Flint Madden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flint_garou) wrote2012-10-10 04:42 pm
flint_garou) wrote2012-10-10 04:42 pm
With your heart, but not your head.
Maybe Cockroach will help you see the best path to take with your current problem. Maybe he won't. Either way, you'll get closer to him.
10 October, 2012
The moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (32% full).
Down the hallway, a door opens and shuts, and a bit later, Flint is visible in the doorway of the breakroom. He glances between Mouse, and Devon, and does a bit of a double-take at the other cliath's appearance.
Devon flinches slightly, and angles a look toward Mouse again. "I …went to find more of those plants," he begins, apprehensive. "Not to… not to destroy it, but… I was trying to map out where they were, and find out what they were doing Umbrally. It…" He pauses and glances toward Flint, teeth catching his lower lip between them before he begins again. "Just supposed to be an in and out, just a look. But I got attacked by a spirit. And trees. And the wind."
"On your own?" Mouse asks. Again there's the sense that she already suspects what the answer might be. Flint gets a glance, but only a brief one.
Flint gives the Walker elder a nod of acknowledgement, then moves over towards the kitchen. Devon isn't given too much more attention, as Flint goes about getting himself a soda and some chocolate.
"It wasn't going to be an expedition." Devon looks downward, brows drawing together in repentance. He edges aside, allowing Flint access to the foodstuffs. "It was just… going to be a step in, look, a step out."
Mouse shakes her head once. "You went alone," she emphasizes, "into a place you knew was hostile territory. Come here. Flint, I need a knife, a sharp, clean knife. Glabro, Devon, let's see how bad this is."
Devon opens his mouth to protest, and shoots a look at Flint. Not that he honestly expects to find help from the Galliard. Anxiety marks itself in his expression when he turns to the elder again, and it's with reluctance that he shifts up and approaches.
Flint looks between Devon and Mouse, and then nods to the Walker elder. "Yes, Mouse-rhya." About a minute later, Flint's produced a steel switchblade from his pocket, and washed it thoroughly in the sink. Chocolate and soda set aside, the galliard moves over to offer the knife to Mouse.
Devon is, scaled in Glabro as he is in Homid.
Mouse takes the knife with one hand, and gestures at Devon's arm with the other. This entire time, she's remained sitting in the chair, and she hasn't even sat up from the chair's back.
Flint just steps back after the knife has been taken, pursing his lips and looking away.
Devon bites down on his lower lip again as he extends an arm out to Mouse.
Mouse takes Devon's arm by the wrist, as firmly as she can (though the Ahroun may notice a faint trembling nonetheless). She brings the blade of the knife flat against the skin of his arm, then angles it very slightly, just enough to slice under the scales there and back up, nothing more. She does it fast, but then, it still hurts.
Flint returns to the kitchen, grabbing the soda and opening it.
Devon might notice Mouse's tremble, if not for his own nervousness. His gaze flicks between the knife and the elder, already flinching before the blade is even touched to him. He winces when the sharp edge is applied, teeth baring without aggression, and as soon as the scale is cut away, another grows in to take its place.
"Christ," Mouse swears. "Flint, wash this off, get me a ziplock bag." The Galliard is offered both knife and the scale she cut, before she looks back, narrow eyed, to Devon. "You've got a problem. What are you going to do?"
Flint nods, setting his soda aside again, and then takes what's offered, moving to the sink. The knife is just set aside for the moment, and the scale is washed off, bagged, returned to Mouse. "The hell'd you do," Flint mutters, evidently a not-a-question in Devon's direction before the galliard moves back to the sink to wash his knife off and put it back in his pocket.
"Well, you know about it now," Devon says, very quietly and without any sort of confidence behind it. He looks down at his arm, the scales that cover it. "And you're almost the first. Nieve knows too, and… and I'm hoping I can work with you both to fix it."
"Work with," Mouse repeats, her eyebrows raising. "Ah, yes, see, there's an interesting idea, isn't it? Work with your tribe to solve a problem. It might've saved you a fucking month of hardship." She offers the bagged scale back to Devon. "Frankly, I don't have any immediate ideas. Take this. Give it to Nieve. Tell her that I've said that you owe her chiminage for as long as she's working on this for you. Anything she needs, any help in her duties, you're there to assist her. Understood?"
Flint goes about what he's doing in the kitchen with only the tilt of his head towards his tribemates to indicate that he might be paying attention to them.
Devon couldn't look more injured if he'd been mauled, as Mouse's words Mouse's words hit him, though he lowers his gaze and tips his face downward. He takes the baggie with a nod that he understands. The plastic is folded carefully around the scale and tucked into a pocket while he backs away a few steps.
"Meanwhile," Mouse says, continuing, "I have a task for you. Your tribe's totem, your totem, is a totem of Wisdom. You went into this with your heart, but not your head. That's been an ongoing thing with you, Devon. You're Ahroun, it's understandable. You feel things more intensely than either of us can imagine. But. It's not an excuse. It has now cost you and your tribe members, possibly permanently. So here is what you're going to do. Every morning of every day, you are going to set aside one hour for meditation on what it means to be one of Cockroach's children, and what the importance of the Creed of Wisdom means to you, your life, the things you hold important, and how you conduct yourself as an Ahroun who, while not obligated to follow that creed in low ranks, still needs to heed it. Preferably, you'll spend this hour in the ritual room here, but if you can't, you'll find an appropriate spot to relax and center yourself. If you can't do it in the morning all the time, you'll do it in the afternoon, or the evening, but you will do it once a day, every day, for the foreseeable future. Maybe Cockroach will help you see the best path to take with your current problem. Maybe he won't. Either way, you'll get closer to him." Her eyes slant away from Devon, to the Galliard. "And you, Flint, will be doing the same, if at different times so you two aren't distracting each other. Clear?"
Flint turns, listening as Mouse speaks, and the galliard's brows furrow, but he simply nods. "Yes, Mouse-rhya."
"Yes, Mouse-rhya," Devon echoes Flint, far more quietly.
Mouse breathes deeply, eyes hooding. "Good. We've still got patrols to worry about, Devon. See if someone's willing to swap out their camera watching shifts for extra patrols."
Flint grabs his soda and the food he's gathered, and looks between Mouse, and Devon, and then the galliard turns towards the door to the breakroom. "I can take one or two. But. Not… not really, not with," Flint says, with a bit of a sigh. And then he turns towards leaving.
Devon nods and rubs the back of his head. A sidelong glance is cast after Flint, brows pinching together though he doesn't say what's on his mind. "Yes, ma'am," he says to Mouse, and instead of following after Flint, he gives the Galliard time to depart alone.
Mouse snaps, "Yes you can, because patrols double up to begin with." There's another deep breath after this, and for a moment, Mouse closes her eyes, working a tense muscle in her jaw. "Something that would help the both of you is to find something to focus on outside of your bubbles. The plant thing was a good idea, Devon. But if you continue doing that, take back-up."
Flint nods acknowledgement, pausing at the doorway, and then takes a breath. "Yes, Mouse-rhya," Flint says, and then moves towards leaving, again.
"It needs to be done," Devon says of the plants. "They're too close, very veil-risky. And carnivorous. I'll have back up, next time."
Mouse nods. She uses the plastic thing to turn herself back toward the computers, where activity resumes on the screens, even though her hands remain at her sides.
Devon glances sidelong toward Mouse, watching her for a moment or so longer. After a slow breath, a concerned frown, he takes himself out of the break room as well, leaving the elder to her work.
10 October, 2012
The moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (32% full).
Down the hallway, a door opens and shuts, and a bit later, Flint is visible in the doorway of the breakroom. He glances between Mouse, and Devon, and does a bit of a double-take at the other cliath's appearance.
Devon flinches slightly, and angles a look toward Mouse again. "I …went to find more of those plants," he begins, apprehensive. "Not to… not to destroy it, but… I was trying to map out where they were, and find out what they were doing Umbrally. It…" He pauses and glances toward Flint, teeth catching his lower lip between them before he begins again. "Just supposed to be an in and out, just a look. But I got attacked by a spirit. And trees. And the wind."
"On your own?" Mouse asks. Again there's the sense that she already suspects what the answer might be. Flint gets a glance, but only a brief one.
Flint gives the Walker elder a nod of acknowledgement, then moves over towards the kitchen. Devon isn't given too much more attention, as Flint goes about getting himself a soda and some chocolate.
"It wasn't going to be an expedition." Devon looks downward, brows drawing together in repentance. He edges aside, allowing Flint access to the foodstuffs. "It was just… going to be a step in, look, a step out."
Mouse shakes her head once. "You went alone," she emphasizes, "into a place you knew was hostile territory. Come here. Flint, I need a knife, a sharp, clean knife. Glabro, Devon, let's see how bad this is."
Devon opens his mouth to protest, and shoots a look at Flint. Not that he honestly expects to find help from the Galliard. Anxiety marks itself in his expression when he turns to the elder again, and it's with reluctance that he shifts up and approaches.
Flint looks between Devon and Mouse, and then nods to the Walker elder. "Yes, Mouse-rhya." About a minute later, Flint's produced a steel switchblade from his pocket, and washed it thoroughly in the sink. Chocolate and soda set aside, the galliard moves over to offer the knife to Mouse.
Devon is, scaled in Glabro as he is in Homid.
Mouse takes the knife with one hand, and gestures at Devon's arm with the other. This entire time, she's remained sitting in the chair, and she hasn't even sat up from the chair's back.
Flint just steps back after the knife has been taken, pursing his lips and looking away.
Devon bites down on his lower lip again as he extends an arm out to Mouse.
Mouse takes Devon's arm by the wrist, as firmly as she can (though the Ahroun may notice a faint trembling nonetheless). She brings the blade of the knife flat against the skin of his arm, then angles it very slightly, just enough to slice under the scales there and back up, nothing more. She does it fast, but then, it still hurts.
Flint returns to the kitchen, grabbing the soda and opening it.
Devon might notice Mouse's tremble, if not for his own nervousness. His gaze flicks between the knife and the elder, already flinching before the blade is even touched to him. He winces when the sharp edge is applied, teeth baring without aggression, and as soon as the scale is cut away, another grows in to take its place.
"Christ," Mouse swears. "Flint, wash this off, get me a ziplock bag." The Galliard is offered both knife and the scale she cut, before she looks back, narrow eyed, to Devon. "You've got a problem. What are you going to do?"
Flint nods, setting his soda aside again, and then takes what's offered, moving to the sink. The knife is just set aside for the moment, and the scale is washed off, bagged, returned to Mouse. "The hell'd you do," Flint mutters, evidently a not-a-question in Devon's direction before the galliard moves back to the sink to wash his knife off and put it back in his pocket.
"Well, you know about it now," Devon says, very quietly and without any sort of confidence behind it. He looks down at his arm, the scales that cover it. "And you're almost the first. Nieve knows too, and… and I'm hoping I can work with you both to fix it."
"Work with," Mouse repeats, her eyebrows raising. "Ah, yes, see, there's an interesting idea, isn't it? Work with your tribe to solve a problem. It might've saved you a fucking month of hardship." She offers the bagged scale back to Devon. "Frankly, I don't have any immediate ideas. Take this. Give it to Nieve. Tell her that I've said that you owe her chiminage for as long as she's working on this for you. Anything she needs, any help in her duties, you're there to assist her. Understood?"
Flint goes about what he's doing in the kitchen with only the tilt of his head towards his tribemates to indicate that he might be paying attention to them.
Devon couldn't look more injured if he'd been mauled, as Mouse's words Mouse's words hit him, though he lowers his gaze and tips his face downward. He takes the baggie with a nod that he understands. The plastic is folded carefully around the scale and tucked into a pocket while he backs away a few steps.
"Meanwhile," Mouse says, continuing, "I have a task for you. Your tribe's totem, your totem, is a totem of Wisdom. You went into this with your heart, but not your head. That's been an ongoing thing with you, Devon. You're Ahroun, it's understandable. You feel things more intensely than either of us can imagine. But. It's not an excuse. It has now cost you and your tribe members, possibly permanently. So here is what you're going to do. Every morning of every day, you are going to set aside one hour for meditation on what it means to be one of Cockroach's children, and what the importance of the Creed of Wisdom means to you, your life, the things you hold important, and how you conduct yourself as an Ahroun who, while not obligated to follow that creed in low ranks, still needs to heed it. Preferably, you'll spend this hour in the ritual room here, but if you can't, you'll find an appropriate spot to relax and center yourself. If you can't do it in the morning all the time, you'll do it in the afternoon, or the evening, but you will do it once a day, every day, for the foreseeable future. Maybe Cockroach will help you see the best path to take with your current problem. Maybe he won't. Either way, you'll get closer to him." Her eyes slant away from Devon, to the Galliard. "And you, Flint, will be doing the same, if at different times so you two aren't distracting each other. Clear?"
Flint turns, listening as Mouse speaks, and the galliard's brows furrow, but he simply nods. "Yes, Mouse-rhya."
"Yes, Mouse-rhya," Devon echoes Flint, far more quietly.
Mouse breathes deeply, eyes hooding. "Good. We've still got patrols to worry about, Devon. See if someone's willing to swap out their camera watching shifts for extra patrols."
Flint grabs his soda and the food he's gathered, and looks between Mouse, and Devon, and then the galliard turns towards the door to the breakroom. "I can take one or two. But. Not… not really, not with," Flint says, with a bit of a sigh. And then he turns towards leaving.
Devon nods and rubs the back of his head. A sidelong glance is cast after Flint, brows pinching together though he doesn't say what's on his mind. "Yes, ma'am," he says to Mouse, and instead of following after Flint, he gives the Galliard time to depart alone.
Mouse snaps, "Yes you can, because patrols double up to begin with." There's another deep breath after this, and for a moment, Mouse closes her eyes, working a tense muscle in her jaw. "Something that would help the both of you is to find something to focus on outside of your bubbles. The plant thing was a good idea, Devon. But if you continue doing that, take back-up."
Flint nods acknowledgement, pausing at the doorway, and then takes a breath. "Yes, Mouse-rhya," Flint says, and then moves towards leaving, again.
"It needs to be done," Devon says of the plants. "They're too close, very veil-risky. And carnivorous. I'll have back up, next time."
Mouse nods. She uses the plastic thing to turn herself back toward the computers, where activity resumes on the screens, even though her hands remain at her sides.
Devon glances sidelong toward Mouse, watching her for a moment or so longer. After a slow breath, a concerned frown, he takes himself out of the break room as well, leaving the elder to her work.