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.
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