It is currently 10:24 Pacific Time on Fri Mar 26 2004.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 43 degrees
Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
south at 20 mph, with gusts up to 25 mph. The barometric pressure reading
is 29.82 and rising, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The
dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (36% full).
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.
Flash has gone all urban cowboy with a blue collared shirt that's
tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans which are, in turn, tucked into a
pair of brown cowboy boots with pointy metal toes. His belt has an oval
buckle that's almost as big and wide as his palm, and within its oval
shape is the embossed front-view of the head of a longhorned steer.
There's no string-tie; instead, he's got the top button of his shirt
undone. Topping off the outfit is a battered black cowboy hat with a
brown woven-rawhide brim.
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out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly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.
"Joshua isn't known for much, ma'am, except being a..." Nat clamps down before
the sentence can escape, nodding to emphasis agreement with Tony. Time to
re-enter that minefield. "Exactly. Thomas told me, on one of the many
times we discussed Joshua, that hindsight was twenty-twenty. I don't know
how the /rest/ of the Garou view Thomas Walker, ma'am, but I can tell you
that I'd trust him with my life. Maybe that's... it doesn't matter." She
and the others are standing, she and Tony at two points of a triangle
where Megan forms the third. Tension is high, but not strung taut and
singing. "But Joshua is, as you say, an adult. If -he- wants to live
those two months as a Walker, then... that's his decision, and I'll stand
by it. Ma'am. I just don't think that this is a Sept matter. Ma'am."
Flash's cowboy boots click audibly on the wooden stairs as he descends from the
second floor. The grunge look has been abandoned, even the badass red
jeans, in favor of something out of _Urban Cowboy_. Complete with hat and
oversized belt buckle.
Megan nods at Anthony, accepting his words with remarkable equanimity, and the
very perceptive may realize that she takes it better than she has
Natalie's words to this time. Her gaze flickers from the Glass Walker
ragabash to the galliard, back over her shoulder at the sound of Flash's
arrival, and straightens out of her lean in the doorway before turning
back to the Glass Walkers. "It is a Sept matter, in one sense, because if
he leaves the Glass Walkers, he will have to join another tribe, and I've
told him, flat out, that I won't allow him to remain in the Sept without
a tribe. And, it's a matter for me, personally, because with Jack gone, I
believe I am the only philodox at this Sept who knows Rite of
Renunciation. I know he professes to hate the Glass Walkers. Hell," she
says with an amused smile, "there was a time when I hated Brian, who was
my tribal elder, later my packmate, and close as any brother. People can
change over time, though. Two months *trying* to live as a Glass Walker
might change Joshua's mind. And, if it doesn't," she concedes with a
slight shrug of her right shoulder, "and I'm convinced he gave it an
honest shot, I will re-consider his request to change tribes. Fuck, guys,
it's not as if I'm forbiding him to *ever* leave the tribe. Now, who the
hell is Thomas Walker?"
"But I'm not sure if he's gonna give it an honest shot ... oh, you hadn't
heard? About Salem?" Anthony glances to the Galliard expectantly.
Natalie's hands drop to her sides as she straightens. "Thomas Walker is the
name that Jack Salem now uses, ma'am." One might think that she's using
the human title in place of the honorific - or else that she's trying to
use it to defuse the alarming Megan-Bomb. "He decided that it would be
safest if he took a new name after the Russians discovered who he is.
Was. Havoc took care of two of the men with the knowledge of his former
name, but there may still be others out there looking for Jack Salem."
Flash takes off the cowboy hat as he wanders near the conversation. The
Ragabash's muddy blue eyes are keen with curiosity, though for the moment
he keeps his mouth shut.
Megan looks interested at the news, raising an eyebrow. "Really. Good. Thanks
for letting me know, both about the Russians, and Jack. Thomas," she
corrects herself after that full pause. She then gives Anthony a wry
half-smile. "To be honest, I don't think Joshua's going to give it an
honest shot, either. His loss. I told him if he can't convince me it was
honest, then I might not run the rite on him. Which would mean,
unfortunately for you guys, that he'd remain a Glass Walker, unless he
wants to go entirely Ronin."
"Well, uh," Anthony starts, and doesn't finish, just scratching his head and
looking mildly put off by the conclusion.
Natalie contrives to look both submissive and disgusted, and ends up mostly
looking nauseous. "If, ma'am, at the end of those two months, you decide
that he hasn't given it an honest shot? Is he... will you let the Walkers
handle him?" The very absence of stress on 'handle' might be a clue.
In the back of the house, Owen trods into the farmhouse via the backdoor.
Nobody in the backroom and those in the frontroom apparently not catching
his attention, he bee-lines for the fridge, opening it and practically
crawling in to find, gee, could it be a beer?
"If you mean by 'handle'," and Megan does give the word some stress, "in the
Mafia sense, no. I'm going to give you an important lesson on being an
elder, Natalie, that as a cliath, I'm not sure you've had yet, but you
can't always choose your tribemates, and even if you don't like him
personally, you will have to accept that he's a Glass Walker. Maybe,
instead of doing such a fabulous job of alienating and trying to push him
out, you guys could put more of an effort into trying to help him *be* a Glass
Walker? If you want a philodox to help sit you all down and mediate, we
can work with that. But, as much as I respect Signe as an ahroun, she
isn't a *Glass Walker* ahroun, and as Sept Alpha, I believe we
desperately could use one."
"How are we supposed to put an effort into it when he's not even interested in
trying?" Anthony protests. "I mean, uh, ma'am," borrowing Natalie's words
and taking a breath to calm himself down, "a lot of this 'alienation'
he's done to himself ... like living out on the bawn; if he wanted to
give it a good shot, he'd have at least tried to find somewhere to stay
in town, or talked to us about letting him back into the mansion..."
"I haven't gone out of my way to be unreachable," Nat chimes in. "And even if
he doesn't want to talk to /me/, there are plenty of others he could talk
to. Tony. Leala. Hell, Jeremy. He's not just not meeting us halfway, he's
damn near running backwards."
Megan smiles, although there is some warm sympathy in it. "Two-way street,
Anthony. And although I wouldn't think you should do all the work...maybe
go to him, tell him you know about the two months which, by the way,
hasn't started yet since he still has obligations to the Warder and
Groundskeeper, and tell him that when it does start, you guys will help
him. If he chooses not to accept it after that...well," she says with
another half-shoulder shrugged. "you've tried." She then glances over
said shoulder at Flash, then back to Natalie. "Anything else?"
Flash catches the Alpha's eye when she looks his way and smiles crookedly.
Natalie jerks her chin up - not precisely in a nod. "Ma'am." Nor was that
precisely agreement. "Tony, 'm gonna head out to the barn." She offers
Flash a tight smile as she winds her way wide around Megan, heading for
the kitchen.
In the back of the house, Owen peers back up from the fridge as Signe's name
gets tossed out there. Fetching a bottle finally, he shuts the appliance
door and heads into the living room, opening the brew as he goes.
Flash returns Nat's smile with a dip of his head and a touch to the brim of his
cowboy hat.
Megan watches Natalie go, letting out an exasperated sigh only after she leaves
through the sliding glass door, then running a hand through her hair
while popping the last bit of sandwich into her mouth. She chews swiftly,
swallows, then turns sideways in the open doorway of the living room to
look at Flash in the hall. "So, how are you settling in?"
Flash rests his hands on his belt, framing the big buckle. He'd given Owen a
brief glance when the Get arrived, but now the Ragabash's whole focus is
on Megan. "Not bad, not bad," he says easily, and then clears his throat.
"I was wonderin' if we could talk in private?" He's not /exactly/
speaking with a drawl, but his speech is a little slower.
Megan glances over at Owen's arrival, as well , and looks momentarily shocked
and surprised. And, the perceptive might also notice not altogether
pleased. "Owen. I hadn't heard you were back in town." Flash's request,
for the moment at least, is delayed by this.
Owen waggles his three lower fingers holding his bottle in a form of a wave.
"Just got back. Thought you should know as, I guess, Jamethon didn't get
to you yet. If I'm welcomed back, that is."
This man you see before you could easily be lost in a crowd. His face is rather
plain outside of a scar that runs down his left eye, just barely leaving
his sight intact. His hair has been shaved completely, but the beard and
moustache he now sports are blonde. At least 6'4" and thick-boned, his
build is a heavily muscled 280 lbs, giving him a rather wide stance. He
walks stiffly as though constantly at attention. He wears only simple,
almost Spartan, clothing: A faded Judas Priest t-shirt, jeans, boots, and
a jacket that seems a couple sizes too big. Overall he looks a little on
the worn side, yet in his cold blue eyes and in his stance there is a
pride, an almost commanding presence of someone who is quite sure of
himself. At any time that he is not wearing the jacket, a pair of iron
vambraces in the form of serpents coiling around his upper arms can be
seen and, should he not be wearing a shirt, a pattern of scars
suspiciously looking like a bite from something very big can be seen
circling around his chest, abdomen, and back, as well as a patch of scars
on his lower abdomen.
Flash shifts his weight, resting most of it on one leg. Head cocked, he watches
the two elder Garou thoughtfully.
Megan looks undisguisedly displeased, now. "No, Jamethon didn't bother to leave
me a note letting me know." There is a moment's hesitation, before she
tilts her head to ask, "You would be welcomed back, but, I have to ask if
you officially joined another Sept while you were gone."
Owen arches an eyebrow at Megan's reaction, but makes no comment on that. His
tone turns a little on the formal side. "I'm always welcomed back to the
Sept of my Riting, Firewatcher-rhya, as I have family there. But no, I am
not a member of the Sept of the Sentinel."
Megan nods once, sharply. "Very well." She then gives a thin, tight smile. "You
won't need to present chiminage again, then, but I would still ask that
you go see Signe as soon as you can. She's currently the Get of Fenris
elder. Not that I don't think you wouldn't do this," she adds, with an
curious but brief arching of her eyebrow. "She'll be able to fill you in
on what's going on. Actually...another set of ahroun claws will be
welcome. You might find the Sept dangerously thinner in its defenses than
when you left, too."
Owen makes a stiff, German, bow to the Fianna. "If there is a problem, then I
will fix it. I will not see this Spt fall be weakness." He lets that
float in the air a moment. "Nice seeing you again," he says flatly, "but
I see you have a private affair. I'll be leaving now."
Flash looks like he might say something, probably something smart-assed, but
doesn't.
Megan looks moderately amused, her nod in response to Owen almost convivial.
"Thanks. I'm sure we'll see each other again later." She then turns back
to the Stargazer, and looks up the stairs. "There's an empty bedroom up
there. That private enough?"
"It'll do, ma'am," says the Stargazer with a genial smile, and then turns to
lead the way.
Farmhouse: Upstairs
Hardwood floors creak beneath your feet as you step into the hallway. A single
lamp hanging just above the stairway sheds enough light to prevent
serious accidents but allows shadows to shroud the majority of the
ceiling and the several doorframes on both sides of the hall at night.
During the day, however, sunlight streaming in from the windows at both
ends bathes the hall in golden light.
A room converted into a small, private infirmary is through one of the doors to
the west, while the door to the east on the farthest end leads to a
stairway up to the attic. The stairs down lead to the main floor of the
house.
Flash closes the door behind them and takes off his hat as he turns back to
face the Adren Philodox. "A'right, no bullshitting right now," he says,
dropping the slow semi-cowboy speech and the casual, easy facade. He
looks serious, even solemn. "After less than a week, I'm thinking I'll be
staying here for a pretty long time, so I wanted to offer chiminage.
Officially."
Megan's lingering amusement from her encounter with Owen fades to seriousness,
and she arches an eyebrow with interest. "What's decided you?" she asks,
a hint of wariness in her as she shifts her weight onto one foot.
Flash uses a hand to brush overlong bangs out of his eyes. Damn, but he could
use a haircut. "You have some strange Garou here, Megan-rhya, and coming
from /me/, that's saying something. There's a cub here that doesn't know
the Litany beyond the first law, the bit about the Veil, and, quote, mind
your rhyas, unquote. Because her Bone Gnawer keeper, or elder, or
whatever, didn't think it was /pressing/." His tone radiates disbelief.
"And because the cub doesn't have a tribe yet. /I've/ tried to teach it
to her, but beyond the fact that the cub freaks out whenever someone gets
authorative with her, everybody says, 'No, don't, you don't have Olga's
permission to teach her.'"
Megan's expression turns into a growing scowl as this spools out. "Are you
referring to Joey?"
Flash taps his nose with his free hand and nods, not smiling. "Last night," he
continues, "I played the Fool, agreeing verbally with Olga that the
Litany is /certainly/ not a pressing thing and apologizing to Joey for
trying to pester her with something so outmoded. And, well, whoosh. Right
over their heads." He shakes his. "Never thought I'd be too subtle for
anything but a lupus. Trevor was there, got pissy at me, but didn't bat
an eye at Olga. And I still have to wonder why Joey doesn't know the
Litany. I'm sure Olga's given /someone/ permission to teach her apart
from Joshua..."
Megan growls softly. "Yeah, because *Joshua*'s such a model of Garou behavior."
She looks as if she's just bitten into a lemon, or maybe a two week old
carcass. "I'll speak with Olga. But, that can't be the only reason you
want to stay. Or, are you just using that as an example?" she asks.
Flash nods at her second guess. "That's just an example." His next statement
has a wry touch but is no less sincere. "At the risk of feeding my ego...
I think you need me. Or a good Fool, anyway." He actually looks
embarrassed at having said this. "In regards to chiminage, I know several
rites, some of which I don't think are incredibly common. I'd be glad to
teach them." He shrugs. "If anyone will accept my teaching, of course."
Megan's eyes narrow thoughtfully as she studies the metis, that faint look of
distaste lingering in her expression, but it's surprisingly controlled,
for a Fianna. "We have several cliath ragabash. What rites do you know?"
Flash holds the cowboy hat in both hands, turning it slowly. "Talisman
Dedication, the Rite of Contrition, the Rite of Silence, and the Rite of
Comfort. Also the Dance of Lights, Feed the Earth, and," he adds with a
slight clearing of the throat, "Hangover Cure."
Megan's head tilts curiously. "I've never heard of Rite of Silence or Rite of
Comfort, and I'm not sure if any of our ragabash know Talisman
Dedication." Her nostrils flare as she inhales deeply, thinking
momentarily. "If you can find at least one ragabash who doesn't know your
auspice's version of Talisman Dedication who wants to learn it from you,
and teach at least two other Garou from different tribes, and not the
same Garou or tribe as the ragabash, one of your othermajor rituals, I'll
consider Chiminage completed. The minor rituals, I'll consider half as
much as the major rites, so would take two Garou to learn to count as
one. Does that make sense?"
Flash nods. "The Rite of Silence allows one to move without making any sound.
You could walk across dead leaves without a single crackle. The Rite of
Comfort helps those in Harano. It won't /cure/, but it usually keeps
things from getting worse."
Megan's eyebrows go up with surprised interest. "I *like* the first one. That
second one, I could easily see Alicia or Dakota being interested in.
But," she waves a hand. "Find out if anyone's interested. I'd prefer one
of the Garou being centered out here in the woods, and one of them being
primarily in the city. And then let me know each time you're done. Good?"
Flash nods again and gives the Fianna a slight bow. "One more thing, and then I
won't take up any more of your time for today, Megan-rhya."
Megan glances at the window, but then back at Flash. "One more thing, and then
I need to get back to our new cub," she agrees.
Flash grins faintly. "Please keep the fact that I'm not such an utter
degenerate under your hat? I have a reputation to maintain."
Megan bursts into a laugh at that, but it slides away quickly, her gaze
assessing. "I'll consider it. Keep your nose clean, Stargazer. Since
you're the only one here, you'll be answering directly to me."
Flash bows again, and as he straightens, he puts the cowboy hat back on and
gives the forward brim a light tug. "Understood. Thank you." He backs
toward the door and then departs, clicking bootsteps moving away down the
hall and down the stairs.
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