Against skull pigs or wyrmhounds or anything.
Wednesday, 21 March 2012 18:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouInstead of just talking about it.21 March, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (5% full).
Early evening brings even more bitter chill to the woods around Edgewood, and so it's with a fair deal of haste that Flint hurries in through the front door, tugging it shut behind him. "Hi… hey," he calls out, even before he's out of the mudroom, announcing his presence to whomever might happen to be around. Kinda.
Alexandra is sitting in one of the plush chairs in the living room, her legs propped up on a footstool. While one calf is injured, that's not readily apparent thanks to her jeans. As Flint bursts in, she looks up and offers him a smile and a wave. "Hey there. I was hoping you'd be by soon."
Flint looks over at Lex, a smile and wave offered in return. "Hey Lex. Yeah. I. got the stuff I was. For your project," the Galliard says, moving over to one of the couches before digging out a small plastic bag from his jacket. "Anything new, lately?"
Alexandra stands up, limping slightly as she walks over toward him. "Stand in front of wherever you want to sit. I'll show you one of them. And then I'll tell you about the rest." Oh yes, she's definitely excited about something.
Flint offers her a grin, and then drops his jacket and the plastic bag onto the couch, and then waits. "So I. Should. I should say congrats," he says to her. "Right?" Brows raise in outright curiosity.
Alexandra says, "This may take a try or two, I haven't had much chance to practice it yet." She reaches out to place her palm lightly on the chest, once, twice, and then the third time—despite not moving any faster or pressing any harder than before—he's sent sprawling onto the couch as if pushed by someone several times his size. Even though she doesn't answer his question just yet, he can probably tell from her grin what the answer is.
Looking up from the couch, Flint blinks a few times, startled. "Whoa," he states. "That's pretty neat. It is." Then, rather than get up from the couch, the Glass Walker just settles cross-legged on the couch.
Alexandra takes a seat on the couch as well. "That was actually the last of the three that I was taught by the spirits yesterday." She gives him a brief recounting of she and Hayden's exploits, although she doesn't go into great detail about the cave itself, given that it's tribal territory, other than to leave him with the impression that it was much larger and more impressive than she'd expected. "So now I'm Seeks the Raging Water to Silence Her Strike, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords."
Flint reaches over to clap Alexandra on the shoulder after she's done telling him about it, having listened with rapt attention to the story. "So, yes. Congrats. Now. Now we can actually pack, whenever we…" he says, grinning. "Instead of. Just talking about it and such."
Alexandra agrees, "Yeah. We just have to find another packmate or two and decide on what spirit fits us best…or to let a spirit pick us, I guess."
"Yeah," Flint agrees, expression turning a little more serious for the moment. "By the way if." Expression twitches and he looks directly at the Ahroun, making eye contact, which in and of itself is uncommon enough to indicate his thought on the subject. "If you want to pack with Hayden, I. It's okay. She's your tribemate, after. After all." Lips purse in a frown.
Alexandra says "I…don't know. We get along now, but…well, she makes truces with people more than she makes friends, and she doesn't always do that. I'd have to think about whether that would be something I could handle in a packmate. And you'd need to be okay with it in a packmate, too."
Flint frowns a little more. "That's the thing. I don't think I can be. I trust you to have my back, against skull pigs or wyrmhounds or anything," he emphasises. This is spoken carefully, without any of the usual doubled words or pauses. "And I trust you with my grandparents being stupid and with that, and to have my back then. But I don't trust her, and my. Ancestors don't trust her, and what when she decides a truce she's made isn't to be kept anymore." He looks down at his lap, and then back across at the Ahroun. "I still want to pack with you, though, you're my friend."
Alexandra adds, "Don't get me wrong—she's smart, she's cautious, she's brave…she'll be a good asset to a pack. But she doesn't really understand being part of a team yet, I don't think. Or if she does, she sees it as something very different from the way I do. And you do have to have that trust when you're on a team. It's not even that I don't trust her, so much as I don't really know exactly where the bounds of the trust are, or how important it actually is to her, when it comes down to it."
Flint nods, slowly. "Right. She. Doesn't seem the pack sort, and one of the things about packing is…" The Galliard looks over, again, "You need that trust. You get close to the people you pack with and she's not… not going to be willing to let people get close. And I. I just can't, at least not yet. Her team's about her, not the team, and that won't. That won't work." Flint raises and lowers his shoulders in a shrug.
Alexandra says, "Then yeah. Thanks for the offer, but I don't think Hayden's a good fit for the kind of team that we want to have. We'll find other people to ask."
Flint listens as Alexandra speaks, and when she's done, there's a very small but wholly genuine smile. And then he reaches across the couch, to briefly but tightly hug Alexandra. Briefly, retreating back to his side just as quick, the Glass Walker isn't the biggest for feely-touchy demonstrations of emotion, but. "Yeah, we will. It. There's no rush, either, and such. And." He looks across the couch to Alexandra and grins.
Alexandra returns the hug, smiling warmly. "Y'know what, I think we need some celebration cookies! You want some milk with yours?"
"May die yet," Jacey replies. "There's more. The reason for the Caern… I don't know. But…" She pauses, climbing to her feet to lead the way inside. "Little more closer to home," she picks up, hand resting on the doorknob, "Owen-rhya's the new Jarl…" Her tone holds there's more that's closer to home as well. But it's held off as she opens the door, admitting herself and Javen.
Javen waits for a moment before entering, resting her hand against the doorframe while she unties and kicks off her shoes and socks. She stuffs the latter within the former and totes her shoes in with her, stepping past Jacey and unceremoniously dumping them into the trash. "Ah! Better. Owen-rhya." She makes a face, trying to place the name, but then her attention is on the other two in the room. She straightens, resting her hands on her hips. From the look of her clothes… she's been traveling.
Flint nods to Alexandra. "Cookies sound awesome. So does milk." Then, the teenager twists on the couch to face the door, glance going from Jacey to the person he doesn't know. "Hi, Jacey-rhya," he offers, and then falls silent a moment, fingers drumming in a silent rhythm against the couch cushion.
Alexandra offers the two new arrivals—one familiar, the other not—a wave of greeting, but promptly disappears into the kitchen. While she's only got two glasses of milk when she returns a few moments later, she did bring the whole sleeve of chocolate chip cookies with her, so there's enough of those to share.
"Hey, Flint," Jacey replies. She glances up at Javen, a shadow of a grin touching her expression. "Just Jacey though, okay? And… Alexandra, right?" The question is posed to the other girl when she returns.
"Just-Jacey," The Get replies. Her eyes are somewhat cold as they regard the other two. "Young. Cliath?" Her voice is heavily accented… something from the far north of Europe with the added confusion of unpracticed speech. "I am Javen, known as Weaves-the-Skein-of-the-Archer's-Song, daughter and Skald of Fenris. I am Fostern, Rited here as Bolt-of-Frost-Bites-Prey-for-Glory."
"Aight, Jacey," Flint acknowledges with a nod, and then there's another nod, attentive through Javen's introduction. "Flint, called Requiem. Rited Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children, cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers." The cup of milk is accepted from Alexandra with a grin, and Flint is well… kinda careful not to get it all over his face while he takes a sip.
Alexandra sets the cookies down where Flint can easily reach them as well. "Alexandra, yes." Looking to Javen, she offers more detail: "Alexandra Morgan, Seeks the Raging Water to Silence Her Strike, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords."
"Congrats, Alexandra," Jacey offers with a grin. "Welcome to the real world and all that." She looks down at Javen's feet, then turns for the stairs to find some shoes for the elder Galliard.
Javen's expression is attentive, but not wholly impressed. She glances from the Walker to the Lord, quirking her lip a little in a look of mild distaste at the mention of the tribe. She sniffs in response, turning to the refrigerator and root around in it. "Which of you can tell me who leads this Sept, now?"
Flint turns, though he doesn't follow to the kitchen. "Silvertip-rhya, of the Uktena, is alpha," the Glass Walker states, voice quiet but words sure enough to carry.
Alexandra, Flint, and Jacey are in the living room conversing, while Javen has gone into the kitchen. "Thanks," she replies to Jacey. "It's still pretty new—my Rite was only yesterday."
Jacey takes the stairs a couple at a time, while the others talk downstairs. Her footsteps can be heard across the ceiling, trailing off as she goes into the spare room to find some shoes that might fit Javen.
Owen might be noticed pausing by the backdoor, but he instead walks around the house and in from the front, taking a moment to take his boots off before opening with, "Who tore up the fucking back door?"
Javen comes up with a bottle of water. She returns to the living room, giving Flint a hard, surprised stare. "An Uktena," she barks. "So it is true. The Caern sleeps." When Owen makes his appearance, she twists her head to look at him. A squint of faint recognition perhaps. "You must be Owen-rhya," she says, voice unreadable.
Flint nods. "Yes, it is true. The. The Caern sleeps. There are brambles and all, and." Flint frowns a little, shrinking under the look from the Get, and glancing over at Alexandra a moment before nodding to Owen. "What happened to the backdoor, Owen-rhya?" Curiosity gets the better of Flint and he walks to the doorway to the kitchen to look.
Alexandra shakes her head. "No idea. I thought maybe someone was planning to paint, so I didn't take it down."
Jacey returns in short order, a pair of black boots in her hands. The stairs are again taken two at a time and her findings offered to Javen. "Found these for you, Javen-rhya," she says, looking up at the Get. "Should fit, and I need to get…" she stops short, seeing Owen, grinning briefly before turning fairly serious. "H'lo, Owen-rhya."
Owen stands back up after shedding his boots, giving a brief nod to Jacey and then peering at Javen, though not speaking to her immediately. "If anyone finds out who did that, be sure to send them my way for instruction on control." He then frowns a touch, now addressing the other Get. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Javen nods at Jacey, taking the boots with a murmured thanks. "It means you're the one I need to speak to." She sets the boots aside and advances on Owen, and though she's no small woman, peers up at him. "You are jarl. I am Javen, Rited as Bolt-of-Frost-Bites-Prey-for-Glory here from the Sept of the White Run. I am skald, fostern, and now known as Weaves-the-Skein-of-the-Archer's-Song. I have returned." She once more places her hands on her hips as she faces the Jarl, assessing him with a cold expression. "Did you kill Bag-of-Snakes-rhya?"
Flint looks at the door a moment, and then. "Saran wrap," Flint states, almost amused. He crosses back over to the couch, grabbing his jacket, and looks at Lex. "The paint stuff's in the plastic bag," he says, "and. Be careful, you don't need to use much and it. Will stain your clothes." Another grin for the Shadow Lord Ahroun. "I'm going to go over to the garage, Lex. See. See you when you get up there, yeah? I. I need to give you my phone number now that you can have a phone." The cliath grabs a cookie from the table, and then turns to nod, respectfully, to Owen, Javen, and Jacey. "Owen-rhya, Jacey." Pause. "Nice to meet you, Javen-rhya." And then with that, Flint's off and up the stairs.
Jacey looks from Javen to Owen and back again. "Sure, Flint," she says, turning to follow the Glass Walker. "I'm… I'll be back shortly." This is offered to both the Fenrir as she pauses at the stairs. A grin is cast to Alexandra, short lived but true. Then, "Javen-rhya, Owen-rhya," precedes her running up the stairs after Flint.
"Thanks for getting that for me," Alexandra replies to Flint, though she seems eager to change the subject from the paint and its use, for whatever reason. "And yeah, see you in a little while." A wave is also offered to Jacey as she makes her way upstairs, before her attention turns to Owen and Javen, though she doesn't seem inclined to interrupt them just at the moment.
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (5% full).
Early evening brings even more bitter chill to the woods around Edgewood, and so it's with a fair deal of haste that Flint hurries in through the front door, tugging it shut behind him. "Hi… hey," he calls out, even before he's out of the mudroom, announcing his presence to whomever might happen to be around. Kinda.
Alexandra is sitting in one of the plush chairs in the living room, her legs propped up on a footstool. While one calf is injured, that's not readily apparent thanks to her jeans. As Flint bursts in, she looks up and offers him a smile and a wave. "Hey there. I was hoping you'd be by soon."
Flint looks over at Lex, a smile and wave offered in return. "Hey Lex. Yeah. I. got the stuff I was. For your project," the Galliard says, moving over to one of the couches before digging out a small plastic bag from his jacket. "Anything new, lately?"
Alexandra stands up, limping slightly as she walks over toward him. "Stand in front of wherever you want to sit. I'll show you one of them. And then I'll tell you about the rest." Oh yes, she's definitely excited about something.
Flint offers her a grin, and then drops his jacket and the plastic bag onto the couch, and then waits. "So I. Should. I should say congrats," he says to her. "Right?" Brows raise in outright curiosity.
Alexandra says, "This may take a try or two, I haven't had much chance to practice it yet." She reaches out to place her palm lightly on the chest, once, twice, and then the third time—despite not moving any faster or pressing any harder than before—he's sent sprawling onto the couch as if pushed by someone several times his size. Even though she doesn't answer his question just yet, he can probably tell from her grin what the answer is.
Looking up from the couch, Flint blinks a few times, startled. "Whoa," he states. "That's pretty neat. It is." Then, rather than get up from the couch, the Glass Walker just settles cross-legged on the couch.
Alexandra takes a seat on the couch as well. "That was actually the last of the three that I was taught by the spirits yesterday." She gives him a brief recounting of she and Hayden's exploits, although she doesn't go into great detail about the cave itself, given that it's tribal territory, other than to leave him with the impression that it was much larger and more impressive than she'd expected. "So now I'm Seeks the Raging Water to Silence Her Strike, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords."
Flint reaches over to clap Alexandra on the shoulder after she's done telling him about it, having listened with rapt attention to the story. "So, yes. Congrats. Now. Now we can actually pack, whenever we…" he says, grinning. "Instead of. Just talking about it and such."
Alexandra agrees, "Yeah. We just have to find another packmate or two and decide on what spirit fits us best…or to let a spirit pick us, I guess."
"Yeah," Flint agrees, expression turning a little more serious for the moment. "By the way if." Expression twitches and he looks directly at the Ahroun, making eye contact, which in and of itself is uncommon enough to indicate his thought on the subject. "If you want to pack with Hayden, I. It's okay. She's your tribemate, after. After all." Lips purse in a frown.
Alexandra says "I…don't know. We get along now, but…well, she makes truces with people more than she makes friends, and she doesn't always do that. I'd have to think about whether that would be something I could handle in a packmate. And you'd need to be okay with it in a packmate, too."
Flint frowns a little more. "That's the thing. I don't think I can be. I trust you to have my back, against skull pigs or wyrmhounds or anything," he emphasises. This is spoken carefully, without any of the usual doubled words or pauses. "And I trust you with my grandparents being stupid and with that, and to have my back then. But I don't trust her, and my. Ancestors don't trust her, and what when she decides a truce she's made isn't to be kept anymore." He looks down at his lap, and then back across at the Ahroun. "I still want to pack with you, though, you're my friend."
Alexandra adds, "Don't get me wrong—she's smart, she's cautious, she's brave…she'll be a good asset to a pack. But she doesn't really understand being part of a team yet, I don't think. Or if she does, she sees it as something very different from the way I do. And you do have to have that trust when you're on a team. It's not even that I don't trust her, so much as I don't really know exactly where the bounds of the trust are, or how important it actually is to her, when it comes down to it."
Flint nods, slowly. "Right. She. Doesn't seem the pack sort, and one of the things about packing is…" The Galliard looks over, again, "You need that trust. You get close to the people you pack with and she's not… not going to be willing to let people get close. And I. I just can't, at least not yet. Her team's about her, not the team, and that won't. That won't work." Flint raises and lowers his shoulders in a shrug.
Alexandra says, "Then yeah. Thanks for the offer, but I don't think Hayden's a good fit for the kind of team that we want to have. We'll find other people to ask."
Flint listens as Alexandra speaks, and when she's done, there's a very small but wholly genuine smile. And then he reaches across the couch, to briefly but tightly hug Alexandra. Briefly, retreating back to his side just as quick, the Glass Walker isn't the biggest for feely-touchy demonstrations of emotion, but. "Yeah, we will. It. There's no rush, either, and such. And." He looks across the couch to Alexandra and grins.
Alexandra returns the hug, smiling warmly. "Y'know what, I think we need some celebration cookies! You want some milk with yours?"
"May die yet," Jacey replies. "There's more. The reason for the Caern… I don't know. But…" She pauses, climbing to her feet to lead the way inside. "Little more closer to home," she picks up, hand resting on the doorknob, "Owen-rhya's the new Jarl…" Her tone holds there's more that's closer to home as well. But it's held off as she opens the door, admitting herself and Javen.
Javen waits for a moment before entering, resting her hand against the doorframe while she unties and kicks off her shoes and socks. She stuffs the latter within the former and totes her shoes in with her, stepping past Jacey and unceremoniously dumping them into the trash. "Ah! Better. Owen-rhya." She makes a face, trying to place the name, but then her attention is on the other two in the room. She straightens, resting her hands on her hips. From the look of her clothes… she's been traveling.
Flint nods to Alexandra. "Cookies sound awesome. So does milk." Then, the teenager twists on the couch to face the door, glance going from Jacey to the person he doesn't know. "Hi, Jacey-rhya," he offers, and then falls silent a moment, fingers drumming in a silent rhythm against the couch cushion.
Alexandra offers the two new arrivals—one familiar, the other not—a wave of greeting, but promptly disappears into the kitchen. While she's only got two glasses of milk when she returns a few moments later, she did bring the whole sleeve of chocolate chip cookies with her, so there's enough of those to share.
"Hey, Flint," Jacey replies. She glances up at Javen, a shadow of a grin touching her expression. "Just Jacey though, okay? And… Alexandra, right?" The question is posed to the other girl when she returns.
"Just-Jacey," The Get replies. Her eyes are somewhat cold as they regard the other two. "Young. Cliath?" Her voice is heavily accented… something from the far north of Europe with the added confusion of unpracticed speech. "I am Javen, known as Weaves-the-Skein-of-the-Archer's-Song, daughter and Skald of Fenris. I am Fostern, Rited here as Bolt-of-Frost-Bites-Prey-for-Glory."
"Aight, Jacey," Flint acknowledges with a nod, and then there's another nod, attentive through Javen's introduction. "Flint, called Requiem. Rited Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children, cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers." The cup of milk is accepted from Alexandra with a grin, and Flint is well… kinda careful not to get it all over his face while he takes a sip.
Alexandra sets the cookies down where Flint can easily reach them as well. "Alexandra, yes." Looking to Javen, she offers more detail: "Alexandra Morgan, Seeks the Raging Water to Silence Her Strike, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords."
"Congrats, Alexandra," Jacey offers with a grin. "Welcome to the real world and all that." She looks down at Javen's feet, then turns for the stairs to find some shoes for the elder Galliard.
Javen's expression is attentive, but not wholly impressed. She glances from the Walker to the Lord, quirking her lip a little in a look of mild distaste at the mention of the tribe. She sniffs in response, turning to the refrigerator and root around in it. "Which of you can tell me who leads this Sept, now?"
Flint turns, though he doesn't follow to the kitchen. "Silvertip-rhya, of the Uktena, is alpha," the Glass Walker states, voice quiet but words sure enough to carry.
Alexandra, Flint, and Jacey are in the living room conversing, while Javen has gone into the kitchen. "Thanks," she replies to Jacey. "It's still pretty new—my Rite was only yesterday."
Jacey takes the stairs a couple at a time, while the others talk downstairs. Her footsteps can be heard across the ceiling, trailing off as she goes into the spare room to find some shoes that might fit Javen.
Owen might be noticed pausing by the backdoor, but he instead walks around the house and in from the front, taking a moment to take his boots off before opening with, "Who tore up the fucking back door?"
Javen comes up with a bottle of water. She returns to the living room, giving Flint a hard, surprised stare. "An Uktena," she barks. "So it is true. The Caern sleeps." When Owen makes his appearance, she twists her head to look at him. A squint of faint recognition perhaps. "You must be Owen-rhya," she says, voice unreadable.
Flint nods. "Yes, it is true. The. The Caern sleeps. There are brambles and all, and." Flint frowns a little, shrinking under the look from the Get, and glancing over at Alexandra a moment before nodding to Owen. "What happened to the backdoor, Owen-rhya?" Curiosity gets the better of Flint and he walks to the doorway to the kitchen to look.
Alexandra shakes her head. "No idea. I thought maybe someone was planning to paint, so I didn't take it down."
Jacey returns in short order, a pair of black boots in her hands. The stairs are again taken two at a time and her findings offered to Javen. "Found these for you, Javen-rhya," she says, looking up at the Get. "Should fit, and I need to get…" she stops short, seeing Owen, grinning briefly before turning fairly serious. "H'lo, Owen-rhya."
Owen stands back up after shedding his boots, giving a brief nod to Jacey and then peering at Javen, though not speaking to her immediately. "If anyone finds out who did that, be sure to send them my way for instruction on control." He then frowns a touch, now addressing the other Get. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Javen nods at Jacey, taking the boots with a murmured thanks. "It means you're the one I need to speak to." She sets the boots aside and advances on Owen, and though she's no small woman, peers up at him. "You are jarl. I am Javen, Rited as Bolt-of-Frost-Bites-Prey-for-Glory here from the Sept of the White Run. I am skald, fostern, and now known as Weaves-the-Skein-of-the-Archer's-Song. I have returned." She once more places her hands on her hips as she faces the Jarl, assessing him with a cold expression. "Did you kill Bag-of-Snakes-rhya?"
Flint looks at the door a moment, and then. "Saran wrap," Flint states, almost amused. He crosses back over to the couch, grabbing his jacket, and looks at Lex. "The paint stuff's in the plastic bag," he says, "and. Be careful, you don't need to use much and it. Will stain your clothes." Another grin for the Shadow Lord Ahroun. "I'm going to go over to the garage, Lex. See. See you when you get up there, yeah? I. I need to give you my phone number now that you can have a phone." The cliath grabs a cookie from the table, and then turns to nod, respectfully, to Owen, Javen, and Jacey. "Owen-rhya, Jacey." Pause. "Nice to meet you, Javen-rhya." And then with that, Flint's off and up the stairs.
Jacey looks from Javen to Owen and back again. "Sure, Flint," she says, turning to follow the Glass Walker. "I'm… I'll be back shortly." This is offered to both the Fenrir as she pauses at the stairs. A grin is cast to Alexandra, short lived but true. Then, "Javen-rhya, Owen-rhya," precedes her running up the stairs after Flint.
"Thanks for getting that for me," Alexandra replies to Flint, though she seems eager to change the subject from the paint and its use, for whatever reason. "And yeah, see you in a little while." A wave is also offered to Jacey as she makes her way upstairs, before her attention turns to Owen and Javen, though she doesn't seem inclined to interrupt them just at the moment.