Sounds reasonable.
Saturday, 17 November 2012 15:44![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouCatching up with Nicodemus, and Ky. And Sewall, and Elliot-rhya. Who is now Sept Alpha, so that rumour was right. And talking about vampires. Twice.
17 November, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (25% full).
The afternoon is wearing on, and Flint's settled on the couch doing his shift of watching the cameras, with the monitors set up on the coffee table near the couch, and a sketchbook in his lap. Every so often there's humming that goes along, drifting in and out of audible volume, and then the galliard stares up at the ceiling, entirely distracted.
Nicodemus appears on the cameras outside, definitively proving he's not a vampire (if you listen to some legends/rumors), and lets himself in through the front door. He steps inside, secures the door behind him, checks it twice to ensure it locked behind him, and makes his way into the lobby area carrying a bag of groceries. "Anyone home?" he calls as he enters the room.
Flint looks down from the ceiling and gives a brief wave. "Hey," the teen responds, nodding. "You need help with, with anything?" Flint doesn't get up yet, though he does set aside the sketchbook. "How is, are you?"
"I've got it," Nick says, placing the bag down long enough to pull a smaller plastic bag out of it. "For the fifth floor. Catch." He tosses the small bag with it's rectangular-shaped content in Flint's direction. It's a good throw, too. Nick picks the bag up and begins unloading groceries in the other room while Flint examines the Walker kin's latest 'gift.'
Flint catches the bag, sitting up a little bit straighter and then opening the bag, before casting a glance in the direction of the door. However, when he sees the contents of the bag, a wide grin appears. "Oh awesome," comes the reaction, enthusiastic. Video games, after all, even if it doesn't warrant that much of an increase from Flint's usual quiet volume. "Thank you."
Nicodemus comes back with a Diet Coke from the fridge, sort of a reward for helping to restock it. "Oh, good. I was worried someone'd already bought a copy, but my gut was saying 'no, they haven't,' so I picked it up on a whim and a hunch." He belatedly gets around to answering the earlier question. "Not much going on with me these days. Work, mostly. Nothing terribly interesting or exciting, unless you like stocks. How're things going with you?"
Flint makes a sort of a face when the kin mentions stocks, and shakes his head. "No one'd…" the teen trails off and visibly pauses, then speaks. "No one had bought it yet, and I was really hoping for it. Going to be awesome, though I'm… on duty. Until later. But." There's another bright grin. "Things are okay." This is more reserved, and a shrug follows, followed by Flint digging out a half-battered pack of cigarettes. "There's a… new Galliard in town. Back from over a year ago, apparently? She's a Fury, I'm hoping to… get out to Edgewood, learn auspice stuff from her maybe, more."
"Charlene?" Nick hazards a guess as to the identity of the recently returned galliard. "I met her a handful of days ago when I was dropping some groceries off at Edgewood on my way home from work. Ended up driving her back to the Greek house where the Furies hang out, and fixed their sliding glass door for them. Someone went through it, I think," he theorizes, and then adds, "Ex is out there. Angry as ever. Maybe a little more cognizant and composed than she used to be."
Flint nods again. "Yeah." A cigarette is pulled out, and a just as battered plastic lighter, though it can't be that old. Or maybe the cliath is just hard on his belongings. "Her." The agreement isn't terse, just short, and then something else seems to occur to Flint. "Oh. I… there. I made a bunch of medium-sized boxes, and cutting boards. They're in the workshop, they're finished. I don't know, you'd mentioned about, finding a way to, to, sell them?"
"Ukh," Nick emits as he places a hand to his forehead, then runs it through his hair as a follow-through. "Sorry. Too much on my plate at once, and that fell off, rolled across the dining room floor, and hid with the dust bunnies under the cabinet that holds the good china. Loan me a couple samples so I've got something to show to the reseller if I can get anyone to bite?"
Thankfully it's a small moon, and rather than anything else or some sort of disappointment showing, the teen just grins and nods. "Watch the monitors? Five minutes?" Flint doesn't even wait for a response before he gets up, cigarette bit between his teeth, and heads for the stairwell. The pounding of feet on the stairs follows, and about seven minutes later, the stairwell door swings open again. Under his arm, Flint has three cutting boards, and two boxes balanced. Both boxes are carved on the lids, one (the box made of cherry wood) a rose, one (a lighter white oak) a cityscape. "Here," he says, setting them on the coffee table. "These work?"
Suddenly the door buzzes. A glance at the monitors reveals a familiar face belonging to a certain young Shadow Lord. He's not looking at the camera, though his profile is plain as day. Instead he's looking toward the street while polishing off a single serving sized bottle of orange juice.
Nicodemus watches the monitors while Flint's gone, and he looks over the wares when the were returns. He picks up the cityscape box. "This is nice," he claims as he examines the inside. "A little jewelry box and the thematic clash of a wooden box with a city carved on it." He then looks to the cutting boards. "Those aren't bad either. Not exactly something I'd want personally, because wood harbors all kinds of bacteria. I prefer the marble or plastic ones. But Lord knows the rest of the world doesn't share my perception of things." He looks them over, then asks, "What'd be the absolute bare minimum you'd be willing to sell them for to a resa…" And then the doorbell goes off, prompting Nick to look over at the monitor for the front door instead of Flint's handiwork.
The door buzzing seems to bring a faint amount of relief to Flint's expression, and he doesn't even bother to look at the monitors, perhaps oddly enough. But he does respond to the kin as he walks over to open it. "They're sealed, they're perfectly food safe, saying otherwise is. Being paranoid," Flint points out, "and if you. If. If you take care of them right—" Flint opens the door, "last forever." A pause. "Hey, Ky," Flint offers, stepping aside, and then furrows his brows, a long puff at the cigarette until he settles on a number. "Thirty each. Twenty-five maybe, but only for the cutting boards. Reseller should be able to get twice that, given those."
Ky turns to look at the door when it opens, pressing the cap back into place upon the empty bottle. He gives an easy grin to his packmate as he steps inside, then angles a glance past to see who Flint is talking to. The kinsman is offered just a small nod, then the Ragabash turns his attention to the empty bottle. Idle fidgeting.
"Hey," Nick offers by way of greeting to Ky. He nods to Flint as he rattles off figures. "Sounds reasonable enough. I might be able to haggle for those prices—maybe try and get a little more if opportunity knocks. It'd probably be on consignment, so you'd bear the cost of anything that wasn't selling and wouldn't see any money until they sold. But, hey, Christmas is coming and people are looking to buy stuff, so… We'll see what pans out."
Flint nods at Nicodemus. "Good," Flint sounds pleased, maybe? It's an uptick in tone for a moment, and then Flint shrugs at Ky, gestures towards the couches. "Take those, the rest are in the cabinet marked with my name in tape, in the workshop. Top shelf is. It. I-it's, finished pieces only." Then the galliard's attention turns back to his packmate. "Good to see you."
"Yeah," Ky answers in the same kind of tone that would normally imply some teasing. If slightly strained. He waggles the empty bottle in the air then moves off to drop onto one end of a couch. Fingers bounce and tap with apparent energy and mind of their own.
"Can do. I'll let you know if I find a willing reseller—or if I just don't have the free time to keep looking if no one seems to be interested," the kinsman adds as a caveat, and an indication of the possibility that he might not actually be able to find someone willing to do business. He picks up the second wooden box and begins examining its craftwork more closely.
There's one more nod to Nicodemus and then Flint perches on the edge of the couch. For a moment, he's just watching Ky, brows furrowing slightly, but the worry is replaced with another grin. "Sorry for freaking out a-and all, yesterday," Flint says, to Ky.
"All good," Ky says to Flint. He doesn't look up at his packmate, but maintains an intent focus on that empty plastic bottle he'd brought with him. A thumb nail drags over the label seam. "I get your concern, but I'm fine. We'll be able to move soon."
Sewall, bundled up in his dark green overcoat and mustard-yellow scarf and gloves, gives the door buzzer a press — no longer than would be polite, of course.
Nicodemus turns the box upside down to examine it from the bottom. He eyes the corners and the joints, the hinges and the clasps. "These a really, really well made," he finally claims out loud as he finishes his examination, gathers the items up as carefully as he can, and prepares to exit. "You two take care, and let me know if you need anythi…" The buzzer catches him off-guard and he again looks to the monitor. "New guy in town. Sewall. Silver Fang. Mouse showed him the way over here yesterday. Should I let him in?" Nick asks directly to Flint, the only other Glass Walker present.
Flint is half on his feet as the buzzer goes off. "Met him at. At Edgewood," Flint says to Nicodemus, and then nods once to Ky. "Yeah. Same." Flint gets up all the way, to go over to get the door. "Sewall-yuf," Flint offers, a minute nod as he opens the door.
Pack> Flint adds, "I appreciate the. Your, concern… but next time, please tell me. I'd rather have found out from you, than some random nosy galliard."
Ky looks at the door when the buzzer goes off, brows lifting slightly when explanations are made. A second later his attention is taken off the new arrival as his gaze flicks to Flint, and his shoulders lift in a small shrug. "Sorry," is all the Ragabash offers before making a conscious effort to still his hands. The plastic bottle is set aside and his hands are tucked under his arms, though his knees bounce slightly up and down instead.
Pack> Ky says, "…I have ADD."
Sewall gives Flint a jerky nod of greeting as he limps into the lobby, leaning heavily on his cane. "Hello, Flint-yuf. Mr. Dalton." This to the Walker kin, of course. He eyes Ky curiously for a moment, then turns back to Flint. "Is Mouse-rhya in?"
Nicodemus steps aside, giving Sewall plenty of room and access to the lobby. "Hey, Sewall." He offers, "I could go up and check for you?"
Flint shoots a grin back at Ky. "'sokay. All sorted," he tells his packmate, though there's a faint pursing of his lips and a momentary tension, noticeable in the Walker's manner as a long moment of lips in a thin line before he remembers to answer the Fang's question. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen Mouse-rhya in a while." There's another pause, and Flint offers to Nick, "Could you— could… you take the game up, if you're going up?"
Pack> Flint says, "It's not even new moon, you know."
Pack> Ky says, "I'd come up with a witty response, but I can't."
Pack> Alexandra says, "And sadly, having other people to call on isn't helpful in that regard, because there's still too much of a delayed reaction."
Ky shakes his head, even though the question isn't directed at him. "Haven't seen her in a week or two, but I don't live here either." He stands, and it helps still his movements some. "Name's Kyler, or Ky, Little Firebrand. I'm Cliath, Ragabash, and Beta of the Shadow Lords. I'm also a member of Unfettered, under Merlin." All offered to Sewall, along with a more characteristic grin.
Pack> Ky says, "And context."
"I'd appreciate that," Sewall says to Nicodemus. Ky's introduction makes his eyebrows go up. He looks from Flint to Ky and back again, then nods. "Sewall Cecil Gagnan," he responds, all prim (and rather stiff) courtesy. "Called Drinks-the-Bitter-Draught, Cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs." He shifts his weight more onto his good leg and uses his free hand to loosen his scarf.
Nicodemus puts the wooden jewelry boxes and cutting boards Flint made down in a convenient spot and makes his way up the stairs. "Back in a bit if she's in and willing to see guests." He disappears into the stairwell.
Flint looks between Ky and Sewall for a moment, and then eventually makes his way back to the couch, perching on the very end and digging a lighter from his pocket to relit the cigarette that still dangles from his lips, thoughtful. And for the moment silent.
Pack> Flint says, "I should see if I can make a puzzle box. Something to. To, fidget with."
"Welcome to Hidden Walk," Ky replies to the Fang. He sinks back into his seat with a glance toward Flint. His knees start that subtle bouncing again, despite efforts to stay still. "What brings you out this way?"
Pack> Ky says, "I couldn't stay focused on drawing this morning."
Pack> Flint gives a faint, small mental nod, along with a flash of sympathy. "Focus on something," Flint says. "Even if it's just, finding somewhere to lay in the wolf a while."
Sewall hobbles his way over to an empty chair and sits without being asked. "I was a cub here, years ago," he says, tugging off his gloves. "I was sent off to the Caern of the Earthspine to finish my education and such, but this place has never been far from my mind."
Flint looks at his packmate for a long moment, concern furrowing his brow. "You don't have to stay still if you don't want to," he says to Ky, fairly quietly, before trailing off.
Pack> Flint says, "Not if trying to stay still isn't helping."
"I'm fine," Kyler says even as Flint speaks. He casts a look at the Galliard before settling his attention on Sewall. "Really," he says. And he sounds honestly interested. "Welcome back then. Haven't had any others of Falcon in a while. Why were you sent off? If it isn't too personal."
"You've probably noticed that this Sept is rather… unconventional," Sewall says. Getting out of his coat is a little awkward, but he's managed it, and settles himself more-or-less comfortably, with the cane between his legs.
Flint watches the conversation with some interest, and then directs an absent-minded comment at the air. "He wasn't talking to you," Flint tells what must be an internal dialogue, before furrowing his brows a little. Any rebuttal to Ky's 'I'm fine' waits. "I'd like to… see more of the Garou Nation, some day. Other septs, other. O-other, stories, experience, stuff. I've, only. Ever been, here."
"That's putting it nicely." This, Ky says to Sewall. "It's definitely different from the sept I grew up in. But we had the occasional Strider and Wendigo come through, never a settlement of all tribes."
Sewall nods. "It was similar at Earthspine. Mainly my tribe and Fenris's, with members of other tribes on occasion, though nothing like a serious representation."
Flint listens intently and quietly, for the moment, letting the two ragabash talk.
"Broken Prairie was really only Thunder's children." Ky grins and shrugs. "It was also pretty small, compared to a lot of places, even here. Pretty sure I'd never met another from any other tribe before I came here."
Sewall nods to the Shadow Lord. If he shares his tribe's usual distrust of Thunder's children, he doesn't show it. "It must have been quite a change for you, then, coming here."
Flint leans against the back of the couch and swings his legs off the edge of it.
Ky shrugs, and glances toward the stairwell. "Something like that." He starts to stand again, leaning forward and tensing, as if to get to his feet, then aborts and settles back again. He still fidgets though, heels bouncing against the floor.
Nicodemus re-emerges from the stairwell. Alone. "Sorry. Mouse doesn't seem to be in at the moment. I planned on seeing her soon, though. Shall I pass on a message for you? Or is there something I could do to help you, Sewall?"
Sewall pushes his glasses up his nose. "I wanted to thank her for her offer of living quarters here at the Tenement, and to tell her I'd like to take her up on it."
Flint looks between Nicodemus and Sewall and then gets to his feet, though then he leans back against the couch. "I… I can, get you settled, Sewall-yuf," he offers to Sewall. "Since Mouse-rhya isn't in. At least for now." Then there's another furrow of brow and concern at Ky, another moment of the galliard muttering to himself.
Ky shakes his head at Flint's look, however this time the 'I'm fine' doesn't follow. He lets out a breath, a drawn out sigh really, and slouches in his seat. One hand comes out enough to pick at the piling on the arm of the couch, and feet continue to jiggle a bit while the Walkers attend to their guest.
Nicodemus digs in his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. He begins working one of them off. "Because Mouse already brought you here and offered to let you stay, and because I've got a room on the third floor that I only use a couple times a month, you're welcome to use it until Mouse assigns you one. It's pretty bare-bones: just a cot, a TV tray, a folding chair, and some toothpaste and toilet paper. But it's a safe place to stay. And keep the window closed unless you want Val popping in unannounced." He hands the key over to Sewall. "When you're done, just leave the key with a Walker and ask them to put it in the 5th floor breakroom for me to pick up later."
Sewall shifts his weight in the chair, sitting forward to take the proffered key. "That's generous of you, Mr. Dalton. Thank you."
There's a knock on the door; any examining the cameras would find the Fianna waiting outside.
Flint glances between Sewall and Nicodemus, and nods. "That works," he says, a little bit flatly. And then Flint glances to the monitor, and walks over to the door. "Elliot-rhya," Flint greets, a broad grin. "Heya." The Walker steps aside, to allow the Fianna in.
Ky's movement stills for the moment it takes for the door to be seen to. He looks past Flint to Elliot and grins at the Athro. "Hey, Elliot-rhya," he echoes his packmate. Fingers start tapping against the arm of the chair, gaze settling on those actions.
Nicodemus raises a hand in greeting to the Fianna he's met once before. "Good evening." As a follow-up, he mentions, "Mouse doesn't seem to be in at the moment, if you were looking for her."
Sewall has already pocketed the key Nick's given him, and now his attention turns to the new arrival; he doesn't get up out of his chair.
Elliot steps inside, dressed in a jacket but not seeming terribly affected by the chillier weather outside. "Hey guys." His glance first goes to Nicodemus at that information—"Damn, read my mind. Yeah, I needed to drop a message with her." Then, however, he notes Sewall, and sends the Fang a nod. "Hey, you new around?"
Flint nods at Elliot. "Anything that I can help with, Elliot-rhya?" the galliard asks. "C-can send an email, that. That— it. Should, reach Mouse-rhya, if. If you'd like, that is." There's a frustrated squint as Flint paces back over to sit near his packmate, grabbing an iPhone off the coffee table from near the monitor. "Even just to. Just to, let her know, you. Were here. It. Email's usually, fastest."
Sewall takes Elliot in, his gaze intent, calculating, and not entirely readable. He introduces himself without hesitation, though not with any undignified hurry, either. Nor does he stand up. "Sewall Cecil Gagnan, called Drinks-the-Bitter-Draught. Cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs." He adjusts his glasses. "I was a cub here, years ago, though Rited at the Caern of the Earthspine."
Ky rocks forward again and stands this time, snagging the empty orange juice bottle as he moves. He circles around the couch he'd been sitting on, but as far as pacing goes, no step leads him too far from his packmate.
Nicodemus makes a mildly apologetic gesture in response to Elliot, but he keeps out of the way and quiet. Almost. "I'll go make a fresh pot of coffee for everyone." He moves into the break area and begins cleaning and prepping the coffee machine.
"Yeah, that'd be handy, actually. Just let her know that I said December first, noonish. She'll know what I mean." And then his attention goes to Sewall's introduction, and he regards the cliath with consideration. "Well, good to have you back. Elliot Griffin, the Shockwave-That-Follows-The-Blast, athro ragabash, Righ of the Fianna, and Alpha of the Sept. That," he adds, to the rest of the room, "is another thing—Silvertip's left for a little while. He'll be back, but he had business."
Flint picks up his phone and nods. "Right," the Walker ragabash says, clearly sending the email as he does so, and then his brows furrow at Ky. "Elliot-rhya, Sewall-yuf? If you'd excuse us." There's clear concern and tension in Flint's voice, and he moves over to carefully guide Ky. "C'mon," he urges his packmate, though it doesn't seem that he's giving the Shadow Lord ragabash too much choice in whether they stay or go.
Sewall's eyes narrow a bit, considering; his nod to Flint is distracted and perfunctory. Addressing the new Sept Alpha, he says, "I should let you know, then, sir, that I intend to stay, but I've not been able to get in touch with Dirk-rhya, who is, I've been told, the only other Silver Fang in residence right now."
Ky stops pacing at Elliot's announcement, giving him a thoughtful look. "Nik-rhya was right," he muses as he steps into that idle movement again. Flint's prompting earns him a look and a shrug, though he isn't unwilling to follow the Galliard.
Nicodemus actually cleans the pot and machine before reloading it. He pauses momentarily as Elliot mentions Silvertip no longer being sept Alpha, but then continues prepwork to make coffee. Add water, add fresh ground coffee, replace pot, and flick power on. He loiters by the machine, listening in to the conversation and cleaning a few dirty dishes as he waits for the coffee to brew.
Elliot quirks a brow up at Ky, though only fleetingly. "Right about?" And then, his attention returns to Sewall. He considers the words for a moment, and then nods. "Talk to Warder—or at least a Guardian—for access to any of the bawn, though I'll warn it's in a hell of a shape right now. As far as chiminage—we can discuss that now or later, it's up to you."
Flint purses his lips, shoves his phone into his pocket. Elliot is offered a brief, apologetic glance, before Flint more firmly guides his packmate towards the basement. "We need to talk," is said, mostly to Ky but otherwise audibly. The door shuts behind them.
Ky had been trying to respond to Elliot, but the dragging down and closing of the basement door only allowed for an apologetic look before the upstairs was sealed off. It does leave the Ragabash offering his packmate a shrug once he's completely down the stairs, and his nervous energy turns to picking at the frame of the painting on the wall.
Flint shakes his head briefly, perhaps apologetically himself, and then faces Ky, leaning against the wall. Tension coils through his body momentarily, then he reaches out to set a hand briefly on Ky's shoulder. "The punching bag works better," Flint offers, gesturing to one that's been set up in the middle of the living room. "At least, did for me." There's another pause, and Flint hooks his thumbs in his pockets.
"I'm fine," Ky says, more insistent this time than he had previous times. There's no one else around at the moment to see him and his shaking hands and inability to stay still for too long. Though his movements are kept confined, one hand tucks under the other arm while he bites down on a finger nail. "First day's the worst," he explains, "tomorrow'll be easier. If it stays like it did the first time."
Flint looks at Ky, this earning a much more severe furrow of brows, and then runs a finger through his hair. "Fuck," he mutters. "It does," he agrees, with a moment further of silence after, and then he looks at the ceiling. "You cannot do this a third time," the Glass Walker stresses. It's as close to an order as Flint's tone ever gets, heavy with concern. "How much was it? I know it sucks to think about," and Flint's barely managing the words, careful each time and shoving his own issues far to the side and the back to deal with later, likely with the punching bag. "But we seriously need to know. Otherwise, this… Some kinds of vampires…" the Galliard goes silent, and sinks onto the arm of the couch.
"Aaaa!" It's not a scream nor a yell, so much as just a sound of vented frustration. "Damn it, Flint. I don't know! Drops, enough that I can taste it just under the burn of the liquor. And I really don't need you telling me what I can or can't do right now. No one else would've been able to get in and no one else would've been able to stay in. I just need a couple more weeks and then I should know. There's talk of the president coming, I should be able to find out then, or get something of his and we can questing stone and find him."
Flint winces a bit, and quietly, offers, "Sorry," along with a nod. "I know," Flint says, getting up to pace. "Just. Sometimes, it… someone, they… start. Thinking about, the. Draugr." As if that word for leeches is somehow a little easier for Flint to say. "It's a side-effect. And what I found out, asking, is. It can… become, permanent until the thing's killed, at. Which point you're… useless against it, it can. Compel you, and all. Three times, maybe four? Is what I. Found out. It probably is, f-for… all the rest of the gang? They're bonded for certain, from. What you said." There's a wave of sympathy over the packlink and then it's Flint who paces over to punch the punching bag, before composing himself. "We'll find him and deal with him," Flint says, grimly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, if. Just… I dunno, drown yourself in music or punching the bag for a bit, don't just…" That trails off.
"I'm only interested in finding the vampire," Kyler growls. "And not for any reasons of devotion. Because the only way to not feel this way, not feel… like… Like one cookie isn't enough, is to kill the damn thing. I get your concerned, I know that. But you and Lex are with me constantly and will know as soon as I do what's going on. The first day after is the worst and I'll be better tomorrow." The last word is punctuated with a foot connecting quite solidly with the front of the desk.
There's a nod. "Okay," Flint says, with a nod, apparently satisfied with this and certainly not going to push further, and there's a glance up the stairs. "You wanna go back up there, or?" This, Flint is leaving up to Ky, and there's a shrug, a long silence in which for the ragabash to answer. "I think Nick brought some sodas, too, can grab you one from the laundry room. Or. Or something, if you want."
Ky kicks the desk again, an act which seems to blow out the last of his frustration for the moment. "Yeah," he agrees after, turning for the stairs. "I'll be okay, Flint. I need others to know what's going on though and I can't do that hiding down here. And I can't stay gone from the gang for too long."
Flint watches, with understanding at the frustration rather than judgment, and nods, going for the stairs. "Yeah, I know," he says, starting up the stairs and back towards the lobby.
The door to the basement reopens and from it emerges Ky. The Shadow Lord looks a trifle less agitated, at least in that his agitation is directed elsewhere for the moment. And behind him comes Flint, looking no less concerned.
Sewall finishes off his coffee and, with a grimace, levers himself to his feet, right hand with a death grip on the head of his cane. He offers the empty mug back to Nicodemus, saying, "If you don't mind, I'm going to get my things. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elliot-rhya."
Flint lets the door shut gently behind him, and gives what looks to be an attempt at a reassuring grin before he crosses back over to the couch, a small muttered apology to no one in particular. "Goodnight, Sewall-yuf," the galliard offers.
"You too," the Fianna replies, lifting his mug in a bit of a mock-salute toward the Fang. "Have a good one." He regards Ky and Flint for a moment, and then looks back toward Nicodemus. "Maybe," he says, not clarifying which point he's acknowledging—or maybe it's all of them. "In my experience, they usually aren't. My main concern is that it's fucking with people."
Nicodemus accepts the empty mug and nods a farewell to Sewall. "Sleep well. Tell me about that fetish you helped recover some other time, if you've got a moment? I'll bet it's an interesting story." He notices the two returning garou and offers them both, "Coffee? Just made it." To Elliot, he nods in agreement. "I've not heard anyone ever say anything good about them. There's obviously a reason for that."
"What's fucking with people," Ky asks, as if he'd been part of the conversation the entire time. He shakes his head to the offer and wanders back to the couch he'd abandoned. Of course, as soon as he sits, one knee begins bouncing up and down very slightly.
Sewall pauses in the middle of awkwardly getting back into his coat and such to look at Nick with an odd kind of intensity. After a heartbeat or two, he nods. "It is," he says stiffly. "Very interesting. Pardon me." He hobbles for the door.
Flint looks over at Elliot as the Fianna speaks, brows lifting ever so slightly. The Walker cliath moves over to sit down on the floor next to the couch, closer to his packmate. "I think I— I. Have. A pretty good guess at, what," Flint says, tone grim.
"We were just saying," Elliot says with a look toward the pair, "that a few months ago a vampire was fucking with people. And I want to make sure it's gone." And then, he adds, "Isn't Devon a packmate of yours? Can you get him to get ahold of me? I need to have a word with him."
Nicodemus nods as Elliot speaks, casually backing up the weight of the athro's words with all the weight that a random kinfolk might carry.
Nicodemus nods as Elliot speaks, casually backing up the weight of the athro's words with all the weight that a random kinfolk might carry.
Ky shakes his head. "I've only seen Devon at moot, usually keeping with his tribe, he's not in Unfettered." He pauses slightly and glances at Flint before moving on. "There's another vampire you need to know about, too. Though, it's possible to be the same one. At least, I'm theorizing it's a vampire, considering everything I've found so far."
"Tribemate, yes. Packmate, no," Flint confirms, shaking his head. "Devon's left, he headed to Colorado Springs. I think Nieve-rhya might be able to. T-to. To get a hold of him, but. I… Anyway. That… vampire. The one you…" The galliard pauses and takes a deep breath in, a bit on edge himself, though there's a faint glance up to Ky, and a nod, "were talking about. I. Had a few, encounters with it." There's a pause and Flint looks at Ky. "I don't know it's the same, the. Thing, seemed a bit. Off her rocker, everything you've… told us, about. I… about the gang. Is too methodical."
Elliot listens, and doesn't interrupt Flint while he gets through what he's saying. "Ah, tribemate then. Sorry. Okay, though, thanks for the information." To the rest, he sets the (now empty) mug of coffee on the table. "Then yeah, talk to me. What's going on?"
Nicodemus collects Elliot's mug and holds up two fingers—refill?—before heading back to the break area with both Elliot's and Sewall's cups. He drops out of the conversation, allowing the garou to conduct business once again.
"There's a gang in town," Ky explains, adding chewing on a finger nail to his idle activities. "Val tipped Unfettered off to them, saying there was something supernatural about it. I got into a fight with a couple of their recruits and earned myself a spot as one also. I used Echoes recently and heard something about them drinking vampire blood. It was confirmed as part of the initiation. And if the president is a vampire, I should hopefully find out soon."
Flint draws his knees to his chest, pulling himself mostly into a ball, and then leans back against the couch, half-watching Elliot as Ky speaks, but doesn't add anything this time around.
Elliot shakes his head mutely to Nicodemus, but gives the kin a grateful glance, and then continues listening to Ky. There's a pause somewhere in there, and the Fianna eyes Ky for a moment. "The initiation. Were you, as a recruit, 'intiated'? And what is this gang up to?"
Nicodemus busies himself with washing the mugs and putting them back into their proper places.
Ky nods slightly. He drops his hand to tap the arm of the chair. Then, seemingly mindful of his actions, folds his arms across his chest and sinks backward to slouch. "I was initiated. And if they were just people I'd say there was nothing to worry about. However, they're either bonded or ghouls. Definitely some blood drinking going on."
Flint squints his eyes shut for a moment, glancing up at Ky assessingly, but only for a brief moment, before attention is back on the Fianna.
Elliot lifts a hand and rubs at his brow before letting his hand fall and looking to Ky, features hard to read. "Drink nothing else they give you. Nothing. Fake it if you have to. I'm not going to take you off of it because you have enough wits around you to tell me about it, and because you're close to getting real information, but I want reports as to what's going on every few days, through you or a packmate. And if you—" This is to Flint, "Start noticing him going off the rails, let me know." To the rest, "And once you find what you're looking for, and if your pack needs help dealing with it, let me know. Because leeches? Can be dangerous."
Flint nods, grimly. "I've been there," the young galliard admits, a grimace as he glances to the basement. "I'll notice."
Nicodemus finishes the two mugs and gets to work on cleaning the remaining dirty dishes.
"Yes, Elliot-rhya," Ky answers, head bobbing in what appears to be a nod. "I'm good. I'm fine. Like I told Flint and my tribe, I just need a little bit longer. But someone'll update you. Either me or Flint or Lex. I'll be alright. Once I know more I'll be gathering whatever Garou I need to get the job done."
"Good," Elliot replies. And, that said, he hefts himself up, snagging his jacket. "That said," he says, and the ragabash lifts his brows, "Good job on getting in there. I'll look forward to hearing from you. For now, I need to get back home." To Nicodemus, the Fianna lifts a hand in a wave. "Thanks for the coffee, man."
"Take care," Nick says as he wipes a plate dry and stacks it back up with the rest.
Flint pushes to his feet, and then settles in a vacant corner of the couch, still near Ky. "Thank you Elliot-rhya," Flint adds. "One've us will. W-will…" That trails off, with a vague shrug to fill in the rest of the words, and then Flint grabs a sketchbook. From one of the front pages, the teen tears out a page, crumpling it angrily into a ball, and then sighs, settling for the rest of his security shift.
"I need to get going too," Ky says, standing also. He shoves his hands into his jeans pocket and casts a look at Flint. "See you around," he calls to Nick before turning to quasi-follow Elliot, at least as far as the street.
Pack> Flint gives a vague wave of reassurance over the packlink. "We'll both be fine," he remarks.
Elliot holds the door for Ky, gives the Shadow Lord his number before they part on the street, and then heads back home.
17 November, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (25% full).
The afternoon is wearing on, and Flint's settled on the couch doing his shift of watching the cameras, with the monitors set up on the coffee table near the couch, and a sketchbook in his lap. Every so often there's humming that goes along, drifting in and out of audible volume, and then the galliard stares up at the ceiling, entirely distracted.
Nicodemus appears on the cameras outside, definitively proving he's not a vampire (if you listen to some legends/rumors), and lets himself in through the front door. He steps inside, secures the door behind him, checks it twice to ensure it locked behind him, and makes his way into the lobby area carrying a bag of groceries. "Anyone home?" he calls as he enters the room.
Flint looks down from the ceiling and gives a brief wave. "Hey," the teen responds, nodding. "You need help with, with anything?" Flint doesn't get up yet, though he does set aside the sketchbook. "How is, are you?"
"I've got it," Nick says, placing the bag down long enough to pull a smaller plastic bag out of it. "For the fifth floor. Catch." He tosses the small bag with it's rectangular-shaped content in Flint's direction. It's a good throw, too. Nick picks the bag up and begins unloading groceries in the other room while Flint examines the Walker kin's latest 'gift.'
Flint catches the bag, sitting up a little bit straighter and then opening the bag, before casting a glance in the direction of the door. However, when he sees the contents of the bag, a wide grin appears. "Oh awesome," comes the reaction, enthusiastic. Video games, after all, even if it doesn't warrant that much of an increase from Flint's usual quiet volume. "Thank you."
Nicodemus comes back with a Diet Coke from the fridge, sort of a reward for helping to restock it. "Oh, good. I was worried someone'd already bought a copy, but my gut was saying 'no, they haven't,' so I picked it up on a whim and a hunch." He belatedly gets around to answering the earlier question. "Not much going on with me these days. Work, mostly. Nothing terribly interesting or exciting, unless you like stocks. How're things going with you?"
Flint makes a sort of a face when the kin mentions stocks, and shakes his head. "No one'd…" the teen trails off and visibly pauses, then speaks. "No one had bought it yet, and I was really hoping for it. Going to be awesome, though I'm… on duty. Until later. But." There's another bright grin. "Things are okay." This is more reserved, and a shrug follows, followed by Flint digging out a half-battered pack of cigarettes. "There's a… new Galliard in town. Back from over a year ago, apparently? She's a Fury, I'm hoping to… get out to Edgewood, learn auspice stuff from her maybe, more."
"Charlene?" Nick hazards a guess as to the identity of the recently returned galliard. "I met her a handful of days ago when I was dropping some groceries off at Edgewood on my way home from work. Ended up driving her back to the Greek house where the Furies hang out, and fixed their sliding glass door for them. Someone went through it, I think," he theorizes, and then adds, "Ex is out there. Angry as ever. Maybe a little more cognizant and composed than she used to be."
Flint nods again. "Yeah." A cigarette is pulled out, and a just as battered plastic lighter, though it can't be that old. Or maybe the cliath is just hard on his belongings. "Her." The agreement isn't terse, just short, and then something else seems to occur to Flint. "Oh. I… there. I made a bunch of medium-sized boxes, and cutting boards. They're in the workshop, they're finished. I don't know, you'd mentioned about, finding a way to, to, sell them?"
"Ukh," Nick emits as he places a hand to his forehead, then runs it through his hair as a follow-through. "Sorry. Too much on my plate at once, and that fell off, rolled across the dining room floor, and hid with the dust bunnies under the cabinet that holds the good china. Loan me a couple samples so I've got something to show to the reseller if I can get anyone to bite?"
Thankfully it's a small moon, and rather than anything else or some sort of disappointment showing, the teen just grins and nods. "Watch the monitors? Five minutes?" Flint doesn't even wait for a response before he gets up, cigarette bit between his teeth, and heads for the stairwell. The pounding of feet on the stairs follows, and about seven minutes later, the stairwell door swings open again. Under his arm, Flint has three cutting boards, and two boxes balanced. Both boxes are carved on the lids, one (the box made of cherry wood) a rose, one (a lighter white oak) a cityscape. "Here," he says, setting them on the coffee table. "These work?"
Suddenly the door buzzes. A glance at the monitors reveals a familiar face belonging to a certain young Shadow Lord. He's not looking at the camera, though his profile is plain as day. Instead he's looking toward the street while polishing off a single serving sized bottle of orange juice.
Nicodemus watches the monitors while Flint's gone, and he looks over the wares when the were returns. He picks up the cityscape box. "This is nice," he claims as he examines the inside. "A little jewelry box and the thematic clash of a wooden box with a city carved on it." He then looks to the cutting boards. "Those aren't bad either. Not exactly something I'd want personally, because wood harbors all kinds of bacteria. I prefer the marble or plastic ones. But Lord knows the rest of the world doesn't share my perception of things." He looks them over, then asks, "What'd be the absolute bare minimum you'd be willing to sell them for to a resa…" And then the doorbell goes off, prompting Nick to look over at the monitor for the front door instead of Flint's handiwork.
The door buzzing seems to bring a faint amount of relief to Flint's expression, and he doesn't even bother to look at the monitors, perhaps oddly enough. But he does respond to the kin as he walks over to open it. "They're sealed, they're perfectly food safe, saying otherwise is. Being paranoid," Flint points out, "and if you. If. If you take care of them right—" Flint opens the door, "last forever." A pause. "Hey, Ky," Flint offers, stepping aside, and then furrows his brows, a long puff at the cigarette until he settles on a number. "Thirty each. Twenty-five maybe, but only for the cutting boards. Reseller should be able to get twice that, given those."
Ky turns to look at the door when it opens, pressing the cap back into place upon the empty bottle. He gives an easy grin to his packmate as he steps inside, then angles a glance past to see who Flint is talking to. The kinsman is offered just a small nod, then the Ragabash turns his attention to the empty bottle. Idle fidgeting.
"Hey," Nick offers by way of greeting to Ky. He nods to Flint as he rattles off figures. "Sounds reasonable enough. I might be able to haggle for those prices—maybe try and get a little more if opportunity knocks. It'd probably be on consignment, so you'd bear the cost of anything that wasn't selling and wouldn't see any money until they sold. But, hey, Christmas is coming and people are looking to buy stuff, so… We'll see what pans out."
Flint nods at Nicodemus. "Good," Flint sounds pleased, maybe? It's an uptick in tone for a moment, and then Flint shrugs at Ky, gestures towards the couches. "Take those, the rest are in the cabinet marked with my name in tape, in the workshop. Top shelf is. It. I-it's, finished pieces only." Then the galliard's attention turns back to his packmate. "Good to see you."
"Yeah," Ky answers in the same kind of tone that would normally imply some teasing. If slightly strained. He waggles the empty bottle in the air then moves off to drop onto one end of a couch. Fingers bounce and tap with apparent energy and mind of their own.
"Can do. I'll let you know if I find a willing reseller—or if I just don't have the free time to keep looking if no one seems to be interested," the kinsman adds as a caveat, and an indication of the possibility that he might not actually be able to find someone willing to do business. He picks up the second wooden box and begins examining its craftwork more closely.
There's one more nod to Nicodemus and then Flint perches on the edge of the couch. For a moment, he's just watching Ky, brows furrowing slightly, but the worry is replaced with another grin. "Sorry for freaking out a-and all, yesterday," Flint says, to Ky.
"All good," Ky says to Flint. He doesn't look up at his packmate, but maintains an intent focus on that empty plastic bottle he'd brought with him. A thumb nail drags over the label seam. "I get your concern, but I'm fine. We'll be able to move soon."
Sewall, bundled up in his dark green overcoat and mustard-yellow scarf and gloves, gives the door buzzer a press — no longer than would be polite, of course.
Nicodemus turns the box upside down to examine it from the bottom. He eyes the corners and the joints, the hinges and the clasps. "These a really, really well made," he finally claims out loud as he finishes his examination, gathers the items up as carefully as he can, and prepares to exit. "You two take care, and let me know if you need anythi…" The buzzer catches him off-guard and he again looks to the monitor. "New guy in town. Sewall. Silver Fang. Mouse showed him the way over here yesterday. Should I let him in?" Nick asks directly to Flint, the only other Glass Walker present.
Flint is half on his feet as the buzzer goes off. "Met him at. At Edgewood," Flint says to Nicodemus, and then nods once to Ky. "Yeah. Same." Flint gets up all the way, to go over to get the door. "Sewall-yuf," Flint offers, a minute nod as he opens the door.
Pack> Flint adds, "I appreciate the. Your, concern… but next time, please tell me. I'd rather have found out from you, than some random nosy galliard."
Ky looks at the door when the buzzer goes off, brows lifting slightly when explanations are made. A second later his attention is taken off the new arrival as his gaze flicks to Flint, and his shoulders lift in a small shrug. "Sorry," is all the Ragabash offers before making a conscious effort to still his hands. The plastic bottle is set aside and his hands are tucked under his arms, though his knees bounce slightly up and down instead.
Pack> Ky says, "…I have ADD."
Sewall gives Flint a jerky nod of greeting as he limps into the lobby, leaning heavily on his cane. "Hello, Flint-yuf. Mr. Dalton." This to the Walker kin, of course. He eyes Ky curiously for a moment, then turns back to Flint. "Is Mouse-rhya in?"
Nicodemus steps aside, giving Sewall plenty of room and access to the lobby. "Hey, Sewall." He offers, "I could go up and check for you?"
Flint shoots a grin back at Ky. "'sokay. All sorted," he tells his packmate, though there's a faint pursing of his lips and a momentary tension, noticeable in the Walker's manner as a long moment of lips in a thin line before he remembers to answer the Fang's question. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen Mouse-rhya in a while." There's another pause, and Flint offers to Nick, "Could you— could… you take the game up, if you're going up?"
Pack> Flint says, "It's not even new moon, you know."
Pack> Ky says, "I'd come up with a witty response, but I can't."
Pack> Alexandra says, "And sadly, having other people to call on isn't helpful in that regard, because there's still too much of a delayed reaction."
Ky shakes his head, even though the question isn't directed at him. "Haven't seen her in a week or two, but I don't live here either." He stands, and it helps still his movements some. "Name's Kyler, or Ky, Little Firebrand. I'm Cliath, Ragabash, and Beta of the Shadow Lords. I'm also a member of Unfettered, under Merlin." All offered to Sewall, along with a more characteristic grin.
Pack> Ky says, "And context."
"I'd appreciate that," Sewall says to Nicodemus. Ky's introduction makes his eyebrows go up. He looks from Flint to Ky and back again, then nods. "Sewall Cecil Gagnan," he responds, all prim (and rather stiff) courtesy. "Called Drinks-the-Bitter-Draught, Cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs." He shifts his weight more onto his good leg and uses his free hand to loosen his scarf.
Nicodemus puts the wooden jewelry boxes and cutting boards Flint made down in a convenient spot and makes his way up the stairs. "Back in a bit if she's in and willing to see guests." He disappears into the stairwell.
Flint looks between Ky and Sewall for a moment, and then eventually makes his way back to the couch, perching on the very end and digging a lighter from his pocket to relit the cigarette that still dangles from his lips, thoughtful. And for the moment silent.
Pack> Flint says, "I should see if I can make a puzzle box. Something to. To, fidget with."
"Welcome to Hidden Walk," Ky replies to the Fang. He sinks back into his seat with a glance toward Flint. His knees start that subtle bouncing again, despite efforts to stay still. "What brings you out this way?"
Pack> Ky says, "I couldn't stay focused on drawing this morning."
Pack> Flint gives a faint, small mental nod, along with a flash of sympathy. "Focus on something," Flint says. "Even if it's just, finding somewhere to lay in the wolf a while."
Sewall hobbles his way over to an empty chair and sits without being asked. "I was a cub here, years ago," he says, tugging off his gloves. "I was sent off to the Caern of the Earthspine to finish my education and such, but this place has never been far from my mind."
Flint looks at his packmate for a long moment, concern furrowing his brow. "You don't have to stay still if you don't want to," he says to Ky, fairly quietly, before trailing off.
Pack> Flint says, "Not if trying to stay still isn't helping."
"I'm fine," Kyler says even as Flint speaks. He casts a look at the Galliard before settling his attention on Sewall. "Really," he says. And he sounds honestly interested. "Welcome back then. Haven't had any others of Falcon in a while. Why were you sent off? If it isn't too personal."
"You've probably noticed that this Sept is rather… unconventional," Sewall says. Getting out of his coat is a little awkward, but he's managed it, and settles himself more-or-less comfortably, with the cane between his legs.
Flint watches the conversation with some interest, and then directs an absent-minded comment at the air. "He wasn't talking to you," Flint tells what must be an internal dialogue, before furrowing his brows a little. Any rebuttal to Ky's 'I'm fine' waits. "I'd like to… see more of the Garou Nation, some day. Other septs, other. O-other, stories, experience, stuff. I've, only. Ever been, here."
"That's putting it nicely." This, Ky says to Sewall. "It's definitely different from the sept I grew up in. But we had the occasional Strider and Wendigo come through, never a settlement of all tribes."
Sewall nods. "It was similar at Earthspine. Mainly my tribe and Fenris's, with members of other tribes on occasion, though nothing like a serious representation."
Flint listens intently and quietly, for the moment, letting the two ragabash talk.
"Broken Prairie was really only Thunder's children." Ky grins and shrugs. "It was also pretty small, compared to a lot of places, even here. Pretty sure I'd never met another from any other tribe before I came here."
Sewall nods to the Shadow Lord. If he shares his tribe's usual distrust of Thunder's children, he doesn't show it. "It must have been quite a change for you, then, coming here."
Flint leans against the back of the couch and swings his legs off the edge of it.
Ky shrugs, and glances toward the stairwell. "Something like that." He starts to stand again, leaning forward and tensing, as if to get to his feet, then aborts and settles back again. He still fidgets though, heels bouncing against the floor.
Nicodemus re-emerges from the stairwell. Alone. "Sorry. Mouse doesn't seem to be in at the moment. I planned on seeing her soon, though. Shall I pass on a message for you? Or is there something I could do to help you, Sewall?"
Sewall pushes his glasses up his nose. "I wanted to thank her for her offer of living quarters here at the Tenement, and to tell her I'd like to take her up on it."
Flint looks between Nicodemus and Sewall and then gets to his feet, though then he leans back against the couch. "I… I can, get you settled, Sewall-yuf," he offers to Sewall. "Since Mouse-rhya isn't in. At least for now." Then there's another furrow of brow and concern at Ky, another moment of the galliard muttering to himself.
Ky shakes his head at Flint's look, however this time the 'I'm fine' doesn't follow. He lets out a breath, a drawn out sigh really, and slouches in his seat. One hand comes out enough to pick at the piling on the arm of the couch, and feet continue to jiggle a bit while the Walkers attend to their guest.
Nicodemus digs in his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. He begins working one of them off. "Because Mouse already brought you here and offered to let you stay, and because I've got a room on the third floor that I only use a couple times a month, you're welcome to use it until Mouse assigns you one. It's pretty bare-bones: just a cot, a TV tray, a folding chair, and some toothpaste and toilet paper. But it's a safe place to stay. And keep the window closed unless you want Val popping in unannounced." He hands the key over to Sewall. "When you're done, just leave the key with a Walker and ask them to put it in the 5th floor breakroom for me to pick up later."
Sewall shifts his weight in the chair, sitting forward to take the proffered key. "That's generous of you, Mr. Dalton. Thank you."
There's a knock on the door; any examining the cameras would find the Fianna waiting outside.
Flint glances between Sewall and Nicodemus, and nods. "That works," he says, a little bit flatly. And then Flint glances to the monitor, and walks over to the door. "Elliot-rhya," Flint greets, a broad grin. "Heya." The Walker steps aside, to allow the Fianna in.
Ky's movement stills for the moment it takes for the door to be seen to. He looks past Flint to Elliot and grins at the Athro. "Hey, Elliot-rhya," he echoes his packmate. Fingers start tapping against the arm of the chair, gaze settling on those actions.
Nicodemus raises a hand in greeting to the Fianna he's met once before. "Good evening." As a follow-up, he mentions, "Mouse doesn't seem to be in at the moment, if you were looking for her."
Sewall has already pocketed the key Nick's given him, and now his attention turns to the new arrival; he doesn't get up out of his chair.
Elliot steps inside, dressed in a jacket but not seeming terribly affected by the chillier weather outside. "Hey guys." His glance first goes to Nicodemus at that information—"Damn, read my mind. Yeah, I needed to drop a message with her." Then, however, he notes Sewall, and sends the Fang a nod. "Hey, you new around?"
Flint nods at Elliot. "Anything that I can help with, Elliot-rhya?" the galliard asks. "C-can send an email, that. That— it. Should, reach Mouse-rhya, if. If you'd like, that is." There's a frustrated squint as Flint paces back over to sit near his packmate, grabbing an iPhone off the coffee table from near the monitor. "Even just to. Just to, let her know, you. Were here. It. Email's usually, fastest."
Sewall takes Elliot in, his gaze intent, calculating, and not entirely readable. He introduces himself without hesitation, though not with any undignified hurry, either. Nor does he stand up. "Sewall Cecil Gagnan, called Drinks-the-Bitter-Draught. Cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs." He adjusts his glasses. "I was a cub here, years ago, though Rited at the Caern of the Earthspine."
Ky rocks forward again and stands this time, snagging the empty orange juice bottle as he moves. He circles around the couch he'd been sitting on, but as far as pacing goes, no step leads him too far from his packmate.
Nicodemus makes a mildly apologetic gesture in response to Elliot, but he keeps out of the way and quiet. Almost. "I'll go make a fresh pot of coffee for everyone." He moves into the break area and begins cleaning and prepping the coffee machine.
"Yeah, that'd be handy, actually. Just let her know that I said December first, noonish. She'll know what I mean." And then his attention goes to Sewall's introduction, and he regards the cliath with consideration. "Well, good to have you back. Elliot Griffin, the Shockwave-That-Follows-The-Blast, athro ragabash, Righ of the Fianna, and Alpha of the Sept. That," he adds, to the rest of the room, "is another thing—Silvertip's left for a little while. He'll be back, but he had business."
Flint picks up his phone and nods. "Right," the Walker ragabash says, clearly sending the email as he does so, and then his brows furrow at Ky. "Elliot-rhya, Sewall-yuf? If you'd excuse us." There's clear concern and tension in Flint's voice, and he moves over to carefully guide Ky. "C'mon," he urges his packmate, though it doesn't seem that he's giving the Shadow Lord ragabash too much choice in whether they stay or go.
Sewall's eyes narrow a bit, considering; his nod to Flint is distracted and perfunctory. Addressing the new Sept Alpha, he says, "I should let you know, then, sir, that I intend to stay, but I've not been able to get in touch with Dirk-rhya, who is, I've been told, the only other Silver Fang in residence right now."
Ky stops pacing at Elliot's announcement, giving him a thoughtful look. "Nik-rhya was right," he muses as he steps into that idle movement again. Flint's prompting earns him a look and a shrug, though he isn't unwilling to follow the Galliard.
Nicodemus actually cleans the pot and machine before reloading it. He pauses momentarily as Elliot mentions Silvertip no longer being sept Alpha, but then continues prepwork to make coffee. Add water, add fresh ground coffee, replace pot, and flick power on. He loiters by the machine, listening in to the conversation and cleaning a few dirty dishes as he waits for the coffee to brew.
Elliot quirks a brow up at Ky, though only fleetingly. "Right about?" And then, his attention returns to Sewall. He considers the words for a moment, and then nods. "Talk to Warder—or at least a Guardian—for access to any of the bawn, though I'll warn it's in a hell of a shape right now. As far as chiminage—we can discuss that now or later, it's up to you."
Flint purses his lips, shoves his phone into his pocket. Elliot is offered a brief, apologetic glance, before Flint more firmly guides his packmate towards the basement. "We need to talk," is said, mostly to Ky but otherwise audibly. The door shuts behind them.
Ky had been trying to respond to Elliot, but the dragging down and closing of the basement door only allowed for an apologetic look before the upstairs was sealed off. It does leave the Ragabash offering his packmate a shrug once he's completely down the stairs, and his nervous energy turns to picking at the frame of the painting on the wall.
Flint shakes his head briefly, perhaps apologetically himself, and then faces Ky, leaning against the wall. Tension coils through his body momentarily, then he reaches out to set a hand briefly on Ky's shoulder. "The punching bag works better," Flint offers, gesturing to one that's been set up in the middle of the living room. "At least, did for me." There's another pause, and Flint hooks his thumbs in his pockets.
"I'm fine," Ky says, more insistent this time than he had previous times. There's no one else around at the moment to see him and his shaking hands and inability to stay still for too long. Though his movements are kept confined, one hand tucks under the other arm while he bites down on a finger nail. "First day's the worst," he explains, "tomorrow'll be easier. If it stays like it did the first time."
Flint looks at Ky, this earning a much more severe furrow of brows, and then runs a finger through his hair. "Fuck," he mutters. "It does," he agrees, with a moment further of silence after, and then he looks at the ceiling. "You cannot do this a third time," the Glass Walker stresses. It's as close to an order as Flint's tone ever gets, heavy with concern. "How much was it? I know it sucks to think about," and Flint's barely managing the words, careful each time and shoving his own issues far to the side and the back to deal with later, likely with the punching bag. "But we seriously need to know. Otherwise, this… Some kinds of vampires…" the Galliard goes silent, and sinks onto the arm of the couch.
"Aaaa!" It's not a scream nor a yell, so much as just a sound of vented frustration. "Damn it, Flint. I don't know! Drops, enough that I can taste it just under the burn of the liquor. And I really don't need you telling me what I can or can't do right now. No one else would've been able to get in and no one else would've been able to stay in. I just need a couple more weeks and then I should know. There's talk of the president coming, I should be able to find out then, or get something of his and we can questing stone and find him."
Flint winces a bit, and quietly, offers, "Sorry," along with a nod. "I know," Flint says, getting up to pace. "Just. Sometimes, it… someone, they… start. Thinking about, the. Draugr." As if that word for leeches is somehow a little easier for Flint to say. "It's a side-effect. And what I found out, asking, is. It can… become, permanent until the thing's killed, at. Which point you're… useless against it, it can. Compel you, and all. Three times, maybe four? Is what I. Found out. It probably is, f-for… all the rest of the gang? They're bonded for certain, from. What you said." There's a wave of sympathy over the packlink and then it's Flint who paces over to punch the punching bag, before composing himself. "We'll find him and deal with him," Flint says, grimly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, if. Just… I dunno, drown yourself in music or punching the bag for a bit, don't just…" That trails off.
"I'm only interested in finding the vampire," Kyler growls. "And not for any reasons of devotion. Because the only way to not feel this way, not feel… like… Like one cookie isn't enough, is to kill the damn thing. I get your concerned, I know that. But you and Lex are with me constantly and will know as soon as I do what's going on. The first day after is the worst and I'll be better tomorrow." The last word is punctuated with a foot connecting quite solidly with the front of the desk.
There's a nod. "Okay," Flint says, with a nod, apparently satisfied with this and certainly not going to push further, and there's a glance up the stairs. "You wanna go back up there, or?" This, Flint is leaving up to Ky, and there's a shrug, a long silence in which for the ragabash to answer. "I think Nick brought some sodas, too, can grab you one from the laundry room. Or. Or something, if you want."
Ky kicks the desk again, an act which seems to blow out the last of his frustration for the moment. "Yeah," he agrees after, turning for the stairs. "I'll be okay, Flint. I need others to know what's going on though and I can't do that hiding down here. And I can't stay gone from the gang for too long."
Flint watches, with understanding at the frustration rather than judgment, and nods, going for the stairs. "Yeah, I know," he says, starting up the stairs and back towards the lobby.
The door to the basement reopens and from it emerges Ky. The Shadow Lord looks a trifle less agitated, at least in that his agitation is directed elsewhere for the moment. And behind him comes Flint, looking no less concerned.
Sewall finishes off his coffee and, with a grimace, levers himself to his feet, right hand with a death grip on the head of his cane. He offers the empty mug back to Nicodemus, saying, "If you don't mind, I'm going to get my things. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elliot-rhya."
Flint lets the door shut gently behind him, and gives what looks to be an attempt at a reassuring grin before he crosses back over to the couch, a small muttered apology to no one in particular. "Goodnight, Sewall-yuf," the galliard offers.
"You too," the Fianna replies, lifting his mug in a bit of a mock-salute toward the Fang. "Have a good one." He regards Ky and Flint for a moment, and then looks back toward Nicodemus. "Maybe," he says, not clarifying which point he's acknowledging—or maybe it's all of them. "In my experience, they usually aren't. My main concern is that it's fucking with people."
Nicodemus accepts the empty mug and nods a farewell to Sewall. "Sleep well. Tell me about that fetish you helped recover some other time, if you've got a moment? I'll bet it's an interesting story." He notices the two returning garou and offers them both, "Coffee? Just made it." To Elliot, he nods in agreement. "I've not heard anyone ever say anything good about them. There's obviously a reason for that."
"What's fucking with people," Ky asks, as if he'd been part of the conversation the entire time. He shakes his head to the offer and wanders back to the couch he'd abandoned. Of course, as soon as he sits, one knee begins bouncing up and down very slightly.
Sewall pauses in the middle of awkwardly getting back into his coat and such to look at Nick with an odd kind of intensity. After a heartbeat or two, he nods. "It is," he says stiffly. "Very interesting. Pardon me." He hobbles for the door.
Flint looks over at Elliot as the Fianna speaks, brows lifting ever so slightly. The Walker cliath moves over to sit down on the floor next to the couch, closer to his packmate. "I think I— I. Have. A pretty good guess at, what," Flint says, tone grim.
"We were just saying," Elliot says with a look toward the pair, "that a few months ago a vampire was fucking with people. And I want to make sure it's gone." And then, he adds, "Isn't Devon a packmate of yours? Can you get him to get ahold of me? I need to have a word with him."
Nicodemus nods as Elliot speaks, casually backing up the weight of the athro's words with all the weight that a random kinfolk might carry.
Nicodemus nods as Elliot speaks, casually backing up the weight of the athro's words with all the weight that a random kinfolk might carry.
Ky shakes his head. "I've only seen Devon at moot, usually keeping with his tribe, he's not in Unfettered." He pauses slightly and glances at Flint before moving on. "There's another vampire you need to know about, too. Though, it's possible to be the same one. At least, I'm theorizing it's a vampire, considering everything I've found so far."
"Tribemate, yes. Packmate, no," Flint confirms, shaking his head. "Devon's left, he headed to Colorado Springs. I think Nieve-rhya might be able to. T-to. To get a hold of him, but. I… Anyway. That… vampire. The one you…" The galliard pauses and takes a deep breath in, a bit on edge himself, though there's a faint glance up to Ky, and a nod, "were talking about. I. Had a few, encounters with it." There's a pause and Flint looks at Ky. "I don't know it's the same, the. Thing, seemed a bit. Off her rocker, everything you've… told us, about. I… about the gang. Is too methodical."
Elliot listens, and doesn't interrupt Flint while he gets through what he's saying. "Ah, tribemate then. Sorry. Okay, though, thanks for the information." To the rest, he sets the (now empty) mug of coffee on the table. "Then yeah, talk to me. What's going on?"
Nicodemus collects Elliot's mug and holds up two fingers—refill?—before heading back to the break area with both Elliot's and Sewall's cups. He drops out of the conversation, allowing the garou to conduct business once again.
"There's a gang in town," Ky explains, adding chewing on a finger nail to his idle activities. "Val tipped Unfettered off to them, saying there was something supernatural about it. I got into a fight with a couple of their recruits and earned myself a spot as one also. I used Echoes recently and heard something about them drinking vampire blood. It was confirmed as part of the initiation. And if the president is a vampire, I should hopefully find out soon."
Flint draws his knees to his chest, pulling himself mostly into a ball, and then leans back against the couch, half-watching Elliot as Ky speaks, but doesn't add anything this time around.
Elliot shakes his head mutely to Nicodemus, but gives the kin a grateful glance, and then continues listening to Ky. There's a pause somewhere in there, and the Fianna eyes Ky for a moment. "The initiation. Were you, as a recruit, 'intiated'? And what is this gang up to?"
Nicodemus busies himself with washing the mugs and putting them back into their proper places.
Ky nods slightly. He drops his hand to tap the arm of the chair. Then, seemingly mindful of his actions, folds his arms across his chest and sinks backward to slouch. "I was initiated. And if they were just people I'd say there was nothing to worry about. However, they're either bonded or ghouls. Definitely some blood drinking going on."
Flint squints his eyes shut for a moment, glancing up at Ky assessingly, but only for a brief moment, before attention is back on the Fianna.
Elliot lifts a hand and rubs at his brow before letting his hand fall and looking to Ky, features hard to read. "Drink nothing else they give you. Nothing. Fake it if you have to. I'm not going to take you off of it because you have enough wits around you to tell me about it, and because you're close to getting real information, but I want reports as to what's going on every few days, through you or a packmate. And if you—" This is to Flint, "Start noticing him going off the rails, let me know." To the rest, "And once you find what you're looking for, and if your pack needs help dealing with it, let me know. Because leeches? Can be dangerous."
Flint nods, grimly. "I've been there," the young galliard admits, a grimace as he glances to the basement. "I'll notice."
Nicodemus finishes the two mugs and gets to work on cleaning the remaining dirty dishes.
"Yes, Elliot-rhya," Ky answers, head bobbing in what appears to be a nod. "I'm good. I'm fine. Like I told Flint and my tribe, I just need a little bit longer. But someone'll update you. Either me or Flint or Lex. I'll be alright. Once I know more I'll be gathering whatever Garou I need to get the job done."
"Good," Elliot replies. And, that said, he hefts himself up, snagging his jacket. "That said," he says, and the ragabash lifts his brows, "Good job on getting in there. I'll look forward to hearing from you. For now, I need to get back home." To Nicodemus, the Fianna lifts a hand in a wave. "Thanks for the coffee, man."
"Take care," Nick says as he wipes a plate dry and stacks it back up with the rest.
Flint pushes to his feet, and then settles in a vacant corner of the couch, still near Ky. "Thank you Elliot-rhya," Flint adds. "One've us will. W-will…" That trails off, with a vague shrug to fill in the rest of the words, and then Flint grabs a sketchbook. From one of the front pages, the teen tears out a page, crumpling it angrily into a ball, and then sighs, settling for the rest of his security shift.
"I need to get going too," Ky says, standing also. He shoves his hands into his jeans pocket and casts a look at Flint. "See you around," he calls to Nick before turning to quasi-follow Elliot, at least as far as the street.
Pack> Flint gives a vague wave of reassurance over the packlink. "We'll both be fine," he remarks.
Elliot holds the door for Ky, gives the Shadow Lord his number before they part on the street, and then heads back home.