Crystal clear.
Saturday, 31 March 2012 09:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouVery much so.
31 March, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (59% full).
Val shakes her head. "No. Lone wolf working alone, is what it sounds like to me." At the mention of Plasticorp, the raven-woman scowls. "What do you mean half-cocked? I went in there a few times so folks would know what to expect."
Riley can't help but utter a discontented little murmur at the lack of a name, "Was hoping a Questing Stone would do the trick, but without a name, the odds of that working are just about nilch, and I don't wanna waste the hair." She pockets the baggy securely in her damp jeans pocket, blinking up at Val's noteworthy irritation. She gives a half-shrug. "That business with the fake fox. Fell for her trick about a secret way in, and ended up with her nibbling on my organs. Not my favorite day—so trust me, I'll spread this around, get our best on it." She smirks, "Not just our most gung-ho."
Val is rather wet, cranky, and tired looking. As Riley speaks, she wraps her arms around herself and shivers. "Sorry. I put out the word as soon as I figured out that she was fake," the raven woman mumbles. "That thing was not nice and it wasn't nice when it got in to my head, either. But, it never actually got its claws in to me. As for the hair, go umbral and summon a Hound Spirit. Or something like that."
The stairwell door opens to let Flint out onto the roof, a jacket pulled tight around his frame and a hat concealing the fact that he's gotten a haircut recently. The door doesn't even quite shut behind him, though, when he hesitates at the sight of the ragabash on the roof. "Sorry, Riley-rhya. I. I'll jus' go back downstairs," is offered, very subdued. "An' hi, Val."
Riley looks uncomfortable, but is doing her best to play it down. "Not my favorite day," She repeats softly. Val's suggestion is considered, and the ragabash gives a slow nod of her head, "Right, then. Umbra it is." She doesn't bother hiding her disdain, there. Riley swivels her head about as the door creakily opens, and relaxes some… but not much, when it turns out Flint is the source. She frowns, and turns her attention back to Val. "Flint, we have a situation, and I don't have time to coddle you. Don't slink down the fucking stairs, come over here."
"Hey, at least you still have your hair," Val quips, somewhat half-heartedly. "It talked me in to jumping on to the Tiger's head, while he was breathing fire." Val rubs at her face and looks ready to drop, really. "Look. There is some other weirdness going on, but I need to do some more poking at it first. I'll fill people in when I no more. Right now, I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and I'm tired. I'm going home."
Riley folds her arms over her chest and nods. "We'll do what we can—keep us posted."
Flint lets go of the door when Riley speaks, and at least there's no hesitation in his steps. "Yes, Riley-rhya. I just didn't want to. Interrupt." A glance and nod of acknowledgemnt is given to Val, and Flint looks down at his feet.
Val shifts back down in to her raven form and somewhat clumsily takes to the skies, feathers weighed down by the drizzle.
The drizzling rain is the only sound there, for several seconds. Riley squints after Val's form receding into the distance. When she's out of sight, the ragabash turns to turn her attention on Flint. Unsurprisingly, there's no playfulness or warmth, there. He's decidedly still in the dog-house with her. "We've got some intel. There's a Wolf poking in and out of the Umbra, knife-murdering entire families when she's over here every couple of days. From the sound of it… Well, I don't like the idea, but it sounds almost like it's a Red Talon." She frowns, "I'd prefer to think it's a Spiral, but our description is that she's a girl, has wild hair, simple clothes, bare feet, and has a red marking across her chest. It's carrying out the killings in a cold, calculated way, which means it's probably not exultating in it, like a Spiral probably would."
Flint grimaces, then nods. Fingers drum against one leg as Riley speaks. "Has anyone talked to. To the Talons, here?" Not, judging by tone of voice, that the galliard expects that to lead anywhere. "Preferably with a philodox…"
Riley bristles, "I normally wouldn't be caught dead talking to those assholes, with their messed-up, ass-backwards, pants-on-head-retarded idealogies." She grunts, "But if this turns out to be one of theirs, you can be damn sure I'm going to be sharing some fucking words." She cracks her knuckles, and turns away from Flint. "That's all."
Flint nods, and there's an audible grimace when Riley turns away. "I. I'm sorry for shifting last night," the Galliard ventures, even if he is speaking to her back. "And."
Riley bristles noticably, but doesn't turn back to look at Flint, "…Don't say things you don't mean, particularly when you don't respect me enough to listen. Leave."
Flint doesn't leave. Though he does back up a few steps. "I do respect you," he says, quietly. "And, I do mean it." There's a steadiness to the teen's voice that he doesn't often manage. "And, I fucked up last night, I know."
Riley turns her head just far enough so that the corners of her eyes are visible, narrowed though they are. "If you're sorry, then prove it. Take control of your own fucking head, and stop using it as an excuse for any and all trouble you get yourself into. You need to learn to do that, and Devon needs to learn to walk away from things that'll set him off before they do. And you both need to learn that at the end of the day, I may be someone that prefers to be laid back, but I am Fostern, and when you ignore my orders, you disrespect me, you disrespect your tribe, you disrespect your sept, and you disrespect Garou. Let me be crystal clear—I don't dislike either of you." She turns her head, "But if you don't start listening, I can make your lives a living hell." Her jaw tightens as she stares out in the opposite direction of Flint.
Flint nods, while he's still in her field of vision, thumbs hooked into his pockets. "I understand, Riley-rhya," he states. "And I guess I. I need to learn to better recognise what sets me off and cool it, too. Once I was angry last night that was mostly th' end of me being at all rational." And, there's a tone that Flint's disappointed and annoyed with himself, in the words.
Riley doesn't reply, but there's the impression that she looks maybe a little less bristly. Maybe.
31 March, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (59% full).
Val shakes her head. "No. Lone wolf working alone, is what it sounds like to me." At the mention of Plasticorp, the raven-woman scowls. "What do you mean half-cocked? I went in there a few times so folks would know what to expect."
Riley can't help but utter a discontented little murmur at the lack of a name, "Was hoping a Questing Stone would do the trick, but without a name, the odds of that working are just about nilch, and I don't wanna waste the hair." She pockets the baggy securely in her damp jeans pocket, blinking up at Val's noteworthy irritation. She gives a half-shrug. "That business with the fake fox. Fell for her trick about a secret way in, and ended up with her nibbling on my organs. Not my favorite day—so trust me, I'll spread this around, get our best on it." She smirks, "Not just our most gung-ho."
Val is rather wet, cranky, and tired looking. As Riley speaks, she wraps her arms around herself and shivers. "Sorry. I put out the word as soon as I figured out that she was fake," the raven woman mumbles. "That thing was not nice and it wasn't nice when it got in to my head, either. But, it never actually got its claws in to me. As for the hair, go umbral and summon a Hound Spirit. Or something like that."
The stairwell door opens to let Flint out onto the roof, a jacket pulled tight around his frame and a hat concealing the fact that he's gotten a haircut recently. The door doesn't even quite shut behind him, though, when he hesitates at the sight of the ragabash on the roof. "Sorry, Riley-rhya. I. I'll jus' go back downstairs," is offered, very subdued. "An' hi, Val."
Riley looks uncomfortable, but is doing her best to play it down. "Not my favorite day," She repeats softly. Val's suggestion is considered, and the ragabash gives a slow nod of her head, "Right, then. Umbra it is." She doesn't bother hiding her disdain, there. Riley swivels her head about as the door creakily opens, and relaxes some… but not much, when it turns out Flint is the source. She frowns, and turns her attention back to Val. "Flint, we have a situation, and I don't have time to coddle you. Don't slink down the fucking stairs, come over here."
"Hey, at least you still have your hair," Val quips, somewhat half-heartedly. "It talked me in to jumping on to the Tiger's head, while he was breathing fire." Val rubs at her face and looks ready to drop, really. "Look. There is some other weirdness going on, but I need to do some more poking at it first. I'll fill people in when I no more. Right now, I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and I'm tired. I'm going home."
Riley folds her arms over her chest and nods. "We'll do what we can—keep us posted."
Flint lets go of the door when Riley speaks, and at least there's no hesitation in his steps. "Yes, Riley-rhya. I just didn't want to. Interrupt." A glance and nod of acknowledgemnt is given to Val, and Flint looks down at his feet.
Val shifts back down in to her raven form and somewhat clumsily takes to the skies, feathers weighed down by the drizzle.
The drizzling rain is the only sound there, for several seconds. Riley squints after Val's form receding into the distance. When she's out of sight, the ragabash turns to turn her attention on Flint. Unsurprisingly, there's no playfulness or warmth, there. He's decidedly still in the dog-house with her. "We've got some intel. There's a Wolf poking in and out of the Umbra, knife-murdering entire families when she's over here every couple of days. From the sound of it… Well, I don't like the idea, but it sounds almost like it's a Red Talon." She frowns, "I'd prefer to think it's a Spiral, but our description is that she's a girl, has wild hair, simple clothes, bare feet, and has a red marking across her chest. It's carrying out the killings in a cold, calculated way, which means it's probably not exultating in it, like a Spiral probably would."
Flint grimaces, then nods. Fingers drum against one leg as Riley speaks. "Has anyone talked to. To the Talons, here?" Not, judging by tone of voice, that the galliard expects that to lead anywhere. "Preferably with a philodox…"
Riley bristles, "I normally wouldn't be caught dead talking to those assholes, with their messed-up, ass-backwards, pants-on-head-retarded idealogies." She grunts, "But if this turns out to be one of theirs, you can be damn sure I'm going to be sharing some fucking words." She cracks her knuckles, and turns away from Flint. "That's all."
Flint nods, and there's an audible grimace when Riley turns away. "I. I'm sorry for shifting last night," the Galliard ventures, even if he is speaking to her back. "And."
Riley bristles noticably, but doesn't turn back to look at Flint, "…Don't say things you don't mean, particularly when you don't respect me enough to listen. Leave."
Flint doesn't leave. Though he does back up a few steps. "I do respect you," he says, quietly. "And, I do mean it." There's a steadiness to the teen's voice that he doesn't often manage. "And, I fucked up last night, I know."
Riley turns her head just far enough so that the corners of her eyes are visible, narrowed though they are. "If you're sorry, then prove it. Take control of your own fucking head, and stop using it as an excuse for any and all trouble you get yourself into. You need to learn to do that, and Devon needs to learn to walk away from things that'll set him off before they do. And you both need to learn that at the end of the day, I may be someone that prefers to be laid back, but I am Fostern, and when you ignore my orders, you disrespect me, you disrespect your tribe, you disrespect your sept, and you disrespect Garou. Let me be crystal clear—I don't dislike either of you." She turns her head, "But if you don't start listening, I can make your lives a living hell." Her jaw tightens as she stares out in the opposite direction of Flint.
Flint nods, while he's still in her field of vision, thumbs hooked into his pockets. "I understand, Riley-rhya," he states. "And I guess I. I need to learn to better recognise what sets me off and cool it, too. Once I was angry last night that was mostly th' end of me being at all rational." And, there's a tone that Flint's disappointed and annoyed with himself, in the words.
Riley doesn't reply, but there's the impression that she looks maybe a little less bristly. Maybe.