"Not much on tom-foolery, though, are you?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:12 Pacific Time on Sun Apr 4 2004.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 56
      degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in 
      from the north at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.03 and 
      falling, and the relative humidity is 53 percent. The dewpoint is 39 
      degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (99% 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.

        His cheap-looking _Toxic Avenger_ t-shirt bears a flaking picture of
      Toxie's lumpy face and is untucked over a pair of faded jeans with huge 
      tears in both knees. On his feet are a pair of Nikes that are falling 
      apart and for the outdoors he has an olive green army jacket that's just 
      a bit too short in the sleeves. 

Bawn: Eastern Forest(#2990RA)

Gradually, the dense forest gives way to more mixed vegetation, as trees become
      less pervasive and undergrowth takes over. Spotty clearings filled with 
      short scrub and bushes dominate the forest floor, with only a few game 
      trails to make paths through the tangled growth. The forest that is here 
      seems to loom, as if resenting handing over land to lesser plants. Small 
      rustlings come from the bushes and patches of high grass. Who knows what 
      is concealed here?

To the north, the sounds of the interstate are audible in the distance, while
      to the east, the ground begins to rise into tumbled piles of rocks and 
      shallow gullies.

Seeker watches Wolf-Heart leave, then shifts to homid form, sitting in the
      lotus position. He winces slightly in pain as he does, his wounds not yet 
      fully healed. He returns to staring into a point in space, deep in 
      thought.

Seeker's lupus form is that of a lean but large and strong jackal/wolf hybrid.
      High, spired ears twitch this way and that, more active now that he needs 
      to compensate for his blinded eye. One dark eye glares intensely from 
      within black fur, the other is blind, the iris white and cloudy. On the 
      left side of his face, a ragged, hairless scar rips from his lower jaw 
      down to his neck. A sensitive nose scans the ground and air for every 
      scent or hint of danger. Tense muscles can be seen outlined by the short, 
      black fur that covers his body. He seems as if he could run forever 
      without tiring.

The Strider has a few moments of peaceful contemplation before a cheery
      whistling intrudes upon his hearing. If he's familiar with songtunes he 
      might even recognize it and put lyrics to it: 'I feel pretty... oh so 
      pretty... I feel pretty and witty and gay!'

Seeker can't help but notice the Stargazer ragabash. Disturbed from his
      meditation with an annoyed snort, he glances at Flash. "Ah, the 
      Fool-of-April himself."

Flash looks more like a typical slacker American teenager in his _Toxic
      Avenger_ t-shirt and ripped jeans. He smiles smugly at the lean Strider. 
      "And likewise, Lord Warder. 'Sup?"

Seeker frowns again. "I have my doubts about retaining that position."

Flash's smile fades. He cocks his head, overlong bangs falling over one eye.
      "Oh?"

Seeker nods. "Fights-for-Hope should have won that fight. I refused to submit
      and nearly killed him. Not an honorable victory or way to start one's 
      tenure as Warder."

"Oh, /that/." Flash stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "Well, I
      don't know shit about honor, but the Litany doesn't say you /have/ to 
      surrender when someone has their jaws around your throat, does it?"

Seeker shakes his head. "No, only the reverse, accepting honorable surrender.
      But there is honor in knowing when you are defeated and submitting 
      properly."

Flash headflicks to get the hair out of his eyes. "But you /weren't/ defeated.
      So, I know /less/ about fighting than I do about honor, but if you were 
      really defeated, would you have been able to get that bastard's jaws from 
      around your neck and /win/?"

Seeker shakes his head. "I was blinded by my desire to win the fight and gain
      the Wardership. When someone has their jaws around your throat in 
      honorable combat, you surrender. What I did was a ragabash tactic. No 
      offense meant."

Flash wrinkles his nose, then shrugs. "Um, yeah, whatever. Looked like desiring
      to win and /meaning/ to win is an /Ahroun's/ tactic..." He smirks. "But, 
      lemme see if I remember what my teacher told me about the code of Honor. 
      Made me memorize 'em all, yanno. Lessee..." He thinks a bit, squinting, 
      then recites, "'I shall be respectful. I shall be loyal. I shall be just. 
      I shall live by my word. I shall accept fair challenges.'" A beat. "Nope. 
      Ain't fuck-all about submitting just because some uppity Theurge has his 
      jaws around your throat. Maybe, I dunno, wisdom?"

Seeker sighs. "I suppose it was not a direct violation of any law or code, but
      it still doesn't sit well with me."

Flash shrugs. "I dunno, though, looks pretty fucking bad to just, yanno, give
      it up after less'n a week. Looks kinda pussy. /Especially/ after you two 
      nearly fucking killed each other." Pretty uppity for a mule cliath.

Seeker says "I'm not doing it because I can't handle the position. I'm not sure
      I deserve it in the first place."

Flash rolls his eyes. "Fuck me with a totem pole, then, dude, but why the FUCK
      did you CHALLENGE, then? Or why didn't you fucking refuse it when you 
      WON?"

Seeker thinks about that, ignoring Flash's rudeness. "I nearly did. I've been
      deliberating ever since, but I haven't made a decision. I believe I can 
      serve the sept well as Warder, but the matter in which the challenge was 
      won feels like a stain of dishonor."

Flash shrugs. "So un-stain it."

Seeker nods. "That is the only other alternative."

Flash glances skyward. "'Course, yanno, abandoning a caern position is /also/
      considered dishonorable..."

Seeker nods. "There is also that. Thank you for your honest opinion."

Flash grins toothily. "My one good trait. Though sometimes overused."

Seeker nods. "In that case I'll rely on you to point out when I'm not doing my
      job correctly. Assuming I keep it, that is."

Flash scratches at a chin that's barely touched with blond fuzz. "Hmm. Well,
      that's more than the big Get meathead would probably do. There, see? But, 
      honestly. Pointing out shit like that's what /any/ Ragabash should do. 
      Basics and all that."

Seeker says "Well, you'll find that I take criticism better than a Get would.
      As long as it's constructive criticism."

"Not much on tom-foolery, though, are you?" The Stargazer is, as usual, blunt.

Seeker shakes his head. "Not at all."

Flash cocks his head. "Why not?"

Seeker shrugs, wincing a bit as he does. "Not much room for humor in a life
      spent training for war."

Flash shakes his head. "There's /always/ time for humor, Mr. Long and Lean." He
      stretches, lacing his fingers behind his neck, staring frankly down at 
      the seated Ahroun.

Seeker says "Never had much patience for it myself. I never understood the
      Laughing Buddha either."

Flash makes a little 'hmmm' noise, still staring at Seeker. "So," he says,
      drawing the word out. "When did they remove your happybox? Ten years old? 
      Twelve?"

Seeker snorts. "Whatever that is, I doubt I ever had one."

Flash's eyes widen. "No way," he says. "No fucking /way/." His hands come down,
      arms swinging, and he leans forward, hands on knees. "You're telling me 
      that there was no wee little five year old Seeker-kid watching cartoons 
      and laughing his little nappy head off at Bugs Bunny?"

Seeker blinks at Flash, as if he's suddenly gone mad. "Not in the middle of the
      Sahara."

Flash is probably mad. All Ragabash are a little mad, and Stargazers too. Which
      means that Ragabash Stargazers must be truly insane. "Okay, no Bugs 
      Bunny. But they don't tell jokes in the Sahara? Why did the camel cross 
      the road? Two shieks walk into a bar, the third one ducks?"

Seeker shakes his head, without a flicker of a smile. "If they did, I can no
      longer remember."

Flash straightens up, his expression pitying. "Wow. Well, you should fix that."

Seeker nods. "Perhaps. I need to finish my rounds now. If you'll excuse me." He
      begins to shift into lupus.

Flash backs up a few steps, giving him room. "Sure sure. Stay frosty."

Seeker glances back at Flash and chuffs. Goodnight. He heads north, circling
      around the bawn.

Flash gives a little wave, then turns and heads off in a different direction,
      whistling 'I Feel Pretty' again.