Up on the roof.
Tuesday, 21 February 2012 14:19![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouCold showers and space to think.
21 February, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (2% full).
Despite the bitter chill and the rain, the stairwell door to the roof opens, letting Flint out into the fresh air. The boy's dressed for the weather, jacket pulled around him. In fact, his jacket might probably fit around two of him, and his hands are shoved into the pockets nearly up to the elbows as he lets the door shut behind him.
He'll quickly find that he's not alone up there—though at a first glance the roof looks to be abandoned by the surface area of the stained stone, there's a single spot on the guard lip that's not uniform. Riley sits quite still, pensively looking out at the view of the cityscape that their building affords, a hand tucked in to her right-hand coat pocket, hair dripping. In spite of the hooded coat, she's not utilizing, and she's clearly been out here for some time by now. She cranes her head to look back over her shoulder at the sound of the door closing itself. "Not the only one who needed a cold shower?"
"Hey, Riley," the cub offers, leaning on the closed stairwell door. "Wanted some fresh air, clear my head and think some more, not bother Eden while she's reading or anything." Flint falls silent after this, apparently not intending to bother Riley, either.
Riley drags a hand back through her soggy mess of hair, wringing it out and giving her head a swift shake. "Well, I was totally here first." She gives an expressive snort, "Totally my place to think. Slash brood all mopey like." She smiles, "You wanna talk it out? Promise I won't kick you in the ribs this time. Unless you prompt it."
Flint grins. "I totally deserved it last time, anyway," the boy says, crossing over to sit down on the ledge near Riley, regardless of the wet. "You were right, too. I just. I don't really know any other way of dealing with things, though I'm trying. Trying to learn, and not end up with more times where impulse wins over." A pause. "But most of the time, so much stuff is like I remember it and understand it anyway, and I don't— I didn't realise that I was still bottling things up."
"Don't get me wrong," Riley murmurs, "There's some things that are personal, and I'm not demanding that you go venting your dirty laundry around the Sept." She brings the hand out of her coat pocket, "And there's always space for self-reflection. But when you close yourself off entirely the way you have been… we're a unit. We're invested in one another's successes and failures. When you isolate your thoughts like that 24/7, you're doing yourself a disservice. You close doors at best, create suspicion at worst." She pauses a moment and squints, "Wait, you said you remember some of this?"
Flint looks up, closing his eyes against the rain for a moment, then nods. "Mouse and Kavi both know. It's … not a big thing, most of the time. But it was what I was telling to shut up, in the lobby." The cub shrugs, continuing without stopping, as if he won't start again if he does. "But. Being Garou. It was really strange, at first, and then a lot of it felt really familiar. Kavi taught me the first law and I. I remembered the rest of the Litany, too." He pauses. "Sometimes voices, sometimes fragments of memories or feelings about things, or melodies." Then, Flint falls silent.
Riley gives a little laugh, rubbing at the back of her neck, "Don't have any sort of advice for that, I'm afraid. My bloodline's a bit… thin. It does explain some things, but I'm gonna stick with my guns here. You need to spend less time leaning on the Garou in your head and more time on the Garou around you." She clears her expression then, and her tone turns more serious. "You figure things out with Devon? I don't want a repeat of… that."
A nod from the cub. "Sometimes I wish I didn't," Flint responds, grinning somewhat. "Knowing half a song out of the blue and only two or three of the words even if I know what it's about is gonna drive me utterly nuts. And," the change in topic is indicated by a slight pause, "I think I did. Devon'n'I talked some."
A nod, followed by a renewed easing of her expression. "Good, because if you hadn't noticed, I'm not thrilled with having to give long-winded corrective speeches. Apparently," She reaches over and thumps the cub lightly on the back, "I prefer long-winded speeches that narrow in on mistakes I made. Make sure it's smoothed over with him, rivals are healthy. Grudges are not." Her lips twitch, "Should take my own advice, but I hate the dude too much."
Riley is quick to wave her hands, "Not Devon. Chris."
"The Garou in my head is over-good at long-winded and correctiveness and all," Flint offers, possibly even sounding a touch amused by the fact, given the grin that he offers to Riley after she's finished speaking. "I'm. Trying to work on talking more and not letting everything feeling familiar and right give me an excuse to bottle stuff up." Arms stretch out over his head, pushing wet hair out of his face.
"It's," Flint adds, apologetically, "also part've why I tend to do the -rhya thing a lot. It's kinda hard not to," the boy finishes, looking up at Riley again.
Riley leans back, easing her legs up from where they're dangling off the edge of the roof. She plants her feet on the ledge proper and gains her feet effortlessly in spite of the slippery stone surface. She takes a long breath, peering down at the cub, "Feel like I should be glad you learned your lesson or something, but mostly I'm just relieved that I might not have to nag you about it in the future." She beams a toothy grin, "See why I don't like being called so respectfully? Anyway, don't expect a 'pass' on that. It bugs me in most capacities. 'Less you're apologizing for something big, try to restrain yourself."
Flint nods. "Yeah," he says. "It's not too hard, like up here, talking just to you. Harder if there're more people around." A strand of dripping wet hair is pushed out of his face, before he continues. "And I dunno. I've learned, kinda. Weird, though, now trying to not shove things down. Past bit it's felt more like I'm about to snap, not less. Except only in the little, tiniest way, instead of all of it, all at once."
"It's better to growl at someone and step on them a little bit rather than letting yourself get worked up into a froth. Frenzies: Not fun. Thralls: Even less fun. Even metis thralls, which sound like they'd be at least funny to watch." She frowns, clearing her throat. "They're not. At all. Anyway." She aborts that conversation thread, shuffling in spite of herself.
"Yeah," Flint says, quietly. "Losing it wasn't my idea of fun to start with." He shakes his hair out, water droplets spraying to the sides. "Rain? Actually fun." This is said with a bit of amusement. "I used to live in Oakland, and before that, we were in Los Angeles. No such thing as weather, for the most part, and I don't remember anything about Portland, where I was born. I'm starting to even like the cold." The boy skips a beat, then. "I think."
Riley's grin is a bit strained at the mention of enjoying the rain. "Well, trust me. If there's one thing we have plenty of in this state, it's rain. Miserable rain." She stares up into the sky, letting her face take a bit of a beating with the raindrops for a few moments before squinting, "And you just made me notice it's cold, again. Shame on you. Anyhow," She hops off of the little lip and on to the rooftop proper, casting a glance back to the cub, "I should take a proper shower. With soap and stuff. And body-image issues, so the spot's all yours." She allows her hands to travel back to her coat-pockets and she makes her way noisily toward the door to the stairway. "Anyway, no more lectures for the time being. But if you need somethin', shoot me a text." She dangles her phone briefly as she walks away, but quickly repockets it. Wouldn't want that getting wet. "Take care."
"I'll take your whole share of rain and then some?" Flint offers, leaning forward a bit. "I've got ten years of no rain to catch up on." The cub lifts a hand in a wave, a sympathetic grimace in his expression when she mentions body-image issues. "Seeya, and all. I think I'll stay up here, try and figure out the song for a while. Seriously, earworm central here sometimes." The boy falls quiet, then, save for a faint strain of humming that carries through the air.
21 February, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (2% full).
Despite the bitter chill and the rain, the stairwell door to the roof opens, letting Flint out into the fresh air. The boy's dressed for the weather, jacket pulled around him. In fact, his jacket might probably fit around two of him, and his hands are shoved into the pockets nearly up to the elbows as he lets the door shut behind him.
He'll quickly find that he's not alone up there—though at a first glance the roof looks to be abandoned by the surface area of the stained stone, there's a single spot on the guard lip that's not uniform. Riley sits quite still, pensively looking out at the view of the cityscape that their building affords, a hand tucked in to her right-hand coat pocket, hair dripping. In spite of the hooded coat, she's not utilizing, and she's clearly been out here for some time by now. She cranes her head to look back over her shoulder at the sound of the door closing itself. "Not the only one who needed a cold shower?"
"Hey, Riley," the cub offers, leaning on the closed stairwell door. "Wanted some fresh air, clear my head and think some more, not bother Eden while she's reading or anything." Flint falls silent after this, apparently not intending to bother Riley, either.
Riley drags a hand back through her soggy mess of hair, wringing it out and giving her head a swift shake. "Well, I was totally here first." She gives an expressive snort, "Totally my place to think. Slash brood all mopey like." She smiles, "You wanna talk it out? Promise I won't kick you in the ribs this time. Unless you prompt it."
Flint grins. "I totally deserved it last time, anyway," the boy says, crossing over to sit down on the ledge near Riley, regardless of the wet. "You were right, too. I just. I don't really know any other way of dealing with things, though I'm trying. Trying to learn, and not end up with more times where impulse wins over." A pause. "But most of the time, so much stuff is like I remember it and understand it anyway, and I don't— I didn't realise that I was still bottling things up."
"Don't get me wrong," Riley murmurs, "There's some things that are personal, and I'm not demanding that you go venting your dirty laundry around the Sept." She brings the hand out of her coat pocket, "And there's always space for self-reflection. But when you close yourself off entirely the way you have been… we're a unit. We're invested in one another's successes and failures. When you isolate your thoughts like that 24/7, you're doing yourself a disservice. You close doors at best, create suspicion at worst." She pauses a moment and squints, "Wait, you said you remember some of this?"
Flint looks up, closing his eyes against the rain for a moment, then nods. "Mouse and Kavi both know. It's … not a big thing, most of the time. But it was what I was telling to shut up, in the lobby." The cub shrugs, continuing without stopping, as if he won't start again if he does. "But. Being Garou. It was really strange, at first, and then a lot of it felt really familiar. Kavi taught me the first law and I. I remembered the rest of the Litany, too." He pauses. "Sometimes voices, sometimes fragments of memories or feelings about things, or melodies." Then, Flint falls silent.
Riley gives a little laugh, rubbing at the back of her neck, "Don't have any sort of advice for that, I'm afraid. My bloodline's a bit… thin. It does explain some things, but I'm gonna stick with my guns here. You need to spend less time leaning on the Garou in your head and more time on the Garou around you." She clears her expression then, and her tone turns more serious. "You figure things out with Devon? I don't want a repeat of… that."
A nod from the cub. "Sometimes I wish I didn't," Flint responds, grinning somewhat. "Knowing half a song out of the blue and only two or three of the words even if I know what it's about is gonna drive me utterly nuts. And," the change in topic is indicated by a slight pause, "I think I did. Devon'n'I talked some."
A nod, followed by a renewed easing of her expression. "Good, because if you hadn't noticed, I'm not thrilled with having to give long-winded corrective speeches. Apparently," She reaches over and thumps the cub lightly on the back, "I prefer long-winded speeches that narrow in on mistakes I made. Make sure it's smoothed over with him, rivals are healthy. Grudges are not." Her lips twitch, "Should take my own advice, but I hate the dude too much."
Riley is quick to wave her hands, "Not Devon. Chris."
"The Garou in my head is over-good at long-winded and correctiveness and all," Flint offers, possibly even sounding a touch amused by the fact, given the grin that he offers to Riley after she's finished speaking. "I'm. Trying to work on talking more and not letting everything feeling familiar and right give me an excuse to bottle stuff up." Arms stretch out over his head, pushing wet hair out of his face.
"It's," Flint adds, apologetically, "also part've why I tend to do the -rhya thing a lot. It's kinda hard not to," the boy finishes, looking up at Riley again.
Riley leans back, easing her legs up from where they're dangling off the edge of the roof. She plants her feet on the ledge proper and gains her feet effortlessly in spite of the slippery stone surface. She takes a long breath, peering down at the cub, "Feel like I should be glad you learned your lesson or something, but mostly I'm just relieved that I might not have to nag you about it in the future." She beams a toothy grin, "See why I don't like being called so respectfully? Anyway, don't expect a 'pass' on that. It bugs me in most capacities. 'Less you're apologizing for something big, try to restrain yourself."
Flint nods. "Yeah," he says. "It's not too hard, like up here, talking just to you. Harder if there're more people around." A strand of dripping wet hair is pushed out of his face, before he continues. "And I dunno. I've learned, kinda. Weird, though, now trying to not shove things down. Past bit it's felt more like I'm about to snap, not less. Except only in the little, tiniest way, instead of all of it, all at once."
"It's better to growl at someone and step on them a little bit rather than letting yourself get worked up into a froth. Frenzies: Not fun. Thralls: Even less fun. Even metis thralls, which sound like they'd be at least funny to watch." She frowns, clearing her throat. "They're not. At all. Anyway." She aborts that conversation thread, shuffling in spite of herself.
"Yeah," Flint says, quietly. "Losing it wasn't my idea of fun to start with." He shakes his hair out, water droplets spraying to the sides. "Rain? Actually fun." This is said with a bit of amusement. "I used to live in Oakland, and before that, we were in Los Angeles. No such thing as weather, for the most part, and I don't remember anything about Portland, where I was born. I'm starting to even like the cold." The boy skips a beat, then. "I think."
Riley's grin is a bit strained at the mention of enjoying the rain. "Well, trust me. If there's one thing we have plenty of in this state, it's rain. Miserable rain." She stares up into the sky, letting her face take a bit of a beating with the raindrops for a few moments before squinting, "And you just made me notice it's cold, again. Shame on you. Anyhow," She hops off of the little lip and on to the rooftop proper, casting a glance back to the cub, "I should take a proper shower. With soap and stuff. And body-image issues, so the spot's all yours." She allows her hands to travel back to her coat-pockets and she makes her way noisily toward the door to the stairway. "Anyway, no more lectures for the time being. But if you need somethin', shoot me a text." She dangles her phone briefly as she walks away, but quickly repockets it. Wouldn't want that getting wet. "Take care."
"I'll take your whole share of rain and then some?" Flint offers, leaning forward a bit. "I've got ten years of no rain to catch up on." The cub lifts a hand in a wave, a sympathetic grimace in his expression when she mentions body-image issues. "Seeya, and all. I think I'll stay up here, try and figure out the song for a while. Seriously, earworm central here sometimes." The boy falls quiet, then, save for a faint strain of humming that carries through the air.