapologetically feminine all the same. She's striking albeit in a slightly unconventional fashion: skin a couple of shades too warm for even 'off-white,' dark eyes that seem a touch larger for it, a tumble of dark hair given enough free reign to lay as it wills with frequent reminders that 'in the eyes' or 'covering her mouth' aren't actually sustainable options. She's not petite in any sense of the word, either: 6'1" and broad in the shoulder with well developed and toned musculature where it's visisble. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to conclude that she's a swimmer or gymnast.

Raiment is usually simple and intended to neither flaunt, nor conceal, nor apologize for her gender. A pair of solid cross-trainer sneakers, white; a pair of basic bluejeans from Old Navy, loose fit; A v-neck, 'ladies' cut t-shirt, all black with white block lettering completes the outfit. It reads: BLACK LIVES MATTER. In the colder of the autumn's weather she adds a worn, zip-up hoodie to this.

Karin offers, mostly for Linnaea's benefit, "Karin Alexander, Avenges-the-Past, Cliath Galliard of the Black Furies. Once lost, but now home again, and serving the sept as Keeper of the Land." Emma gets a wave of greeting as she joins them.

Salem brushes hair away from his face (he really needs a haircut) and looks over and up at Heather, regarding her appraisingly for a moment before offering up his own introduction, and that pretty casually. "Jack Salem, called Scar, Adren Philodox of the Glass Walkers and alpha of pack Sagacity."

Emma gives Salem one of those infamous Emma-grins; one side of her smile ticked up in wry amusement. "Trying to catch up to you," she replies to her alpha, "Especially since you passed me in height. Again." The Get turns her attention on the others, "Hey guys." A slight pause as she takes in new names and faces, "Emma Mahler. Athro Full Moon of the Get, packed under this guy here, and, very recently returned. So I'm likely to need a few to get my bearings on the who and what."

The current Gatekeeper and challenger for Alpha comes walking in through the valley path, spear at his side more idly utilized as a walking stick from habit than need. He looks over at those gathered and then clearly has some reaction to something he sees as he calls out, "Hey!" Here, Jamethon increases his pace to meeting up with those already in the Caern.

This man is somewhere around six inches above six feet and looking to have about three hundred or so pounds of muscle on him. His beard is about three weeks grown in, worn on a face which is a haunted mask of concentration. His eyes, dark enough to seem black, are full of shadows and have a habit of quickly dancing in random directions. Hair, light brown at the tips, has silvery-grey roots, and is is just about neck length.

Jamethon currently wears a light green linen shirt under a pristine brown leather jacket and a pair of black, well-fitted and heavy canvas jeans. Around his neck hangs a copper disc set in with a shield cut piece of brilliant forest-green jade at its center (look jamethon's pendant). On his feet are what appears to be some kind of thickly bound, sheepskin boot.

Scars on his forehead, just below his bangs, are the tips of a set of three jagged scars that travel up and back, the rest covered by the Fenrir's hair. A large myriad collection of scars adorn his visage at other various points as well (+detail Jamethon's scars).

Linnaea falls silent, turning the pouch with the paintbrush inside over and over in her lap.

Karin offers a wave to Jamethon as the Get Theurge approaches. "At least it's still the same sept that you left. That helps make it at least a _little_ less disorienting," she replies to Emma.

Three From Ashes brushes roughly against Emma as she turns back to the fire, sits, and settles once more. Her eyes stay open this time, but she's once more focused on it, rather than those around her.

So many greetings, Heather nods and makes note of Salem and Emma in turn, offering Emma a bit more visible deference than Salem. (She does at least look impressed when Salem gives his rank.) Once again, however, she falls silent, playing the listener for the remainder of the conversation, soaking in the dynamics and news.

Salem, seated on the ground next to Mouse, studies her for a moment before turning his attention back to the conversation. "It's really only the details of the Sept that changes," he says, with the air of someone who's seen far more years than his visible age or lack of battle-damage would suggest. "The people. The caern totems. Sometimes the landscape." Pause. "Twice the landscape, I think."

Emma offers Three From Ashes a gesture oddly similiar to the one Salem gave her, letting her hand rub briefly into the fur of the Hispo shape in a closer way of greeting the Walker. The 'Hey' catches her attention and she lifts a hand toward her tribemate, smile there for him as well. To the Furies, she gives a nod, "With a lot of the same faces. The new ones I'll be eager to get to know."

Three From Ashes rumbles appreciably at the rub. Not particularly dignified, perhaps, but what's dignity between high ranking packmates? Beneath the fur, Emma can feel the rough, uneven scars. It's near impossible to find a spot without them on the Walker at this point.

Jamethon gets closer to the group and pauses to take stock of those in the Caern. After a moment he nods to some private thought which is followed with a smile. He steps closer to Emma and claps an arm down onto her shoulder, "It is good to see you, Elder."

Linnaea touches the handle of the paintbrush briefly before putting it, in pouch, back in her messenger bag. "I should use it, but when?" is the question that she poses to no one in particular. "The landscape changed between when I was a cub here, and when I came back. Lots of people change, too" she adds.

Emma smiles at Jamethon. "Uuugh, I feel like that's what people call my father." A small shake of her head follows, "Always so formal Jamethon." She chuckles and reaches out to embrace her tribemate in an open armed hug. "How many of us our down here still?" A sidelong glance passes over Three From Ashes once more, but the momentary distraction is pushed aside to focus on her fellow Get.

Three From Ashes closes her eyes. For a few moments, there's nothing from her but slow, measured inhales and exhales, but when she next speaks, it's to Linnaea's question. ~When it's needed. Fetishes are not toys, but they're not meant to be set on a shelf and never used either. When you feel it's right, it's usually right.~

Jamethon returns the hug just as warmly. Once releasing he nods to Three From Ashes' words first, acknowledging the wisdom in them then stepping back. To Emma he considers aloud, "The young Frederick is vigilant. I know Viv is around, though haven't seen her in a minute. Same with Reed. So. For sure? You, Me, and Fred."

Heather sits herself back down, next to Karin, noting the exchange between Linnea and Three From Ashes, sparing an ear for the Get reunion as well.

Karin says softly, "Nearly everyone changes." A small, wistful sigh for those whose time here are ancient history to most, but still feel like not so long ago at all t her. "But there's good in change as well." She rests a hand on Heather's shoulder briefly when her tribemate sits down next to her.

Linnaea nods a moment at Mouse's answer, and offers, "Thanks." It seems to have given the Gaian something to think about, because she goes silent once again.

Emma gives a hmm at Jamethon's news on the tribe. "Well, I'd appreciate any help you can offer in getting me caught up on tribe business. Actually, a quick heads up on Sept business would be good."

Pack> Three From Ashes offers a heads up here, although there's still the sense that she's distracted. ~We've lost a fair number of people. Left. Consumes-Shadows is one of them.~

Karin repeats her brief rundown of the moot, from prior to Emma's arrival, as her part in filling Emma in. "Jamethon and Slug are challenging for Alpha, Copperhead is Warder, Yael is Master of the Challenge, Master of Rites is still unclaimed."

Pack> Salem mutters something that sounds a lot like 'good riddance'.

Pack> Emma says "Whoa... really? Any explanation?? I mean Shadow Lords rarely just up and walk away because they think someone else can do the job better."

Jamethon gives a good, single, solid huff of a laugh and seems about to answer when Karin does, "Copperhead is, despite her status, off to a good start." He pauses then adds, "It's all because Thane up and left us without so much as a warning. Alicia, apparently, disappeared as well. And... yes, I am stepping forward to claim Alpha along side Slug and anyone else who decides they are worthy between now and the time of the challenge."

Pack> Three From Ashes says "~What he said. It certainly wasn't because he thought I'd do a better job. We don't have any information.~"

Three From Ashes tucks one foreleg in, and then the other, as she lays down. There's something a little less relaxed about it though. Some hint of disgruntlement.

Heather spares a smile for Karin briefly, perhaps reading a compliment in the timing of the verbal and non-verbal. Then her tribe-mate is down to business and it's lots of new things coming up, and for once Heather seems inclined to like the news.

Linnaea makes a face at mention of her tribemate, but just shakes her head briefly, causing a few rainbow braids to come loose from the bigger braid that they're held in.

Pack> Emma says "Wow, that's... huh."

"So, do you actually /want/ the job this time, Jamethon?" Salem asks, tilting a knowing look up at the big Get. His tone almost makes the question a friendly jab, though might be interpreted as less than friendly and more just a jab.

Emma looks from Karin over to Jamethon at mention of the alphaship, one brow raising up in a momentary consideration of something. Salem's question brings that scrutiny of Jamethon up a notch, and she remains silent to see how the exchange will play out.

Pack> Slug says "Good thing I'm here, or one of you might have to be Alpha."

Pack> Three From Ashes faint irritability.

Pack> Salem deadpans, "I, for one, welcome our new Gnawer overlord."

Pack> Three From Ashes says "You have a fifty/fifty chance of getting him."

Pack> Slug says "My odds are better than that, but they might be about fifty/fifty by the time I'm done annoying you."

Jamethon keeps that grin that shows humor and confidence to his tribemate. Then Salem asks the question and the humor evaporates, while the confidence remains. To Salem he looks now and without hesitation says, "I do. I am the best qualified unless someone steps forward," he gives a pointed glance towards Emma, then looks back to Salem. "Mouse would be ideal, but since that can't be? Then, yes. It should be me."

Three From Ashes flicks an ear, and opens one eye to watch the exchange.

Pack> Three From Ashes says "Ideal. /Hah/."

Karin stays quiet, given the nature of the exchange. A glance goes between the two, then over to Linnaea and Emma in turn.

Salem looks steadily up at Jamethon, an eyebrow raised. Then he looks away, toward Mouse, then Emma. "Hmm."

Linnaea meets Karin's gaze for a moment and lifts her shoulders in a brief shrug, staying quiet while the ranking Garou talk, although her primary attention is on Emma's reaction, and Salem's. She looks curious, but not /quite/ like she's going to say anything at the moment.

Heather, too, is intrigued by the exchange, but only barely knows the players involved so it's purely the potential logistics of it that might interest her.

Pack> Slug says "Mmm? Ideal?"

~I can't and won't be the alpha,~ Three-From-Ashes states. ~It will come down to whoever challenges me, and whoever challenges the one who wins it from me.~

Emma brings a hand up to rub lightly at her face, the gesture idle in its distracted trace over her newest scar. There's a deep thought that pulls the Ahroun away at that moment, broken only by a shake of her head. "When is the challenge taking place?"

Pack> Salem says "Jamethon thinks Mouse would be ideal as Sept Alpha."

Jamethon seems quite content to allow that exchange with Salem end there rather than push further. He nods with understanding at the standing Alpha's declaration and then rests his attention on Emma for just a moment. The Godi finally looks over at the firepit and takes a deep breath.

Pack> Slug says "Oh, no." Slug pauses for a beat or two. "She'd be pretty bad at it."

Pack> Kavi says "Kavi doesn't say anything, but there's a sense of agrement with Jamethon's assessment."

Three From Ashes says "Soon."

Linnaea gets to her feet, and takes a half-step towards Three From Ashes, before repeating her earlier statement. "Thank you, Mouse-rhya. I appreciate the help and advice," she says. Salem is offered a bright grin, and Emma a wave. "Welcome back, Emma-rhya," she offers, and then moves over towards the tree, and without further adieu the Gaian theurge vanishes. Presumably into the umbra.

Pack> Three From Ashes says "I see what you're doing."

Salem chuckles quietly as though at a private, inward joke.

Emma gives a faint nod, "Well, things will be determined as they always are. In the meantime, I feel like I could use a more thorough... debriefing at some point. We've got a reputation here now; a good one. As the nation rebuilds, they're likely going to lean on us. I'd like to be able to step up to that plate." If she has any thoughts on the current challengers, she makes no comment and her poker face has improved these past months.

Karin says, "If you'll all excuse me, I should be running my evening patrol." Barring any protests, which she presumably doesn't expect, since she begins to make her own exit, she'll head off toward the outer perimeter of the bawn.

Heather has a small smirk for the current Alpha's announced timline, but holds her peace. She gives Karin a non-verbal farewell. She seems briefly torn between following along, but settles on sticking to her seat for now, and continuing to observe.

The Godi nods firmly to Emma's statement with an affirmative soft grunt, accompanied with a wave to acknowledge Karin. "With the... Oh yes, there was a farce of an, " there is a pause here in a search for the word, "agreement, with a Spiral Hive... and we no longer are accepting it as a truth. That done, we will have to deal with the fallout. We also have to deal with the Nothing. The disappearence of the Magpies. We need to create formal alliances with Gaian Septs. Build moon bridges. Make sure what happened across fractured Septs cannot happen to united ones."

Pack> Emma says "It's amazing that we don't get random Silver Fangs showing up claiming leadership with as often as this happens."

Pack> Three From Ashes says "Maybe they don't want the headache either."

Pack> Slug radiates something that's not purely an emotion or a feeling, but gives the impression of a grin that's all teeth. "You do, Mouse? Does everyone else?" He pauses a few beats, then says, "If you like, I could call Jervis.

Salem leans back to rest on his elbows. "Do you have a plan for all that?"

Three From Ashes pushes herself up into a sit again. ~Are there any details on that?~ she asks. ~Was it even an agreement, or some sort of a temporary understanding with this Renegade? I never heard anything beyond something like it existing.~ She clacks her teeth together. ~Not that it's relevant any longer, but it /would/ be nice to know what the fuck we got dragged into.~

People come and people leave, and a smaller black wolf picks her way into the caern. Gathers-Strength pauses at seeing the unfamiliar face, though, and shifts up into homid, after which point Yael ducks a nod of greeting to all gathered. "I haven't seen any magpies since I got here," she finally observes. "Not this time or the last time..." A pause, and then she glances at Emma, and offers an introduction. "My name is Shai-Nefer. Or Yael, in less formal circumstance. Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials, adren and half-moon of the Silent Striders, Master of Challenges."

Emma looks toward the newcomer, offering a half-mouthed grin. "Emma Mahler. Athro of the Get of Fenris, Ahroun. Recently returned from helping Steel Angel on their fight, and ... good to see a half moon taking up those reins again. My hands got pretty callused with them." She tips her head, "Good to meet you formally."

Pack> Three From Ashes says "You don't get to back out of this, you know. If you get it, you get it. And I won't be around to pull you out of any trouble."

Pack> Slug says "If you like, I could be Elder of the Glass Walkers, too. Think of all the cubs you won't have to deal with."

Pack> Three From Ashes says "You're not a Glass Walker, you're disqualified."

Jamethon gives Salem a look at the question, but then more questions come and thoughts with them. He acknowledges Gathers-Strength then starts speaking, "There was, from what I know, a non-aggression pact borne of a mutual enemy, the Queen. Also, from what Thane would tell me before Alicia cut our conversation short, the question of their hostage that now... I hear was freed but yet still missing. As well, I was told that a Spiral cub, a baby, was rescued and cleansed. That child has been adopted by the former Warder's brother, Benedict. I do not know if there is a connection there, but it is best if that child is kept protected in case they attempt to reclaim it." He looks around, waiting for thoughts on what he has said. It seems Jamethon has more to say."

To Heather, Yael's position is news, and she's not displeased to hear it, either. The news she brings is probably less welcome, though. And talk of the agreement with the BSDs? Yeah, that's a sore point, but she's keeping a lid on for now.

Pack> Slug says "I don't think there's anything in the book about having to be from the Tribe to lead a Tribe. It's known as the Air Bud loophole."

Three From Ashes's lips pull back from her teeth, more startled than snarled. ~Do /they/ know about this kid?~ she asks. ~Seattle, that is. I've not heard about this.~

Pack> Three From Ashes says "There is no book, and there is no 'Air Bud' loophole."

Jamethon answers Mouse's question quickly with, "I am unaware. I was not invited to ask many questions."

Salem deadpans, "Shock. Surprise."

Pack> Slug says "I promise you at least one Philodox has literally written a book of rules, and then argued with themselves about whether or not it was a breach of the Veil."

Emma draws in a breath before dropping her shoulders in a show of forced calm. Something having brought a wave of anger to the Get. She glances then to the others, "I want to get caught up on this, but... I'll come get the full details once they're sorted. Need to check in on a few things now that I'm back- made this my first stop." There may be more to that, judging by the tightness in her jaw just now. "Edgewood free and clear these days?"

Pack> Salem says "I think I remember someone coming to the Sept with just such a book. It was burned."

"There's a--" Yael doesn't even finish her sentence, and there's a momentary flare of something, not quite anger, before the Strider's calm demeanor returns. It's clearly a mask over her true feelings, though. "Hashem yerachem," she mutters, and manages to make that sound like a curse. "Just how much..."

Three From Ashes growls. She paces a step away from the fire, and then abruptly shifts through the forms until she hits homid. "...You said Benedict has it? Metis? That's...nnng." She rubs her face, then starts fishing through her pockets. "I need to go find someone. God damn, those assholes." She seems to find what she was looking for; curiously, it's just a green stone on a loop of string. "If it's not one loose end, it's another..."

Pack> Mouse is all tension and worry and "fuck that stupid fucking Shadow Lord, that fucker", etc.

Pack> Kavi ???

Jamethon is seemingly so infused with all the problems that face the Sept that his usual serious demeanor has been tinged with some obvious sardonic tones as well. Then something grabs his attention, and that fades back to a momentarily serious tone, "The child, Alpha, was baptised but is human born. Beyond that? I do not know."

Pack> Mouse explains, without actually explaining, "Something I need to /handle/. Right now. That I can't be sure he handled."

Pack> Salem says "You can be reasonably sure that he didn't."

Brings Winter's Bite appears at the edge of the clearing not long before the Gatekeeper offers an answer, the big grey wolf's head tilting in its usual subtle manner. She begins to pad a little closer to the gathering, ears pricked and attentive, posture mindful of the ranking wolves present before she gets close enough to return ot her breed form. Listening, offering nods of greeting, but otherwise silent.

"Thank you," Mouse tosses over her shoulder, toward Jamethon, as she heads up in a hurry out of the Caern. She's already dangling that stone between her fingers. "Sorry. I need to see to this." And she's off, barely glancing at Sandra as she arrives.

Pack> Slug says "Not true. He handled himself."

Salem's eyes half-close, his attention going inward, and a good deal of his new-moon at-easy body language is evaporating away. Grimacing, he sits up and drags fingers back through his hair, mussing it. He watches Mouse depart with a grim, tight-lipped expression.

Pack> Mouse says "If it hasn't caused a problem by now, we're probably okay. I have an idea of what to do. It's just one more stupid fucking thing."

Emma watches as Mouse takes off, then draws herself through her forms to take lupus once more. A quick flick of her tail and she takes off in much the same direction, though not at a pace suggesting she is trailing the Walker.

Pack> Emma says "Let me know if you need anything Mouse."

Pack> Slug says "So, what's the problem?"

Pack> Mouse says "Rite participants in a few days, maybe. Hopefully not. She's homid, hopefully they've never, ever heard of her."

Pack> Mouse says "And never will."

Pack> Emma says "Gonna stop and check in with my mom. I'll try and catch up with you guys more tomorrow."

Pack> Slug says "You're cute when you're angry."

Jamethon nods in answer to Mouse's thanks and looks back over the group that remains. "I do have a plan, Salem." He lets his attention return to the Glass Walker. Jamethon follows Emma's leaving with his eyes as he continues, "First, alliances and help to rebuild the Caerns that can be saved. The Green for one. Bridges must be built," Here he looks back to the group, "so messages and emmisaries will be sent to make connections. Our Spiritual health and defense is paramount right now." A pause and he continues rather than have to wait to say all this again, "We must find what has happened to the Magpies. It may not seem like much, and it is strange to see that many find it unimportant that an entire species of bird has vanished as far as I can roam from here. Already plans are in place to seek Spiritual aid and seek answers of other realms, so those will be bolstered and shall heavily inform what comes next. Then, as we reach out to other Septs, we shore up the holes we have here from those places that were not so ravaged and can spare the warriors in exchange for our aid to them."

Pack> Mouse says "I'm going to h...I'm going to ask Salem to hit you."

Pack> Mouse says "Goodnight, Emma."

Pack> Slug says "I wouldn't. Didn't work out too well the last time a Glass Walker packmate hit on me."

Yael lifts a hand in parting, which in turn is offered as a brief wave in greeting for Sandra. There's a slight smile that is offered to the Shadow Lord, and Yael finally finds herself a place to sit by the firepit, letting out a sigh and listening as Jamethon speaks. Her brow furrows, but she doesn't say anything quite yet.

Pack> Slug also wishes Emma a pleasant goodnight, while making mental faces at Mouse.

Pack> Salem says "...Jesus H. Christ."

Pack> Salem's tone doesn't make it clear as to what exactly he's addressing with that remark.

Pack> Mouse says "Tell me it's not something else. Or, tell me if it is, but if it is, I'm going to be exasperated about it."

Salem pulls a knee up to his chest and rests one arm on it. He rubs his forehead with his fingers, looking distracted. He nods to Jamethon without looking like he's heard a thing that the Get has said.

Pack> Salem says "No, nothing else."

"There was someone asking about that at the moot, I think," Sandra says, once she's offered a nod to Yael in return. "About the magpies." Beat. "Ron, I think. The young Philodox. I was a little too distracted to address him directly, but it does seem-- not only odd, but telling, given what I'd heard of the Nothing's history."

Jamethon raises an eyebrow at Salem and then looks over in the direction that Salem seems to have more attention on. A heavy, perhaps relaxing, breath that is not quite a sigh comes from the Fenrir. He looks over to Sandra as she speaks like somehow that detail sparks something in him, "That's right. How could that have slipped my mind. Unless..." He doesn't elaborate on his consideration just yet, but puts the fore-finger and thumb of his left hand together like he is holding something and looks down to where they meet, rubbing the two fingers together. The Gatekeeper then smiles grimly. "What else have we forgotten? Or dismissed? What else has changed suddenly and we're... okay with it?"

"Well, that's the abstracts of a plan at least," Yael notes. She furrows her brows a moment, but doesn't voice anything more.

Pack> Mouse says "...What."

Pack> Mouse says "This man is literally impossible."

"The sept's been running on survival mode for some time," Sandra says, in a fashion that would *almost* seem reassuring if she somehow had a stroke and forgot who she was talking to. In this case, it's just presented as a plausible explanation. "I know people like to say that this is the state we live in - constant, unending warfare - and, for the most part, they're not entirely wrong-- but not every caern faces the magnitude of the threats that this particular one does. Details are bound to get lost in the shuffle, especially when fighting a war on two fronts. But I somehow doubt that anyone is explicitly 'okay' with it."

Pack> Salem says "Which?"

Pack> Mouse says "Brings-the-Pack. I guess it saves me a hike."

Salem abruptly gets up and jogs out of the caern.