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3/23/04 Big Red Barn The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels. The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house. With a push, Alicia shoves the barn doors open and makes her way inside, wrapping her hands up slowly with white tape. It seems that her eyes are intent upon the hanging punching bag set up in the barn. Dressed in a pair of swishy work out shorts and a baggy shirt, she appears comfortable and relaxed. Throwing out a quick punch, she lands it solidly into the bag, then throws out another, starting off slow to work her shoulders out. Flash He's tall but gawky, a rail-thin, bit-over-six-foot beanpole with dark blond hair and muddy blue eyes. While he's not out-and-out ugly, he's not particularly handsome, either, and depending on what he's wearing he looks to be anywhere from his late teens to his mid-twenties. His tenor voice, which tends to rise in octave when he's worked up, has an accent that's hard to pin down. The bright yellow smiley-face boxer shorts cover his privates but don't conceal the rest of his scrawny, a-stiff-breeze-could-knock-him-down frame. Body hair is blond and minimal, and a series of three glyphs have been carved into his chest and stomach. The top glyph translates to "moon calf"; the middle one is the one for "dishonor." The lowest glyph looks a lot like the mark for Metis, but there's a twisty bit at the bottom. Flash, up in the hayloft and buried deep, digs himself out at the sound of fists hitting the punching bag. He looks sleepy and bleary-eyed, and his rumpled, dark blond hair has hay in it. Yawning and shivering -- he's dressed only in boxer shorts, and fashionable boxers indeed -- he crawls to the edge of the hayloft and peers down. Though Alicia may not have noticed it at first, there's an unfamiliar bicycle leaning against the wall near the barn doors. It has a horn, a basket, and looks as though it's seen quite a bit of wear. After getting in a few good warm up shots, Alicia begins to bounce before the bag on her feet, throwing one punch after the other in rapid succession. She bobs and sways as if shadow boxing, letting her movements roll one after another smoothly in a technique that seems well practiced and executed. Her attention span is directed at the object in front of her, thus she misses the movement up above her. Here we have Alicia Jackson, a young woman who just turned 18, but has that hard look in her eyes which could easily be mistaken for older. Slender in form, her body is composed of lean, compacted muscle. She looks quick, with new budded muscle which has formed on her upperbody. Her eyes are a dark brown, curious and wandering, lit up playfully most of the time. She stands of average height, perhaps about 5'6 or so, carrying herself well when she moves. Her flesh is lightly tanned, kissed by the sun from the many years of running with the gangs on the street. Four ear rings adorn her left ear, two more upon the right, composed of small, goldeny hoops. The Galliard's hair falls down just past her shoulders. Once brown and red streaked to those who's seen her before. Now, pale blonde with slightly darkened roots. Trevor comes out to the Barn. He's singing as he walks, apparently in a cheerful mood. "Ooops, ooops, extravagant curses, adding new verses to a tired old song. Oh well, you can't be too picky, magic is tricky and apt to go wrong." Flash grins faintly as Trevor comes in, then pulls back from the edge of the hayloft. There's more moving around up there, louder now, as he fishes out the faded red jeans and shimmery silver shirt, squirming into first one, and then the other. "Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart, got lost in the game, oh baby, baby." Grunts Alicia between punches as she flashes a quick grin towards Trevor, then whirls around to deliver a round house kick to the bag, catching it hard, easily dropping back into an offensive stance as she flat palm strikes the bag upon rebound. "Sup' bro?" She asks the Fianna. Returning Alicia's grin, Trevor inclines his head towards her. "I am well, Alicia-Rhya. Yourself?" "I'm alright. Just a bit tired." Alicia says, catching the bag and holding it still. "Been up most of the morning working on the bawn and Caern. Dakota made breakfast, did you get some?" "Someone say breakfast?" Flash's voice comes from above, accompanied by more footsteps as he walks around. Buttoning up the shimmery silver shirt, he appears at the edge of the loft again, looking down. "I'll take my eggs over easy, with two slices of toast and some hash rounds... topped, chunked, scattered and covered. And some coffee. Cream, two sugars." He sounds perfectly serious. "Nah, I didn't." Trevor shakes his head. "I was out at 5am, and only just got back. Nice thought, though." When Flash appears, and begins spouting off a list, Trevor looks up at him. "You think I'm running a hotel? You can get down here and introduce yourself properly, before we think about breakfast." Turning to Alicia, he asks "How is this Joker, and why is he sleeping in the Barn? Oh, and what's with the bike? Yours?" He gestures to it. "Not my bike. This must be.. that new StarGazer that was howling last night. I didn't get a chance to talk to the others 'bout him much. I've had other pressing things on my mind right now." Alicia admits as she raises her eyes upwards to the loft, staring at the 'jokester'. "There is waffles and sausage links. Eggs are cooked scrambled. Make do with what you can get." She sounds just as serious, before looking to the Fianna again. Flash tsks, then sits down on the edge of the hayloft, legs dangling, to put on his boots. Nice pointy-toed cowboy boots. "Talk about poor treatment of guests. The television didn't work, I didn't get my wake-up call at /promptly/ 7:56am, and now /she/ tells me that there aren't any hashbrowns. I mean, really." "Ok, this guy can piss right off." Trevor comments to Alicia. Apparently, Trevor turns nasty quite quickly when tired. He dosn't seem angry, more sort of amused in a bad way. Beginning to head up to the hayloft, he calls out "I'm gonna give you a wake up call you won't forget in a hurry, unless you start getting with the program." A tall man, roughly 6', Trevor has long black hair that frames his face and sits atop his collar. His eyes are a pale blue, just this side of watery. While he's certainly no weakling he's not exactly a muscle-bound hulk either. In fact physically he's fairly average. In good shape, but a little stretched out because of his height. He's wearing plain black trousers, a semi-formal white shirt and a large black traveller's greatcoat. Dale's carrying a composite hockey stick in one hand and a mesh bag of pucks in the other, so is forced to open the side door of the barn with his foot. This, predictably, results in said door slamming open rather loudly, and when the Fenrir claps eyes on the assembly, he's muttering, "Christ, it's a goddamn convention." ".. Trevor.. I'm sure he's just being playfull." Alicia says softly as she glances back upwards to the hayloft at Flash. "Its no big deal." Rubbing her shoulder absently, she pops a joint back into place, eyes roaming up towards him. "Let me guess, Ragabash?" She asks curiously as she blows her bangs away from her face. "I am Alicia, by the way. My charming companion is Trevor." She says, before glancing over towards Dale. "Good afternoon to you too." Natalie enters the barn immediately after Dale, barely catching herself from walking into the Get's back. "Wanna watch where you're going?" she snaps at him, eeling past to head for the back of the barn. Voices catch her attention and she looks at them, then at... boots? A familiar pair of boots, apparently. Nat's hands go to her hips, a faint smirk twisting her lips. "Well well well. If it isn't Mr. Zoo." "Oh, hey, hey now..." Flash pulls on his other boot rather quickly as Trevor starts to climb up to the hayloft to administer beatdown. He gets to his feet, grabbing up and pulling on the dark purple and silver vest as he retreats along the loft, away from the ladder. He's damned close to the edge of the hayloft and the perilous drop down to the bottom. On the way he picks up a plastic red raincoat that Natalie will indeed recognize. Seeing her, he stops short and calls down to her, "Your friend still owes me a faggot orgy, yanno." (Dale) A tall young man, at least a couple inches upwards of six feet even in his very early twenties -- and more than that, solidly built, from broad shoulders and chest through to well-muscled thighs and calves. He keeps blond hair back out of his face, though frequently indulges a few days stubble beyond a trimmed goatee that's, despite his relative youth, not incongruous amid craggy, attractive features. His eyes are a pale blue, striking in their way, but are more often than not touched with a gleam of raw fury. Underneath a black leather hip-jacket, protection enough against mild Washington winters, he wears a belted pair of blue jeans -- the bottoms of which wrinkle around dark brown leather day boots -- and a heavy white tee-shirt. Flash doesn't directly answer Alicia's question, but if he isn't a Ragabash he's a damned fool. Or both. "Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood." Trevor replies to Alicia. When he reaches the Hayloft, and hears Flash, he raises an eyebrow. "A faggot orgy? What the hell? Now, are you going to introduce yourself?" He hasn't noticed the newcomers, or at least hasn't acknowledged them. "Not really," Dale answers Natalie, with veiled amusement; apparently the moon's not chasing his mood toward his characteristic surliness and viciousness, today, which probably explains him responding to her tone with humor rather than violence. Then, to Alicia, "Is it?" before his gaze also climbs toward the hayloft. "What's with this?" "Soon as we can get 'em together," Nat promises to the snappy dresser, smirk widening. "But she's gotta know who to deliver 'em to." "Gordon Romero," says Flash, pulling on the red plastic coat. "Eater-of-Shit, Feces-for-Brains, Lowest-of-Low, offspring of charaches, and a bitch of a bastard." He rattles this all off carelessly, even flippantly, flicking overlong bangs out of his eyes as he looks from one face to the next. Trevor gets an especial careful eyeball. "Most people call me 'Flash'. Ragabash of the Stargazers. Howdy." ".. Right.." Alicia trails off slightly. She glances around at the others, then goes back to punching the bag, letting out a soft breath. This seems to placate Trevor, who offers his own introduction. "Trevor Sings-To-Spirits, Cliath Galliard of the Fianna, Master of The Rite, Warder of Escrowe Farm." He even extends a hand. Dale, after shrugging out of his jacket, has upended his bag of pucks and gathered one on the blade of his stick. "Hey, Fianna," he calls over to Trevor. "You want him down from there?" He'll launch a hard wrist-shot up toward the loft, deliberately well wide of both the Ritemaster and the no-moon. Flash is rather out of hand-shaking range of Trevor, but the Fianna's between him and the ladder. He seems to think about this for a moment, then slips back along the edge toward Trevor. Once he's close enough, the Stargazer spits into his palm and clasps hands. Firmly. "Headcase," Natalie mutters to herself, not loud enough for those in the loft to hear. Dale gets a half-frown, but it's Alicia and the punching bag that get the Galliard's full attention and a, "Afternoon, Alicia." "Nah, I'm good thanks." Trevor calls down to Dale. "He seems friendly and tame, and it's not every day I have a Stargazer living in my Hayloft." Shaking Flash's hand just as firmly, he moves so the other can get to the ladder if he so wishes. "Afternoon Natalie." Alicia says as she pounds into the bag for a few more shots, then catches it once more, steadying it. "Seems like everyone decided to take a trip over here at once." Dale shrugs broad shoulders diffidently though his expression betrays a sliver of cruel disappointment; his next shot finds its way between the first and second rungs of the ladder, just an illustration of his accuracy, before he begins winding up harder slap-shots aimed for a hay-bale. "Stargazer in the hayloft. Don't they have exterminators for that kind of thing?" Flash wipes his spit-smeared palm on the ass of his jeans and makes his way toward the ladder and then down... once Dale's not shooting pucks at it, of course. "I'd say we breed like rats except that we don't. Oo, hey, hockey player?" Natalie steps behind the bag to hold it for the Gaian. "Just a wild party, that's us. Actually, I was hoping to run into Megan, but I didn't see her in the house." She waits until Dale's between shots before adding a titch louder, "Natalie Baker, Holds-the-Line, Glass Walker elder and Cliath." "Probably." Trevor replies to Dale, following Flash down the ladder. The pucks don't seem to bother him, since he's sure they arn't aimed at him. "But I figured we'd keep him around for now, you know? Unique conversation point and all that." Flash wiggles fingers in a wave at Natalie, acknowledging the introduction, then rakes those fingers back through his messy hair, getting a few but not all of the hay stuck in it. Dale doesn't appear to be the sort to suffer fools gladly: "What do *you* think, smart guy?" is his response to Flash, just before he tees up another shot that buries a puck in straw. And since introductions appear to be the craze, he'll addhis own -- "Dale Jenson, Burns-The-Wyrm, Modi of the Fenrir." -- and then shrugs over at Trevor. "Up to you, Fianna. Me, I wouldn't keep somebody from that pack of useless cowards around, even as a lawn ornament." Alicia nods her head slightly to Natalie and taps the bag once more, before stepping away from it. "You can have it." She says, before glancing around at the others in the barn. With a furrow of her brow, she turns and heads out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Flash watches Alicia leave, his head cocked slightly; Dale's comment about his tribe seems to have swept right by him, unheeded. Natalie frowns after Alicia. "What crawled up her butt and died?" She steps away from the punching bag, arms crossing as she watches the others. "How's that ...Taslyn, right, Trevor?" "Right." Trevor nods to Natalie. "She's fine, thanks." Dale gets a grin. Flash snaps out of his momentary fugue to focus on Trevor. "Was she serious about there being eggs?" Dale offers a possible explanation to Natalie, for Alicia's behavior: "Smoked some bad grass, maybe," is his quiet quip, but he's out of pucks, now, and he crosses the barn to retrieve some from his makeshift 'goal' of stacked hay bales. Natalie snorts over at Dale, one fist thumping backwards against the bag, the other still folded. "Never seen her touch the stuff, but sure, maybe. You'd think the moon was bigger or something, as edgy as everyone is." She adds over toward Flash, "Which reminds me - Zoo's Gnawer territory. Olga wasn't kidding when she told you to keep out." "Nope." Trevor shakes his head to Flash. "There are eggs. I ought to know, I do the grocery shopping for this place." "Cross my heart and hope to die," says Flash, making the appropriate gestures. "Olga being the broad with the beaky nose? And the kid with the sense of humor, who was she?" He gives Trevor a sidelong look and a toothy grin. "Who's edgy?" Certainly not Dale: he finishes gathering his pucks, prying some out of the straw with the toe of his stick, and then crosses back over to the far end of the barn where he can resume his practice. The floor may not be ice, but one does what one needs to. "Never? I thought she was, like, the Grand-Super-Poobah Child of Gaia, or something. First among stoners." "She's Elder, yeah," Natalie affirms, "But I've never seen her doing anything." Flash's question gets a, "Joey. Another Ragabash. And, seeing as you're the only one of your tribe around, you probably get to try and sell her on What It Means To Be A Stargazer, tee-em." Joshua slides the barndoor open, sliding through before he shuts it behind him. It takes a moment for him to realize that there are actually other people in there, and when he does, he turns for the ladder to the loft. No longer 'in the Army', Joshua has lost the 'draftee' look. He stands about 5' 8", his frame covered by a layer of muscle visible under his skin from obsessive training. He lacks almost any fat, lean from months of slim eating. His skin seems stretched over his frame, pale. His face is cold and lined, no real defining features present: dull brown eyes, thin lips, a smaller nose. His head is covered in longer dark-red hair, having grown out with benefit of being cut. The Ahroun has a near constant disheveled, almost feral quality about him in spite of how clean he keeps himself. Bruises and cuts are scattered across his frame; one could deduce that he gets in more than his fair share of scrapes. Currently, Joshua is wearing a abused black t-shirt tucked into a battered pair of blue jeans. Off to the side of the belt is a broad leather sheath. A wood handle pokes out the sheath, a well kept, sharp and large steel blade attached. His feet are clad in a pair of shin high muddy hiking boots, the pair broken in from overuse. Not particularly attractive, he stands out only in the blandest sort of way. Flash cocks his head. "What, and steal her from the Bone Gnawers? Hm. Good idea. Thanks." He starts heading for the door, then pauses and looks back at Trevor. "Mind if I use the shower? There's running water, right?" "Yes, there's running water. Yes, you can use the shower." Trevor nods. "But don't refer to Olga that way." Flash takes a moment to look over the new arrival, then turns back to Trevor. "What way?" Joshua takes one look at the fashion accident and stops dead in his tracks, turning to look over Flash with a look akin to pure horror. His forehead then furrows, eyebrow threatening to creep its way up. Natalie scowls at the wayward Ahroun, scowls further at his reaction to Flash. Silently, and behind his back, she pushes one fist into the opposite palm before heading for the barn doors at a fast stride. Dale has yet to resume his shooting drill, as he watches the interplay between Trevor and Flash. At length, he's forced to concur with Natalie's assessment: "Headcase," he mutters, though on his lips the word has a trifle more disgust. "Nice t'meet you," he'll add, as the Glass Walker elder departs. "I'd best show you." Trevor says, leading the way out. The last thing he wants is Flash getting into his room, or Tas'. Flash glances away from Trevor toward Dale and then Joshua. The former gets a sweet, smarmy smile, and the latter gets a blown kiss. Then he follows Trevor out of the barn. (Later...) Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes. The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used. An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch. Flash trots down the stairs, freshly showered, his boots going th-thump, th-thump, th-thump as he jogs down. It looks as though he's helped himself a bit to the collection of hand-me-down clothing and looks more grunge than glam. In the back of the house, Alicia opens up the fridge and takes out a bottle of soda, glancing over to the other room at the sounds. In the back of the house, Trevor likewise looks up, commenting to Alicia "I bet that's our new friend now. I showed him where the shower was a little while ago." Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods. Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen. An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house. Flash, hearing voices, follows them into the back of the house and pokes his head around into the kitchen. "Boo." "Boo." Alicia says softly as she screws the top off the bottle, glancing underneath it, then frowns. "Not a winner." She murmurs gently. "Arg." Trevor trys to pretend to be frightened, but his heart isn't in it. "You're always a winner in my book." He comments to Alicia, smiling fondly. "So, what else you have besides eggs?" The new, 'improved' grunge-Flash makes a bee-line for the fridge. Alicia glances over to Trevor and offers him a smile. "Thanks bro." She says with a nudge, then looks to Flash. "Lots of food in there. So... Stargazer, huh? Um... whats up? How come you didn't take off like the rest of the tribe?" "All sorts of things. Check it out." Trevor invites, smiling back at Alicia. Then he murmurs too her "I think the rest of the tribe probably left him behind on purpose, given his names." Aubrey slips into the house with a few shopping bags with new clothes that she must have recently bought from the mall. She peers into the kitchen as she peeks around the door frame. "Hi," she says cheerifully. Flash opens the fridge and starts scanning the contents. "Too slackard to go. Too bad, so sad." He doesn't sound terribly heartbroken over it. Certainly not enough to keep him from opening the carton of orange juice and drinking directly from it. Aubrey has a sense of natural beauty in her appearance. She is not as noticeable Irish as some but shows some features of her nationality. Her hair is a natural light chestnut color, which flows straight and smoothly to her gangly shoulders with long bangs that fall loose around her defined face. Rested below high arched eyebrows is a pair of vivid golden-brown eyes. She has a piecing over her right eyebrow. Thin lips sit below her sloped button nose. Her ears display half-dozen earrings along her ear lobes. She is fit, with a modest appearance and also a curvaceous figure. This young woman is dressed for Washington's winter weather outdoors. There is just a slight bulkiness that signifies that she has dressed appropriately for the weather. Hidden under layers of clothing, long underwear comes first, followed by a tissue-weight wool long-sleeve shirt with ribbon detail at the wrists and a pair of denim hip-fit jeans which are fitted into a pair of dark brown leather chaps with frayed edges. A leather thong hangs around her neck from which dangles a Celtic cross. Her footwear is a pair of cowboy boots. A thick and long wool winter coat and beige cowboy hat accompanies her on these cold winter days outside. Alicia shrugs her shoulders slightly. "Did they tell you why they were leaving?" She asks curiously. "Yo Aubrey-Rhya." Trevor grins over at his friend as she enters. "Hey, you don't do that! You drink out a glass!" He tells Flash. Aubrey switches off a handle of a bag from one to the other and waggles her fingers towards her tribemate. Flash lowers the OJ and wipes his mouth with his free hand. "Sorrr-EE," he says to Trevor with a smirk, then answers Alicia. "Our biggest caern, the one in Tibet? Got eaten. Tribe's pulled back. Protect its roots and all that shit." His tone is completely flippant and uncaring. Looking up at the clock, Trevor makes a face. "Shit, I was supposed to be somewhere half an hour ago. Damn, it's too important to just not go as well. I'll see you all later." And he's gone. Alicia blinks her eyes slightly and watches Trevor head out, then glances over to the Gazer once more, clearing her throat. "Oh.. I'm.. sorry?" She asks, furrowing her brows some. "Did you have friends among your tribe?" Aubrey frowns slightly as Trevor takes his leave, then turns to arc an eyebrow towards Flash with a look of interest. "Only one." Flash puts the OJ back and bends down to rummage around in the fridge. He finds some leftover bean salad in a small tupperware container and claims it. "He joined the others in the homecoming." The Stargazer starts opening and closing drawers at random, the bean salad in hand. "Ah. Thats unfortuante. I only knew of one Gazer in this Sept before he and his pack left. He didn't join the rest of ya though." Alicia says with a shift of her shoulders. "Name was Rides-Fire. I liked him, good Garou." Aubrey is busy looking through her bags, but when Rides-Fire's name is mentioned she looks up towards Alicia. "Rides-Fire gave me my first cub name," she blurts out, not as though the two of them care much. Flash cocks his head at Alicia, then looks over at Aubrey, pausing for a moment in his search through the kitchen drawers. "What was it?" Alicia grins slightly at Aubrey and tilts her head. "I already know, but I'll let you explain it to him." Aubrey chuckles lightly towards Alicia. "Golden-Eyes," she replies, which rings pretty true as one can see that Aubrey's eyes are a spirited honey-brown. Flash snorts. "Golden-Eyes? /Golden-Eyes/? Sounds like a song by Rod Stewert or something." He resumes his systematic check of drawers. "Where the hell is the silverware, anyway?" "Or a Bond movie." Alicia says with a smirk, pointing to a drawer just to the left of him. "Its better then my first cub name, thats for sure." Aubrey shrugs her shoulders and chuckles softly, "I doubt Rides-Fire would have known." Her eyes look to to Alicia and she smiles softly, "Remember, I was also named No-Feet." She does not wince anymore as she says the name, afterall, it is in the past. Flash grabs the indicated drawer handle, yanks, and pulls out a fork. Bumping the drawer closed with his ass, he jumps up onto the counter and sits there to eat the bean salad. "No-Feet, that's better. Gives a real image of you being an utter clutz as a cub. Were you?" Another grin forms over Alicia's face before she turns, making her way to the back door. "I'm going to catch some shut eye guys." She mentions. "Take care you two." Aubrey squints her eyes and looks towards Alicia for a moment as she arcs her eyebrow in a silent inquiry. "Well... uh, not exactly." Then she waggles her fingers to Alicia. "Okay." Flash waves to Alicia with his fork, accidentally dropping a bit of bean on the kitchen floor. Aubrey does not notice the sloop that Flash spills on the floor as she hops up onto the counter-top. "I am Aubrey Bennett, named Spirit's Touch by rite-- although around here they call me Sheeaghan (Fae-Spirit). Fianna Theurge Claith. Assitant Gatekeeper with Jamethon Fights-For-Hope of the Fenrir and Alpha of Crescent Wing under the totem of the Merlin." Flash listens to Aubrey's introduction, chewing as she talks, and gives his own between bites. "Gordon Romero, called 'Flash' by some. Lowest-of-low, Eater-of-Shit... which this tastes kinda like, by the way, did you make it? Mule freak scum Ragabash of the Stargazers." Aubrey nods as she hears Flash's introduction. "What brings you to Saint Claire?" she asks. Joshua comes inside, smelling that lovely 'I haven't showered in a week and I just worked out' smell that he cultivates so diligently. The Ahroun pauses at the sliding glass door, kicking his boots against the frame to knock the mud off the bottom before he walks inside. Flash sniffs the air. "Speaking of shit..." He head-flicks his bangs out of his eyes and looks at Joshua. At least it isn't the dumpster-trash smell that Aubrey is used to when the Gnawers come around but that plain unshowered smell. "Don't track dirt into the house, Trevor would have a fit." she says. (What, you looked inside your skull?) Joshua shoots back in rapid fire German to the fairly odd looking Garou. He pulls open the fridge, ducking inside and rattling his way around through it. "Oh, and nice to meet you too, (Piss blood)." He growls back from inside, mixing his english again. Flash makes a kiss in the air at Joshua. "Oooo, he's _German_. So sexy. He's got that buns-of-steel throw-you-down-and-ravage glare, too. Yum." Aubrey looks down at Flash and clears her throat softly. Her eyes turn towards Joshua again, not being able to interpret. Joshua snorts, pulling out of the fridge. "No, I don't want to hurt your precious feelings." He rumbles back, crossing his arms. "So, let's try this again without personal insults." Flash puts another forkful of bean salad into his mouth and chews. "Being called sexy is an insult?" He looks at Aubrey. "Would you be mad if I said you were sexy?" Aubrey shrugs her shoulders at Joshua, then turns her attention towards Flash. "Er," she says as she glances towards Joshua, "I would not be mad, but... I would not say comments like that in front of him." She gestures towards the Glass Walker. "It is... when I haven't even gotten your bloody name." Josh near-growls back, slowing to take a moment to compose himself. "You're new to this area, yes?" Flash rolls his eyes. "No, I've been behind you all this time." He smirks, shovelling the last of the bean salad into his mouth. "A'right, once more. My name is Flash, and I'm a fucking bastard mule who's full of shit. Which makes me something of an expert on shit, since you can't be as full of it as I am without knowing this, that, and the other." He chucks the fork and tupperware into the sink and hops off the counter. "Ragabash of the Stargazers." Aubrey dangles her leg from the counter as she looks towards the two males. Her eyes settling on Joshua, "I've heard that you've wanted to stick to the caern lately? Are you thinking of joining Scurge?" she asks, trying to stirr up some polietful conversation. Then, she looks to Flash and smiles. "I like you already and I have only known you for ten minutes." "Keeps the Human Mind with the Heart of the Wolf, Full moon for the people." Josh grunts back Dryly, folding his arms. Some details in the introduction seem missing... "Also know as Keeps the Wolf or Wolf Heart... Josh works too, but no guarantee I'll respond." Josh turns his head to look over to Aubrey, adding 'off handedly.' "Scourge is dead. Might as well be, anyhow." "Heart of the Wolf?" Flash suddenly is studying Joshua more intently, and he walks toward and around Joshua, hands going into his pockets. "And your tribe is... No, wait, wait, lemme guess." "Are you sure?" she asks Joshua, tilting her head towards him. Then, shaking her head, she listens to the talk between the other two. Joshua's palm rests on top of the butt of the hilt of the blade at his side as he crosses his arms, as if to dare Flash to try something right then and there, but he otherwise stands still. "Good luck. Even if you guess right, you guess wrong." Oooh. Cryptic. Joshua glances over to Aubrey. "Perseverant is dead. Brings the Buffalo Home might never return. Final Howl is... well, you know. And Judges Souls just returned. Scourge might as well be dead. They can't even patrol their own territory any more." Aubrey crosses her arms at Joshua and looks away, not responding. Flash takes note of Joshua's gesture toward the pig-sticker and smiles with an air of smug tranquility. He even nods a little. "Pierces the Ice calls you a Glass Walker," the tall metis says as he comes around to the Ahroun's front again. "She's wrong. And right." Josh answers curtly, still looking over at Aubrey. There's a half concerned look on his face. Which, for Josh, is a lot. "It's in flux. Ask any of the Roaches and I ain't one. Ask Megan-Rhya and I am. Megan-Rhya is the one who's holding me to the tribe, right now. Long story, and you don't need to know." Aubrey slips from off the counter and mutters a quiet goodbye as she takes her belongings and heads out towards the front door. Flash shrugs. "Fine..." He pauses to watch Aubrey leave, then turns back to Josh. "What do /you/ say?" Joshua shakes his head as Aubrey leaves, turning back to the Metis. "I say... that if you want something to contemplate, you have your navel. Go back to contemplating that." "Lint's already clean from it, doll-face," Flash replies. He smiles, kisses his fingers, and turns his back on Joshua to head for the back door. "Someone shit in your head and forget to stir it, (piss blooded mule)?" Josh snarls back, turning as the Stargazer heads for the door. Wouldn't take a brain surgeon to decide he isn't taking Flash's attitude well. "Go fuck a tree." More is growled, but it is lacking coherence at that point. "I'll be thinking of you while I do it!" comes the cheery reply. And then Flash is out the door. Big Red Barn The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels. The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house. Alicia listens to the pair of Fianna for a moment, then glances down to Sly, giving him another light squeeze on the shoulders. Eamon snorts. "What an asshole." He shrugs, then glances at Alicia. "Oops, sorry, zoned out for a minute there. Cool, I hope you join us. I think it'll be one of the stronger packs around." Sly looks up at Alicia as he was squeezed, giving her a little grin as they talk. He seems to untense a little as they finished. Flash pulls open the barn door with a grunt and pokes his head in before entering fully. He looks rather chipper. Alicia grins slightly at Eamon and nods her head. "I'm sure we would be." She says. "So you are for sure joining?" Taslyn nods. "Too true... But I believe he has mellowed some." Speaking of Dale... It seems that Eamon doesn't grin as much as he used to, as if he's been through something traumatic recently. His bright red hair has grown back fully now and the green eyes still sparkle, but some of the humor has left them. He wears a weathered black leather jacket and a black Harley-Davidson t-shirt. With the black jeans and motorcycle boots, he almost looks like a biker. Indeed, he can be seen tooling around town on a Harley, but not quite as often as usual. His left ear is pierced twice, a gold hoop through each pierce. A scruffy red goatee adorns his chin and below his lower lip. When in public, he wears thin, black leather gloves in all weather, completely covering both hands. Both hands seem to function normally, however. Sly isn't the largest of teens, standing at only about 5 feet 7 inches. He seems pretty trim though, standing and moving with some measure of grace. He has fair brown hair that borders on blonde, cut long enough to show off its sheen and body. His bangs are kept out of his face and the rest is nicely brushed. His face has just the right angles in just the right places, his jaw recently filled out from puberty. Slightly angular but solid, his skull sets the frame for his pretty face. Sly is a good-looking kid, with light eyebrows that sit above hazel eyes. His eyes are that particular mix of green and blue that had no name, and glimmer in the light. His nose seems the perfect size for his face, and below it are his lips, barely parted in a smile. They are just full enough to be expressive and curve in a perfect cupid's bow, a pale pink that fits well with the flush of his skin. In comparison, his clothes are almost drab, their plainness contrasted by the handsome boy that wears them. The shirt is a neutral gray, with a black infinity symbol scored across the chest. His pants are a long faded gray-green, complete with cargo pockets. His legs terminate in a pair of black and gray sneakers, tied with faded gray laces. Short blonde-brown hair hugs the round and pretty face of Tas. It often flys into her hazel eyes and her hand is usually pushing it back out of the way. Often her face has a wry grin that comes from a lightly tanned and slightly freckled face. A few holes in her ears usually show off some sort of steel hoop. Her fashion is often what feels comfortable and not necessarily what looks good. Around her neck can be any number of one to many necklaces, but there is always the one with the charm of the small half-moon. She wears a blue t-shirt with some kind of wild design on the front, covered up by a sweatshirt that allows the t-shirt to stick out at the bottom. A pair of faded and worn jeans with a hole peeking out of one knee adorn her legs. Through the hole you can see a plaid fabric, most likely a pair of sleep pants thrown on to keep warm in the cold weather. A leather jacket is thrown over all of it for warmth, along with a baseball cap with blue flames along the bill. On her feet are a pair of black Doc Marten boots that have lots of wear and tear on them. One boot shows off a pair of rainbow laces while the other has laces of blue flames. "Just came in to check on my bike," Flash says cheerily, as if he'd been here for months and knew everyone present. Eamon says "Well, I haven't said yes or no definitely yet, but most likely I will." Sly fades right into the background, nice and easy. Its not hard, when you're a cub, to just have people not notice you at all. Alicia nods her head towards Eamon, then gives Flash a quick lift of the brow. A smirk toys upon her lips some, before sighing to herself. "Sly, will you be alright by yourself for a bit if I go home and get some rest?" Flash wiggles fingers in a wave at no one in particular, then saunters over to the battered bicycle leaning against the wall near the door. Sly smirks, giving her a shrug. "I'm not quite by myself. I'm surrounded by Garou, so how much safer can I get?" He kicks at the floor, sending some hay flying about a foot into the air. Taslyn laughs and grins. "I'll make sure he is safe... go get some rest." As she smiles a little at Alicia. Alicia nods her head slightly, then turns, heading for the doors slowly, popping a few joints. "Be good Sly, and learn lots. I'll quiz you later when I can." Signe pushes the barn door open and slides it shut again once inside. The Get frowns as she looks around, apparently not seeing whoever it is she's looking for. She's not what most would call pretty. Terms like delicate and petite would never be attributed to her, and come to think of it, neither would lady-like. She looks to be in her late twenties, standing roughly between 5'10" and 6'. Her powerful frame carries a full 175 pounds, all of it undoubtedly muscle. Shoulder length black hair hangs straight, not set in any particular style. She wears no makeup, having neither the time nor the care to put any effort into such things, though she does sport several earrings and tattoos. Her eyes are a dark, unremarkable brown that manage to look angry a good deal of the time, whether she is or not. If there is a traditionally attractive aspect to her at all, it would be her finely crafted cheekbones and elegant jaw-line. They give her an air of nobility otherwise lost in her rough and uncompromising nature. She's dressed in old, well worn jeans. Dirty, chocolate brown work boots catch the bottom edges, and a white t-shirt clings to her well-toned frame. A creased black leather jacket hangs loosely over her shoulders. It's at least two sizes too big for her. Flash He's tall but gawky, a rail-thin, bit-over-six-foot beanpole with dark blond hair that's almost brown and muddy blue eyes that usually are forced to peer out from behind overlong bangs. While he's not out-and-out ugly, his youthful, nerdish features are not particularly handsome, either, and depending on what he's wearing he looks to be anywhere from his late teens to his mid-twenties. His tenor voice, which tends to rise in octave when he's worked up, has an accent that's hard to pin down. He's wearing a white t-shirt with a faded SCCU logo underneath a baggy green and blue flannel shirt, worn open. Both are untucked, the tails hanging over a pair of red jeans that are a bit faded and have a small tear in the left cuff. Except for the cowboy boots with the shiny, pointy, metal toes, he'd look the very image of early-nineties Seattle grunge, and if he tried to buy beer he'd be carded for certain. Sly sighs as even more people come in, almost sure he'll never get through the Litany tonight. Flash looks up from his examination of the bicycle to examine the new arrival keenly for a moment. Alicia stops as Signe heads in and blinks. "Evening Signe." She says, stepping to the side. "Congratulations on your pack." Taslyn nods and looks up, "Hello Signe." As she turns back to Sly, "Okay. What of the second law?" Signe grunts in response to Alicia, nodding once. "Thanks. You haven't seen James, have you?" she asks. The two strangers catch the Get's eye, as well, and although she scrutinizes each for a moment, they are otherwise ignored. "'Seek out the Wyrm so that you'll know what places to avoid,'" pipes up Flash, his eyes back on the bike. He's checking the tire pressure and the chain. Sly looks back at Taslyn, flicking his head to get the spray of a few bangs off his forehead. He just heard this one a few minutes ago, so he repeats it exactly. "Combat the Wyrm Wherever It Dwells and Whenever It Breeds." He says it with confidence, glaring over at the back of Flash's head as he was almost interrupted. Alicia shakes her head. "I have not seen James in awhile. I guess we pass each other up." She says with a shrug of her shoulders. "Can I ask you something outside?" She questions the Get. Taslyn looks over at Flash, "Close... Good shot but not quite there." She turn back to Sly and nods. "Correct... But, and I will ask you both, what does this law mean to you?" Sly errs, being put back on the spot again. He thinks quick though, and responds, "We're at war. The decimation of our enemy, nay, the very enemy of all existence must always be held as one of our highest goals. We are soldiers, this is a battle to the death." He tries his very best to look assertive and sure of himself. Signe's eyes narrow on Flash, briefly, but Alicia's response brings her attention back to the Gaian. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." she moves toward the door again. "Don't mind him.. new Gazer newmoon in town. I think he does it for attention." Alicia says, heading out the door, offering a quick smile to the others. Taslyn nods. "Very good Sly... Flash?" Flash sits back on his heels, looking over at Taslyn with his hair fallen down, again, over his eyes. A headflick clears his field of view... for a moment, anyway. "Poor woman," he says, apparantly of Alicia. "She has /no/ idea." Getting to his feet, he brushes his hands on the thighs of his red jeans and wanders over closer to Taslyn and Sly. "What was the question again?" Taslyn chuckles. "What do you feel about the second law? Combat the Wyrm Wherever It Dwells and Whenever It Breeds... Your opinion." Flash makes a little thoughtful 'hmmmmm' noise as he saunters over. He clasps his hands behind his back and looks at the ceiling. "Doesn't mean shit to me," the Stargazer says at last, looking back at Taslyn with the most beatific of smiles. "I think that combat stuff is self-defeating. All we do by fighting is turn into our enemies. Besides, it's a good way to get killed." Taslyn looks to Flash with an upturned brow. "So we just sit by the side while our fellow Garou are killed and do nothing to stop the annihilation of our race?" She shakes her head at Flash, awaiting his answer, and she looks back to Sly, "What do you think of Flash's answer?" Sly looks quite incredulous as he listens, even taking a step away from Flash, as if he's contagious. He glances over at tas, then back to Flash, "Taslyn-rhya, I'm a just a cub but that sounds really wrong to me. Perhaps the Gets can convince him otherwise?" He flashes a weak smile, not looking at Flash. Flash's shoulders lift and fall in an utterly careless kind of way. "If nobody fought in wars, nobody would be killed in them, would they?" Sly interjects, "The Wyrm is gonna fight us anyhow! You can't convince the Wyrm to be peaceful! We've got to fight or we'll all die!" Taslyn takes a deep breath. "The thing is... We have no choice of the Wyrm coming to blow us off this earth." She looks at Sly, "Quite right..." "See, now, that's the problem." Flash hooks his thumbs into the beltloops of his red jeans and rocks on his heels, his manner languid. "Everybody /says/ that, but has anybody really /tried/? If course the Wyrm will fight us if we keep seeking out and murdering His children, or trying to destroy the things He's worked so hard to make. It's a big cosmos. I'm sure if we tried we could learn to share it." Sly takes a step back, "I'm not gonna argue with a Gazer. Its pointless." Taslyn blinks and shakes her head as if Flash had just clucked like a chicken. She blinks a little more and then speaks, "The Wyrm is everywhere... We have no choice in the matter. It is not like we can negotiate with it... It eats into us and devours us from the inside. We cannot stop it with out killing it. Otherwise... We lose totally. Death. Destruction. NOTHING." As she looks straight into Flash's eyes. "Now, do you wish to give up every life of every garou in this sept while you try and talk to the Wyrm and reconcile? You go right ahead... I will be out there fighting with my brothers and sisters." She leans back on the bale of hay, not angry, just speaking matter of factly. Flash tips a wink to the retreating cub, then cocks his head at Taslyn, focussing on her. "There's always a choice... what did you say your name was?" Taslyn rises and steps closer to Flash, "Taslyn Forrester, Defends-Her-Worth, Half Moon Fianna." She bows her head a little, "And yourself?" Flash headflicks hair out of his eyes. "An asshole who's full of shit... and, as the sex-on-legs who calls herself the Child of Gaia elder pointed out, a Ragabash of the Stargazers." He jerks his chin toward Sly. "And we could argue about the second law all day, or you could continue on to the third before the End Times come crashing down upon us." Sly shrugs non-committally as he was addressed, sticking his hands back into his pockets. He stays silent, letting Tas take care of it. Taslyn growls and her face turns into a scowl. "Oh... So you say?" She keeps her gaze right into the eyes of Flash. "The 'sex-on-legs' as you put it, has a name. And she also deserves more respect than you are giving her. Listen here... How about another rule, Respect The Territory of Another. This is our territory, you are the outsider here at the moment. That's the third rule of the litany. Are you listening Sly?" Her eyes do not leave Flash's, clearly keeping right on his, basically, a challenge. "Or we can go on to the fifth rule, Submission to One Higher In Station. Or maybe you have forgotten that one as well?" She stops and scowls still. "Shall I go on?" Sly nods, his keen sense of danger telling him to take another step back, then to the side, effectively retreating behind a stack of hay-bales. He's had enough of frenzying Garou already, thank you. "Oh, I'm listening Taslyn-rhya..." Flash rolls his head back on his long neck, baring his throat and showing off a prominent Adam's apple. "And, as I said, I am an asshole who's full of shit, who isn't worthy to lick the heels of a Bone Gnawer. The metis bastard of lawbreakers and the lowest of freakish scum." He says all this very easily and very seriously. And yet, /not/ seriously. "So forgive the filth that pours from my tongue. I really don't know any better." Taslyn calms down quite a bit at the submission. "You do... " She runs a hand through her hair, calming herself. "And I never said any of those things about you. Don't put words into my mouth that I never said." She takes her gaze away from Flash. "I may not understand where you come from with your opinions... But the Litany is there for a reason... And it deserves more respect than you are giving it." She speaks calm and smooth, only trying to get the point across. Sly keeps himself out of the way, staying quite. Flash draws his fingers across his mouth in a zipped-lips gesture and sits down crosslegged on the barn floor. Taslyn takes a deep breath. "Okay..." She pinches the bridge of her nose and the releases. "Maybe we should do some more litany later..." She breathes out a deep breath, "Hmm? Sly?" Sly steps out from behind the hay bales, his trademark grin up and shining, "Yes, Taslyn-rhya?" Flash remains silent, palms resting neatly on his knees, looking calm and relaxed. Taslyn looks at Flash, "Why don't you tell what has brought you here?" Flash smirks and raises one long arm to point back at the doors. Or, rather, the bicycle leaning against the wall near the doors. Taslyn cannot help but snicker a little. "You truly are the fool's fool... Aren't you." She gives a grin, no longer the angry one. Sly watches the exchange carefully, looking back towards the door. "Is that all for tonight, Taslyn-rhya?" Taslyn turns and nods. "Sure... You headed to the farmhouse?" Sly nods, "Where else?" Flash just smiles again, his gaze turning toward the cub. He kisses his fingers and blows on them toward the kid. Taslyn shrugs. "Just checking... Sleep well. See you in the morning for some Talisman Dedication." She looks back to Flash. "You... On the other hand... Are too much." She finally gives the Metis a chuckle. "Sorry for blowing up like that..." Sly blehs at the flirty metis, heading for the door. Flash reaches up to his lips to make an unzipping gesture and looks up at the Fianna from his seated position. "Blowing up? You didn't even /slap/ me." Taslyn chuckles a little more. "I was about to... then my gift kicked in and I knew you weren't lying about what you said about being who you were." She gets a smile on her face. "Just don't be such a jerk when I'm trying to teach a cub litany... Okay?" She laughs a little more. "To thine own self be true," says Flash. "I /am/ a jerk. And a fool." Taslyn turns and gives a deep bow, almost the kind they gave in Shakepeare's time. "a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times..." She then stands straight up and smiles. "And I would hope to call you friend. Now... How about your real name." "Gordon Romero," the Stargazers recites, still sitting. "Called 'Flash'. Shit-Eater, Moon Calf. Lowest of the low." Taslyn frowns a little at the end. She shakes her head, "I'd wish to add another to that?" Flash cocks his head, peering up at her. "Then add one. As they say, it's a free country." Taslyn looks down, "Advocate's Jester." She gives a bit of a smile. "You are not the lowest of the low... I've been there. Felt like that. It's nowhere to be." Flash rolls to his feet. "Oh, but I am. Don't jump to quick decisions, Judge. I'm giving you fair warning. By the way, was that leftover fried chicken I saw in the fridge?" Taslyn nods. "Yeah, made it myself." She smiles. "Go to it... All yours." "Groovy." With a careless wave, the Stargazer heads out of the barn to raid the kitchen.