It is currently 18:43 Pacific Time on Mon Mar 8 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (84% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 69 degrees
Fahrenheit (20 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.28 and falling, and
the relative humidity is 52 percent. The dewpoint is 51 degrees
Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.)
Two Eagles Bluff
To the northeast, the foothills climb upwards into the steep, snow-capped crags
and mountains. Here, the tall summer grasses bend in sporadic waves as
the wind dances on the bluff. The evergreens and aspens give way to an
open field that lends itself to a panoramic and picturesque view to the
south and east. A small stream wends its way unobtrusively through the
eastern edge of the mountain's crags, the scent and sound of trickling
water clear on the hesitant but almost incessant breeze. Wildflowers
litter the green of the grass, coloring them with touches of violet and
bright oranges, yellows and blues. Tucked in along the sloped wall of the
forested foothills to the northeast is a well-worn section of ground.
Jacinta sits out on the bluff, her ritual bag of sealskin, oil, and whetstone
are before her. Her knife is in her hand and she is inspecting the job
she has done, sharpening the blade.
Atcen is stretched out in the grass in human form on her belly, her head
pillowed in folded arms and looking withdrawn and sulky. She's out of
Jacinta's immediate view.
Dana makes her way up the bluff quietly, but not so quietly that the better
trained ears of the Garou probably don't pick her up. She pauses as she
reaches the plateau's crest, looking around the flattened area carefully.
Jacinta seems at first to ignore the slight sounds she hears, but she shifts
her grip on her knife and as Dana comes over the rise, jerks her head in
that direction.
Atcen stirs, lifting her front end up in a 'girl-pushup' manner to peer at the
arrival. Recognizing Dana, she smiles a little, but the welcome is muted
by her gloomy mood.
Dana smiles and looks relieved when she spies Atcen, but her attention goes
back to Jacinta. There is tension in her body language, tension, and not a
small amount of fear, as she takes a step forward to clear the thickest
of the treeline. "Hi. I'm Dana."
Jacinta rises smoothly, using only her powerful legs. She eyes Dana warily.
Without sparing a glance to her cub, she shifts the knife to her left
hand and steps over her other belongings and toward the newcomer.
"Jacinta," she says shortly, not hint of her usual smile appears.
Atcen, behind Jacinta, sits up, biting on her lower lip. Her face turns anxious
and her eyes shift back and forth between the two, but she says nothing.
Dana, in seeing Jacinta's approach and the knife in her hand, quickly puts her
hands up and steps back a few paces, fear increasing noticably. She
glances quickly at Atcen then back to the ahroun, saying hastily, "You're
the new Wendigo elder. I'm kin."
Jacinta glances down at the knife in her hand and her lips quirk upward in
amusment. She extends her right hand, while letting the hilt of her knife
slide down between the fingers of her left, flipping it upward so that
the flat of the blade rests against her wrist. "I know. From your name.
Also, that you are Shaman, adopted into our tribe." She pauses, now
glancing over at Atcen briefly. "And, that you saw fit to teach the cubs
of the lore of your birth tribe." Her tone softens until that last
sentence, which is said with obvious disapproval. "Still, you are kin. I
offer you welcome."
Dana blinks with surprise and confusion at Jacinta's comment about teaching the
cubs. "Thank you..." she trails off into uncertainty. Her manner is
definitely shy, and definitely tenative, and only Jacinta's offered hand
gets her away from her place halfway back into the treeline, approaching
gingerly. She shakes cautiously, before snaking her hand back and
shifting uneasily on the balls of her feet. "What did you mean, teaching
the cubs the lore of my birth tribe?" she looks genuinely confused.
Gold-blonde hair just brushes her shoulders, and her eyes are the pure, vivid
blue of a spring sky. Barely noticable freckles are dusted over high,
angular cheekbones, almost camoflouged by well-tanned skin. The eye
travels down the slim column of her neck to her slender, feminine body
which moves with the graceful, compact energy of a highly trained
ahtlete, well-muscled without being muscular.
She is dressed simply, in a blue and black flannel shirt and a pair of jeans
bleached nearly white. While outside, she wears an SCCU warm-up jacket.
There are always raven's in the area, flying over head or making thier loud
cries in the trees the surround the bluff. Finds-Stories seems to be
nothing more then another one of Raven's many children, as she wings
carry her above the group.
Jacinta returns to where she was sitting, earlier, and begins packing up her
tools, knife sliding into the sheath at her hip. "You told them that
these are not the end times, that their hope alone can keep the horned
serpent at bay. This sounds like the teachings of the Children. It is not
the teachings of Little Brother.
Dana scowls briefly, and the perceptive might notice a genuine note of anger.
But, her voice remains smooth, if not warm. "It isn't. It is a lesson I
learned as a shaman, on a Seeking." A pause, then adds, "A vision quest."
Finds-Stories lands within twenty feet of the group, clawed feet finding
purchase on a small boulder, about two feet off the ground. Bringing one
wing around to the front of her body, the bird begins to preen.
Completely ignoring the people in the area.
Jacinta stops short, one hand still holding open her bag. She turns an open and
shockd face up to Dana; her eyes searching the other woman's face,
looking for truth. "You had a vision?"
Atcen glances over at the raven, distracted briefly by it, but only briefly.
Her head cocks as she turns her attention back to Dana.
There's no lie in Dana's expression, but Jacinta's unconscious intensity, has
her taking an uneasy step backwards. "Yes," she admits reluctantly, now
that the proverbial cat is out of the bag. "Several years ago now."
Jacinta's expression is almost reverent as she continues to watch the kin.
"And, and this vision told you that these are not the end times?"
Dana shakes her head quickly against the question. "No, it did not say that.
Just that," she struggles for words, in ways that she did not before,
when it was just Atcen and Turtle, "if we hold on to hope and don't give
in to the darkness, the Wyrm can never truly win."
Jacinta drops her gaze, attempting, though poorly, to hide disappointment she
was not expecting. "Ii." She returns to the task of putting her materials
away. Without looking up she changes the subject, asking, "Do you feel a
part of the Tribe?"
The large raven hops off her boulder-perch, disapearing behind it. Those who
are more perceptive may notice something considerably larger then a raven
moving behind the boulder a moment later. A short and slim woman
straightens up from behind the rock and promptly sits on it, with a grin
on her face. She sits and watches. It'll only take a second, for people
to notice the new arrival. Even in the gathering darkness.
Jacinta does not have time to stop her instinctual reaction to the shock of the
new arrival. Without thought, she turns, body growing larger, hairier,
more dangerous. The growl in her throat halts as, with an obvious act of
will, she also stops herself from moving toward the woman. The effort is
so great, that her head turns to the side, all the muscles in naked,
glabro form standing taut under her skin.
Atcen notices the stranger as Jacinta does and blinks, staring. Her eyes cut
sidelong to the older Wendigo, and seeing her reaction, the Metis
scrambles to her feet and matches the elder's form. "Where _she_ come
from?"
A woman in her early twenties Val is whip-thin, her face slightly pinched and
has a prominent nose. Dark jet black hair is tied behind the woman's head
in a practical pony-tail and is mid-back in length, framing ghostly pale
skin. The woman stands no more then five feet tall, which almost seems to
accentuate how thin she is. Val smiles a lot, a cheerfulness that is hard
to ignore and almost contagious in nature.
Currently, the small woman is wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, a pumpkin
orange shirt and a flannel jacket to protect her from the cold. A
miniature leather backpack sits in the middle of her back, held in place
by straps across her shoulders.
Dana moves to get away from both the stranger and the suddenly glabro Jacinta,
clutching the strap of her duffel bag in both hands.
Over six feet tall in the near-man form, Atcen still looks more starved than
brawny; her gaunt body possesses a ropy, whip-thin build, with no fat or
spare flesh. Her thick, straight black hair is boyishly short, roughly
cropped as though with a knife. Large hands and feet, both with long,
thick, pointed fingernails, suggest that she still has more growing to do.
Pointed ears and needle-sharp yellow teeth give the young Glabro a ghoulish,
predatory appearance that's emphasized by her hungry look and the pallor
to her coppery complexion. The unkempt hair is dry and looks like it
would tangle easily if it weren't so short. Underneath thick black lashes
and a craggy brow lurk pale blue eyes, cold as winter.
Atcen's bony form is clothed in a ripped t-shirt that's a dingy shade of white
and a pair of faded and torn blue jeans. Both items of clothing have old
bloodstains, the front of the shirt especially. Her feet are bare.
Val's grin fades in a split second, as she scrambles off the rock. Putting it
between herself and the Garou. Pitiful protection that it is. "Now-now,
not reason to get all testy." The woman briefly squints into the
darkness. "Well, Maybe testy is the wrong word to use. Since, well, non
of you are guys. Maybe I should use the word moony. Yes, yes, that fits
your particular type of temper. Not that you need to get angry. Its
actually a bit nicer when you stay calm and non-fuzzy."
Jacinta, still holding back with obvious effort, glares at the strange woman.
"Who. Are. You?"
Atcen, frowning, starts sidling around in a flanking motion, her arms hanging
loosely at her sides, hands open.
"Well, I'm me of course," Val replies, somewhat fustratingly. "Just a skinny
little bird, come to say hello. Been quite a few more of you here,
lately, but no Leonard." As Acten moves in a flanking motion, the woman
stands a little straighter, keeping an eye on the metis.
Jacinta takes a calming breath, hands clenching and unclenching by her sides.
"You know Leonard?" She takes a measured step toward the woman, gaze
flicking toward Atcen, keeping track of her position while most of her
attention is focused on this possible threat.
Atcen doesn't move much closer to Val, but from where she is it's difficult --
if not impossible -- for the pale-skinned woman to keep track of both
Wendigo at once. She bares pointed teeth, lip wrinkling in a wolfish
manner and tongue flicking out to lick at her front teeth.
"No eating the bird!" Val states, eyes flicking toward Atcen, clearly unsettled
now that Jacinta has taken a step closer to her 'safety zone'. "Yes, yes,
nice guy, really. Even if he did taking a bite out my tailfeathers, the
first time we met. Helped out here and there. Said I was welcome here."
Dana sees Jacinta calme somewhat, and takes a sidestep herself, to find a rock
to sit on. She pulls a Native drum out of the duffel, Sioux in origin,
the edges fringed in black and variegated feathers which twist in the
gentle wind. She doesn't drum, simply stroking at the feathers in what
appears to be a random fashion, as she watches the scene, primarily, the
strange woman.
Jacinta has nearly forgotten about Dana, this stranger taking so much of her
attention, and the effort not to attack taking so much of her focus. "He
never said. Why should I believe?" She doesn't approach any closer, but
it's clear she is ready to.
Atcen seems to have forgotten about the kinfolk-shaman as well. She shifts her
weight from foot to foot, staring steadily at Val.
Val sighs and shakes her head. "I swear, non of you people ever talk to
eachother. Ever. No wonder you still haven't gotten rid of the
blood-drinkers in the city. I've only told you where they're living half
a dozen times."
This news gives the ahroun pause, almost enough to distract her from her focus.
Almost, but not. "Leonard is not here. The moon is full. If you wish to
live, give me reason."
Atcen crinkles her nose at 'blood-drinkers', or perhaps at the stranger's tone.
She shifts her weight again and looks more than ready to leap in and
attack Val as soon as Jacinta gives word.
Val makes a face and tugs on a string around her neck. Pulling out a small
mirror and raven feather, from around her neck. "You wolves are far to
cranky to talk too. Can almost never have a good conversation with one of
you. Always so demanding. Cath you on the flip side." With that, the
woman looks down at the small mirror around her neck and winks out of
existance. Passing through the Gauntlant and into the Umbra with casual
ease.
Atcen snarls and leaps at the place Val is, or rather _was_, her body
transforming to Crinos in an instant as she pounces. But the woman is
gone, and the Metis' claws only strike air and earth.
Like Atcen, Jacinta can contain herself no longer and leaps in attack. Finding
no target, she raises her face to the sky and releases a half-howl,
half-scream of frustration. Dropping to her knees, she holds that scream
for as long as her breath will allow, and then collapses inward,
returning to homid form. She shakes with the after effects of her rage.
Dana, seeing the frustration of the Garou, wisely doesn't draw attention to
herself for a few moment, but then a soft, very soft, drumming issues
forth from the instrument cradled by her left arm, soothing, like
raindrops on leather.
Atcen claws at the ground in anger and skulks around the boulder Val occupied,
sniffing the ground and examining everything around it. Eventually she
shrinks down into lupus form, still sniffing and pawing.
Jacinta looks over her shoulder at the source of the drumming. Her hands still
tremble slightly in her lap. "Dana. If you will wait, I will return,
shortly."
Dana nods, but then adds, "If you are looking for that person, she's gone. She
turned into a bird, and flew off."
Atcen snorts and looks up, her ears perked. She glances at Jacinta and chuffs.
There is raven-smell behind this rock. Raven smell _and_ woman-stranger
smell.
Jacinta wordlessly nods and turns back to the boulder. She, too, shifts into
lupus form and explores the areas where the woman, and raven, sat.
Dana continues to drum while Jacinta and Atcen explore things lupusly, the
rhythm varying only to sound like the strengthening and ebbing of a
spring rainshower.
Atcen backs up as Jacinta approaches, her ears and tail lowering submissively.
Padding back around the boulder, she hesitates, then lies down some
distance from the kinfolk, head on her paws.
Pierces Ice carefully tests the scents around the boulder, and then ranges
farther. Eventaully she returns, satisfied, if not happy.
This arctic wolf's thick, cream coat seems almost yellow when touched by the
sun. She's not large, but her stocky frame seems sturdy enough. Perhaps
despite her thickness of body, there is an air of alertness about her. It
can be seen in the deep brown of her eyes, the cant of her ear, and the
facility of each step.
Dana still doesn't speak, but lets the drumming communicate for her. She seems
patient enough to wait out both Garou in silence.
Atcen is less patient, but she waits for Jacinta to speak first.
Pierces Ice stretches, body twiting and contorting, eventually reforming in
homid. "She has been here before. The raven. Many times, though I cannot
find her scent with that of Brings the Buffalo Home."
"What was she?" Dana asks, continuing her drumming. "Other than someone who can
shift into a raven?"
Jacinta tugs at her braid, jaw working. "My people spoke of the Raven People. I
have never met one, but they were friends to Clear Water in the past
times. She might be one of them."
Dana nods absently, doing a complicated roll across the deeper part of the
drum, like thunder. "She thinks of herself as the Raven. And she feels
like your people do. And she can also reach into the Spirit world. These
Raven People, they are like the Garou?"
Jacinta says "Ii. Skinchangers, like us."
"Hai," Dana answers in acknowledgement, pondering the implications before
saying, "Do they fight the same war, you do?"
Jacinta says "They are ravens to our wolves." She wipes her hands on her jeans
and then crosses her arms over her chest. Looking over at Atcen, she
continutes. "We fight, they watch. They collect - information, toys. They
are no friend to the Horned Serpent - Raven is wise, if selfish - but
they don't fight as we do. If she... if she wants to give us information,
it may be useful. But Raven is also the trickster... even if he is on our
side, he can never be trusted for the games he will play. Like today. To
her, I think this was a game."
Atcen bristles slightly, listening, then snorts.
Dana nods, expression troubled. "So...be careful, is what you're saying?"
Jacinta's shoulders rise, knotted muscles still taut. "Ii. Be careful. But if
you can get her to share what she knows... it may be useful. What she
said, about knowing the lairs of vampires - that information should be
shared, used, if it wasn't also a trick."
Dana dips her chin in a nod, but then adds, "I am not sure if I can do that,
but, if she returns, I can at least talk to her."
Jacinta says "Talk to her - and be careful." She returns, finally, to complete
the task of putting her materials away. Picking up the sealskin bag, she
disappears briefly into the cave. When she returns, she looks over Dana
with an appraising eye. "Do you feel yourself kin to the Wendigo?"
Dana looks surprised, and a trifle wary at Jacinta's question, but in examining
the woman, she answers, "In some ways, yes. Just as in some ways, I felt
myself kindred with the Children of Gaia." She hesitates, then goes on.
"I did not grow up knowing about the Garou. I didn't find out about you,
or what I was, until I came here. Everything I know about who and what
you are has been from Andrea, who was the Children of Gaia elder here,
and a very good friend, and later Leonard. But...I am a shaman as well,
as you put it. That makes me different than even most Kinfolk. I walk a
path that runs alongside your own, but it is not the same path."
Jacinta nods as she listens, head tipping to the side at the end. "There will
be a Potlatch soon. It will be a time to tell stories, to dance, and
drum, and a time to meet other Wendigo, kin and Garou. I would like you
to come."
Dana's sunshine smile breaks through with delight, lighting up the beauty of
her features. She bows her head respectfully to the ahroun, saying, "I
would be honored." She pauses, then adds with a slight smile, "Leonard
would not have asked."
Jacinta glances toward Atcen before responding. "Brings the Buffalo Home and I
are different in many ways."
Atcen huffs agreement.
Dana grins in response, tucking her drum into her bag. "Just let me know when
it is, exactly, and I will try to make it. Good night, Atcen," she says
to the cub, then to the elder, a deeper nod of her head. "Good night,
Jacinta. It was nice to meet you."
Atcen thumps her tail a couple of times against the ground in response to
Dana's farewell.
Jacinta dips her head in return, and moves over to crouch by the cub as she
watches Dana prepare to go. "I am glad to have such as you as my kin."
Dana looks sheepishly embarressed now, as she picks her way down the darkened
path off the bluff.
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