Short-term.
Thursday, 16 August 2012 13:41![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouI can do this. Every time it gets bad I've managed, so far. I can do this …
16 August, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (5% full).
Kevin enters the breakroom with some speed, and with something of a scowl on his face. One hand is clutching several items of cutlery.
Flint looks up from the couch, a book in his lap, half-covered with a blanket. The cliath's in short sleeves, houseclothes clearly, and fairly hastily pulls the blanket up a bit further, glancing at Kevin. "Hi, Kevin-rhya. How're you?"
"Flint," gruffs Kevin. "Do you know anything about this?" He brandishes his handful of silverware at the other roachwolf, like a weapon, or a challenge.
Flint glances at the silverware, and busies himself with covering the bandages on his arms with the blanket, then shrugs. "No," he responds, stifling a grin. "It was probably Hraidar. I. I'm sorry? Where was it?" A pause, and then Flint jerks his head at the ceiling fan. Which has a knife dangling from the short cord. "I. Found that, a bit ago, but I can't reach to. To, put it away."
Kevin looks up suspiciously at the dangling knife. "This isn't funny, you know!" he growls, despite the fact that Flint shows no signs of merriment. He throws his handful of cutlery at the sink. Some of it misses. "It was in my bed. And my desk drawer. And my shower." He turns and glowers at Flint. "And I assume Riley's still on the missing list?"
Flint shakes his head swiftly. "Riley's back. Um. Tuesday night? I. Kavi-rhya said, so." Flint points at the dangling knife, then, forgetting that he's hiding anything. "I tried to reach," he adds.
Kevin perks up very noticeably, at that. "She is? How is she? Hang on, I'll get this… " He looks around for something to stand on, then pulls a chair over. "If you need to get dressed or something, I promise not to look," he adds as he climbs onto it.
Flint shakes his head swiftly, retreating under the blanket anyway. "I. I didn't see her for, long. Okay, though, things given." Shifting on the couch further, and then Flint's brows furrow, and he winces as he shoves his hand between couch cushions to come out with a fork, offering it over towards Kevin, bandages more obvious on his arm now, though neat. "Found another," he adds.
Between his long shanks and the chair, Kevin manages to snag the knife easily enough. "You should have called me to do this," he remarks equably to Flint. "You look like you cut yourself trying to get it down, bo." He hops off the chair, takes Flint's fork, and consigns that and the knife to the sink along with the rest of the silverware. "How did Riley get back, do you know?"
Flint shakes his head from side to side, and glances down at his arm. "Uh, that. Was… earlier, not." Flint pauses. "I don't know. I just, I think, Rina found her? In the park."
Kevin gives Flint a long look, as though one or other of those statements causes suspicion in his mind. "Good old Rina," is all he says, though. "How's the family on the first floor doing, do you know?"
Again, the galliard shakes his head. "Haven't been down there. Too… can't go out, promised Kavi-rhya, so," is the additional explanation, and Flint fidgets idly with a mood ring that's on his left hand, index finger, then pulls the blanket over his arms again, tucking it up and over his shoulders, under his chin to curl into the corner of the couch. Kevin's gaze isn't met.
Glare, again, from Kevin. "What? What the hell's Kavi stopping you going out for?" He seems to view this as some kind of personal affront.
Flint shakes his head slowly. "No," Flint says, then nods towards the couch. "Um. Sit, please? It… Kavi-rhya's right. It. It's why, Hraidar's here, too. Because." And then the explanation ceases, waiting for the adren to take a seat or not.
Kevin sits on the chair he was until very recently standing on. He sits facing its back so he can fold his arms on the back of it, rest his head on them, and look at Flint. "Raider? Who's the raider and what's he raiding?"
"Hraidar," Flint corrects, glancing at an empty area of space for a long moment, and then over to the kitchen, where there is a raven-spirit that has materialised, perched on the counter with one of the pieces of silverware from the sink. Gling gling, as Hraidar plays with it in his beak. "Norman-rhya's friend. He… there's a vampire, Kevin-rhya. And, except, I didn't know that, it. She. Was a leech, when I. Met her. And stuff, happened, and."
Kevin looks up very sharply when Flint emphasises the strange H-R at the start of the name. For about three seconds he looks truly rattled, and somehow, younger, as if the name had knocked loose some shell built around the ragabash and allowed Flint briefly to see a younger, less hard-boiled instance of Kevin. Then he looks over to see the raven, and while he seems surprised enough at this manifestation, he regains his normal composure. "What's a Get's spirit friend doing here in our house?" he demands, half of Flint and half of Hraidar.
Flint takes another breath. "Making sure I don't leave," Flint says, quietly. "Norman-rhya thought it. Might help, and it does."
Kevin focuses back in on Flint. "What? Direct order of a senior garou not enough to keep you inside?" he asks, still on the verbal attack.
Flint swallows, shakes his head slowly. "Things happened," the teen repeats. "The vampire… the leech did some things. That fucked with, my head. With… it's… like a drug. Nieve-rhya did, a Cleansing, which. But, there's a… go out there, kill her, find it, kill the leech so I can," Flint lurches forward and off of the couch a few steps, barefoot and wholly in pyjamas, fighting himself for composure and looking past Kevin to the door. "I want it," he states, flat and detached.
"You… want the leech?" Kevin's eyes narrow as he regards Flint. "Tell me about this 'stuff' you say happened with it."
Flint shakes his head vehemently, turning away from the doorway and dropping to the floor, knees to his chest. "Please no? I. Want to kill it, make it pay, hurt, let her hurt… blood. There was, so much blood, I didn't know. I swear I didn't know." Hraidar abandons the silverware with a clatter at this outburst from Flint, making his way through the room in hops and jumps along the floor until the spirit is in front of the cliath, and then pecking at the boy's hand, insistently.
Kevin lifts one hand from the back of his chair. "Calm down," he orders firmly. "The leech is gonna be got. She is, like, the toastiest, man. If you can't do her yourself… and frankly an operation like this needs to be done with precision, and you're obviously emotionally, ah, involved… the other garou will do it. No safe haven for vampires, not in this city."
The teen's grip wraps around the bandages on his arms, despite the insistence from the spirit, who backs off after a moment when Kevin starts talking. "Blood," Flint repeats. "Wrong, stupid, wrong, want to go out there and kill her so that I can, so that. So that, hurt her, want it, want to…" There's a tremor that runs through Flint's body, and abruptly he gets up again, going not for the doorway, but over to the refrigerator, leaning against it. "Make the wanting, stop, make the. Ancestors won't shut up, won't." Flint ducks into the fridge, coming out with a beer.
Kevin remains on his chair, following Flint with his eyes over to the fridge and back again. "You're… troubled with ancestor spirits in your head?" he asks, not ungently. "Funny… I thought I was the only Glass Walker to get those…" He falls silent and looks pensive.
Flint looks at Kevin a moment, the beer clenched tightly in his hand, but the act of getting a bottle opener forgotten. "They're loud. They shout that, leeches are evil, that, how was I, so stupid, that. Gaia, won't let us, become them, that, how did I there was, so much blood," Flint says. "There was, so much blood, and, hers, apparently, and I. Want it, and the more they shout, the." He does remember the bottle opener eventually, taking bottle and beer back to the couch. "Yes," he adds, more generally. "You… hear ancestors?"
Kevin is silent for a long moment, and the look on his face suggests that he is having potential second thoughts about the revelation he's just made to Flint. But finally he nods. "Sometimes." He makes it sound like a shameful admission. "One dude in particular… not for a while thankfully. He used to make me do things. While I was asleep." A tic begins at the corner of Kevin's mouth, seemingly unnoticed by the ragabash.
Flint works for a moment on opening the bottle, then clutches it, too tightly, and nods, glancing at the Adren. "I… mostly, mine, they. Just, talk, and it's… never full thoughts, full. Sentences, but it's… distracting, but. Or, knowing things without, having ever. Learned them. Or, songs, or things." He takes a breath in, then attention focuses on the drink, and Flint tips it back, drinking about half the beer in one go, then coughing.
"Steady on," counsels Kevin. "Hm. Right. I guess things are starting to make some sense here. Kinda, sorta. Forgive me asking, but when you got brung in, did you have a kinfetch?"
Flint nods at the question, turning the bottle about in his hands. Hraidar moves towards the couch and pecks the bottle a few times, a glint in the spirit's eye, and then the raven spirit considers Kevin, and fades back across the gauntlet, apparently satisfied for now. Or going to go put more silverware around other places in the tenement. "Yes. It. Walker kinfetch," he says.
Kevin purses his lips briefly, then shrugs. "Oh well, so much for that theory," he says, as if it matters little to him. He watches the raven fade gently out. "You say he's a friend of Norman's, then? You hang out with the Get a lot?"
Flint shakes his head. "Just, with Norman at times and all," the boy responds, taking a slower drink this time. "He. He's come by to, hang out, even with…" Flint pauses, tenses to a point that's almost dangerous, then shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "With everything. And, helped, and such, and. I don't know, any of the other Get, aside from, being out at Edgewood? And, having to find Jamethon-rhya about, wood from the bawn, during, the. Making the memorial."
Kevin nods as he listens. "My dude was a Get. Is. The annoying one, I mean. There's others but they aren't such a … pain."
Flint nods, then finishes the remaining half of the beer in one go, more or less chugging it, which prompts another sputter and a bit of a face. For all that Flint might be drinking beer he doesn't seem to care for the taste. "I… mine. They're not really, clear enough, that. Mostly, I don't know. The. One of them. Is, is a galliard. And all the songs that, I get, that I remember? Kavi-rhya says they're really fairly old songs, though mostly, they're our tribe's songs. The other that I… is. Probably ahroun."
"You don't actually have to drink beer if you don't like the taste, you know," Kevin points out. "Goodness knows I don't. Do these spirits ever actually co-operate with you? Help you out? Or are they just a noise in your ear mentally?"
"It's there," Flint says of the first thing the ragabash points out. "It, it. It helps a little, makes. Want, less for a bit, makes it easier, makes, just want to not feel until, until it's over." He shakes his head, sets the bottle aside, and loops a hand around the bandages on his arm, pulls the blanket over and over his lap again. "I… if I try, really hard? Sometimes they'll help. They… helped me, be able to swim, when on. On my pack's totem quest. But mostly they're…" Composure goes to hell again and the teen continues, voice pitched more urgently, less calm. "Just noise. Always noise never shut up want to make it STOP!"
Kevin ponders Flint a couple of seconds more, then comes up with yet another question. "Did Kavi say how long you were to stay inside the building for?"
"Until it's dead. Or gone," Flint answers, tone flat again, detached. "Unless. I can, I can go out— with someone. With someone who, knows. What's happened, who will. Stop me if I. Try. To, go find it." There's a breath. "Norman and I, went to the park, a. A few times. And, the. Park umbra, because. Leeches have no, can't be in the umbra." He takes another breath. "I. The promise, Holland came to. Do it. It's… if I go, otherwise, it. Destroys the thing, I gave Kavi. That… it helps, me remember, and helps me… stay." There's almost the tone that Flint's reminding himself as much as telling Kevin.
Kevin's brow furrows a little as he tries to follow this disjointed conversation. "Holland?"
The cliath takes a breath and fidgets with the blanket until his arms are on top of it, and his grip around the bandages, probably aggravating whatever cuts are underneath, is white-knuckled, a betrayal of tension in the teen even with how small the moon is. "Altimari. He. He's, from a sept in Colorado Springs. Mountain Fortress? He… came with, with Terminus group. Philodox. Fostern. It. The promise was a, rite. Thing."
"Riiiight," Kevin muses. "See, I've sorta been thinking for a while about trying to go into the Umbra, to… whatever realm ancestor spirits hang out in… and trying to get my own head sorted out with 'em. Only it's a pretty mad scheme for one person. But if you were interested… It'd make both of us more effective fighters, more together, yeah?" The look he gives Flint is more a hopeful one from one colleague to another than a commanding one as from a senior garou to a junior one.
Flint glances at Kevin, and there's a furrow on Flint's brow that's interest. "There's a… realm, ancestor spirits hang out in?" he asks. "I. That'd be, yeah." There's agreement in the tone, as well as a nod. "I'd like, seeing. What could be, sorted out, and such."
There's noises out in the hallway as the elevator dings open and someone comes down the hall. Not fast. Not running. Just casual. As if they belong on the 5th floor—and had the proper codes and whatnot required to gain access. Nick soon appears in the doorway to the break room. He's got a 24-can "cube" of sodas in each hand. Code Red Mountain Dew in one hand (delight of gamers everywhere!) and Coke in the other. "Hey, guys. Anything exciting happening?" He waits in the doorway, testing the air to make sure he's not about to get mauled for simply entering the room at an inappropriate moment.
"Well, that's what I heard one time. From Elanora… She was this theurge we usedta have. Got eaten by a giant cockroach," Kevin says sadly. "You may remember her name, she'll be on the memorial boards." He turns as the door opens to admit Nick; Nick himself gets a slight frown, but the sodas he's carrying do not. "Oh! Uh, Mr Dalton. Well, does playing tom-fool pranks with the house cutlery count as exciting?" the ragabash responds. Seems his liking of answering a question with a question extends beyond garou and to kin. "And are those Code Reds I spy, man?"
Speaking of tom-fool pranks, at some point Hraidar's rematerialised in a corner of the kitchen, and has the knife that had been hanging from the lampshade in one foot and is chewing on it, though not, amazingly, bending it out of shape, at all. Nicodemus's arrival has the spirit vacating perch on the kitchen counter, and flying across the room to land near the game systems instead. It makes little tinny sounds, though, as if to emphasise Kevin's point, then skitters the knife across the floor to land at the ragabash's feet, head tilted in an entirely unreadable bird-expression.
Flint looks up, distracted for a moment by Hraidar's antics. "Hi, Mr. Dalton. Not. Much… anything on. On the dreams?"
"Code Red for the young and spry. Coke for the old geezers who can't hack that much sugar and caffeine anymore," Nick confirms and then elaborates. He's apparently determined that it's safe to come in and stock the fridge, so he crosses the room to do so. The over-sized raven spirit gets eyeballed warily, especially while it's carrying a knife around. "If I have one guess as to who's relocating the silverware, I'd guess that Old Nevermore over there's probably to blame. I've got about half a dozen dreams collected so far. Trying to chase down some people is like trying to herd cats. On speed. In the back of a cement mixer. I need to go nag a few more people, and I'm going to try and touch base with Jack in the next day or two—today if at all possible." He spots Flint's injuries. "Is the mummy look back in vogue with all the goth kids, or did you get mauled?"
"Who're you trying to chase down?" Kevin asks politely. "Can I help mebbe?"
There's an amused caw sort of croak from Hraidar, and then the spirit goes back to minding his own business. Flint looks up at the question, then to Kevin, and there's clear unease on the topic, before Flint pulls the blanket up to his shoulders again. "I'm fine," he snaps, though there's no particular volume to it, and Flint clearly knows that it's not the case. "I'll shift eventually. Not today."
"Nieve suggested that I help out with galliard information gathering for the tribe while Kavi and Flint are focusing on locating and putting down that vampire that's been causing trouble around town," Nick explains to Kevin. "Basically, I'm trying to make a compilation of the visions that the sept's garou seem to have had about a month ago. Stuff that seems to be related to bees. Or wasps. And possibly the bawn or caern. I could use some help, though. I'm a little nervous going to visit the Bone Gnawers at their library hangout as I'm sure I'd violate some protocol—or they'd want me to eat some moldy pizza or something and if I refused they'd get all cranky at me. And I don't like being around you folks when the moon gets fuller—for all the really obvious reasons." Nick turns from Kevin and eyes Flint consideringly after his sudden, snappy, and defensive-sounding statements. He seems to rapidly piece a few things together. "Hey, if you like feeling unnecessary pain, whatever floats your boat. Is that a garou thing no one told me about or…?" Flint can fill in those blanks—or not.
"Some garou…" murmurs Kevin. "Mentioning no tribes by name. AHEM-Get-AHEM."
Flint doesn't say anything, other than very quietly whispering something about it helping, but he seems to have taken a turn for the sullen and defensive right now.
Nicodemus doesn't push his interactions with Flint any further. Instead he focuses on Kevin as he finishes stocking up the fridge. "I'd appreciate it if you could ask any people you rub shoulders with about their visions—if they had one or more. So far I've talked to Flint, who said he had the same dream you had. And Nieve. Aaron. Harper—she's a new Fury ragabash cub out at Edgewood. And Sue. And speaking of Get of Fenris, I'll probably touch base with Emma fairly soon. We get together to do parkour when the moon is slimmer." He adds, after hesitating a moment. "She seems kind of nice. Nothing like I'd expect from the description I got of the typical Get of Fenris." He moves towards the exit, as if he's got places to go and people to see and work to do. "Any requests for the next grocery run?" he asks. Then, specifically: "Flint? How's the chocolate and fruit supply?"
Kevin shakes his head, politely. "If you don't mind me pinching a few of the Dew, I'm good. I can go out for my own groceries, unlike…" He gestures subtly in Flint's direction.
Flint bares his teeth at Kevin for a moment, though it seems to be frustration rather than aggression for the most part. "More chocolate'd be nice," he admits. "And maybe a few packs?" Brow furrows, tension evident. "Nieve-rhya brought me some, smokes a. Few weeks ago, but I'm. Mostly out. Anything's, fine, on that."
"Start 'em off young," Nick says, shaking his head slightly at Flint's request. "I'll see what I can do." A hand gestures from Kevin to the fridge. "I'm trying to help keep the Glass Walkers stocked up with supplies, so anything I bring is pretty much a free-for-all. Help yourself. Catch you two later." He points towards where the raven last was as he heads out the door. "And keep an eye on that critter."
"I will. Both eyes, as often as I can spare them," Kevin says with a knowing wink, which suggests he's quoting something.
There's another caw from Hraidar as the spirit stops investigating the game systems and moves back over towards Flint, and then towards the butter-knife at Kevin's feet. Which is nudged further towards the Walker ragabash.
Flint nods, and there's a spare, brief smile. "Thanks, Nick. I. That'd… it'd help." The cliath sighs, pulling the blanket a bit tighter. "Maybe I'll get another beer," he muses. "Wanna not feel."
Nicodemus fails to fully mask a mildly disapproving frown at Flint's words before exiting down the hallway. The elevator dings, opens, closes, and whisks him off to God knows where to do God knows what.
Kevin mutters something that sounds like "Temporary solution," as he stoops to pick the knife up.
Apparently, Hraidar considers this a game, because the moment that Kevin's gotten the knife up and off the floor, the raven spirit closes his beak on a free part of the piece of flatware. Flint looks at this, as he gets up, empty bottle grabbed and dumped in the recycling, before FLint rummages through the fridge. This time, the boy comes out with another beer, and a baggie with four slices of cold pizza, then belatedly looks over at Kevin. "Want me to, grab you a soda, or. Or anything?"
"One of them Reds," Kevin answers absently as he plays tug-of-war briefly with the bird, then abruptly lets go to see if the bird falls backwards with the sudden cessation of tension.
"'kay," Flint responds, coming back with plastic plate, cold pizza, beer and soda all balanced in time to see Hraidar taking several hops backwards and losing his grip on the butter knife for it to clatter to the floor. Not at all dissuaded, the knife is picked up and sent skittering towards Kevin's feet with a corvid toss of head.
Kevin traps the blade neatly under one foot, flips it up like a soccer player with a ball, and clatters it back toward the spirit. "He shoots! He scores! Goooooooal!"
Flint hands over the soda and flops back down on the couch, fidgeting with the bottle opener, and the teen hunches, almost defensive, hiding vulnerabilities that are far too open for his like at the moment. "I dunno," Flint admits, quietly, looking at Kevin a moment. "I. Rina said, I shouldn't, but it helps." Hraidar seems amused with the new game, though he takes the knife and moves off to chew on it contentedly for a while.
Kevin cracks open his soda. "Alcohol's … not good when it's used to cover up other shit," the ragabash says with a frank look at Flint. "Short term bandage, yeah, at a push. Long term, nuh uh."
Flint furrows his brows, setting the bottle, unopened, on the coffee table, and then pushing it away a bit further to emphasise the decision. "It all… I know what happened was. Was dumb, and. And fucked up, and… such. I was… I'd gone out, to get a knife at the store, 'cause. Mom— Rina—" the correction is hasty, a little, "took mine, but I was… not. And, then. The leech, she. Got off on, me hurting myself. Messed with my head and made it all, worse, and."
A dark look comes over Kevin's face. "They really are scum," he snaps. "Don't you worry, kid. We'll make it pay. And all its slimy leechy brothers and sisters too. I don't normally preach zero tolerance but sometimes… ya just hafta."
Flint eases a little, at the words, actually, and looks over and nods, before settling the plate of pizza in his lap, and looking at Kevin. "Could you… maybe, put that back away?" There's a glance to the beer that Flint's decided not to have, then. "Before I decide I. Need it."
Kevin strides quickly to the bottle and snatches it up before Flint can change his mind. "Proud of you," he says quietly. "I'll take this one off… someplace it won't look at you, okay?" And he turns toward the door. "Coke is better with pizza anyway," he adds.
Flint huffs, a smile when his teeth show this time, and nods. "Is," he agrees, volume fairly low. "I'll. Seeya, then?" There's a glance to Hraidar, and back at Kevin. "And um. There's probably, silverware in your bed again. That. I think that's Hraidar's, smug expression. At least, that's. What Norman said."
"Long as I know who's behind it," Kevin says as he exits, "I won't feel quite so mad…" And he departs on that note, beer in hand.
16 August, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (5% full).
Kevin enters the breakroom with some speed, and with something of a scowl on his face. One hand is clutching several items of cutlery.
Flint looks up from the couch, a book in his lap, half-covered with a blanket. The cliath's in short sleeves, houseclothes clearly, and fairly hastily pulls the blanket up a bit further, glancing at Kevin. "Hi, Kevin-rhya. How're you?"
"Flint," gruffs Kevin. "Do you know anything about this?" He brandishes his handful of silverware at the other roachwolf, like a weapon, or a challenge.
Flint glances at the silverware, and busies himself with covering the bandages on his arms with the blanket, then shrugs. "No," he responds, stifling a grin. "It was probably Hraidar. I. I'm sorry? Where was it?" A pause, and then Flint jerks his head at the ceiling fan. Which has a knife dangling from the short cord. "I. Found that, a bit ago, but I can't reach to. To, put it away."
Kevin looks up suspiciously at the dangling knife. "This isn't funny, you know!" he growls, despite the fact that Flint shows no signs of merriment. He throws his handful of cutlery at the sink. Some of it misses. "It was in my bed. And my desk drawer. And my shower." He turns and glowers at Flint. "And I assume Riley's still on the missing list?"
Flint shakes his head swiftly. "Riley's back. Um. Tuesday night? I. Kavi-rhya said, so." Flint points at the dangling knife, then, forgetting that he's hiding anything. "I tried to reach," he adds.
Kevin perks up very noticeably, at that. "She is? How is she? Hang on, I'll get this… " He looks around for something to stand on, then pulls a chair over. "If you need to get dressed or something, I promise not to look," he adds as he climbs onto it.
Flint shakes his head swiftly, retreating under the blanket anyway. "I. I didn't see her for, long. Okay, though, things given." Shifting on the couch further, and then Flint's brows furrow, and he winces as he shoves his hand between couch cushions to come out with a fork, offering it over towards Kevin, bandages more obvious on his arm now, though neat. "Found another," he adds.
Between his long shanks and the chair, Kevin manages to snag the knife easily enough. "You should have called me to do this," he remarks equably to Flint. "You look like you cut yourself trying to get it down, bo." He hops off the chair, takes Flint's fork, and consigns that and the knife to the sink along with the rest of the silverware. "How did Riley get back, do you know?"
Flint shakes his head from side to side, and glances down at his arm. "Uh, that. Was… earlier, not." Flint pauses. "I don't know. I just, I think, Rina found her? In the park."
Kevin gives Flint a long look, as though one or other of those statements causes suspicion in his mind. "Good old Rina," is all he says, though. "How's the family on the first floor doing, do you know?"
Again, the galliard shakes his head. "Haven't been down there. Too… can't go out, promised Kavi-rhya, so," is the additional explanation, and Flint fidgets idly with a mood ring that's on his left hand, index finger, then pulls the blanket over his arms again, tucking it up and over his shoulders, under his chin to curl into the corner of the couch. Kevin's gaze isn't met.
Glare, again, from Kevin. "What? What the hell's Kavi stopping you going out for?" He seems to view this as some kind of personal affront.
Flint shakes his head slowly. "No," Flint says, then nods towards the couch. "Um. Sit, please? It… Kavi-rhya's right. It. It's why, Hraidar's here, too. Because." And then the explanation ceases, waiting for the adren to take a seat or not.
Kevin sits on the chair he was until very recently standing on. He sits facing its back so he can fold his arms on the back of it, rest his head on them, and look at Flint. "Raider? Who's the raider and what's he raiding?"
"Hraidar," Flint corrects, glancing at an empty area of space for a long moment, and then over to the kitchen, where there is a raven-spirit that has materialised, perched on the counter with one of the pieces of silverware from the sink. Gling gling, as Hraidar plays with it in his beak. "Norman-rhya's friend. He… there's a vampire, Kevin-rhya. And, except, I didn't know that, it. She. Was a leech, when I. Met her. And stuff, happened, and."
Kevin looks up very sharply when Flint emphasises the strange H-R at the start of the name. For about three seconds he looks truly rattled, and somehow, younger, as if the name had knocked loose some shell built around the ragabash and allowed Flint briefly to see a younger, less hard-boiled instance of Kevin. Then he looks over to see the raven, and while he seems surprised enough at this manifestation, he regains his normal composure. "What's a Get's spirit friend doing here in our house?" he demands, half of Flint and half of Hraidar.
Flint takes another breath. "Making sure I don't leave," Flint says, quietly. "Norman-rhya thought it. Might help, and it does."
Kevin focuses back in on Flint. "What? Direct order of a senior garou not enough to keep you inside?" he asks, still on the verbal attack.
Flint swallows, shakes his head slowly. "Things happened," the teen repeats. "The vampire… the leech did some things. That fucked with, my head. With… it's… like a drug. Nieve-rhya did, a Cleansing, which. But, there's a… go out there, kill her, find it, kill the leech so I can," Flint lurches forward and off of the couch a few steps, barefoot and wholly in pyjamas, fighting himself for composure and looking past Kevin to the door. "I want it," he states, flat and detached.
"You… want the leech?" Kevin's eyes narrow as he regards Flint. "Tell me about this 'stuff' you say happened with it."
Flint shakes his head vehemently, turning away from the doorway and dropping to the floor, knees to his chest. "Please no? I. Want to kill it, make it pay, hurt, let her hurt… blood. There was, so much blood, I didn't know. I swear I didn't know." Hraidar abandons the silverware with a clatter at this outburst from Flint, making his way through the room in hops and jumps along the floor until the spirit is in front of the cliath, and then pecking at the boy's hand, insistently.
Kevin lifts one hand from the back of his chair. "Calm down," he orders firmly. "The leech is gonna be got. She is, like, the toastiest, man. If you can't do her yourself… and frankly an operation like this needs to be done with precision, and you're obviously emotionally, ah, involved… the other garou will do it. No safe haven for vampires, not in this city."
The teen's grip wraps around the bandages on his arms, despite the insistence from the spirit, who backs off after a moment when Kevin starts talking. "Blood," Flint repeats. "Wrong, stupid, wrong, want to go out there and kill her so that I can, so that. So that, hurt her, want it, want to…" There's a tremor that runs through Flint's body, and abruptly he gets up again, going not for the doorway, but over to the refrigerator, leaning against it. "Make the wanting, stop, make the. Ancestors won't shut up, won't." Flint ducks into the fridge, coming out with a beer.
Kevin remains on his chair, following Flint with his eyes over to the fridge and back again. "You're… troubled with ancestor spirits in your head?" he asks, not ungently. "Funny… I thought I was the only Glass Walker to get those…" He falls silent and looks pensive.
Flint looks at Kevin a moment, the beer clenched tightly in his hand, but the act of getting a bottle opener forgotten. "They're loud. They shout that, leeches are evil, that, how was I, so stupid, that. Gaia, won't let us, become them, that, how did I there was, so much blood," Flint says. "There was, so much blood, and, hers, apparently, and I. Want it, and the more they shout, the." He does remember the bottle opener eventually, taking bottle and beer back to the couch. "Yes," he adds, more generally. "You… hear ancestors?"
Kevin is silent for a long moment, and the look on his face suggests that he is having potential second thoughts about the revelation he's just made to Flint. But finally he nods. "Sometimes." He makes it sound like a shameful admission. "One dude in particular… not for a while thankfully. He used to make me do things. While I was asleep." A tic begins at the corner of Kevin's mouth, seemingly unnoticed by the ragabash.
Flint works for a moment on opening the bottle, then clutches it, too tightly, and nods, glancing at the Adren. "I… mostly, mine, they. Just, talk, and it's… never full thoughts, full. Sentences, but it's… distracting, but. Or, knowing things without, having ever. Learned them. Or, songs, or things." He takes a breath in, then attention focuses on the drink, and Flint tips it back, drinking about half the beer in one go, then coughing.
"Steady on," counsels Kevin. "Hm. Right. I guess things are starting to make some sense here. Kinda, sorta. Forgive me asking, but when you got brung in, did you have a kinfetch?"
Flint nods at the question, turning the bottle about in his hands. Hraidar moves towards the couch and pecks the bottle a few times, a glint in the spirit's eye, and then the raven spirit considers Kevin, and fades back across the gauntlet, apparently satisfied for now. Or going to go put more silverware around other places in the tenement. "Yes. It. Walker kinfetch," he says.
Kevin purses his lips briefly, then shrugs. "Oh well, so much for that theory," he says, as if it matters little to him. He watches the raven fade gently out. "You say he's a friend of Norman's, then? You hang out with the Get a lot?"
Flint shakes his head. "Just, with Norman at times and all," the boy responds, taking a slower drink this time. "He. He's come by to, hang out, even with…" Flint pauses, tenses to a point that's almost dangerous, then shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "With everything. And, helped, and such, and. I don't know, any of the other Get, aside from, being out at Edgewood? And, having to find Jamethon-rhya about, wood from the bawn, during, the. Making the memorial."
Kevin nods as he listens. "My dude was a Get. Is. The annoying one, I mean. There's others but they aren't such a … pain."
Flint nods, then finishes the remaining half of the beer in one go, more or less chugging it, which prompts another sputter and a bit of a face. For all that Flint might be drinking beer he doesn't seem to care for the taste. "I… mine. They're not really, clear enough, that. Mostly, I don't know. The. One of them. Is, is a galliard. And all the songs that, I get, that I remember? Kavi-rhya says they're really fairly old songs, though mostly, they're our tribe's songs. The other that I… is. Probably ahroun."
"You don't actually have to drink beer if you don't like the taste, you know," Kevin points out. "Goodness knows I don't. Do these spirits ever actually co-operate with you? Help you out? Or are they just a noise in your ear mentally?"
"It's there," Flint says of the first thing the ragabash points out. "It, it. It helps a little, makes. Want, less for a bit, makes it easier, makes, just want to not feel until, until it's over." He shakes his head, sets the bottle aside, and loops a hand around the bandages on his arm, pulls the blanket over and over his lap again. "I… if I try, really hard? Sometimes they'll help. They… helped me, be able to swim, when on. On my pack's totem quest. But mostly they're…" Composure goes to hell again and the teen continues, voice pitched more urgently, less calm. "Just noise. Always noise never shut up want to make it STOP!"
Kevin ponders Flint a couple of seconds more, then comes up with yet another question. "Did Kavi say how long you were to stay inside the building for?"
"Until it's dead. Or gone," Flint answers, tone flat again, detached. "Unless. I can, I can go out— with someone. With someone who, knows. What's happened, who will. Stop me if I. Try. To, go find it." There's a breath. "Norman and I, went to the park, a. A few times. And, the. Park umbra, because. Leeches have no, can't be in the umbra." He takes another breath. "I. The promise, Holland came to. Do it. It's… if I go, otherwise, it. Destroys the thing, I gave Kavi. That… it helps, me remember, and helps me… stay." There's almost the tone that Flint's reminding himself as much as telling Kevin.
Kevin's brow furrows a little as he tries to follow this disjointed conversation. "Holland?"
The cliath takes a breath and fidgets with the blanket until his arms are on top of it, and his grip around the bandages, probably aggravating whatever cuts are underneath, is white-knuckled, a betrayal of tension in the teen even with how small the moon is. "Altimari. He. He's, from a sept in Colorado Springs. Mountain Fortress? He… came with, with Terminus group. Philodox. Fostern. It. The promise was a, rite. Thing."
"Riiiight," Kevin muses. "See, I've sorta been thinking for a while about trying to go into the Umbra, to… whatever realm ancestor spirits hang out in… and trying to get my own head sorted out with 'em. Only it's a pretty mad scheme for one person. But if you were interested… It'd make both of us more effective fighters, more together, yeah?" The look he gives Flint is more a hopeful one from one colleague to another than a commanding one as from a senior garou to a junior one.
Flint glances at Kevin, and there's a furrow on Flint's brow that's interest. "There's a… realm, ancestor spirits hang out in?" he asks. "I. That'd be, yeah." There's agreement in the tone, as well as a nod. "I'd like, seeing. What could be, sorted out, and such."
There's noises out in the hallway as the elevator dings open and someone comes down the hall. Not fast. Not running. Just casual. As if they belong on the 5th floor—and had the proper codes and whatnot required to gain access. Nick soon appears in the doorway to the break room. He's got a 24-can "cube" of sodas in each hand. Code Red Mountain Dew in one hand (delight of gamers everywhere!) and Coke in the other. "Hey, guys. Anything exciting happening?" He waits in the doorway, testing the air to make sure he's not about to get mauled for simply entering the room at an inappropriate moment.
"Well, that's what I heard one time. From Elanora… She was this theurge we usedta have. Got eaten by a giant cockroach," Kevin says sadly. "You may remember her name, she'll be on the memorial boards." He turns as the door opens to admit Nick; Nick himself gets a slight frown, but the sodas he's carrying do not. "Oh! Uh, Mr Dalton. Well, does playing tom-fool pranks with the house cutlery count as exciting?" the ragabash responds. Seems his liking of answering a question with a question extends beyond garou and to kin. "And are those Code Reds I spy, man?"
Speaking of tom-fool pranks, at some point Hraidar's rematerialised in a corner of the kitchen, and has the knife that had been hanging from the lampshade in one foot and is chewing on it, though not, amazingly, bending it out of shape, at all. Nicodemus's arrival has the spirit vacating perch on the kitchen counter, and flying across the room to land near the game systems instead. It makes little tinny sounds, though, as if to emphasise Kevin's point, then skitters the knife across the floor to land at the ragabash's feet, head tilted in an entirely unreadable bird-expression.
Flint looks up, distracted for a moment by Hraidar's antics. "Hi, Mr. Dalton. Not. Much… anything on. On the dreams?"
"Code Red for the young and spry. Coke for the old geezers who can't hack that much sugar and caffeine anymore," Nick confirms and then elaborates. He's apparently determined that it's safe to come in and stock the fridge, so he crosses the room to do so. The over-sized raven spirit gets eyeballed warily, especially while it's carrying a knife around. "If I have one guess as to who's relocating the silverware, I'd guess that Old Nevermore over there's probably to blame. I've got about half a dozen dreams collected so far. Trying to chase down some people is like trying to herd cats. On speed. In the back of a cement mixer. I need to go nag a few more people, and I'm going to try and touch base with Jack in the next day or two—today if at all possible." He spots Flint's injuries. "Is the mummy look back in vogue with all the goth kids, or did you get mauled?"
"Who're you trying to chase down?" Kevin asks politely. "Can I help mebbe?"
There's an amused caw sort of croak from Hraidar, and then the spirit goes back to minding his own business. Flint looks up at the question, then to Kevin, and there's clear unease on the topic, before Flint pulls the blanket up to his shoulders again. "I'm fine," he snaps, though there's no particular volume to it, and Flint clearly knows that it's not the case. "I'll shift eventually. Not today."
"Nieve suggested that I help out with galliard information gathering for the tribe while Kavi and Flint are focusing on locating and putting down that vampire that's been causing trouble around town," Nick explains to Kevin. "Basically, I'm trying to make a compilation of the visions that the sept's garou seem to have had about a month ago. Stuff that seems to be related to bees. Or wasps. And possibly the bawn or caern. I could use some help, though. I'm a little nervous going to visit the Bone Gnawers at their library hangout as I'm sure I'd violate some protocol—or they'd want me to eat some moldy pizza or something and if I refused they'd get all cranky at me. And I don't like being around you folks when the moon gets fuller—for all the really obvious reasons." Nick turns from Kevin and eyes Flint consideringly after his sudden, snappy, and defensive-sounding statements. He seems to rapidly piece a few things together. "Hey, if you like feeling unnecessary pain, whatever floats your boat. Is that a garou thing no one told me about or…?" Flint can fill in those blanks—or not.
"Some garou…" murmurs Kevin. "Mentioning no tribes by name. AHEM-Get-AHEM."
Flint doesn't say anything, other than very quietly whispering something about it helping, but he seems to have taken a turn for the sullen and defensive right now.
Nicodemus doesn't push his interactions with Flint any further. Instead he focuses on Kevin as he finishes stocking up the fridge. "I'd appreciate it if you could ask any people you rub shoulders with about their visions—if they had one or more. So far I've talked to Flint, who said he had the same dream you had. And Nieve. Aaron. Harper—she's a new Fury ragabash cub out at Edgewood. And Sue. And speaking of Get of Fenris, I'll probably touch base with Emma fairly soon. We get together to do parkour when the moon is slimmer." He adds, after hesitating a moment. "She seems kind of nice. Nothing like I'd expect from the description I got of the typical Get of Fenris." He moves towards the exit, as if he's got places to go and people to see and work to do. "Any requests for the next grocery run?" he asks. Then, specifically: "Flint? How's the chocolate and fruit supply?"
Kevin shakes his head, politely. "If you don't mind me pinching a few of the Dew, I'm good. I can go out for my own groceries, unlike…" He gestures subtly in Flint's direction.
Flint bares his teeth at Kevin for a moment, though it seems to be frustration rather than aggression for the most part. "More chocolate'd be nice," he admits. "And maybe a few packs?" Brow furrows, tension evident. "Nieve-rhya brought me some, smokes a. Few weeks ago, but I'm. Mostly out. Anything's, fine, on that."
"Start 'em off young," Nick says, shaking his head slightly at Flint's request. "I'll see what I can do." A hand gestures from Kevin to the fridge. "I'm trying to help keep the Glass Walkers stocked up with supplies, so anything I bring is pretty much a free-for-all. Help yourself. Catch you two later." He points towards where the raven last was as he heads out the door. "And keep an eye on that critter."
"I will. Both eyes, as often as I can spare them," Kevin says with a knowing wink, which suggests he's quoting something.
There's another caw from Hraidar as the spirit stops investigating the game systems and moves back over towards Flint, and then towards the butter-knife at Kevin's feet. Which is nudged further towards the Walker ragabash.
Flint nods, and there's a spare, brief smile. "Thanks, Nick. I. That'd… it'd help." The cliath sighs, pulling the blanket a bit tighter. "Maybe I'll get another beer," he muses. "Wanna not feel."
Nicodemus fails to fully mask a mildly disapproving frown at Flint's words before exiting down the hallway. The elevator dings, opens, closes, and whisks him off to God knows where to do God knows what.
Kevin mutters something that sounds like "Temporary solution," as he stoops to pick the knife up.
Apparently, Hraidar considers this a game, because the moment that Kevin's gotten the knife up and off the floor, the raven spirit closes his beak on a free part of the piece of flatware. Flint looks at this, as he gets up, empty bottle grabbed and dumped in the recycling, before FLint rummages through the fridge. This time, the boy comes out with another beer, and a baggie with four slices of cold pizza, then belatedly looks over at Kevin. "Want me to, grab you a soda, or. Or anything?"
"One of them Reds," Kevin answers absently as he plays tug-of-war briefly with the bird, then abruptly lets go to see if the bird falls backwards with the sudden cessation of tension.
"'kay," Flint responds, coming back with plastic plate, cold pizza, beer and soda all balanced in time to see Hraidar taking several hops backwards and losing his grip on the butter knife for it to clatter to the floor. Not at all dissuaded, the knife is picked up and sent skittering towards Kevin's feet with a corvid toss of head.
Kevin traps the blade neatly under one foot, flips it up like a soccer player with a ball, and clatters it back toward the spirit. "He shoots! He scores! Goooooooal!"
Flint hands over the soda and flops back down on the couch, fidgeting with the bottle opener, and the teen hunches, almost defensive, hiding vulnerabilities that are far too open for his like at the moment. "I dunno," Flint admits, quietly, looking at Kevin a moment. "I. Rina said, I shouldn't, but it helps." Hraidar seems amused with the new game, though he takes the knife and moves off to chew on it contentedly for a while.
Kevin cracks open his soda. "Alcohol's … not good when it's used to cover up other shit," the ragabash says with a frank look at Flint. "Short term bandage, yeah, at a push. Long term, nuh uh."
Flint furrows his brows, setting the bottle, unopened, on the coffee table, and then pushing it away a bit further to emphasise the decision. "It all… I know what happened was. Was dumb, and. And fucked up, and… such. I was… I'd gone out, to get a knife at the store, 'cause. Mom— Rina—" the correction is hasty, a little, "took mine, but I was… not. And, then. The leech, she. Got off on, me hurting myself. Messed with my head and made it all, worse, and."
A dark look comes over Kevin's face. "They really are scum," he snaps. "Don't you worry, kid. We'll make it pay. And all its slimy leechy brothers and sisters too. I don't normally preach zero tolerance but sometimes… ya just hafta."
Flint eases a little, at the words, actually, and looks over and nods, before settling the plate of pizza in his lap, and looking at Kevin. "Could you… maybe, put that back away?" There's a glance to the beer that Flint's decided not to have, then. "Before I decide I. Need it."
Kevin strides quickly to the bottle and snatches it up before Flint can change his mind. "Proud of you," he says quietly. "I'll take this one off… someplace it won't look at you, okay?" And he turns toward the door. "Coke is better with pizza anyway," he adds.
Flint huffs, a smile when his teeth show this time, and nods. "Is," he agrees, volume fairly low. "I'll. Seeya, then?" There's a glance to Hraidar, and back at Kevin. "And um. There's probably, silverware in your bed again. That. I think that's Hraidar's, smug expression. At least, that's. What Norman said."
"Long as I know who's behind it," Kevin says as he exits, "I won't feel quite so mad…" And he departs on that note, beer in hand.