Too many words.

[flint_garou]

What the hell, Devon?!

16 July, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (15% full).

Devon's back is toward the door while his front faces the sink. The water runs at a trickle over a freshly scrubbed bowl.

There's a cheerful-ish humming that precedes Flint coming into the breakroom, looking far less the worse for the wear than he did a few days prior, though still in glabro. The galliard's humming ceases abruptly when he enters the breakroom with a few dishes in hand, and he leans against the counter, a half-nod of greeting to Devon. Regardless of whether or not Devon sees.

Devon does notice Flint, an almost absent glance that's vaguely troubled, or distracted, and then a second longer one. What's missing, however, is any sense of recognition. Though he does nod politely, offering a stranger-to-stranger grin just before he steps aside to dry his bowl and spoon. "Hey…"

Flint blinks at Devon a moment, though he moves to wordlessly start washing the plate and bowl and cutlery he's brought back to the kitchen. "Hi Devon," is said, rather quietly. "How. How're you?"

"Feeling… I don't know," Devon answers with a small shrug. He watches the Galliard for a moment, then turns to put his dishes away. "This… this is…" He toys with his lower lip and glances toward Flint, brows furrowing further. "…How do you know me?"

There's a huff that sounds very, very surprised, and then Flint glances back, cautiously, at Devon. "I. I do, because. Um," the galliard says. "You were. You, when. Before, when I was. A cub…" Then he stops and just stares at the other, for a moment. "Seriously, Devon?" It's not incredulous tone, just surprised.

"Yeah," Devon says slowly, almost breathing the word. One corner of his mouth ticks upward to grin, though it lacks enthusiasm, failing as soon as it starts. That troubled look returns, and he sighs, hands shoving into his pockets. "I… when you were a cub… but… then who are you?"

Brows raise further. "Seriously, Devon?" is repeated, a little more incredulous before Flint's tone gentles. "Flint."

Devon shakes his head and looks up at Flint. "I don't remember. I remember me being a cub, here… learning… from Jacinta. But… Nothing else."

Flint nods once, and then points at the chairs by the dining room table. "Alright. Sit?" he asks, before finishing washing his dishes, setting them in the tray, and going to the fridge to pull out juice, and pour some for himself. "Anyway, so. I. Has. Has, anyone else told you, anything, to. Bring things, up to, to, now?"

Devon walks over to the table and uses a foot to pull a chair free. He sits, hands coming out to rest against the edge of the table, and his shoulders shrug again. "Just… I talked to Nieve? She said we were going to be pack… We… she's told me some things, but she's sleeping now…"

The galliard turns away for a moment, leaning on the counter, and what's heard from the murmuring under his breath distinctly resembles prayer, though it's indistinct, and then Flint moves over to sit on the counter. "Okay so. I. First. Flint. Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children. I'm galliard and. And cliath. And, the rest, isn't important right now. And, you're cliath, too. You made cliath when, just days after I, before. Back when." There's hesitation and stammer in the speech, but Flint's trying, and there's a patience in his voice. "Mouse-rhya named you Red-Hands-Wields-the-Knife."

"I know who I am," Devon says with equal patience, focus set on filling in holes. His brows push together, forming an inverted V. "I know I'm cliath, and a Glass Walker, and an Ahroun. It's just… You and… Who's Mouse-rhya?"

Flint winces a little bit. "Our. Tribe elder. She's… out of town, on a challenge for. Athro. But." Flint shakes his head, comes over to the table, and sits down, carefully, on one of the chairs.

Devon picks at the table top, scraping it with a fingernail. After a minute or two he shakes his head and looks up at Flint. "I don't remember her."

Flint frowns. "Alright," Flint says. "I. I guess. Anyway. I. You and I didn't, exactly … always, get along. So. But, you're… still my tribemate." There's a reserved smile, teeth not shown at all.

Devon frowns as well, faintly, in the way of someone trying to recall or understand. "Why? I don't know who… but I guess if I did… before…" He shakes his head and looks at the table top again. "I don't know…"

Flint shakes his head, slowly. "I. Because, I… words," he tries to explain. "Because sometimes, words are… hard for me, and. You… were, critical, and, I… didn't, I got angry, instead of." Flint pauses, fidgeting with one hand tapping against the table.

Devon leans back in his chair, effectively and characteristically slouching. "…I'm sorry. I guess…" Though he's relying on Flint's memory for where his own fails.

The galliard gets up, turning to pace rather than sit, and nods. "It— it's okay. You… it's, settled, it was settled before, too, anyway."

Devon lifts his eyes from the table to watch the Galliard, quiet for several moments. "How? How did it… did we just figure out how to get along?"

Flint only faces Devon partially, and continues to pace. "It. Not, exactly?" The galliard pauses, choosing words carefully. "The… first time, Salem-rhya issued an order that we fix it, and, you. Offered Contrition, for. What you'd said. Done. And. That. And then, mostly, by. Both of us. Recognising, when… not to, push, when. How, not to fight, even if. If we disagree."

"Oh," is Devon's quiet response. "…Did it work? I mean… we're both still alive and… not missing limbs or anything."

Not facing Devon, quite, but it's clear enough that Flint nods. "More or less? It. Helps…" Flint says, and then paces back to the table. "And, it… helps if. you're not following what I say, because, words, then. To put it that way, rather than. Making it into, a criticism or. Using it that… I'm a galliard, I should. Talk right." There's another pause. "And if I try and understand, vice. Vice versa. That helps, too. And that. You're ahroun. I'm galliard. Rage happens, but… we both, know that. And know, not to engage, if we're. Angry, and talking is only going to make it, worse. Not better. That way, I don't Frenzy. You don't Frenzy. Things don't, get destroyed." There's a grin.

"So… how many of us are there," Devon asks. "Nieve said… eight or so. And I've met you and her. You said Mouse-rhya, but she's gone."

Flint stares into space a moment. "More to, twelve? Including. Me, you. Mouse-rhya. Except, Mouse-rhya is gone right now, and sometimes. Some people, aren't around all that much. Some people are around, more. I." There's a pause, and he looks at Devon. "Waitasec? I…" he paces over towards one of the computers and looks at it, then pulls an iPhone from one pocket instead, attention turning to the phone.

Devon sighs and lifts his hands to his head, palms pressing against his temples. After a few seconds he leans forward, arms folding on top of the table, chin going to rest on his forearms.

Flint finishes tapping at the phone a moment, and then puts it back in his pocket. "I. Sorry," he offers to Devon. "Had to text a few people. See if, if we can get you all re— reintroduced." Pacing. Flint continues pacing.

Devon frowns again, though it's far from angry. More nervous, or ashamed? He follows it with a nod and long exhale. "Thanks… Flint."

The galliard moves wrong at one point in the pacing and winces, the muttering this time quite clearly cursewords, and he nods. "It's. Of course, Devon. Really." Pause. "Tribe. Tribe's family. You're family." That said, Flint carefully moves his right arm, stretching it and testing current range of motion, which is reduced, and all of that gets a wince with it, too.

"How'd you get hurt," Devon asks, looking up again. "Why… didn't you find a theurge? Or someone… Nieve might have been able to…"

Flint frowns a bit, moving back over to the table. "I got in a fight, last week," Flint says. "With someone. And. I Frenzied, and." There's a slow shrug, and finally Flint moves over to the couch, sitting down now. "It. I'm okay, it'll be fine in a day or two more and. I. Haven't seen Nieve-rhya recently. Or Ishmael-rhya."

"Oh," Devon winces slightly. "Sorry. That's… gotta suck. I saw Nieve earlier, and she… she took care of the burns I'd gotten from the greenhouse. Did… have you heard about that? Owen—a Get—and I, and a huge, red-eyed Garou and a wolfborn found this greenhouse that'd been overtaken or something, by Wyld plants. The red-eyed Garou set it all on fire before he took off."

Flint turns to face Devon mostly, and nods. "Hm," is said. "The. Big guy's, a Fury. Ahroun, I believe." Flint shrugs. "It. It's good that, Nieve-rhya was. Able to heal you."

"Yeah," Devon agrees quietly. He tilts his head a bit further forward, pressing his mouth against his forearms. After a couple of minutes he sighs and shakes his head. "Wish I could remember …anything."

Flint shrugs again. "Maybe, maybe time. Or maybe not. It… it'll be okay." There's reassurance, at least, there. "Meantime, you. Make sure, you remember now and, now. Now is, all we have."

Devon pushes away from the table and stands, hands going into his pockets. He wanders toward the kitchen again, for as much to move and think, as to claim a drink. Which is done after he pulls open the fridge. "It's like some… episode of out the Twilight Zone, isn't it?"

Flint laughs, at that point. It's a rough sound in glabro, but there's amusement nonetheless. "So is," he responds, "being Garou. In general. Right, and all— but still, it gets. Surreal."

"Add to that not remembering anything," Devon says as he pulls a Coke from the fridge. "Besides… who and what I am. Where I am… Edgewood, other Garou. Just… not anyone here."

Flint nods, slowly. "Sounds… hard." The galliard doesn't have much to say, other than that, for a long moment. "I. At some point, if you want, I. Can tell you the stories," he offers to Devon. "The tribal ones. Kavi-rhya, he can, too. And, the songs. And. Things that. Have, happened, between. Then? Your then. And now."

Devon turns from the fridge and looks at Flint, frowning again. "Kavi-rhya? …He's… A galliard?" The question is posed as though he's guessing, rather than remembering.

Flint leans backwards on the couch, head on the armrest. "Yes. He… he's adren, a galliard. He. He taught me. He. He found me, too. And you, and Mouse-rhya."

Devon's mouth opens, to ask for confirmation, then closes again with a sigh. "Okay," he says instead.

There's still faint hesitation in Flint's manner right now, and he looks to Devon, then squints and looks away. "Anyway." Flint pulls his phone out again. "I should, text Holland-rhya, too," he decides.

Once again, Devon looks like he wants to ask 'who', but instead doesn't. He nods his apology, that shame returning for a moment. "I… should go I guess. See if Nieve's awake…"

Rina heads into the breakroom, her strides fast. She calls out before she even gets to the door. "Flint? You around?"

Flint is on the couch, and he looks up, gets up to his feet. "Hi Rina," he says, quietly, then turns to Devon. "Holland Altimari, fostern and philodox. He. He runs part of. Of one of the Walker companies, in. In town. The Terminus Group. He. I need to talk to him maybe, anyway. It. Not just you, really." Asked or not, the question gets answered.

A moment later, the galliard adds. "Devon, this is. Rina. She. I texted her. Partially so, you. Could. Meet— re-meet— something. Say hi, and. And all."

Devon looks up as Rina enters, and surprisingly or no, there's no recognition on his face. His gaze ticks toward Flint when he introduces the kinswoman, then returns to her with a nod. "Hey," he offers, with a quasi-grin.

Rina's wearing the heavy jacket, and as she walks over, she offers out a hand. "Hey. Rina Vencenzo. You know where you are?"

Flint offers a tiny, tiny hint of a smile to Rina, and then steps back, to the couch. He's quiet, for the moment.

"Yeah," Devon answers, grin quirking a little more true, if apologetically. He takes the offered hand with his own, giving it a small shake. "And I know who I am…"

Rina gives a swift, curt nod. "Well, that's a start." Her grip is firm, brief.

Flint sits, watching Devon for a long moment, and then not watching Devon anymore.

Devon glances toward Flint again as he steps back from Rina, brows lifting, drawing together. That worried, somewhat lacking confident look turns to the kinswoman next, then settles on the unopened can of Coke. "I… was just going… to go and…" He motions toward the door with a shoulder.

"You need to rest, still, yeah?" Rina murmurs.

"I… Um…" Devon shakes his head. "Just… going to sit. And… maybe remember something Flint's told me happened."

Rina sits down on one of the couches, opposite. "Tell me?"

"Can I," Devon asks with a glance toward the door. "I'll be back, I promise. Just… need to think over this." He glances toward Rina and Flint, apologetic again, then heads for the hallway.

Flint purses his lips and frowns as Devon leaves, but nods, before refocusing and turning to Rina. Flint sits cross-legged on the couch, and bends over to rest his face in his hands. "Fuck," he murmurs, barely audible, a release of pent-up tension.

"Yeah," Rina says, watching him. "Talk t'me."

Flint rests his forehead on the palms of his hands, and nods, though he doesn't sit up. "Just. How'm I supposed to?" Flint asks, quietly. "He. I. Devon doesn't remember. Any of it. Me, at all, until. Until today, until I told him, I. I tried to answer questions when, when… when I could. It. But, I remember, and. Things, Devon's said, and. How?"

A flicker of something crosses her expression. "Go slow," she says quietly. "Use more words for me, aright?"

Flint nods, and there are deep breaths that follow. "I came to the. To take my dishes to, clean them, and. And Devon was here. And, so. I. Said hi, but. He… didn't recognise me at all. Didn't. Know who I am." There's a pause. "I thought for a moment that… Devon was, trying to. Get me to react. It. Wouldn't be the. First time. But, I. It's not, and he. He doesn't even know, what happened, when, to, that he doesn't remember." Flint frowns, and sighs.

Rina wets her lips. "Well it'd have to be today," she says quietly. "So we'll talk to Nieve. He was fine last night, I know. Except for the… paranoia stuff, that's been happening."

Flint finally sits up, a little bit. "He. He still remembers the greenhouse-thing?" Flint says. "But. I don't know, I didn't ask him, how much before that." There's a quiet sigh. "And. Just. Usually… Devon acts like… he resents me. Hates me, sometimes. Or it. I-it feels that way. That… wasn't there. But neither was, anything else and I… tried. To not, let. Before. Let it, affect? now. He. He doesn't remember, so I. But. I remember."

Rina rolls to her feet, then. "I'll be right back."

There's a nod. "Alright," Flint says, settling to rest for the time being on the couch, then after a moment rising and going over to the fridge to rummage through it.

Rina returns with, of course, Kavi. And she has a half-glass of something amber.

Kavi follows behind Rina, his brow furrowed.

Flint has gotten a glass of water, and returned to the couch, knees drawn to chest and head on his knees. The cliath looks up and over at Kavi and Rina as they enter, though. "Hi Kavi-rhya. Hi again Rina."

"Aright," Rina says quietly. "So, start from the beginning, yeah?"

Kavi reaches for Rina's free hand, his fingers twining with hers for a moment before he releases again and moves to sit on the chair opposite Flint.

Flint looks at both of them and then looks down again. "Okay. A. In a minute, mom?" he asks, holding up one finger. "Words. Too many words."

Rina nods, taking a seat, sipping at the whiskey as she watches him.

Kavi nods as well, though his gaze turns to Rina as she sits.

It takes a few minutes before Flint speaks this time. "It's… so I came in earlier and Devon. Didn't, recognise me. At all." Flint sighs. "I. How," Flint repeats. "Every. All the time before, Devon and I… it. Ends up, fights, yelling. And then he just doesn't remember. And I do, and."

Kavi's brow furrows again as he brings his gaze back to Flint. "What happened? What… What happened to his memory?"

Flint shakes his head. "I. I don't know? He. But he doesn't remember. Anything. I— I texted Nieve-rhya, and maybe. Maybe she, knows. I. He knows who he is but. Doesn't remember anything, from. Here. Anyone, from here. I. I thought it was a joke at first, or. For making me angry, or, making me, stumble over words, but. He doesn't remember. Doesn't remember, fighting. Or arguing. Or any of it. I…" Flint takes a deep breath and unclenches his hands from where they've balled into fists, then falls silent.

Rina's expression tightens a little.

Kavi frowns. His gaze drops down to his hands and he grips one with the other. "They… This didn't happen, before. It wasn't. When the vampire made people see things, last summer, she didn't… This didn't happen to them."

The younger galliard leans on his hands. "It. I'm… not sure it's related," Flint says, quietly. "I. Coincidence, doesn't. Happen often, but. Th—" The words cut off and Flint takes another breath to slow down. "The one thing that. Devon? Today? Wasn't. Paranoidorseeingthingsoranyofthat." So much for slowing down.

Kavi's frown deepens and he looks up to Flint, gaze questioning without words.

"Wait, so that shit just stopped?" Rina leans forward. "Did he talk about Moros?"

Flint purses his lips. "It. If it was there? I didn't see it like it was. So. Obvious, before." Flint speaks much, much slower this time. "He. He mentioned, the. Greenhouse thing. 'Owen, and I, and a huge, red-eyed Garou, and a wolfborn'. There. Wasn't. Any of the. Like there was, when. When you and I found him."

Kavi rubs his palms on his knees and he looks briefly to Rina and then back. "He remembered that?"

Flint nods again. "Yes. But. I think that's the, least recent, thing that—" there's a long pause, mouth half-open, and then the younger galliard tenses in frustration again, half-staring past either Rina or Kavi. There's no voice given to the next words, though his lips move anyway.

"I don't… I don't understand," Kavi says with a shake of his head.

Flint leans back on the couch, and shifts down to homid, and that seems to do a little, in helping the younger galliard relax and slow down. "I don't either," he says. "I don't know. Maybe, Nieve-rhya will. Be able to, figure. Out. Why. But— until then." Another pause, and another deep breath, to keep the words slow enough that they don't run into one another. "Until then, I don't even… know. I. Devon asked, whether. How, I know him, vice versa, and so. I. Told him. Most— some of it, and then. And he didn't, snap at me for, words. But it's. Hard? Because, I. I don't know what to do. Or if, suddenly, it's all going to. Change and he'll just, yell at me and, that. Again."

Kavi rests his elbows on his knees and puts his head in his hands, fingers raking back through his hair.

Flint doesn't add anything for a moment, except a very soft repetition of the prevailing question that's been repeated through Flint's explanation. "How, Kavi-rhya?" he asks. "He. He doesn't remember? And… I can't just. Pretend that he didn't… everything that happened. That we never fought. That. But. He's still… tribe, and that, too."

Kavi pushes up from his chair, shaking his head, and turns for the kitchen. "Don't… Don't worry about that. Not yet. Not… Not until we know what's wrong."

Flint turns, watching Kavi, and nods. "Okay," he says, quietly. "Okay. I. And— was I… wrong, when. I. I skipped over, when he asked. Some. Some parts. The. Him, resenting me. I… I don't know. But I… couldn't, not really."

Kavi stops, his back to the others, and shakes his head again. "He doesn't need to know. Leave it behind," he says, and then starts moving again, heading to the fridge to stare at the contents.

Flint nods, a sigh that's somewhere between tired and relief. "Okay," the younger galliard says, again.

Kavi eventually closes the fridge again, without taking anything from within, but he doesn't turn back to the others, yet.

"Let it go," Rina says quietly. "Maybe it's— for the best, anyway."

Flint nods again, and there's a brief distractedness to the way the teen lays on the couch, and he mutters to no one in particular, not even quite aloud. Though 'I don't care' and 'please shut up' end up audible.

Kavi glances back toward Rina and Flint, nodding once, and then opens a cupboard to grab a glass for himself. He fills it with water from the tap and return to sit by Rina again.

Rina, before he even arrives, goes across to sit with Flint. "Hey," she says gently.

Flint glances at Rina for a moment, and there's a breath in after which at least, Flint stops with the talking aloud, attention focusing on Rina now.

"Ancestors, yeah?" Rina asks, gently.

Kavi looks to Rina as she goes, and then to Flint. He sits, just at the edge of his seat, and sips from his glass.

Flint nods. "Yeah," he answers, glancing past Rina and then to Rina. "Not even, useful, right now."

"You talked t'anyone about learnin' to shut them out?" Rina asks softly.

Kavi takes another sip and then sets the glass on the table.

Flint lifts his shoulders in a shrug, and pulls himself to sit up. "Sometimes, they're… harder to ignore. When. Opinions." The younger galliard sighs. "Meditations either… work, or make them louder. And I… don't really know who to. To talk to about, that stuff. Who. Who to ask."

Out in the hall, Ex has connected.

Rina nods, bowing her head, elbows leaning on her knees. "Cutta would know," she says quietly. "I d'no who else. Mouse, maybe."

Kavi pushes up from his seat again to walk to the windows. "It's not the same," he says, his voice almost too soft to hear. "But. I." He pauses, swallowing. A hand rests on the wall beside the window, and another pulls the blinds aside enough to see out. "I could try."

Flint glances at Kavi, and there's a quick, quiet nod. "If. With. Working on, slowing down," comes the quiet agreement. "Yeah." Another pause. "Maybe Norman-rhya would. Ideas, at. At least. As to." Flint curls into the arm of the couch carefully, and adds. "Thanks."

Rina takes a slow breath, and nods.

Just down the hall a door opens opens and then closes with a soft click. The footfalls that follow mark a quiet approach toward the breakroom, with Devon's silhouette soon appearing just outside the doorway.

Out in the hall, there's a sizable, heavy THUMP from the direction of the cubroom. Just one though.

Kavi turns sharply at the sounds from the hall and moves quickly toward the doorway.

Flint tenses a moment, then sits back down on the couch, attention towards the sounds and the doorway nonetheless.

Rina half-rises from the couch, her brow furrowing. She's still in her jacket, still carrying guns.

Devon looks toward the sound, then toward Kavi, taking just a second to duck past and into the break room. And out of the way, though the hall is given an uneasy look.

Out in the hall, there's a low rumble. And then a louder THUMP, as if something heavy was just dropped.

Out in the hall, Kavi moves past Devon and on toward the cubroom, the rising tension seen in his shoulders and in his step.

Flint raises both hands to rub at his forehead, bending over for a moment to lean on his lap. "Hey Devon," Flint offers.

Devon takes a few backward steps, still looking at the hallway. Flint's voice draws his attention partially from it, gaze flicking to the other Cliath and nearby kinswoman. "…Hey."

Rina wets her lips, glancing from Devon to the door. "Come get a drink, yeah?" she suggests.

Flint looks at Rina. "I. I could start tea," Flint offers, quietly, getting up and to his feet with some care.

Devon looks to the doorway again, nodding after a moment. He moves further into the breakroom, a few creases beginning to form along his brow.

Rina nods to Flint, distractedly.

Flint nods, and moves over to the kitchen. The kettle is refilled with water and then Flint sets it up, though most of his attention is on the door, and the cubroom beyond it.

Devon jams his hands back into his pockets, glancing toward the door again. A couple of steps draw him in line to look toward the cubroom, if not see it properly. He casts a glance over his shoulder to Rina then Flint again, then takes himself from the room, angling back for Nieve's apartment.

Flint looks at the kettle a moment, and then looks to Rina. "Tea, still?" he asks Rina. "Or, should I just." There's another pause, as Flint considers. "I should go up to, to the roof a bit. And, then maybe to bed and rest."

Rina glances to Flint, then to the door. "Yeah, that, ah." She looks to him, then, warily. "Might not be a bad idea."

Flint turns the kettle back off, and then nods. "Alright, then." There're a few steps taken toward the doorway, and Flint pauses. "Goodnight, mom," he says, much more quietly, before he steps out into the hall. He steps out into the hall with a careful glance towards where Kavi is and a nod, but the cliath's headed for his own apartment, further down the hall.