Flint Madden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flint_garou) wrote2012-02-26 02:30 pm
flint_garou) wrote2012-02-26 02:30 pm
Simple orders.
Hope I did the right thing by telling.
26 February, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (32% full).
In between waiting for laundry to finish drying, and waiting for the fresh pot of coffee to brew—because he's made good on most of the pot of coffee that was there, all by himself—Flint wanders back to the doorway between laundry room and lobby, looking about. The cub's singing under his breath, quietly, something by the Eagles and rather well at that, for lack of better things to do while he waits.
Salem lets himself in the front door, bringing with him a bitterly cold breeze and the smell of cheap cigarettes. He mutters under his breath, curses in something Slavic.
Flint looks up, the singing fading off to a note in the middle. The first thing that the cub tries to say, however, gets lost in the breaking of adolescent voice, comes out as more of a squeak before Flint finds his voice again. "Hi, Salem-rhya. Could I… talk to you?"
Salem eyeballs the cub as he shuts the door behind him. He grunts something that sounds more or less like assent. "What's up?"
Flint turns, putting himself all the way into the lobby, leaning onto the doorframe. "It's um." This is followed by a pause, and a deep breath in. "It's about Devon." Head tilts to one side as the boy then falls silent to gather his thoughts.
Salem grimaces as he limps over to the couch to sit. "Oh, fuck me, now what?"
The cub pushes off from the doorframe and makes his way over to one of the chairs. The steps are spent almost certainly talking to himself, 'notnowpleaseIknowshutup!' with an apologetic glance to the elder as the cub flops onto the chair, attention turning outward again. "H'was all not himself a bit ago. Same as he was th' last time that he ate the bawn fruit, though I didn' really ask and he denied it, to boot."
Salem's mouth thins out into a tight line. "How was he, exactly? And where is he now?"
"He insisted he was good," Flint says. "Until I went and ruined his good mood by asking, or something. But, he was saying like he felt like he could run a marathon. Euphoric almost." The cub then looks up. "Went up to put his laundry away."
Salem fishes out his cigarettes, scowling mightily. "Go fetch him. Tell him to get his ass down here, and if he refuses, tell him that I said that he does NOT want me to come up there and fetch him myself."
Flint nods, pushing himself to his feet and disappearing up the stairwell. "Yes, Salem-rhya," he says, before the door shuts behind him.
Salem leans back against the couch cushions, cursing under his breath.
There's a knock on Devon's apartment door. "Devon-rhya," Flint says, "Salem-rhya wants you back downstairs, now. And says to tell you that you don't want him to come up himself."
It's quiet for a second or two before Devon's voice can be heard. "Be down there in a minute."
Flint comes back out of the stairwell first, then turns, a glance to Salem, not closing the door to the stairwell until Devon follows, and then the cub moves over to the doorway between laundry room and lobby, placing himself out of the way.
Salem has his cellphone out when the two arrive and is in the middle of texting. He glances up, his gaze hard, then finishes his message, sends it, and snaps the phone closed.
Devon comes down the stairs with hands in his pockets, looking at Flint and then to Salem when he steps out of the stairwell and into the lobby. His brows raise slightly, question apparent, though he doesn't say anything just yet.
Flint turns to look into the laundry room, then, though half the cub's attention is kept on Salem even as Flint moves to start dealing with his clean clothing.
Salem takes a drag off his cigarette, exhales smoke, and then looks at Devon steadily. "Gaia's Truth, Devon," he says. "Have you eaten Bawn fruit since the last time you were warned about it?"
Devon looks at Flint when questioned by Salem, his own expression hardening. "Yes," he answers readily, watching Flint instead of Salem. "Yes I did." He turns now, to look at the Philodox. "It was actually pretty good. Like pork roasted in apples."
Salem grimaces, casts a glance at the ceiling. "Well, at least you didn't lie about it." His gaze goes back to the Cliath. "And what part of 'do not eat the Bawn fruit' was unclear to you?"
"The reasoning behind it," Devon says. "I get it, Wyld isn't something to mess around with. But I'm not convinced that those fruits are there to harm us."
Salem's nostrils flare. He pushes to his feet. "You were told, everyone was told, not to eat the Bawn fruits. Is it so fucking difficult to follow a basic instruction like that? It's not as though they're throwing themselves at you."
Flint pauses, glancing before disappearing into the laundry room, emerging fully dressed rather than just in the less than well fitting sweats he'd been wearing. He doesn't approach Devon or Salem, though, just leans on the doorframe again.
"No," Devon answers, pulling his gaze to the floor. "It isn't, Salem-rhya."
Salem stares coldly at the young Ahroun for a heartbeat or two. "As of now, you're forbidden to go to the Bawn. Any fruit you've brought home from there that you still possess, you will turn over to Mouse and you will tell her what you've done. Understood?"
Devon presses his lips together, jaw tightening until he manages a nod. "Understood."
Salem adds, "You will also not have anyone bring fruit to you. You will not cajole, order, suggest, bribe, or in any way ask someone to fetch Bawn fruit for you. Is that understood?"
Flint disappears back into the laundry room after this, with a mutter about coffee, half his gaze still on Salem.
Devon's gaze ticks up at the addendum, looking at Salem. "Yes, Salem-rhya. Understood."
Salem's smile is tight and humorless. "Good. You're dismissed. Flint—" He turns toward the laundry room. "Be a good Galliard and make sure Mouse knows exactly what I've told Devon."
"Yes Salem-rhya," Flint answers, with a nod. "Will do."
Devon turns for the stairs, pausing only long enough to look at Flint. And a dark look it is, though the Ahroun says nothing. He passes through the doorway to the stairwell and starts up the stairs.
Salem nods curtly and heads down into the basement.
26 February, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (32% full).
In between waiting for laundry to finish drying, and waiting for the fresh pot of coffee to brew—because he's made good on most of the pot of coffee that was there, all by himself—Flint wanders back to the doorway between laundry room and lobby, looking about. The cub's singing under his breath, quietly, something by the Eagles and rather well at that, for lack of better things to do while he waits.
Salem lets himself in the front door, bringing with him a bitterly cold breeze and the smell of cheap cigarettes. He mutters under his breath, curses in something Slavic.
Flint looks up, the singing fading off to a note in the middle. The first thing that the cub tries to say, however, gets lost in the breaking of adolescent voice, comes out as more of a squeak before Flint finds his voice again. "Hi, Salem-rhya. Could I… talk to you?"
Salem eyeballs the cub as he shuts the door behind him. He grunts something that sounds more or less like assent. "What's up?"
Flint turns, putting himself all the way into the lobby, leaning onto the doorframe. "It's um." This is followed by a pause, and a deep breath in. "It's about Devon." Head tilts to one side as the boy then falls silent to gather his thoughts.
Salem grimaces as he limps over to the couch to sit. "Oh, fuck me, now what?"
The cub pushes off from the doorframe and makes his way over to one of the chairs. The steps are spent almost certainly talking to himself, 'notnowpleaseIknowshutup!' with an apologetic glance to the elder as the cub flops onto the chair, attention turning outward again. "H'was all not himself a bit ago. Same as he was th' last time that he ate the bawn fruit, though I didn' really ask and he denied it, to boot."
Salem's mouth thins out into a tight line. "How was he, exactly? And where is he now?"
"He insisted he was good," Flint says. "Until I went and ruined his good mood by asking, or something. But, he was saying like he felt like he could run a marathon. Euphoric almost." The cub then looks up. "Went up to put his laundry away."
Salem fishes out his cigarettes, scowling mightily. "Go fetch him. Tell him to get his ass down here, and if he refuses, tell him that I said that he does NOT want me to come up there and fetch him myself."
Flint nods, pushing himself to his feet and disappearing up the stairwell. "Yes, Salem-rhya," he says, before the door shuts behind him.
Salem leans back against the couch cushions, cursing under his breath.
There's a knock on Devon's apartment door. "Devon-rhya," Flint says, "Salem-rhya wants you back downstairs, now. And says to tell you that you don't want him to come up himself."
It's quiet for a second or two before Devon's voice can be heard. "Be down there in a minute."
Flint comes back out of the stairwell first, then turns, a glance to Salem, not closing the door to the stairwell until Devon follows, and then the cub moves over to the doorway between laundry room and lobby, placing himself out of the way.
Salem has his cellphone out when the two arrive and is in the middle of texting. He glances up, his gaze hard, then finishes his message, sends it, and snaps the phone closed.
Devon comes down the stairs with hands in his pockets, looking at Flint and then to Salem when he steps out of the stairwell and into the lobby. His brows raise slightly, question apparent, though he doesn't say anything just yet.
Flint turns to look into the laundry room, then, though half the cub's attention is kept on Salem even as Flint moves to start dealing with his clean clothing.
Salem takes a drag off his cigarette, exhales smoke, and then looks at Devon steadily. "Gaia's Truth, Devon," he says. "Have you eaten Bawn fruit since the last time you were warned about it?"
Devon looks at Flint when questioned by Salem, his own expression hardening. "Yes," he answers readily, watching Flint instead of Salem. "Yes I did." He turns now, to look at the Philodox. "It was actually pretty good. Like pork roasted in apples."
Salem grimaces, casts a glance at the ceiling. "Well, at least you didn't lie about it." His gaze goes back to the Cliath. "And what part of 'do not eat the Bawn fruit' was unclear to you?"
"The reasoning behind it," Devon says. "I get it, Wyld isn't something to mess around with. But I'm not convinced that those fruits are there to harm us."
Salem's nostrils flare. He pushes to his feet. "You were told, everyone was told, not to eat the Bawn fruits. Is it so fucking difficult to follow a basic instruction like that? It's not as though they're throwing themselves at you."
Flint pauses, glancing before disappearing into the laundry room, emerging fully dressed rather than just in the less than well fitting sweats he'd been wearing. He doesn't approach Devon or Salem, though, just leans on the doorframe again.
"No," Devon answers, pulling his gaze to the floor. "It isn't, Salem-rhya."
Salem stares coldly at the young Ahroun for a heartbeat or two. "As of now, you're forbidden to go to the Bawn. Any fruit you've brought home from there that you still possess, you will turn over to Mouse and you will tell her what you've done. Understood?"
Devon presses his lips together, jaw tightening until he manages a nod. "Understood."
Salem adds, "You will also not have anyone bring fruit to you. You will not cajole, order, suggest, bribe, or in any way ask someone to fetch Bawn fruit for you. Is that understood?"
Flint disappears back into the laundry room after this, with a mutter about coffee, half his gaze still on Salem.
Devon's gaze ticks up at the addendum, looking at Salem. "Yes, Salem-rhya. Understood."
Salem's smile is tight and humorless. "Good. You're dismissed. Flint—" He turns toward the laundry room. "Be a good Galliard and make sure Mouse knows exactly what I've told Devon."
"Yes Salem-rhya," Flint answers, with a nod. "Will do."
Devon turns for the stairs, pausing only long enough to look at Flint. And a dark look it is, though the Ahroun says nothing. He passes through the doorway to the stairwell and starts up the stairs.
Salem nods curtly and heads down into the basement.