It is currently 19:02 Pacific Time on Mon Mar 2 1998.
Currently on this highly windy and cold winter evening in the general St.
Claire area, it is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7.2 degrees Celsius). The wind is
coming from the south-southwest at 32.6 mph. The ground is wet and it is
raining ferociously. Skies are overcast with a definite chance of
precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (30% full).
Around the Lone Boulder
The sparse forest gives way here into a vast clearing, entirely devoid of
trees or heavy underbrush for great distances all around. Low, thick grass,
a palish green in color, grows everywhere underfoot; it sways ever so gently
in the chill winds that seem to settle in across this open expanse with
unusual frequency. The occasional darker shoot or dandelion weed makes its
way up amidst the rest, but the hilly territory is on the whole a uniform
color, reminiscent of a moor. Adding to the image is the single, ponderous
old stone, a grey-brown in color, settled uncannily in the dead center of
the expanse as if it has perched there alone since the dawn of time. Grass
grows up around the weathered boulder, but its vaguely-flattened top clears
the grass by a good many feet, at least chest-high to a good-sized man. The
sky, often grey, is a presence in this sudden openness, appearing from
amidst the treetops to arc high over the grass and stone.
Woodland tracks lead off into the forest to the north and south, while the
boulder itself stands at the center of the clearing.
Scott stands waiting quietly by the lone boulder, his eyes distant but alert.
Erik lingers near the trees, head bowed against the cold, driving rain. Water
drips from the brim of his hat in a steady stream.
Derrick slips in from the direction of the Caern, dripping.
Seirian makes her way into the clearing, ignoring the rain that plasters her
curls to her face and shoulders.
Erik glances up as Derrick arrives and makes his way through the rain toward
Derrick, his packmate.
Scott stands near the boulder, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the downpour
around him. His hair is just long enough to be pulled back in a small pony
tail, so is so. Beyond that, his garb is what it always is. His eyes are
distant, but alert.
Logan walks toward the clearing, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets at
either side of his jacket, which is zippered up to his chin. He keeps his
head down as he moves, his jaw set firmly against the rain and cold, his
clothes soaked thuroughly through to the skin.
Shows-the-Way trots through the downpour, ears hardly held vertical as normal.
He stops across from the Boulder and settles to his haunches.
Seirian lifts her chin to look around at those already there, shifting her
steps to bring her up near Scott. Blinking water from her eyes, she crosses
her arms over her chest and looks on.
Scott gives his packmates shallow nods as they arrive, seemingly breaking from
his reverie.
Derrick sighs softly as Erik approaches, and murmurs quietly to him.
Scott stands near the boulder, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the downpour
around him. His hair is just long enough to be pulled back in a small pony
tail, so is so. Beyond that, his garb is what it always is. His eyes are
distant, but alert.
Derrick whispers "Have I mentioned how... depressing this is?"
Hope-Star ghosts out of the shadows beside Soulcatcher, tagging along after
Shesemw in a small lupine flotilla in the damp.
Erik stands by Derrick, hand buried in the pocket of his rainsoaked
trenchcoat. He murmurs back, quietly.
You whisper "No, but I think it goes without saying." to Derrick.
Seirian stands, quiet and soaking wet, not far from Scott, watching all with a
flat gaze.
Derrick nods, sighing, to the metis, and shifts down, moving somewhere out of
the way.
Nightflash approaches the gathering from the direction of the caern.
Erik remains in homid form, to no one's surprise, but follows Derrick to stand
out of the way.
Scab-Survivor pads up to join the gathering, ears, head, and tail low. He
settles near his tribal Elder.
Logan passes by Derrick, nodding slightly as he goes, as his unsure steps take
him slightly closer to Scott as well; not right up next to him, but close
enough to be showing his support for the Fostern.
Shows-the-Way pages all: For what it's worth, I will be using Truth of Gaia
pretty much globally from here out. Please do keep it in mind, though I have
the feeling it's not going to make much of an impact.
You sense Scab-Survivor is watching you alot tonight for some reason; every
now and then his ears or eyes watch you for a moment, as if he is studying
you.
Thatcher chooses a place beneath a tree, a little out of the direct downpour,
and certainly out of the way, to sit and watch.
Scab-Survivor senses "Erik doesn't seem to notice, perhaps due to some
preoccupation, or because of the rain. He doesn't move much from Derrick's
side, apart from occasionally shifting his weight a bit."
Hope-Star paces over to Gawain and Siobhan, circling their legs like a large
cat and brushing up against her packmate's legs quietly before she retreats
to clear the field.
Iceheart pads in last, head held up proud and high. She changes as she walks,
regaining her human form with each step.
Nightflash moves over to stand with his tribemate.
Defends-Wolves nudges his tribemate in greeting and settles down near him.
Siobhan trudges through the rain, looking somewhat bedraggled and weary from
her long trip, hardly dressed for the weather in a simple unbleached robe.
As she approaches the clearing, she nods to those she knows, with small
faint smiles for packmates and friends, and then makes her way to stand
before Scott. Gawain enters with her, standing back and behind, looking akin
to Siobhan's wavering shadow in the rain, his black coat tethered firmly to
both legs, though the front is open, the cold rain assaulting him and
slicking his normally unruly hair back. He seems in a foul mood, eyes
unfocused and peering out before him.
Scott takes a deep breath and watchs Siobhan for a moment, his expression
cold, guarded, and neutral. He waits for Iceheart, his second, to take her
place at his side before directing his clear voice that cuts through the din
of the rain towards Siobhan. "Are you ready to begin?"
Gawain folds his arms over his chest, looking directly at Scott, but stays
silent.
Velia stands quietly, arms folded, waiting.
Siobhan nods politely to Scott and begins speaking, her tone mild and calm,
face betraying nothing of her innerward emotions. "I and my heart-sworn
love, Gawain, Kin to the Silver Fangs, have come here at your request,
Scott, elder of the Silver Fangs. "She glances over at the others, "I would
ask now that those half-moons present please use their Gift of Telling Truth
from Lies to hear the truth of what I now say, so that there may be no more
misunderstanding." Looking back to Scott, she spreads her hands, "I must
admit to some confusion. I hear that you wish to have some kind of challenge
to the death, Scott. If this is a challenge that you offer to me, I must
respectfully refuse, for I have sworn to Gawain that I will not fight you.
Perhaps there could be some other, more acceptable terms that I could chose,
if you still wish to challenge me after this. But it seems to me that you
are under the impression that /I/ have issued you a challenge: that I am
challenging your eldership of the Silver Fangs. I must also respectfully say
that this is not the case. I do not wish to question how you teach your
cubs. If Derrick-yuf were to offend you, I have no wish to interfere in how
you would punish him. Nor do I wish to tell your tribesmates what they can
and cannot do. My only concern with how you deal with your tribe is your
Kin, Gawain, the man that I love."
Siobhan darts a quick glance at Gawain, then focuses on Scott once more,
continuing, "You have already said that if I pay some kind of recompense,
that we can be mates. I agreed to this, and was waiting for you to set some
terms for this recompense. When I asked Falcon for his permission to be
Gawain's mate, it was simply a confirmation that our joining would be
honorable and acceptable, and he has set terms of recompense of his own,
which may be added to those you deem appropriate." She sighs, passing a
glance over the others gathered, "There is more, however. You have
threatened your Kin with death. We do not even know the terms by which you
might judge that his death is warranted. He has already promised to obey
you, but still we live in fear that some stray comment, an odd look, a
shrug, or some other minor thing might spur your anger at him and cause his
death. I know this man: He has the heart of a warrior, though not the Rage.
I would be foolish to think that he is always going to be completely
respectful, even with all the teachings in such matters as I can offer him."
Velia cuts a significant look to Scott, her expression almost unreadable.
As he stands motionless in the rain, Logan passes his gaze from his pack
alpha, to Velia, to Siobhan and finally to Gawain, his grief over the fact
that it's come to this more than evident in his expression and eyes. The boy
shakes his head sadly, facing the ground with closed eyes, before looking
back up, focused on the four once again.
Shows-the-Way listens. When untruths are uttered, then my voice will be
raised. Or when it needs to be lifted in question or protest.
Seirian's eyes narrow faintly, though she neither moves, nor makes a sound.
Gawain stays exactly as he is, the only movement on him from his jacket
flapping where it's open in the wind. He keeps his gaze fixed on Scott.
Erik remains silent.
The large gathering attracts Walks-Far-Alone's attention and draws her from
her intended goal. Once she arrives the Fianna lingers around the edge of
the gathering, her ears cast at a curious angle.
The Stargazer dips her head, "I seek to protect him. I love him, and I could
do no less, for he is my life as well. You have given us no reason to think
you might be reasonable about any transgression you perceive, no reason to
think that you may try to correct him in other ways than by killing him,
despite that he is but new-come to our world, and unfamiliar with wolf-ways,
being a human. Your anger at him seemed to stem from the issue of his
perceived dishonor to your tribe and yourself. I do not argue this. I wished
to take this burden from you, as much as I may. As we were speaking to
Falcon, this idea came to me, and I did not have time to consult with you or
your packmate who was present. I asked Falcon if I could be responsible for
him, in much the same way as a teacher is for a cub. If the cub
transgresses, then the one who is offended may take issue with the teacher,
by word or action, usually /before/ going to the cub's elder. This does not
lessen the elder's responsibility or command of the cub."
Siobhan repeats, "I know this man. He loves me. "She smiles very gently,
looking once more to the man beside her. "He will be more likely to think
long and hard about transgressing if he knows that it will be taken out of
/my/ honor, and possibly my hide, as well. I would hope that it would save
his life, to do so, and mine also. But I did not intend for that
responsibility to take anything away from your responsibility for your Kin.
He is just as much under your command as he ever was. I am deeply sorry that
I did not convey this in enough detail to your packmate. I thought I had.
"Her expression turns wry, "My only excuse for this was that it is not
everyday that one gets to talk to a spirit so magnificent as Falcon, and I
was more than a little overwhelmed by the experience." She lifts her chin,"I
do not challenge your eldership over your tribe, nor was it my intent to do
so when I asked Falcon what I asked him. Please forgive my transgression,
and accept this apology given humbly to you and your tribesmates." The
Stargazer drops to her knees, with her chin held high enough to expose her
throat to Scott.
Velia's gaze sweeps from Gawain and Sio to her packmates.,
Hope-Star sits back on her haunches abruptly at Soulcatcher's side, a little
startled, but betraying no other particular emotion beyond a sort of
resigned somberness.
Defends-Wolves swivels his ears between Scott and Siobhan, listening intently.
Scott replies simply,"You have been told to stay away from our kin until the
matter regarding him is resolved. You have been told not to interfere with
that resolution. I see you're direct contradiction of those instructions
repeatedly as a challenge to my for him, as I told you to do if you did not
like the way we deal with our kin. What we do or do not do to our kin, our
territory, is not your concern unless you challenge for it, as I also told
you to do. By claiming you have the right, and by asking for the right to be
responsible for him, you claim that territory. It is no different than if he
/was/ a cub and you did as you have. Command has nothing to do with it. You
don't seem to understand that responsibility does. The respect I ask is a
sign of discipline that each and everyone of us that fights in this war, or
knows of it needs. He has shown a lack of it, and brought us here today, as
you have. If I am not fair, or am not reasonable perhaps it is because I
keep the /Silver Fang/ way, and not that you were taught. And perhaps this
very situation is why we forbid other Garou from mating with our kin."
He pauses, the fire in his eyes dying,"But none of this matters. As you have
seen no reason to think I would be reasonable, I see no reason to think you
will respect my tribe's territory. That is what today is about. I have
accepted your challenge for him, either go through with it, or if you refuse
to follow through with it, give up any claim on him. I will /not/ continue
to have you usurp the territory of my tribe and disrespect it."
Shows-the-Way turns his head from Wayfinder as she speaks, to Scott as he
speaks.
Logan looks pleadingly toward Scott, begging him to just accept the damn
apology and let this end, though the expression is most likely lost.
Scab-Survivor is sad, but nothing about him seems to indicate he 'takes a
side' in this dispute.
Shows-the-Way turns back to Wayfinder. Spirit of the Words speaks what he
feels is true. As does Wayfinder, though her words on the source of Spirit
of the Words' anger are shaded. ~A Challenge all unintentional need not
always follow through, if the one that issued it retracts it fully. This
will not stop the one responding from issuing their OWN challenge, as is...
'Right' under our laws. Responding to a challenge that may not be there in
truth is something not uncommon. But a Challenge without the challenge being
seen as issued by both sides is no challenge to my eyes.~ He turns back to
Scott, then to Wayf, then to nowhere in particular. ~Have any Challenges
been issued, or is this a final warning from the Elder of the Silver Fangs
here at the Walk on how his Kin will be dealt with?~
Siobhan shakes her head, looking confused. "I know nothing of what you say.
You did not ask me to stay away from him. All I know is that you have said
that I must pay recompense, which I agreed to do. We have been waiting for
your decision about Gawain, living constantly under a shadow of fear that
you will kill him, and thus myself also."
Velia nods an approval at Paul's words.
Scott replies to Paul,~This is the resolution of the issue. No warning,
because if she now gives up claim and breaks it again there will be no
challenge. I offer her now the oppurtunity to restore her honor and as well
as making her claim, and so that I may defend the honor of my tribe. It is
her choice, but she makes it now.~ He pauses, and looks back to
Wayfinder,~And when I say give up claim I mean you will not see him, will
not speak to him and will not go near him unless I give you permission to.
And you will not try to involve philodoxes from outside my tribe in some
sort of mediation that I have not called for, nor will you ask any spirit or
any other authority you think has the right to make this decision. Nor will
you go to another Silver Fang of higher rank. I state my terms so they are
crystal clear. Make your choice.~
Shows-the-Way's ears go flat to his head at the list of 'requirements', but
does not otherwise so much as breathe in response. For he is not the
challenged one.
Nightflash snorts softly at the list of things that Scott requires.
Gawain just stands in the rain, watching Scott.
Alexandra snorts.
Logan looks almost physically pained at his elders words, but aside from
shaking his head in sadness, he remains as he is, in his place.
Siobhan droops completely, bowing her head. Her voice is very soft, "I will
not break my promise. I will not fight you. I do not wish to die, for that
would mean that Gawain and I will not be together in this life. But if you
choose for him to die, I will die also, and I would then ask that it be at
your claws. I will do as you ask." She lifts her head, face streaming with
rain as much a tears, her serenity completely gone with her complete misery,
"But I beg of you to have mercy on my love."
Falcon's Wing, out of sight, just lays his ears back.
Erik remains silent and still, head lowered, rainwater gathering and dripping
steadily off the brim of his hat.
Scab-Survivor's lips pull back in plain disgust at this entire situation.
Seirian's eyes look distant as she watches the scene, still ignoring the rain
that drenches all.
Velia nods slowly at this, and nods to Scott.
Logan again turns his eyes on Scott, his entire face thrown into the pleading
expression.
Scott's eyes narrow, the anger starting to rise in his eyes, along with
something else less easy to identify,"If I decide he needs to be culled, he
will be culled. That is not the issue here."
Then, simply,"Make your choice."
Siobhan repeats, "I will do as you ask."
Scott narrows his eyes, and then shakes his head a little. He looks from the
Stargazer to the kinfolk. "Gawain, the silver weapon you carry, place it at
Velia's feet."
Siobhan remains on her knees, looking at the ground steadily.
Velia waits, patiently.
Gawain lifts his eyebrows up as he's addressed and shakes his head, still
looking directly at Scott. "I'd like to know why first, if I may?"
Thatcher flicks an ear, slinging water another direction, and shifts her
weight a bit.
Steven finds a spot near his packmate.
Shows-the-Way sits motionless, as good as carved from stone for the moment,
ears still three quarters back.
Walks-Far-Alone works her way around to Steven and Thatcher, chuffing quietly
to them before she sits on the cold, wet ground.
Scott replies, his expression going totally neutral,"No."
Gawain shrugs faintly and nods, making his way over to Velia. He pushes a flap
of his jacket back, forcing it against the tearing wind and the harsh rain,
revealing the wrapped hilt of a Japanese katana. He takes the sword gingerly
out of its sheath and holds it in his hand, testing its weight, its balance,
for a moment looking ready and prepared for a fight. Thankfully, however, he
turns the blade, pointing its tip at the ground, between Velia's feet. With
his hand still grasping the hilt, he turns to face Scott again, and nods.
"Yes, my lord." His voice is empty, neither sarcastic nor teasing, just flat
in all ways.
Velia nods, seeming pleased. "Hand me the sword."
Scott stares Gawain down, and though he tries to keep his expression neutral,
he does a poor job of hiding the disdain he obviously feels for the kinfolk.
Perhaps surprisingly, there is very little of the same for the Stargazer
that stands before him. He waits patiently as the rain drums down around him.
Siobhan remains on her knees, shoulders hunched miserably, as she looks at no
one and nothing in particular.
Logan is all but holding his breath as he watches the procession of events,
the mixing of sorrow with hope never leaving his face.
Gawain shakes his head slowly to Velia, murmuring, "I am in fear of my life,
Velia. I can not relinquish my only, single defense. If you demand that it
must be done, if Scott does, I will, but I don't like it. Siobhan's on her
knees. She's given an honorable resolution to this matter. Can I hear an
explanation why any of us are still here?"
Shows-the-Way shifts back to homid in a rippling blur, and stands there
glowering. Hands behind his back.
Velia shakes her head. "You are here, because Falcon's hand is upon you. Turn
over the weapon, Gawain." Her voice goes soft. "You will not be asked a
second time."
Scott closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath. He raises his head and then
opens his eyes,"Velia, cull the kinfolk. He has shown he cannot follow
orders even when he and his love's life is at stake." His words are cold,
emotionless though very tired sounding.
Falcon's Wing bites down on anything he might even possibly think, and stands
completely still.
Alexandra stiffens, watching closely.
Steven gives a nod to Scott, as his arms fold.
Gawain snarls at Scott, spitting out harshly at the man, "You mother F*CKING
piece of--" His words snap off in mid-sentence, snatching the sword out of
the ground, though he keeps it at rest, "You've got her in obediance. You've
got me doing whatever you ask, and you STILL abuse the power Gaia's given
you?" He tosses his sword at Velia's feet, "I want out of this cursed tribe.
As soon as possible."
Seirian's expression never changes, nor does she move. Her eyes however, do
flick to Gawain at his outburst, her only movement.
Paul's hands appear from behind his back, gun swept to two handed marksman's
grip and hammer back. But there he freezes again.
Paul is, for the curious, aiming towards Gawain.
Siobhan stiffens at Scott's words, forcing herself with every fibre of her
being to remain where she is. Her voice, so soft as to almost not be heard,
"Please..."
Hope-Star's eyes drop for a fraction of a second at Gawain's request;
otherwise she is set as stone with her packmates, simply braced to give
witness to life or death.
Erik shudders, thin shoulders hunching, but he doesn't move from his spot near
Derrick.
Velia contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Velia shifts into Crinos form.
Scab-Survivor watches, still as everyone else.
Scott remains silently, assuming the Fostern Fang will follow the order given
her by his elder. He doesn't look at Siobhan, in fact the truly perceptive
would seem to note he is avoiding doing so, keeping his eyes locked on the
Fang kin.
Logan can't hold back any longer. As all notions of remaining quiet, formal,
perhaps even respectful--as it may not be his place to offer any words at
all--drop away, the young Philodox speaks, doing his best to keep his words
calm, though their hasty delivery defeats the intent. "Scott... please. God,
please, Scott, don't. Let him go. Just... please, let him go."
Falcon's Wing snarls quietly, from the trees. Words of Truth. Stand down. Now.
Nightflash sits up more alertly, watching Scott through narrowed eyes.
Iceheart shivers as she grows to her full height in crinos. ~Very well, then.
Out shall you be cast.~ She reaches forth and to try and grab Gawain's head
in her massive clawed hand.
Steven frowns at Logan, and shakes his head.
Gawain folds his arms over his chest, his eyes still on Scott, not even
seeming to notice that he's about to get his head ripped off.
Seirian breaks from her granite pose and reaches out, laying a hand on Logan's
shoulder in a gesture of calm restraint.
Walks-Far-Alone turns her head enough to look at Logan in a quiet, mesuring
gaze before her attention returns to the Fang Crinos.
Logan looks for a moment as if he'll simply collapse, then quickly turns his
head away from the sight, eyes clenched tight as the tears flow freely down
his cheek, lost in the rain.
Siobhan curls into as tiny a ball as she can, shivering.
Seirian keeps her hand on Logan's shoulder as she watches, for what little
comfort it might give.
Scab-Survivor watches quietly, still except for his claws digging into the
earth beneath him.
Iceheart growls, and shakes her huge head. She reaches down, and grabs
Gawain's head in her massive paw, and turns it around twice with a quick,
painless *crunch*.
Erik flinches -- no, /cringes/ -- at the sound, hand coming up to cover his
mouth.
Soulcatcher shifts on his paws, his muzzle turned back to watch his packmate
with miserable resolve.
Falcon's Wing's ears flicker back unhappily, a small whine dying in his
throat. Obviously, no matter how much he thinks the action necessary, he
hates it with a passion.
Paul winces a little and drops a hand, the gun moving to point skywards and
the hammer being eased back to uncocked.
Steven nods approvingly.
Siobhan's howl as she blurs up to her warform sounds utterly lost. ~From this
moment, I am dead. I will /not/ fight for a people who kill their own. No
longer. Gawain...I join you on the path of stars as soon as I may.~ With
that, she blurs to her smaller form, and is gone in moments, southward to
the caern.
Thatcher's ears flicker backward against her skull, then lift again.
Siobhan contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Seirian barely blinks, expression not breaking.
Siobhan shifts into Lupus form.
Hope-Star moves a little to lean against Soulcatcher, dark eyes full of past
memories of such things, and the certain future. She doesn't flinch at the
sound of death, or at her packmate's pained howl, only following her with
her gaze and inner vision to a place the Strider can't follow.
Thatcher climbs to her feet.
Nightflash bares his front teeth, hackles rising as the crinos goes through
with it. He comments softly to Defends-Wolves, ~A strange place. Where I
came from, tribal elders would bloody their own claws when necessary.~
Paul spins towards Wayf's retreating form and blurs down himself to four legs.
Moving with considerable spead in his packmate's wake.
Falcon's Wing does blink, and he lights off after her, quietly growling.
Thatcher, though not a packmate, likewise races southward, after the Gazer.
Scott takes a deep breath and turns to the others, his shoulder's dropping
slightly,"Let it be known that as of this time I step down from my duties as
elder of the Silver Fangs. Velia Varro Iceheart will assume those duties.
Gaia's grace go with and keep you all." With that he turns to go and
disappear into the downpouring rain and blackening night.
Logan now loses what little control he had on himself, and falls beneath
Seirian's hand, on his knees, his head burrowed into his chest. Aside from
the rising and falling of his chest with his sobs, he is once more
motionless in the rain.
[Room changes while people run into the caern and then go Umbral deleted.
Poses left in.]
Scab-Survivor snarls at the death of Gawain, and he quickly gains his feet. He
would follow after Siobhan if others were not already doing so. He instead
fixes a gaze on Velia and then Scott; a gaze that is not quiet hateful.
Seirian blinks again, eyes returning to some semblance of the sense they had
before. CLosing her eyes, she lets out a soft sigh before turning her face
up to the rain.
Shows-the-Way follows just at Wayfinder's heels, assuming he catches her (not
terribly unlikely, being willing to use Rage for speed).
Erik stirs himself to follow after his packmate, long legs making distance,
though not as quickly as lupine limbs.
Shows-the-Way paces Wayf step for step, ears flat to his narrow skull and eyes
bright and alert. Not hindering yet, not hindering at all as long as
Wayfinder stops her headlong rush to navigate the crevice.
Nightflash hurries to catch up with his tribemates
Falcon's Wing lopes after the Strider, teeth slightly bared.
Wayfinder navigates the pathway just fine, and heads immediately for the pool
to reach through.
Rends-the-Dark moves towards the Stargazer questioningly, warily, aware of the
Challenge of tonight.
Falcon's Wing pops into the Umbra soon after the 'Gazer, moving right towards
her.
Shows-the-Way moves to Wayfinder's side, still alert, still radiating anger,
frustration, and more.
Kshema is hovering silently low in the shadows, expression oddly tranquil, or
at least beyond corporeal emotion. He floats in low facing Siobhan a few
feet overhead, glass eyes reflecting a miniature mirrored image of her.
Wings flutter gentle wind towards her, but the breeze does not reach her.
There is question in the spirit's expression, but no judgement.
Peacekeeper stays at a distance for now, allowing those closer to Wayfinder to
approach her, though he continues to keep a close eye on her actions.
Siobhan falls to her knees in the center of the caern. Ignoring any others,
she murmurs softly, "I will give what I can, please take my gift in honor of
Gaia." Drawing a stone knife from within her satchel, she prepares to cut
her hands with it. "And let me find the way to where my love travels the
path of stars, so that we may be reborn together, if Gaia wills it."
Shows-the-Way barks, ~You will NOT!~
Shows-the-Way says, ~NOT here!~
Falcon's Wing snarls. You will not do this here. I would rather you not do it
at all, but you will NOT do it here. As a Guardian, I say this./
Thatcher shifts up to the warform, at sight of the knife.
Shows-the-Way leaps bodily as soon as the knife starts to come out, aiming to
take it directly into his jaws even if it DOES flay him to the bone.
Rends-the-Dark moves closer to Siobhan, close enough to touch the Stargazer,
already in hispo. She places her paws on the Gazer's shoulders and stares at
her.
Peacekeeper's hackles bristle as the Stargazer brings out a knife, and his
attenion focuses entirely on her.
Defends-Wolves keeps his distance for the moment, letting those closer handle
the situation. He keeps his attention fully on the 'Gazer, however.
Siobhan is thrown sideways as her packmate lunges, and immediately shifts to
her warform. She attacks the nearest thing to her, striking out at both
Rends-the-Dark and Shows-the-Way as they come into contact with her. All of
this in surprising silence, until she growls, ~I am dead already. Do not
seek to stop this. You, none of you, are my people. My people are the
spirits, now.~
Siobhan contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Siobhan shifts into Crinos form.
Rends-the-Dark contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Rends-the-Dark shifts into Crinos form.
Falcon's Wing lets other people attack her, but snarls, If you are not of us,
then you do not belong here.
Thatcher snarls, ~Stargazer, you will not take your own life in this caern.
Die, if you must, but do it somewhere ELSE!~ She stands on the balls of her
feet, fists balled, but doesn't leap into the fray.
Shows-the-Way takes a single haphazard blow, then springs to warform himself.
Staff already swinging with rageborn speed and power, and glowing brighter
than the moon when it shows full in the sky.
Rends-the-Dark flows up into her own warform, lunging instinctively after the
Stargazer. ~You seek to curse the Caern with your suicide-blood-- you care
so little for Gaia?~
Shows-the-Way contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Shows-the-Way shifts into Crinos form.
Erik, his tall body grown taut with grief and stress and the lingering nausea
from seeing and hearing Gawain's death, stands at the edge of the group, his
single hand clenched into a fist.
Soulcatcher blurs up into the warform as well, without any fanfare or words.
He moves into the fight at Shows the Way's side, seeking to incapacitate his
other packmate if possible.
Peacekeeper snaps loudly, ~If she wants to kill herself by Garou, let it be
done elsewhere!~
Wayfinder shifts down with Rage-speed as her packmate swings his staff just
managing to catch a solid thunk on her hindquarters. She snarls, bitterly.
Then I will not do it here. You would deny me even that comfort. So be it.
Leave me be. She attempts to extricate herself, viciously snapping at any
who would try to stop her, and dancing on her agile paws to avoid being hit.
Falcon's Wing stares at Robert for a moment, and then Wayfinder. I do not call
killing yourself at the Caern a comfort. I call it an obscenity, myself.
Wayfinder contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Wayfinder shifts into Hispo form.
Rends-the-Dark doesn't intend on letting Wayfinder flee again, /or/ seek
comfort by cursing the Caern. She continues to grab at the Stargazer.
Falcon's Wing snarls at his packmate, If she is leaving, let her leave.
Hope-Star materializes long after the last of the runners, for she has no will
tonight to make her legs run, and anyway, she has no place where her brother
has fully taken root. Her steps stumble a little; for she is watching
everything through her totem's eyes now, blind herself.
Thatcher clarifies, ~You will not kill yourself on bawn lands. Offend Gaia
somewhere else. Do it here, and no matter the prayers, your body will not
rest in these mounds.~
Seshemw barks at his packmate, ~Then we will leave and stand vigil when you
go, but This is NOT the place.~ and gives a warning blow to Rends. ~So long
as it's not here, I won't stay her hand. It's the choice we all have to face
at some point.~
Wayfinder slashes at Rends, and whirls away, snarling in response to Falcon's
Wing. Yours! Yours is the offense. What you have allowed, I can not forgive.
I will leave, and none will follow.
Kshema's inpentrible tranquillity is finally shaken. There is an odd spidery
refraction of light over its misty scales, like the ripple of glass about to
shatter. Yet it still only hovers, perphaps unseen by anyone, over the trio
of packmates and the one about to leave it.
Falcon's Wing wishes it were different, Wayfinder. And I wish you were not
bound on this course. But, he adds, stalking towards her, If you are, you
will leave. Render, let her go.
Rends-the-Dark could care less about Wayfinder's forgiveness at this moment;
she simply doesn't trust the mad Stargazer to not dart free and impale
herself on the crystals or something. She, for the moment, ignores her
alpha, dancing around the Stargazer on all fours as she swings now and then.
Soulcatcher, who purhaps knows his packmate better than most here, lands a
blow on Rends-The-Dark, quickly and succinctly, to free Wayfinder to leave.
Seshemw steps towards Rends and growls low and steady, ~Stand away, or it's me
you'll face. Understand? She leaves here.~
Falcon's Wing nips at his packmate's side. Listen. Watch. Harry if she doesn't
keep to her word. But she IS leaving.
Wayfinder dodges the Fury as best as she can, not even trying to strike back,
as she heads on her slow and frequently impeded course away from the caern.
Kshema follows but impedes nothing and touches nothing anymore than a light
breeze.
Falcon's Wing looks somewhat warily at the pig pile on Athena, but blurs and
lopes after Wayfinder, keeping to shadows.
Wayfinder wanders not far, far enough from the caern, to the edges of the
river whose banks she has so often patrolled, and whose denizens, some of
them, were friends and teachers. Nodding quietly, she turns to the totem
following her. Sadly, she addresses the dragon. Take care of my packmates.
We were family once, and I will remember that as I travel the path of stars.
Betrayals will be forgiven, as the wheel turns, and we are reborn.
Kshema dips slightly in the air as she turns towards it, wings fluttering just
out of reach of her as the whiskered head nods gravely, locking gaze with
her for a silent momnt.
Seshemw's staff dims to mere ghosts of phosphorescence, swirls of nearly
invisible light as he runs. Teeth grinding audibly at mention of betrayals,
he bites back a snapping reply and merely says, ~There is a difference
between sacrifice, and wanting to turn surrender into something better than
it is. I hope you find the summer country, but I still think you shouldn't
go. He isn't, wasn't, and never will be worth it. We've all loved and lost,
to different degrees, and we keep going.~
Falcon's Wing lurks in the shadows, hackles raised.
Alexandra follows Hope-Star at a discreet distance.
Wayfinder dips her muzzle again to the spirit and calmly turns to her former
packmate. He was my soul, my reason for fighting this war. I can not, and
will not, fight any longer for a people who would allow such a betrayal to
happen. If you cannot be One People, there is no hope for you to win this
war. The Wyrm is laughing right now, as you kill your own kind in the name
of pride and outdated traditions that no one has the heart to question. I am
not one of you. Weep not for me, but for yourselves.
Falcon's Wing fades out of the bushes. I weep for everyone. Including you. You
are still of us. Denying us just means you're giving up. If you are giving
up, why do you not fight the Wyrm, and not yourself?
Seshemw says in a low growl, ~As you kill yourself to spite the war. As you
end yourself instead of striving for your dream. As you end yourself rather
than find a new cause. As you end yourself, at your own claws, and show that
we as Garou are even less clever than you think. I'll weep for us all, but
not quite for the reasons you think. And I'll weep for you more than the
rest, that I've lost these years gone by. Because they went if not
willingly, then by choices to try to serve the world around us. You're
taking yourself away as if it spank a wayward child, and only weaken us in
the passing.~
Sepdet simply follows, wrapped in silence, unwilling to push or pull. If the
pack's presence and the spirit-world is not enough, the Strider's words
certainly will not be. She stands a little apart from Paul or even
Soulcatcher now, just watching the Stargazer with eyes open, tail down, the
usual spark of hope in her eyes stilled, lending her presence only. She
glances away at Paul once, ears splaying.
Soulcatcher adds his voice to Falcon's Wing, once he catches up. His voice is
solemn, but determined, ~If you are determined in your belief and your goal,
sister, yes. Please. Let your last act be one against a true enemy.~
Seshemw sighs and adds, ~Life is choices. I would rather you choose to stay
with us. Find a new way to fight, like Dylan is trying to. But I can't, and
won't, compel you more than I've already done tonight. Water and shade along
that darkest road, Wayfinder. I'll see you next year, when the way West
opens, perhaps.~
Falcon's Wing says, ~I'd try and stop you, but a 24 hour a day watch is pretty
damned impossible if you're determined. I just think you're entirely...
wrong.~
Seshemw nods vehemently at Falcon's Wing's statement, but holds his peace.
Wayfinder huffs, an almost amused sound. I will be reborn to fight again, if
Gaia wills it. And I leave to find my love, for there is no reason for me to
be here any longer. Do not flatter yourselves that I would try to change the
cursed course you are all on. There is no fighting the Wyrm, here. It has
already won your hearts, though you know it not. With that, she shifts up to
her human form, and takes another, smaller blade from within her satchel.
Sitting crosslegged, with eyes closed against the pain as she draws the
blade across her hands, deeply scoring them. The blood rises quickly to drip
down onto the ground, until the Stargazer holds them out to the river, to
mingle her blood with the water.
Wayfinder contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Wayfinder shifts into Homid form.
Seshemw says quite softly, ~Hands won't bleed enough to kill,~ to himself.
Falcon's Wing snarls softly. Think what you like, but this waste proves to me
who has won what. Farewell, in what and how you choose to deal with things.
Hope-Star barks sharply, finally shaken out of silence as people continue to
talk. No more words. Deeds. We lose a friend, she loses herself, but words
no longer have any meaning here. She walks over to face Wayfinder, looking
up at her with paw raised, ears back. The wolf-speech is clear: she doesn't
want this, would urge and shout at Wayfinder not to give into Despair even
now, but respects the right to choose one's own road.
Siobhan ignores any and all commentary directed at herself, as she looks up
into the umbral sky, with stars more visible under the crescent moon of her
birth.
Seshemw drops down to sit heavily, dropping back to homid form and hugging his
legs to his chest. His eyes would be afire if they could as he watches the
silent Wayfinder, and already throttling the urge to shout. And letting the
tears fall in silence.
Falcon's Wing bites down a comment, watching the Stargazer with burning eyes.
Kshema slowly begins to fade upwards, dimming from view as it pulls away from
the faint light of Seshemw's staff and into the bare black sky.
Alexandra grits her teeth and steps around to stand behind Hope-Star, where
Siobhan can see her, if she looks. She peels her jumpsuit off her shoulders,
exposing the scar over her own heart.
Soulcatcher withdraws into the shadows, silent now, and merely watchful.
Seshemw flinches almost violently, and turns his eyes somewhere else now.
Still as silent with turmoil of all the impotent rages inside almost making
his hair stand on end and his skin writhe in reaction.
Siobhan eventually droops, weakening. She murmurs, barely discernible,
"Gawain, my love, please wait for me on the path of stars. I will be there
soon, and we will be together. I miss you already."
Siobhan 's life slowly fades out, as she lies back, staring up at the stars.
Falcon's Wing keeps watching, silent, eyes angry, burning.
Hope-Star contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Hope-Star shifts into Glabro form.
Sepdet waits a long time, staying close but not within arm's reach, until some
inner sense tells her motionlessness is lifelessness. Then she moves
forward, licks Siobhan's cheek once, and shifts upwards, kneeling over her
quietly.
Sepdet raises her eyes to the totem and then back down to her packmates, and
then begins to chant a low, soft lullabye which is falls like waves thudding
against the shore, the sound getting quieter, quieter, and quieter.
Falcon's Wing fades back into the bushes, attempting not to intrude.
Paul whispers at first, then hoarsely sing a hoarse counterpoint in harmony to
the lullabye.
Falcon's Wing soon catches on and howls, lowly, from the bushes, adding his
voice to the song, if only briefly.
Sepdet finally looks up at the sky, voice cracking only on the final words of
a ritual she has known almost since cubhood, as she shuts the eyes with one
hand, touches the lips with the other. ~Siobhan. Wayfinder. Theurge of the
Stargazers. Child of the East Wind. The brothers-who-love-you are here. The
sister-who-loves-you is here. You have the power you n--need... to breathe
free.~ Then her head sags, and she rocks back on her heels, and shuts her
eyes.
Falcon's Wing belts out a much louder howl, now, any awkwardness he felt gone
with the wind.
Paul sits in the wind's path without moving, head still down. The South's
bitter chill seems to bear the sting of some sort of satisfaction here in
the Umbra as it twines around the remaining packmates and their Dragon.
Sepdet lifts her head again, pushing her hands into her eyes to wipe away
mist--the Strider Seer doesn't cry before anyone but packmates--and sings
out one long, clear, high note that spirals into the sky. Need for a clear
send-off outweighs any of her own grief; the Strider has done this rite too
often for loved ones, and perhaps finds the only comfort she can in doing
the only useful thing she can.
Falcon's Wing fades further into the underbrush, and away.
Alexandra looks to Siobhan's body quietly, then begins humming a simple tune
that would be done much better on pipes, if they were available.
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