Not just a social call.

[flint_garou]

Shifting stops the bleeding. That's not the same thing as being fine.

18 July, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (3% full).

Holland is out on the balcony garden when Flint arrives, seated at his usual table. He's sipping a cup of tea, and the teapot and a second (empty) cup rest on a platter in front of him, along with milk and sugar. Despite Flint's tardiness, the Philodox doesn't appear to be overly concerned as yet.

The galliard pauses a few feet from where Holland is, to nod greeting as he approaches. Flint's sweatshirt is tied around his waist, and the teen's wearing a grey longsleeved shirt, sleeves tugged a little further down his wrists than usual, fidgeted with nervously as he sits down across the table, and once he's sat, right hand loops around the opposite wrist, rather than folding his hands or anything else. "H-hi, Holland-rhya," Flint says.

Holland says, "Good morning, Flint," then gestures to teapot and the cup. "Please, help yourself. You sounded upset when you called, so I'm assuming this isn't just a social call?"

Flint catches his lower lip between his teeth and nods, once. "Not just," Flint says. He lets go his wrist enough to move to pour tea, and the motion pulls one of the sleeves of his shirt up some, enough to make plain white bandages around his wrist, though the sleeve is pulled down just as soon thereafter. "I. I had some, questions that. That I'd. Want, your advice, before. Things."

Holland's gaze flicks down to the bandages, but at least for the moment, he chooses not to comment on them. "That's part of what I'm here for. What's the situation?"

Flint picks up the cup, both hands wrapping around it, moving to blow across the surface of the liquid. There're bandages on both wrists. A sip of tea is taken, and then Flint glances up. "There's…. someone I. Who I want to Challenge," Flint says. "Not, for rank. But because, she's. Because, I want to resolve the fight, between us." Even speaking, there's a faint rise of rage, though thankfully the moon is small and it simmers back out.

Holland nods. "That's rather common, whether inter-tribal or intra. My rite of passage actually involved mediating a fairly serious dispute between my older brother and my cousin." He smiles faintly. "For what it's worth, I haven't shot anyone as part of the resolution process since then, either."

Flint nods, slowly, and when he does set his tea down, his sleeves are pulled down, nearly subconsciously. "It, her. Her name's April Rains, Shifting Briar," Flint says, a faint hint of venom and anger still in his voice. "She's a. A Black Fury. She's also Fostern."

Holland asks, "So you're aware that you'll be at something of a disadvantage, then, and are willing to accept that? The difference isn't sufficient that you're outside your right to challenge, but that's not the same as things being even."

Flint nods, though he's distracted for a moment by something that he quite obviously hears. Head tilts to one side, and he nods even though Holland hasn't said anything more, mutters to himself, 'terms', then looks up at Holland. "Right. I. She… terms," Flint says. "I. Part of, all this, she… treats me, like I'm just a child. She treats my packmates the same. She… treated Kavi-rhya with disrespect and, and spoke of him with disrespect." The anger is clear in the boy's voice, and it simmers down this time only when Flint's wrapped one hand around his wrist again. "I want to, to challenge her anyway, Holland-rhya. And I. Don't want her, to be able. To set the terms ridiculously that, use them to, try and, humiliate me."

Holland says, "So that's why you've come to me, then. Now, the first thing to be aware of—you're a Cliath, and Kavi is an Adren. He's more than capable of fighting his own battles if he feels his honor has been slighted. The same is true of your packmates, regardless of their ranks. While I understand those tensions don't make your own relationship with April any easier, a challenge will only be between you and her. It won't address the way she behaves towards others. The most you can hope for on that front is that she doesn't speak ill of them in private conversation with you."

Flint nods slowly. His hand twists around his wrist and then a little further up, around his arm, white-knuckled. "I. I know."

Holland says "Good. The second issue is that we're the same tribe. As much as I might try to put them aside, I have biases as much as anyone, and mine are likely to be more similar to your own than to hers, given that we both follow Cockroach. The perception of a partial judge can be every bit as damaging to a challenge as a judge that genuinely is partial. If you're just coming to me for advice, I'll do my best to offer it. If you're asking me to mediate the dispute, that will be contingent upon her acceptance. She'll be well within her rights to request a Philodox that is neither Glass Walker nor Black Fury."

Flint chews on his lower lip a moment, and his hand unclenches. "I understand. I. I'd, like it if. If you'd mediate it if April'd allow, though." The cliath's brow furrows, and he picks up his tea again. This time, his own gaze darts down to his wrists.

Holland says, "Very well. Given your anger just at the mention of her, I suggest issuing the challenge in writing. And I'll need to know where to find her so I can deliver it, along with a broad idea of what you consider acceptable terms. And in turn, what you're willing to concede to her if you lose the challenge."

Flint nods, staring down into his tea for a little bit. "Yeah. I. I shouldn't, necessarily… be around April, else. Even, with the moon small." The words are slow, careful. "Terms that…" Flint listens to something unheard again and squints his eyes shut, tea set down and both wrists gripped in opposite hands, breathing steadying. "Terms that aren't biased by, auspice. Or gender."

Holland says, "If those are your only caveats for the challenge itself, that should be simple enough to accomplish. So it comes down to the specific conditions of success and failure, then. If I understand you correctly, in the event of your victory, you're asking for the following results: One, she is to treat you with the same respect that she would show a female of equivalent rank. Two, she is not to speak disrespectfully of Kavi or any member of your pack in your presence, unless formally raising a complaint or challenge against them."

Another nod from the cliath. "And she is not t-to. To speak disrespectfully of. Of Cockroach, and our tribe, either." Flint pauses, and then adds. "And, that. Whatever the Challenge, the. Terms are. New moon, through half moon. Not during gibbous, or full."

Holland says "So those three conditions, then. You haven't mentioned her auspice—unless she's an Ahroun or Galliard, it would be more appropriate to restrict the date of the challenge to a moon other than full or either of your auspice moons, to reduce the chance of frenzy. And finally, if you lose, what concessions are you willing to offer her? My own suggestion would be an offering of formal contrition for the personal animosity between the two of you. Let that be over, no matter who wins."

"So not crescent, either," Flint says. "She's theurge." There's a long silence, and the boy nods again, though his grip remains, right now. "That makes, sense. I… right now, I'm still… too angry, to know what else, to offer."

Holland asks, "Do you already know the Rite of Contrition? If not, I'll need to include time for you to learn it as part of the terms."

Flint shakes his head from side to side and then winces, looking down. "I don't. I. I've been meaning, to. To learn it. So that I know it. But I haven't, yet."

Holland says, "You can learn it from me, or you can learn it from someone else, as you'd prefer. But I'd suggest speaking to someone very soon. Now, please tell me this April has a street address? I hate randomly wandering through the woods looking for people, particularly given the condition of the local bawn, but I will if I have to." A short pause as Flint shakes his head. "And another suggestion, ask the woman at the counter for a bottle of water before you go. It's a little late for it now, but it's still better than nothing."

Flint takes a breath. "She's either at the Fury House in the woods, or. Or the Edgewood," Flint says. "I. I'm okay. I'll… shift, eventually." Though the first part is a blatant lie, obvious even in tone. "If. If you'd teach it to me, I. I'd, appreciate that."

Holland says softly, "Shifting stops the bleeding. That's not the same thing as being fine. I'm not going to ask if you don't want to tell—just make sure you don't forget there are plenty of people you can talk to if you need to."

The cliath catches his lip in between his teeth, glancing up at Holland, and nods. Slowly, eyes shutting for a moment. "Thanks Holland-rhya," he says, and then nods. "Oh. Oh, I. Nearly, nearly forgot with, everything else. Something else, happened, to Devon. He… has amnesia, or, something like it. Doesn't remember, just about the. Whole time he's been in the Tribe, or. Anything, or anyone, but learns new stuff, remembers, what he's been told since." There's a pause, before Flint continues. "I. Was, going to talk to, Nieve-rhya, about, if. If she knew, what. Happened, but. Then…" Flint's gaze drops to his wrists, pulling sleeves down a little further. "I… can't now. Not right now… But you, maybe should. If. If you, have a chance?"

Holland frowns. "It's gotten worse, then? She was already planning to summon Dove and Owl to help with the issues Devon had been having, and I'd assumed that had been successful. That's… unsettling, to say the least, though it explains him acting oddly at work yesterday. I'll definitely see what she thinks."

Flint plays with the sleeve of his shirt, encircling wrist with one hand again, fidgety. "I don't… I don't think, the two. Are related. The. Though, the. Monsters paranoid seems to have. Gone away?" There's a sigh. "I. Thanks. L— let me know, please?"

Holland replies, "I hope not, though it would almost worry me more if it was something else, instead. We're very resilient physically, but a second thing running around messing with our minds isn't at all a good thing."

Flint nods again. "No," he says, quietly. "It isn't at all." Then Flint's quiet again, back to fidgeting for a moment and then picking up his tea again.

One of the two doors leading to the cafe opens slightly. A head pokes in followed by the rest of the body, all of which belongs to Devon. He remains back, lingering near the doors after finding Flint and Holland already conversing.

Holland notices Devon almost immediately, given that he's facing the door. "Well, speak of the devil. Devon, you're welcome to join us, though you'll have to ask inside for a cup if you'd like any tea."

Flint turns his head over his shoulder, and hurriedly pulls sleeves down a bit. "Hi Devon," Flint offers, quietly.

Devon looks up when addressed by Holland, maybe showing a touch of surprise at being called by name. He glances toward the other Cliath, a touch of question in the look, then turns his attention to the elder Garou again. "Hi… Flint," he answers, a lilt putting a touch of askance into the name.

Holland frowns faintly. "So he…" he begins, then switches over to addressing Devon directly, instead. "So, just to make sure I'm understanding the situation correctly—you remember having a job that's only a few weeks old, but you don't remember who hired you?"

Flint looks over at Devon for a moment, then looks down at his tea, fidgeting but quiet and attentive.

"I remember working here," Devon answers slowly, "But not… yeah." He glances toward Flint again, then back up to Holland. "Just like I remember other places, the Tenement, but… Not anyone who's there."

Holland says, "So it's only people that you don't remember. That's very odd. Normally, with amnesia, it's all memories from a certain time period, because memories are linked. If you remember a place, you're more likely to remember things associated with that place." A short pause. "So in case you haven't seen my photograph on the wall downstairs, I'm Holland Altimari."

Flint tilts his head to one side at what Holland says, thinking, and there's a slight, encouraging smile to the other cliath when Devon glances over.

"Yes, sir, I know," Devon says, agreeing to the oddness of it all. "It's… been sort of like… I don't know. If… if I hadn't met Nieve or Flint the other day… I'm not sure I would have known anything was wrong and… I don't… It's nice to meet you, Mister Altimari."

Holland says, "Ah, good, so you have talked to Nieve since it happened. Good. If anyone can help figure out what's wrong, it's likely to be her. How much do you remember about who—and what—you are?"

Flint's attention is on Devon, for the most part, brows furrowing a little.

"Everything," Devon answers slowly. He gives Holland a look, a slight frown forming before he glances off to Flint. "I've been here for… almost a year. Jacinta taught me. Nik and I were working on forming a pack…"

Flint rises to his feet a moment later, and glances from Devon to Holland. Sleeves are tugged hastily down over the white of bandages that covers both wrists, and there's a nod. "I. I should… I'll be in touch, Holland-rhya," Flint says. "And… thanks." With little more ceremony than that, and a nod to Devon as well, Flint excuses himself, heading out of the garden and then out.