Sparring for Fun

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:04 Pacific Time on Fri Apr 25 1997.
Currently on this breezy and crisp spring dusk in the general St. Claire area,
it is 62 degrees Fahrenheit (16.7 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from
the southwest at 6.6 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with a definite
chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (77% full).

Rosa Pinay says "There is not enough room in the hearts here, for play."
John smiles. "yeah, we're all overstressed workaholics. I doubt that will
change until the state of war is ended."
Erik lingers at the edge of the compound.
Rosa Pinay says "If it takes the end of a war to grow a heart big enough for
play... what hope is there for the heart?"
John grins. "Not the end of the war, merely a long enough lull to give time.
If we did not hope for victory, what point would there be in fighting?"
Rosa Pinay says "If we do not hope for something past victory, what purpose is
there in victory?"
John says "Victory will ease our hearts and minds. With victory, even a minor
one, we can turn our attention to the better aspects of ourselves.""
Erik shifts his weight from one foot to the other, nervously, then steps into
the compound proper, taking a seat not too close to the fire.
Rosa Pinay says "That sounds very... backwards, to me."
Michael, padding into the compound, barks in amusement at the statement he
hears as he arrives. We can all be better people when we win, yes indeed.
John says "The war takes priority because of the danger losing it. It is not
the way is should be, perhaps, but it's the way it is.""
Erik pulls his knees to his chest, lowering his head slightly and listening in
silence.
Rosa Pinay finishes limbering up, with stretches and joint-loosening
movements. "If you think that way... you have already lost the big war. The
Wheel misses play."
Michael settles down near the fire, listening to the other two converse. His
attention though, perhaps paradoxically, is drawn to the unfamiliar one
who's trying to escape attention, sitting away from the fire.
John says "I think that way out of necessity, not choice. I used to think that
what you describe could be achived. Experience has shown that that approach
is idealistic, and generally does not work well""
Michael cocks his head, curiously. What approach?
Erik turns his head slightly, regarding Michael with a certain amount of
wariness.
Michael contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Michael shifts into Homid form.
Rosa Pinay tilts her head. "Teach me that your way is better?"
John shakes his head. "I didn't say better. just more practical."
Rosa Pinay says "Then teach me that it is more practical. Spar with me?"
Michael reaches up and plucks a few errant pine needles from his hair, with a
grin. He stands quickly as Rosa suggests sparring, and moves a generous
distance away from the pair...and coincidentally towards Erik.
Michael comments to Erik in an aside, as he sits back down, "I think that was
a bit closer a view of this than I was really going to enjoy. I never really
fancied myself as part of an obstacle course."
Erik regards Michael for a moment before making some slight noise of agreement
and ducking his head.
John chuckles. "If you wish. But my combat skills leave something to be
desired."
Michael mentions, casually, "You know, if you wanted to avoid people, you'd be
better off not hiding." He gives the big, masked man a mischievious smile.
"It draws the more curious among us like moths to a flame."
Rosa Pinay shrugs. "I am glad. I would hate to hear I had offered to spar
another 'Master'."
Erik hesitates, then shrugs slightly to Michael.
Michael says "of course, if you were secretly trying to attract attention for
nefarious purposes of your own, you've chosen the perfect way to go about
it."
Erik stares at Michael for a moment. "Uh?"
John says "Might I suggest a less crowded area?"
Michael grins. "Never mind. It wouldn't survive explanation." He looks Erik
over. "I don't know that I've seen you before." He eyes the mask. "Fo that
matter, I don't know that I've seen you yet."
Rosa Pinay says "Where? Form? Weapons? Rules?"
Erik sighs slightly, noticing the glance at the mask. "Erik Sings-in-Shadow.
Galliard of the Fianna.
Michael says "What a coincidence. I'm Michael, also a Galliard of the Fianna.
It must be fate." He leans back on the tree. "They'd probably have
introduced us already, but I've been out mastering Squirrel-Chasing 101 and
Advanced Tree-Sniffing. I think I may be about ready to be promoted out of
the remedial wolfliness class. And just in time. I'm not sure how much
longer I'd have lasted on rabbits." His manner seems to say 'Hey, *I'm*
laughing at myself, feel free to do the same.'"
Erik's own manner remains solemn; though it's impossible to tell if he /is/
smiling, one gets a feeling that he isn't.
John shrugs. "The earth mound will do. The rest we can discuss when we get
there."
Rosa Pinay frowns. "Witnesses?"
John says "Up to you."
Michael looks up at the other pair. "Witnesses? Is this more than just a
practice bout?"
Erik glances up. "Er," he says. "Witnesses?"
Rosa Pinay shrugs to Michael. "Sparring can prove things, too. I say play is
needed and moe practical. Mister John says otherwise. Maybe witnesses is for
the best?"
Rosa Pinay says "To be sure I play?"
Michael scratches his head. "I can watch." He glances over at Erik, and then
looks back to Rosa with a grin. "Or *we* can watch. And a mighty victory
it'll be indeed when we're finished with it, I imagine."
But Erik is shaking his head. "I'm na' allowed in the caern."
John smiles. "Rose, I fight as a last resort, and out of necessity, not
because I enjoy it. I'd seek another solution before fighting if there's one
availible."
Rosa Pinay looks to John... "But if you never play-fii..." she trails off.
Staring at Erik, she says, "You aren't what?"
Michael hesitates, battling curiousity again, then nods.
Erik shrugs uncomfortably. "The Righ said I wasn't t' enter the caern. For any
reason."
Rosa Pinay looks down. "Mister John... would you choose another place for our
play?" Her voice is small.
John peers at Rose. "I fight if I am attacked or there is some reason to do
so. At the moment, this caern is at war and thus I help defend it. I would
much prefer spending my time in contemplation, but at the moment it isn't
particularly practical.
Rosa Pinay keeps looking down. She raises one hand, quietly pointing in Erik's
general direction. "I... I will not spar.. if he must miss the show."
John says "I'd be more than happy to debate the issue with you Rose, but I
won't fight you over it.""
Rosa Pinay looks up, startled. "You... you won't spar with me? For fun?"
John says "What do you have in mind?"
Rosa Pinay repeats, tiny voice high pitched. "Sparring. For fun!"
John nods slightly. "Yes, but what is the nature of the competition?"
Rosa Pinay arches an eyebrow. "We spar... for fun."
Erik tilts his head to one side.
John says "And what are the terms?"
Rosa Pinay says "Uh... that we spar? And that it's fun? Here? Now? You and me?
With them watching? No weapons. Like humans. And... what else?"
John bounces to his feet, chuckling. "Acceptable."
Rosa Pinay smiles. "And it's over when it's no fun?"
John grins. "Also acceptable."
Rosa Pinay giggles, and cartwheels away from John, to the widest spot in the
Compound, far from the fire. "And we have to rhyme. Is that a set table?"
John continues smiling, eyes following Rose, in admiration of her atheletic
ability. He grumbles good-naturedly. "How do I get myself into these things."
Rosa Pinay circles John, cartwheeling so she is always facing him, so her
hands and feet are always in dynamic balance, ready to move. "How will you
get out of Rose's rings?"
Erik scoots a bit further out of the way and watches, drawing his knees to his
chest and looking vaguely tense. But then, he's /always/ vaguely tense.
John lowers himself, bending his knees and sperading his feet for stability.
he circles Rose, though with nowhere near the fluid motions Rose is making.
He gHe grins slightly, "I'm sure i can come up with something. The first
move is yours to make."
Rosa Pinay giggles, and turns her cartwheels. Cartwheels turn into walkovers
and flips. Her flip turns into a pirouette. The pirouette hides a spinning
back kick, delivered suddenly, probing John's defenses and his reflexes. Her
arms are drawn up to her front, to ward off return blows. "But is my move
somethin' you can take?" She giggles. "And what will you give me in return?"
John steps back from the kick, which whistles a bare inch or two from his
chest. He throws a feinted punch at Rose's head, following up with another
to the stomach. His eyes focus on the Uktena, deep in concentration. "Your
wit and speed are quick there's no mistake, but I've seen such impressive
displays halted quickly during a fight."
Erik gets up, moving a bit further out of the way, and sits down again with
his back against a tree.
Rosa Pinay's phenomenal speed and reflexes are more than a match for the
probing early shots of a sparring duel. She blocks high with her right,
middle with her left forearm, and brings up her foot straight-kicked towards
where she hopes John's sensitive groin will be. "Sometimes halted quickly in
their turn, they're still fun, right?"
John sidesteps the worst of the kick, though it catches him solidly in the
thigh. He steps back, sweeping his leg low to knock Rose's legs from under
her. "Always in fun, at least untilyou start throwing kicks like that.
Still, you'll have to do better than that if you're going to earn this win."
Rosa Pinay giggles as she falls from the legsweep, landing and rolling,
popping upright in practically the same movement. "You have moves just like
a cat." And she performs a sudden feint, her fists flying forward, while the
real attack is her legs, flying wide in the splits, as she falls almost flat
to the ground, and counters with her own legsweep attempt. "So my little
kick was not such a sin."
John dodges back from the incoming fist, but his legs are caught by the cub's
sweep. He plants a palm to the ground, breaking most of the fall and rolls
back to his feet. He continues to circle, having risen too his feet too
slowly to launch any kind of solid attack. He grins. "Your kick missed my
more... vital spot."
Rosa Pinay rolls back, laughing openly, and begins her cartwheeling again.
"Oooh, silly, hou could it not?" She widens the space between the two. "I
was aiming too low to hit your head... by quite a lot."
Erik seems somewhat discomfited by the gleeful sparring, but not overly so.
Then again, there's been no blood.
Falcon's Wing pads in from the north, and stops to watch, fascinated.
Rosa Pinay laughs and cartwheels about John, rhyming in her sing-song voice.
John chuckles, closing the distance quickly and throwing another sweep at the
Uktena's legs. "Yes, well. Let's just say that a hit where you were aiming
would have slowed me a bit. But you're right, the head is the more vital
area here."
Jessie climbs out of the entrance to the buried shelter nestled among the
trees to the southwest.
Rosa Pinay is ready for the legsweep, this time, and brings her legs up to her
chest, in a little leap, before lashing out at John's extended knee, trying
to disable him with a fast, hard foot-strike at its side. "You already
almost stand still next to me. And in this fight, it isn't my head you
should fear."
Steven stalks into the compound carrying a duffel bag, making his way slowly
towards the fire as usual. It is apparent from his gait, the glances he
gives his surroundings, that he is uneasy, and somewhat uncomfortable about
something.
Jessie wonders out of the shelter, looking around, cautiously.
Erik pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them, watching the sparring between
Rose and John with vague unease.
Jessie watches from the edge of the compound, quietly.
Steven ponderously steps closer, altering his course to bring him near Erik.
Once he is close enough, he drops the duffel bag at the Metis' feet heavily
and gives him a once over glance, his hands now free, jammed into his vest
pockets. Finally, he gives a grudging nod and looks down at the bag.
Erik startles rather violently; clearly, he didn't notice Steven's entrance.
Leaning back, he tilts his head up to warily eye his standing tribemate.
"Er?"
"I'm here," Steven says bruskly, "to have you complete the terms of my
bargain." He points upwards as if Erik were utterly non-observant and says
somewhat patronizingly, "I waited until it was our moon." He continues,
almost with a pause, "Is this a good place to perform the ritual?"
Erik glances at the relatively peaceful sparring duel, then nods, hesitantly.
"If... we take it over to the side, here." Slowly, the tall Metis gets to
his feet.
Hope-Star climbs out of the entrance to the buried shelter nestled among the
trees to the southwest.
Hope-Star noses her way out of the shelter warily, testing scents familiar and
less so.
Steven stoops over to collect the bag again and grunts at the other Galliard.
"Well?" he demands of him in that grunt, looking around for the area where
Erik was speaking. "Where?" he finally asks, frowning at Erik.
Rosa Pinay continues acrobatically sparring with John, giggling and rhyming
all the while.
Erik moves toward a more secluded section of the compound, nearly within the
treeline. He walks with his shoulders slightly hunched, tense and wary of
the other, more volatile, Galliard. "Um. Have you ever witness the
Dedication rite before?"
John's sweep passes completely under Rose's legs, also passing beyond her kick
at his knee. He moves away from Rose as he retakes his feet. "I see we have
some guests here. Shall we put on a good show for them?" He continues
circling Rose, watching here carefully.
Falcon's Wing stirs, and whuffles a greeting to both the cub and the Strider.
Steven follows and sets the bag down more gently this time as a slow wry grin
spreads across his face in response to Erik's question. "Do you think I am a
newly rited cliath, Metis? Of course I have seen the rite." The last he
manages without so much rancor, faintly amused.
Hope-Star flicks an ear at Derrick. She trails after Erik and Steven, giving
them a wide slow circuit with nose and ears on full alert as she scrutinizes
the well-wrapped Fianna. She does not interrupt them, however.
Erik winces visibly, muttering apologies as he crouches down in the chosen
place; he doesn't seem to notice the Strider at all.
Rosa Pinay giggles, and nods, vigourously. She changes tactics, suddenly, her
posture becoming the stance of a practitioner of Kali Escrima. Her hands
open and begin to circle, mimicking John's hands' movement with the
technique called sticky-hands. "So long as our show is not a sham. Do you
think you can keep up with sticky hands?"
John is focused on Rose, and hasn't really noticed much about the news
arrivals aside from their prescense.
John circles warily, watching his opponents carefully for signs of an opening
in the new style of attack.
Falcon's Wing considers Sepdet for a moment, and then decides news can wait
until she's not fascinated by teaching, and pads over to Jessie and noses
her in greeting.
Hope-Star seems satisfied at her preliminary scan. Having finished sizing up
the obvious metis (with a faint cringe of her own at his all-too-familiar
mannerisms), she circles back around the fire, sniffing here and there.
Steven bends over to open the bag, revealing the clothing inside through the
opening at the top. He whistles absently, but not tunelessly as he does
this, glancing at Erik finally when he's finished, standing erect once more,
bringing his muted whistling to an abrupt end. Crossing his arms across his
chest, he says, "There are the clothes. Do whatever you do with them. I will
remain out of your way."
Rosa Pinay's hands seem glued to John's. As he probes with a punch or slap,
she withdraws in perfect pliant imitation. As his hand comes back, hers
advances, making a slap at his wrist or forearm, or, if he exposes it,
trying for his face. Her speed is... phenomenal, but those who know Rose
well, know this is her speed unaided by Rage.
Erik handles the articles with nervous care. After a moment, he tilts his head
to look up at Steven. "Um," he says, hesitantly. "I'll, uh... you'll need
to, I mean, to participate. Since the, um, clothes will be Dedicated to you,
sir."
John throws a few feints, attempting to get a feel for Rose's change in style.
More often than not, his blocks are insufficient against Rose' faster follow
ups.
Rosa Pinay continues to move like a blur of hands, the secret of sticky-hands
footwork and technique gradually tying up John's posture, stance, attacks
more and more, like a chess game of punches traded. Sometimes, she slips up,
and must begin again... but not very often. Not at this dance she has done
almost since birth.
Falcon's Wing, looking tired, heaves himself to his feet and pads over to the
Strider. It suddenly occurs to me that you probably can sense the enemy.
Falcon's Wing contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Falcon's Wing shifts into Homid form.
Jessie climbs out of the entrance to the buried shelter nestled among the
trees to the southwest.
Hope-Star's tail and posture stiffen, but very subtly. I can. If I pay
attention. She licks her nose, betraying a trace of self-recrimination.
Jessie wonders out of the shelter, watching from the edge of the compound.
Derrick shifts upwards, and grins. "All I meant was, me sittin' here enthusin'
at you about how we've deTainted the cub and it's way cool and aren't you
glad, and stuff... well you know that already. So it's kinda like, I
shouldn't bother you."
John backs away from the cub, blocking most of the attacks, and the few that
connect do little damage aside from a few red marks.
Hope-Star relaxes and gives Derrick's pantleg a darting nip. Don't _scare_ me
like that. Yes, I keep track of those who share my den. How did the Rite go?
One ear swivels in Jessie's direction casually.
Rosa Pinay smiles broadly, continuing to move in the precise methods of Sticky
Hands. It seems her plan is to slap her opponent literally silly. She seems
to be waiting for him to speak, now, but her hands, her posture, her careful
footing that work together to try to manipulate John out of options are
anything but passive.
Jessie scans back and forth between the battle and Derrick, watching both. But
still standing at the edge of the clearing
Derrick twitches away, and gives an apologetic little hand wave. "I c'n sense
the enemy, too. I didn't mean t'freak you out. Sorry." He looks over at
Jessie with a wave, and shrugs. "I'm not too good a tale teller. But
Katherine and Blackstripe an' John there and Moon Raven, they all helped.
An' Moon Raven kinda adopted her for awhile there, t'at least try'n give her
a little support. An' TC an' Blinks an' Natasha an' me guarded... Which came
to be necessary. I didn't get to watch much've the actual Cleansing, for all
that I'm learnin' it, so you should ask Jess about it."
Derrick blinks. "And Erik."
Erik glances up, distracted at mention of his name.
Steven doesn't answer for a long pause, but then blushes intensely red for
several more moments, caught in something of a fib. "Oh," he says quietly.
"What do I need to do then?" he says with a shrug and a foolish nervous grin.
Derrick waves Erik back. "I was just tellin' about the Cleansin'. An' your
part in helpin' with it."
Hope-Star's nose swivels towards the metis again, expression hinting that she
has more than one question to ask the occupied mule. She turns back towards
Jessie, however, and sits down on her haunches with a soft whuff. Come here,
cub. I only bite cubs of my own tribe. (a sideways tilt of one ear towards
the Fang.) And cliaths.
Derrick says, "Think nothing of it. I bite back, sometimes."
Jessie hesitates, then walks over to stand near Hope-Star and Derrick, "Hello,
I am Jessica, Spirit Warrior of the Silver Fangs."
Erik ducks his head slightly and turns back to Steven. Rummaging a moment in
his coat, he removes a small pen-knife and opens it. "A, um, drop of blood
on each garment, t-to start with." Hesitantly, he holds the small kknife,
hilt-first, to the other Fianna.
John fends off a few more of the slaps, then presses his larger frame forward
in an attempt to overbear his opponent and knock her to the ground.
Jessie has partially disconnected.
Hope-Star's tail skips behind her approvingly at the cub, and at her
introduction. You understand me already. Good. The diminuative jackal's eyes
crinkle. But you have not learned to see past people's shapes. It is not
easy. But I am easier to recognize than most!
Hope-Star contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Hope-Star shifts into Glabro form.
Rosa Pinay's light slaps turn iron-hard, the instant John presses forward and
loses the protection his relaxed posture had given him. Like dancing a
tango, she keeps moving in step with him, hands still sticky, but... balled
into fists, well aimed at every good opening, using the advantage of having
painstakingly worked her way inside his reach so his height does him no good
and his weight only slows him all the more.
Steven accepts the knife after he pulls out the clothing and drapes it across
the earth, smoothing out the edges of each article slowly. He pricks one his
fingers carefully, choosing a finger on his right hand and squeezes a drop
of his blood on to each piece. He wipes off the knife on the canvas of the
bag and then closes the knife, returning it to Erik. "What now?"
Sepdet hooks her thumbs on the waistband of her breeches, favoring Jessie with
a faint but friendly smile. "Boo."
Jessie smirks slightly and softly says, "Eeek?"
Erik pockets the knife and takes a deep breath. "Um, concentrate. I've...
never Dedicated anything to anyone /else/ before, sir," he admits. Expecting
irritation, he cringes again and, hopefully to forestall an explosion, bends
over the garments and begins to sing softly in a mixture of Gaelic and
Garou, the notes of the melody like a prayer, an Agnus Dei, perhaps.
John lets out gasps as the punches connect, throwing a few punches of his own
as he works his way to the inside.
Steven mutters something harsh and rolls his eyes a bit, but finally crosses
his arms and bows his head in concentration. His eyelids are pressed closed
and his face has turned a slight frown with the effort.
Derrick says "Anyways. Jess, how'd you describe that stuff with you again?
You... fought yourself?"
Erik continues to sing, then angelic tenor voice an undercurrent in the air of
the clearing. His manner grows calmer, almost reverent as he calls to the
slumbering spirits of the items; Steven's deed name can be heard in a phrase
or two as the Fianna Metis weaves the song of the rite.
Rosa Pinay is content to trade punches, three of hers, perhaps for, for every
one or two of John's. She laughs, when she's hit, soaking the blows against
her back and shoulders, her smaller shape making vulnerable targets harder
for John to reach, and there's that speed of hers, that double-jointed
nimbleness, and that plan, intrinsic in the martial art.
Jessie looks over at Derrick, "You mean at the ritual? I guess that's what it
was. Kind of an evil me thing."
Sepdet winces at Derrick's description. ~Ow. Welcome to the Garou world,
Jessie. I guess you see what I meant now about...dangers to fight.~
Jessie tilts her head at Sepdet's words, "What? Sorry I don't understand that
form of speech yet."
Steven continues to concentrate with his head bowed, but he holds his breath
in as Erik sings, seemingly caught himself in an appreciation for the
melody, the tone, and skill of the Metis Galliard.
Derrick says "Yeah. She like, split in half an' fought herself... Except it
hurt her to do that. So she stopped fightin' it and took *control* back,
kinda."
Sepdet blinks. "Oh. Right." Her Garou accent is pronounced, adding a rough
texture to the words. "I just said: now you see a little more what I was
trying to say, the other night. About the things we have to fear. But you
pulled it off. I'm glad--it balances out some of the others we've lost,
lately."
Erik takes time and care with the ritual, perhaps because he's never done
quite this 'flavor' of it before. Finally, the song circles around back to
its original, simple tune and ends. The Metis sits back on his heels, silent
for a moment, then glances back up at Steven. "It's done." His tone carries
an unspoken addition: I hope.
Derrick looks a bit shadowed, but nods, and then says, slightly awestruck,
"And man, is Katherine pretty goddam *impressive*. Almost as good as
Blackstripe."
Jessie glances between Derrick and Sepdet, "Blackstipe was able to kill the
thing, after I... um, after I pulled part of myself away from it. It was
wierd fighting myself. Every time I hurt it, I got hurt."
Sepdet mutters softly, ~That is the way of the world.~ But to Jessie she
continues to offer a melencholy smile. "I'm sorry I was not there to help,
and glad indeed for the new Elders we have to take care of such matters."
Jessie looks down at the ground, "Well, I think that may have been the easy
part of things. Has Derrick told you much about me?"
John slips to one knee, gatherng his weight under him to spring toward the cub
in a tackle, or at least roll from her should it miss.
Steven blinks once and lifts his head. With the music gone, so is his open
admiration for Erik. Still, his words carry a hint of that feeling, "Your
singing remains..." He trails off and pauses for a second, glancing down.
"Excellent," he says finally, begrudging the word. "So," Steven continues
more neutrally, "shall I test them?" This he offers with something of a
smile.
Erik reaches under the mask to rub at the back of his neck. "If you wish,
sir," he replies, meekly.
Derrick gives a little chuckle. "I haven't seen her since b'fore th'
Cleansin', or else I'd've told her about it since then. So, well, no."
Jessie looks carefully at Sepdet, as if considering her. "Didn't I see you in
the umbra at the Caern, when I was with Blackstripe?"
Rosa Pinay's pummeling continues, still relying on the sticky-hands, still
making small, certain gains a little at a time, speed, speed and more speed
pouring on. Her footing shifts, as her target makes himself shorter, but she
does not let up in the least.
Sepdet says thoughtfully, "You have told me a little about yourself. It is my
care to watch people." She tilts her head to one side. "Yes. And I told you
to hang on, the first night, when you were afraid because of the Garou who
were angry at your taint. But I am Sepdet. Strider Seer. Harbinger of
Hope--sometimes. Groundskeeper here for many years."
Steven arches his eyebrows and gathers the clothing under in arm, grabbing the
empty bag with another. He steps further into the trees and swaps items,
coming back with a bag now full and sets it nearby where it originally
rested. He pulls absently on one sleeve. "I'd hate to have this shirt
ruined. It's one of my favorites," he informs the other Fianna. He shrugs
then, and offers another half-hearted smile.
Erik offers no reply to Steven's words, only watches him with definite
anxiety, his body tense.
Jessie says "Ah, I'm sorry, things are a little hazy before the ritual, I
didn't remember you from then."
Derrick, finally, sits down again, tailor fashion.
Sepdet glances thoughtfully towards the skull. "Fledge and I were busy getting
reacquainted that night," she remarks. "And I thought it better to say hello
when you were less afraid of strangers. For even as Garou, I am considered
strange." Again, a melencholy smile.
Steven chuckles and gives Erik an almost friendly tap on the arm. "Relax. It
was a joke." He sighs then and with a short glance upwards, he pushes his
body upwards, through glabro, continuing upwards in size and bulk through
crinos and then down again into hispo and finally coming to rest in lupus,
his clothes transforming comfortably with him, and finally fading into his
fur as the change continues.
Steven contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Steven shifts into Lupus form.
"For some of us..." Derrick trails off. "Well, you were part of my welcome to
here, ma'am... And that's what's remembered and thought of by me. The real
welcome, I mean. Not the kidnappin'..."
Jessie says "I guess I'm less afraid now. I think I might be considered
strange as well."
Erik twitches back at the tap, then lets out a relieved sigh at signs that the
ritual apparently was a success. Hesitantly, he asks Steven, "Is... there
anything else you wanted of me, sir?"
Heart-of-Fury lifts his tail in a slight wag of happiness and he seems almost
distracted for a moment before he turns his head to Erik. He flicks an ear
at him. No. That was all. Thank you. His lupine form cannot hide the genuine
gratitude that he feels, though in homid he would, no doubt, be loathe to
admit it.
Sepdet considers Jessie slyly. "Everything is strange, when you are a cub.
That is part of the magic. How are you settling in, otherwise?"
Erik gets to his feet then, ducking his head to Heart-of-Fury. Without further
word, the Metis vanishes back into the surrounding forest, rather quickly.