Big damn hero.
Friday, 16 November 2012 11:21![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouAnything interesting? Anything not interesting?
16 November, 2012
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (17% full).
It's a nice sunny day. For a run. One particular Glass Walker lopes through the woods towards Edgewood in lupus, without any particular hurry to get towards where he's going, but Requiem is close enough now that he can hear the vague sounds from the Edgewood house in the distance.
One of the vague sounds coming from Edgewood is fairly odd, or out of place, from the usual sounds that come from there. Sure, fighting of Garou, howling of wolves and the like do have their own certain charm, but when vaguely spanish-sounding Guitar music mixes in, those in the know tend to sit up and take notice. Sitting on the porch in a patch of sun is a woman with a handmade acoustic guitar over one knee, a cowboy hat on her head, playing music. Her fingers move slowly and lazily over the strings, looking like she'll almost miss a note here and there as she plays, but hitting them spot on. Years of practice'll do that for a girl.
Curiosity sparks the young galliard's interest, and he outright pauses, head tilting to one side before he picks up the pace until he arrives at the treeline, at which point he simply looks, trying to determine if he recognises the player. When he doesn't, the wolf disappears back into the trees a few feet, enough cover to shift, and then Flint reemerges from the woods a bit further from where he was, heading across the meadow and towards the porch. "You're good," the teen remarks, quietly, possibly not loud enough to even be heard over the guitar given he hasn't reached the porch yet.
Bitter-Draught limps slowly, painfully, and wearily through the woods near the road up to the house, his ears pricked forward at the distant guitar. His wolf form's only slightly more mobile than his birth form, but a slight advantage is better than none at all. He allows himself a flop to the ground just within the treeline, taking a few moments to rest as he listens, and smells, in the direction of the house.
"Thanks." The woman obviously heard him, even though the music doesn't stop, instead shifting to a lower tempo song that, on hearing a few notes, is the acoustic bit from the Gorillaz' 'Feel Good, Inc.' She continues to play as the galliard approaches, fingers stilling when he reaches easily conversational distance, the notes fading into the distance, before she releases the neck, letting the guitar hang by it's strap. "I'm Charlene Schweitzer. Song of Vengeance. Fostern Galliard of the Black Furies. Home after a long journey. Who…" She tips her hat up. "Are you?"
Flint's attention is drawn briefly back to the woods, but there's a shrug as attention goes back to Charlene. "Flint," comes the response, slowly, with a breath following it. "Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children." Another pause, as if the youth is collecting himself enough to speak, but the words are, at least, fluid. "Cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers, child of Merlin and beta of Unfettered."
Sewall shifts back into human form, shivering as the wind cuts through his clothes—another advantage of wolf form; it may be sunny today, but it's certainly not warm. Grasping his cane, the Fang heaves himself to his feet and starts the arduous process of limping up toward the porch.
Charlene is not normally such a bitch, even though she is one of the Black Furies. If it's a face she doesn't recognize in the middle of Garou Territory, she's careful with introductions. Just in case. "Good to meet you, Flint." She actually smiles slightly, setting her guitar aside, the slight tension of two beasts greeting each other fading as she does. "You probably don't know be, but I was here about a year ago… KL and the Furies put me through my rite, and afterwards, I did a little wandering but…" She shrugs. "Here I am, back in the middle of things again."
Flint's attention does swing back towards the woods when Sewall emerges, and then Flint leans against one edge of the porch, a nod and silence the response that the fostern Galliard gets for a moment, followed by, "Good to meet you too. I. I-um." Another pause, with a distinct scowl towards the ground, and then Flint says. "I only got here in January, so. Welcome back… has… anyone checked you and all that?"
"Not yet, but if you'd like to, you're more than welcome to. I'm as pure as the driven snow, as far as a Garou can be." Charlene chuckles. "I'm pretty sure that someone would have noticed in the week I was here if I were dripping ichor or something."
Flint shrugs his shoulders, and there's a long moment where he looks distant, mutters something inaudibly, then he looks back up towards Charlene. "Not precisely my skill set," comes the response, clearly not too bothered by the fact. "Anyway."
Sewall stops right within speaking range, leaning heavily on his cane as he peers up at the two on the porch. "Excuse me," he says stiffly. "Is this Edgewood?"
"Might be, mister." Charlene inclines her head toward the man, rising to her feet, setting her guitar aside before leaning on the railing surrounding the porch. "Might I get your name, please, just so I c'n make sure you're in the right place?"
Flint turns attention wholly to Sewall—for a brief moment—and then simply in the Fang's direction, but the Walker seems perfectly content to let the other Galliard handle this, giving merely a brief and slightly curt nod.
Sewall straightens minutely, with a grimace, tipping his chin up a bit. "My name," he says, "is Sewall Cecil Gagnan." He pronounces the first name 'soo-uhl', the second 'sess-ill'. "I was a student here several years ago." Slight but definite emphasis on 'student'. "Emma gave me directions. Mouse can vouch for me."
Charlene sniffs the air slightly and cracks a smile. Mentioning Mouse along with something else that happened off camera seems to have put the Black Fury at ease. Name dropping Mouse probably helped a little too. "If you're one of Mouse's people, I'm outnumbered here, two to one."
Flint tilts his head to one side and leans on the porch, with a brief grimace at the mention of the Walker Elder, before pacing away from the others slightly.
Sewall limps closer and, eventually, labors his way up the steps onto the porch. He might not yet be twenty, but he moves like he's four times that. That he's gotten himself out this far at all is an accomplishment. His free hand shakes slightly as he reaches up to push his glasses up his nose with a middle finger. "I'm not one of her people per se, though I do respect her." He glances at Flint, including him as he finishes his introduction. "I'm also called Drinks-the-Bitter-Draught. Cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs."
Charlene makes a place for him to sit—her scars don't hurt nearly as bad as Sewall's seem to, and there's nothing like being polite to someone who carries such a burden. "I meant as a Glass Walker, not anything more than that." She gestures to the now-vacated chair where she was sitting. "Have a seat if you'd like, Sewall, and talk a while. Flint there and I were just about to have a conversation. I try and touch bases with galliards as much as I can, to find out what's going on in the Sept. I've been gone for so long, I'm not used to being out of the loop as much as I am."
Flint doesn't get much time for whatever internal argument had been going on, merely shaking his head in the direction away from the other two Garou before turning back to them, and nods. "Flint. Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children. Cliath galliard of. O-of the Glass Walkers. Child of Merlin and beta of Unfettered." His introduction is given again, a slight bit distractedly, and then Flint looks back to Charlene. "Yeah. That's… most of why I'm out at Edgewood, today. Try and touch base, keep up with. With everything that."
Sewall takes the proffered seat with a murmured thanks and a partially repressed sigh of relief. "I've only been back a few days, myself. I've been told about the current situation with the Bawn, of course, and that my own tribe's numbers are rather few, these days. Not much else."
"It seems Gaia works in her own way, moving her people where they are needed most. I was told of a cub that was held by a medical research lab, and that cub was now safe with Garou. That story made it all the way down to where I was in Texas so I came back to see if I could be any help up here. Besides, this is the only home I've ever known." Charlene takes a seat in one of the other seats, leaning over to look at Flint. "can you tell me about what's going on at the bawn? So far the only word I've gotten is 'the Wyld's gotten loose.' Does that mean we can't even use the caern? Is the caern even awake anymore?"
Flint furrows his brows a moment and nods, settling to sit on the edge of the porch with a faint wince of his own. "Ex?" Flint queries of Charlene for a moment, and then takes a breath. "Can. Caern isn't awake. No, can't get there, though. The. The Wyld, near the Caern, apparently's not quite so bad, but, getting there and the edges of the Bawn, are… they're in the way. I. I haven't talked to, anyone who. Was. The scouting party." There's a brief moment of evident frustration and then Flint actually centres himself, sits up a little straighter, and watches some invisible point in the air. "Mouse-rhya and everyone put the Caern to, to sleep. At moot, in February I think. I was a cub then, so." There's another breath taken, before Flint continues. "Something happened at Rite of the Winter Winds, before. Before I was taken, that people think has to do with all the Wyld. And people've been having dreams, occasionally, too." This seems to temporarily exhaust Flint's supply of words, and he sighs quietly.
Sewall listens to Flint without the slightest sign of impatience, though the Fang's gaze is piercingly intent. "The Rite of the Winter Winds," he says thoughtfully, once the Walker is finished speaking. "That's a ritual for the winter solstice. Which would put it at about the time of the worldwide increase in rank, if I'm not mistaken."
"You'll have to tell me, since I was in the middle of Texas when that happened. Sounds about right, though." Charlene pauses for a moment, thinking. "Can't say I've had any dreams since getting back here other than the usual running in the field sort of dreams, but if Gaia chooses me to get one, I'm sure I will." She smiles softly. "I'm just glad to be back. Edgewood is still the same even though the faces have changed."
Flint wraps his arms around his chest and nods at Sewall's words. "I've got some drawings, of. Some of the dreams, back at the Tenement. Can tell you about them, sure. Though most of them are just weird." He speaks slowly, carefully, and then takes another breath, ticking things off on one hand during the silence. "Oh, and. From what I heard and such yesterday… apparently, Elliot-rhya is Sept Alpha now. Don't know precisely what happened, but." Flint doesn't sound at all displeased by this. "Aside from that, I've. Been, kind of out of the loop myself. Anything, interesting out here in the past week?" The question's addressed to Charlene, mostly.
Sewall's eyebrows go up at the news about Elliot, though his expression goes quickly enough from surprise to calculating. He says nothing, letting Charlene reply while he considers this new piece of data.
"When I left, Sept Alpha was Kaz and, as far as I heard since then, Silvertip. figured he was too mean to give up any sort of leadership position without his head being removed." Charlene worries her lower lip for a moment, lifting her thumb up to tug at the nail with her teeth—a nervous habit. "Really nothing interesting. Three cubs at the fury house, one of which is that Ex person you're talking about. She's actually the reason I came back up here—a Corax… were-raven, basically, showed up in Texas and told me about her so I figured coming up here was as good of a place as any since, well, this is the only real home I've had. That Elliott thing, though… be a story we'll need to find out, for sure."
Flint shifts and swings his legs idly from the porch, wrapping arms around himself a little tighter, and there's a nod. A brief scowl of distaste happens at the mention of Ex, as well. "Mmhm. Just, trying to figure out what news I, need to know to bring back to the city," the Walker states, glancing up at Charlene once more. "Anything not interesting?"
"Only thing came from the city. Apparently there's a vampire heading up a gang there and some Shadow Lord… only met him recently… is infiltrating it. So, in case you're in cahoots with a vampire gang, don't tell 'em we're on to 'em, okay?" Charlene smirks at Flint, leaning back in her chair slightly before reaching for her guitar to start a soft song.
Sewall shifts his weight in the manner of one who is never quite comfortable, then adjusts his glasses again. "He ought to take care. I recall hearing a story about a Shadow Lord who tried to infiltrate a group of vampires, back when I was a cub here. It didn't go well for him."
At the word 'vampire', Flint goes very, very suddenly on edge and tense, looking up towards Charlene, half like he simply wants to bolt. Clearly, this is news to him. "Vampire gang?" the teen questions, voice almost devoid of level. "I'm going to kill Ky and Lex…" is muttered, without any real threat of actual violence in the words. "Vampire gang. Define 'infiltrating'."
"Well, whoever that Shadow Lord was, I think that, if he's still around, he needs to talk to this guy and get him to not do this. I already warned him, as best I could, to not get his tail into the fire too deep before he can't get it out." Charlene taps her nose twice at Flint's muttering. "That's his name, I think. Yeah. Ky. Shadow lord, kind of talks to himself like he's crazy, and not the Past Life sort of thing?"
Sewall glances sidelong at Charlene in regards to her last comment, then turns to Flint. "I take it you know this person?"
Flint doesn't quite get up from his perch on the edge of the porch, but he looks like he wants to, wants to be anywhere but having this conversation. Speak of talking to ones' self like they're crazy, Flint mutters inaudibly for a good minute, ending with a barely intelligible, 'I know!' and then looks up at Charlene. "Just the Past Life sort of thing," he says—of himself, or of Ky, it's hard to tell—tone still almost dead flat with some amount of effort. Sewall gets another curt nod as Flint abruptly stands. "Yes."
Charlene blinks, looking to Sewall, then to Flint, the realization dawning on her that this was not shared through the pack. "Fuckin' hell… lone wolf tryin' to be the big damn hero."
Pack> Flint reaches out over the packlink, tentatively. "Ky?" comes the question.
Pack> Ky is somewhat distracted, but does manage to pull his focus a little more tightly in. "Yeah?"
Sewall compresses his lips into a grimace, then shakes his head. "At least now you know," he says.
Flint paces, just a few steps back and forth, and shakes his head at Charlene. "That's. I. I… that's not it, at all," he says. The Glass Walker is jittery, hands looping about opposite wrists, teeth bared at nothing in particular.
Pack> Flint mentally sighs, and then asks. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Pack> Ky says, "Tell you what?"
Pack> Flint says, "The gang."
"Sit down." Almost a growl from the Fury at the pacing of Flint. "Sit down and say what's buggin' you. Don't just pace like a caged animal. You don't know me from adam, but I'm tellin' you that you need to talk this out before you blow."
Pack> Ky says, "For a couple of reasons. First and foremost I was looking out for your wellbeing. I didn't want you falling into the pit you were in before. Second, I have to maintain cover if we're going to even find out where the leech is, and I don't know for sure if there's only one or if there are more."
Pack> Flint does seem mollified from being sharp, at this response, and gives a slight mental affirmative. "'kay. But if…" There's a pause. "Look. I'm here for you, too, okay? It's hard, and it sucks, and you can't get through it alone, but. Gaia won't let us, be like them, even if you…"
Sewall says nothing, though he watches Flint quite intently. There's no sign of sympathy there, however, just that aloof, calculating interest.
Pack> Ky doesn't respond for a moment or so, giving the impression of an odd look directed at Flint. Then, "I'm fine. Honest, Flint. Just got a lot on my mind. And anyway, I can show up and prove it to you that everything's good."
Flint paces a moment longer after the order, but then sits, mechanically, on the edge of the porch. More like obedience to the innate rank structure than like the young galliard actually wants to sit down, and he steadies himself through several deep breaths. One hand comes up in a gesture of pause to the other two Garou present, for a long moment.
Pack> Flint says, "If you want. I… don't think Charlene-rhya likes you very much. I'll catch you later?"
Then Flint's attention returns to the here and now, and he shakes his head. "I'm fine," he offers to Charlene, though the tone is the same flat and controlled tone as before.
"Uh-huh." Mechanically, Charlene's fingers start to move over the strings of her guitar, a soft melody rising to surround the trio. Perhaps it's her way of trying to calm things down, or perhaps it's just a nervous tic, but as she plays, she leans back, relaxing slightly. "I don't think I need to say this, but take care of this. This is Pack business. It doesn't need to be Sept business, 'cause if it gets that far, it won't be pretty. At all."
"I think, Charlene-rhya," says Sewall, very mildly, "that Flint-yuf is planning to do just that." He raises eyebrows at the other Cliath, looking perhaps for confirmation.
Flint nods vaguely, though he doesn't seem to calm down. "It is. As is why, I." That's shaken off with a brief shrug of his shoulders. "I'm fine," he repeats, perhaps as much to convince himself. "Thanks for, for the. Concern."
Charlene gives a look to Sewall, as if to say 'he's not listening' without saying as much, fingers still moving over the strings of her guitar. "Get him out, Flint. If you can't… if your pack can't, don't follow him into the lion's den. If whoever this leech is has a hook in Ky, rip that fucker out and burn it in the noonday sun. Together we're stronger than we are alone. You know that. Be the strength for your pack."
Sewall's 'hmmmm' sounds decidedly neutral. Then, with a grimace, he plants his cane and levers himself back to his feet. "If you two don't mind, I'm going to go inside for a bit and warm up."
Flint nods again. "Gaia watch," Flint offers to the Silver Fang, and then looks at Charlene. "It ain't the only one," is all that the teen says, before shifting back down to lupus and pacing off, uneasily, into the meadow.
"Oh goddammit…" Charlene murmurs to herself, leaning back in her chair, the music stopping as Sewall wanders inside. "Fire's nice and hot, Sewall… it'll do good for your aches. Trust me. I'm just going to stay out here in the quiet and think.
Sewall pauses long enough to watch Flint head off; the Fang's expression is distant and difficult to read apart from the tightness in his jaw. He nods stiffly to the Fury and limps inside.
Requiem makes his way to the treeline fairly quickly once he's in lupus, seemingly eager to be away from company.
16 November, 2012
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (17% full).
It's a nice sunny day. For a run. One particular Glass Walker lopes through the woods towards Edgewood in lupus, without any particular hurry to get towards where he's going, but Requiem is close enough now that he can hear the vague sounds from the Edgewood house in the distance.
One of the vague sounds coming from Edgewood is fairly odd, or out of place, from the usual sounds that come from there. Sure, fighting of Garou, howling of wolves and the like do have their own certain charm, but when vaguely spanish-sounding Guitar music mixes in, those in the know tend to sit up and take notice. Sitting on the porch in a patch of sun is a woman with a handmade acoustic guitar over one knee, a cowboy hat on her head, playing music. Her fingers move slowly and lazily over the strings, looking like she'll almost miss a note here and there as she plays, but hitting them spot on. Years of practice'll do that for a girl.
Curiosity sparks the young galliard's interest, and he outright pauses, head tilting to one side before he picks up the pace until he arrives at the treeline, at which point he simply looks, trying to determine if he recognises the player. When he doesn't, the wolf disappears back into the trees a few feet, enough cover to shift, and then Flint reemerges from the woods a bit further from where he was, heading across the meadow and towards the porch. "You're good," the teen remarks, quietly, possibly not loud enough to even be heard over the guitar given he hasn't reached the porch yet.
Bitter-Draught limps slowly, painfully, and wearily through the woods near the road up to the house, his ears pricked forward at the distant guitar. His wolf form's only slightly more mobile than his birth form, but a slight advantage is better than none at all. He allows himself a flop to the ground just within the treeline, taking a few moments to rest as he listens, and smells, in the direction of the house.
"Thanks." The woman obviously heard him, even though the music doesn't stop, instead shifting to a lower tempo song that, on hearing a few notes, is the acoustic bit from the Gorillaz' 'Feel Good, Inc.' She continues to play as the galliard approaches, fingers stilling when he reaches easily conversational distance, the notes fading into the distance, before she releases the neck, letting the guitar hang by it's strap. "I'm Charlene Schweitzer. Song of Vengeance. Fostern Galliard of the Black Furies. Home after a long journey. Who…" She tips her hat up. "Are you?"
Flint's attention is drawn briefly back to the woods, but there's a shrug as attention goes back to Charlene. "Flint," comes the response, slowly, with a breath following it. "Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children." Another pause, as if the youth is collecting himself enough to speak, but the words are, at least, fluid. "Cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers, child of Merlin and beta of Unfettered."
Sewall shifts back into human form, shivering as the wind cuts through his clothes—another advantage of wolf form; it may be sunny today, but it's certainly not warm. Grasping his cane, the Fang heaves himself to his feet and starts the arduous process of limping up toward the porch.
Charlene is not normally such a bitch, even though she is one of the Black Furies. If it's a face she doesn't recognize in the middle of Garou Territory, she's careful with introductions. Just in case. "Good to meet you, Flint." She actually smiles slightly, setting her guitar aside, the slight tension of two beasts greeting each other fading as she does. "You probably don't know be, but I was here about a year ago… KL and the Furies put me through my rite, and afterwards, I did a little wandering but…" She shrugs. "Here I am, back in the middle of things again."
Flint's attention does swing back towards the woods when Sewall emerges, and then Flint leans against one edge of the porch, a nod and silence the response that the fostern Galliard gets for a moment, followed by, "Good to meet you too. I. I-um." Another pause, with a distinct scowl towards the ground, and then Flint says. "I only got here in January, so. Welcome back… has… anyone checked you and all that?"
"Not yet, but if you'd like to, you're more than welcome to. I'm as pure as the driven snow, as far as a Garou can be." Charlene chuckles. "I'm pretty sure that someone would have noticed in the week I was here if I were dripping ichor or something."
Flint shrugs his shoulders, and there's a long moment where he looks distant, mutters something inaudibly, then he looks back up towards Charlene. "Not precisely my skill set," comes the response, clearly not too bothered by the fact. "Anyway."
Sewall stops right within speaking range, leaning heavily on his cane as he peers up at the two on the porch. "Excuse me," he says stiffly. "Is this Edgewood?"
"Might be, mister." Charlene inclines her head toward the man, rising to her feet, setting her guitar aside before leaning on the railing surrounding the porch. "Might I get your name, please, just so I c'n make sure you're in the right place?"
Flint turns attention wholly to Sewall—for a brief moment—and then simply in the Fang's direction, but the Walker seems perfectly content to let the other Galliard handle this, giving merely a brief and slightly curt nod.
Sewall straightens minutely, with a grimace, tipping his chin up a bit. "My name," he says, "is Sewall Cecil Gagnan." He pronounces the first name 'soo-uhl', the second 'sess-ill'. "I was a student here several years ago." Slight but definite emphasis on 'student'. "Emma gave me directions. Mouse can vouch for me."
Charlene sniffs the air slightly and cracks a smile. Mentioning Mouse along with something else that happened off camera seems to have put the Black Fury at ease. Name dropping Mouse probably helped a little too. "If you're one of Mouse's people, I'm outnumbered here, two to one."
Flint tilts his head to one side and leans on the porch, with a brief grimace at the mention of the Walker Elder, before pacing away from the others slightly.
Sewall limps closer and, eventually, labors his way up the steps onto the porch. He might not yet be twenty, but he moves like he's four times that. That he's gotten himself out this far at all is an accomplishment. His free hand shakes slightly as he reaches up to push his glasses up his nose with a middle finger. "I'm not one of her people per se, though I do respect her." He glances at Flint, including him as he finishes his introduction. "I'm also called Drinks-the-Bitter-Draught. Cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs."
Charlene makes a place for him to sit—her scars don't hurt nearly as bad as Sewall's seem to, and there's nothing like being polite to someone who carries such a burden. "I meant as a Glass Walker, not anything more than that." She gestures to the now-vacated chair where she was sitting. "Have a seat if you'd like, Sewall, and talk a while. Flint there and I were just about to have a conversation. I try and touch bases with galliards as much as I can, to find out what's going on in the Sept. I've been gone for so long, I'm not used to being out of the loop as much as I am."
Flint doesn't get much time for whatever internal argument had been going on, merely shaking his head in the direction away from the other two Garou before turning back to them, and nods. "Flint. Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children. Cliath galliard of. O-of the Glass Walkers. Child of Merlin and beta of Unfettered." His introduction is given again, a slight bit distractedly, and then Flint looks back to Charlene. "Yeah. That's… most of why I'm out at Edgewood, today. Try and touch base, keep up with. With everything that."
Sewall takes the proffered seat with a murmured thanks and a partially repressed sigh of relief. "I've only been back a few days, myself. I've been told about the current situation with the Bawn, of course, and that my own tribe's numbers are rather few, these days. Not much else."
"It seems Gaia works in her own way, moving her people where they are needed most. I was told of a cub that was held by a medical research lab, and that cub was now safe with Garou. That story made it all the way down to where I was in Texas so I came back to see if I could be any help up here. Besides, this is the only home I've ever known." Charlene takes a seat in one of the other seats, leaning over to look at Flint. "can you tell me about what's going on at the bawn? So far the only word I've gotten is 'the Wyld's gotten loose.' Does that mean we can't even use the caern? Is the caern even awake anymore?"
Flint furrows his brows a moment and nods, settling to sit on the edge of the porch with a faint wince of his own. "Ex?" Flint queries of Charlene for a moment, and then takes a breath. "Can. Caern isn't awake. No, can't get there, though. The. The Wyld, near the Caern, apparently's not quite so bad, but, getting there and the edges of the Bawn, are… they're in the way. I. I haven't talked to, anyone who. Was. The scouting party." There's a brief moment of evident frustration and then Flint actually centres himself, sits up a little straighter, and watches some invisible point in the air. "Mouse-rhya and everyone put the Caern to, to sleep. At moot, in February I think. I was a cub then, so." There's another breath taken, before Flint continues. "Something happened at Rite of the Winter Winds, before. Before I was taken, that people think has to do with all the Wyld. And people've been having dreams, occasionally, too." This seems to temporarily exhaust Flint's supply of words, and he sighs quietly.
Sewall listens to Flint without the slightest sign of impatience, though the Fang's gaze is piercingly intent. "The Rite of the Winter Winds," he says thoughtfully, once the Walker is finished speaking. "That's a ritual for the winter solstice. Which would put it at about the time of the worldwide increase in rank, if I'm not mistaken."
"You'll have to tell me, since I was in the middle of Texas when that happened. Sounds about right, though." Charlene pauses for a moment, thinking. "Can't say I've had any dreams since getting back here other than the usual running in the field sort of dreams, but if Gaia chooses me to get one, I'm sure I will." She smiles softly. "I'm just glad to be back. Edgewood is still the same even though the faces have changed."
Flint wraps his arms around his chest and nods at Sewall's words. "I've got some drawings, of. Some of the dreams, back at the Tenement. Can tell you about them, sure. Though most of them are just weird." He speaks slowly, carefully, and then takes another breath, ticking things off on one hand during the silence. "Oh, and. From what I heard and such yesterday… apparently, Elliot-rhya is Sept Alpha now. Don't know precisely what happened, but." Flint doesn't sound at all displeased by this. "Aside from that, I've. Been, kind of out of the loop myself. Anything, interesting out here in the past week?" The question's addressed to Charlene, mostly.
Sewall's eyebrows go up at the news about Elliot, though his expression goes quickly enough from surprise to calculating. He says nothing, letting Charlene reply while he considers this new piece of data.
"When I left, Sept Alpha was Kaz and, as far as I heard since then, Silvertip. figured he was too mean to give up any sort of leadership position without his head being removed." Charlene worries her lower lip for a moment, lifting her thumb up to tug at the nail with her teeth—a nervous habit. "Really nothing interesting. Three cubs at the fury house, one of which is that Ex person you're talking about. She's actually the reason I came back up here—a Corax… were-raven, basically, showed up in Texas and told me about her so I figured coming up here was as good of a place as any since, well, this is the only real home I've had. That Elliott thing, though… be a story we'll need to find out, for sure."
Flint shifts and swings his legs idly from the porch, wrapping arms around himself a little tighter, and there's a nod. A brief scowl of distaste happens at the mention of Ex, as well. "Mmhm. Just, trying to figure out what news I, need to know to bring back to the city," the Walker states, glancing up at Charlene once more. "Anything not interesting?"
"Only thing came from the city. Apparently there's a vampire heading up a gang there and some Shadow Lord… only met him recently… is infiltrating it. So, in case you're in cahoots with a vampire gang, don't tell 'em we're on to 'em, okay?" Charlene smirks at Flint, leaning back in her chair slightly before reaching for her guitar to start a soft song.
Sewall shifts his weight in the manner of one who is never quite comfortable, then adjusts his glasses again. "He ought to take care. I recall hearing a story about a Shadow Lord who tried to infiltrate a group of vampires, back when I was a cub here. It didn't go well for him."
At the word 'vampire', Flint goes very, very suddenly on edge and tense, looking up towards Charlene, half like he simply wants to bolt. Clearly, this is news to him. "Vampire gang?" the teen questions, voice almost devoid of level. "I'm going to kill Ky and Lex…" is muttered, without any real threat of actual violence in the words. "Vampire gang. Define 'infiltrating'."
"Well, whoever that Shadow Lord was, I think that, if he's still around, he needs to talk to this guy and get him to not do this. I already warned him, as best I could, to not get his tail into the fire too deep before he can't get it out." Charlene taps her nose twice at Flint's muttering. "That's his name, I think. Yeah. Ky. Shadow lord, kind of talks to himself like he's crazy, and not the Past Life sort of thing?"
Sewall glances sidelong at Charlene in regards to her last comment, then turns to Flint. "I take it you know this person?"
Flint doesn't quite get up from his perch on the edge of the porch, but he looks like he wants to, wants to be anywhere but having this conversation. Speak of talking to ones' self like they're crazy, Flint mutters inaudibly for a good minute, ending with a barely intelligible, 'I know!' and then looks up at Charlene. "Just the Past Life sort of thing," he says—of himself, or of Ky, it's hard to tell—tone still almost dead flat with some amount of effort. Sewall gets another curt nod as Flint abruptly stands. "Yes."
Charlene blinks, looking to Sewall, then to Flint, the realization dawning on her that this was not shared through the pack. "Fuckin' hell… lone wolf tryin' to be the big damn hero."
Pack> Flint reaches out over the packlink, tentatively. "Ky?" comes the question.
Pack> Ky is somewhat distracted, but does manage to pull his focus a little more tightly in. "Yeah?"
Sewall compresses his lips into a grimace, then shakes his head. "At least now you know," he says.
Flint paces, just a few steps back and forth, and shakes his head at Charlene. "That's. I. I… that's not it, at all," he says. The Glass Walker is jittery, hands looping about opposite wrists, teeth bared at nothing in particular.
Pack> Flint mentally sighs, and then asks. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Pack> Ky says, "Tell you what?"
Pack> Flint says, "The gang."
"Sit down." Almost a growl from the Fury at the pacing of Flint. "Sit down and say what's buggin' you. Don't just pace like a caged animal. You don't know me from adam, but I'm tellin' you that you need to talk this out before you blow."
Pack> Ky says, "For a couple of reasons. First and foremost I was looking out for your wellbeing. I didn't want you falling into the pit you were in before. Second, I have to maintain cover if we're going to even find out where the leech is, and I don't know for sure if there's only one or if there are more."
Pack> Flint does seem mollified from being sharp, at this response, and gives a slight mental affirmative. "'kay. But if…" There's a pause. "Look. I'm here for you, too, okay? It's hard, and it sucks, and you can't get through it alone, but. Gaia won't let us, be like them, even if you…"
Sewall says nothing, though he watches Flint quite intently. There's no sign of sympathy there, however, just that aloof, calculating interest.
Pack> Ky doesn't respond for a moment or so, giving the impression of an odd look directed at Flint. Then, "I'm fine. Honest, Flint. Just got a lot on my mind. And anyway, I can show up and prove it to you that everything's good."
Flint paces a moment longer after the order, but then sits, mechanically, on the edge of the porch. More like obedience to the innate rank structure than like the young galliard actually wants to sit down, and he steadies himself through several deep breaths. One hand comes up in a gesture of pause to the other two Garou present, for a long moment.
Pack> Flint says, "If you want. I… don't think Charlene-rhya likes you very much. I'll catch you later?"
Then Flint's attention returns to the here and now, and he shakes his head. "I'm fine," he offers to Charlene, though the tone is the same flat and controlled tone as before.
"Uh-huh." Mechanically, Charlene's fingers start to move over the strings of her guitar, a soft melody rising to surround the trio. Perhaps it's her way of trying to calm things down, or perhaps it's just a nervous tic, but as she plays, she leans back, relaxing slightly. "I don't think I need to say this, but take care of this. This is Pack business. It doesn't need to be Sept business, 'cause if it gets that far, it won't be pretty. At all."
"I think, Charlene-rhya," says Sewall, very mildly, "that Flint-yuf is planning to do just that." He raises eyebrows at the other Cliath, looking perhaps for confirmation.
Flint nods vaguely, though he doesn't seem to calm down. "It is. As is why, I." That's shaken off with a brief shrug of his shoulders. "I'm fine," he repeats, perhaps as much to convince himself. "Thanks for, for the. Concern."
Charlene gives a look to Sewall, as if to say 'he's not listening' without saying as much, fingers still moving over the strings of her guitar. "Get him out, Flint. If you can't… if your pack can't, don't follow him into the lion's den. If whoever this leech is has a hook in Ky, rip that fucker out and burn it in the noonday sun. Together we're stronger than we are alone. You know that. Be the strength for your pack."
Sewall's 'hmmmm' sounds decidedly neutral. Then, with a grimace, he plants his cane and levers himself back to his feet. "If you two don't mind, I'm going to go inside for a bit and warm up."
Flint nods again. "Gaia watch," Flint offers to the Silver Fang, and then looks at Charlene. "It ain't the only one," is all that the teen says, before shifting back down to lupus and pacing off, uneasily, into the meadow.
"Oh goddammit…" Charlene murmurs to herself, leaning back in her chair, the music stopping as Sewall wanders inside. "Fire's nice and hot, Sewall… it'll do good for your aches. Trust me. I'm just going to stay out here in the quiet and think.
Sewall pauses long enough to watch Flint head off; the Fang's expression is distant and difficult to read apart from the tightness in his jaw. He nods stiffly to the Fury and limps inside.
Requiem makes his way to the treeline fairly quickly once he's in lupus, seemingly eager to be away from company.