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Tuesday, 27 November 2012 13:57![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouNew cubs. Touchy… was I that touchy?
27 November 2012
The moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (92% full).
The back meadow, if anyone were to be paying attention, has a mostly black-furred, slight of form wolf trot across it, and close to and up to the house. And then footsteps across the back porch, followed by Flint opening the door, and looking around. And then doing a bit of a double-take, as he slinks into the kitchen. "Charlene-rhya," comes the greeting from the cliath galliard, polite, leaning against the door after he's closed it behind him. Moxie and Reed get a brief nod.
"Doesn't mean anything, huh? Shows how much you know, Cub." Charlene chuckles, shaking her head, hair bobbing as she does. "And, yes, while the definition of you sitting here and not allowed to leave is kidnapping, we can keep you here, and we're gonna keep you here 'cause you can't go back to the way things were. When you changed into a ten-foot tall Werewolf you officially gave up bein' part of the flock. You're dangerous if you're not taught the right things." She starts to pace, actually growing at least six inches as she does. "People'll just instinctively shy away from you 'cause of the rage inside of you. And then there are the things that don't like Gaia's keepers very much…" She stops, her head almost brushing the doorjamb, letting loose another small chuckle. "You'll learn about them soon enough."
As Charlene shifts size, Reed shifts positions and puts himself slightly in front of Moxie. His gaze flicks briefly when movement behind the Fury turns out to be the strange kid from the streets, though it's the woman he addresses first. "If you're trying to scare me, lady, you'll have to do better than that. And you." He nods toward Flint, and his tone grates with anger only strengthened by the weight of the moon. "You need to replace Moxie's hat. She needs a new cat-hat."
"How DARE you laugh at him." Moxie rises from the table, sparks almost flying off of her as her rage bubbles to the surface, her defiance paying little heed to Charlene's changing. "This is not funny, this is insane. You can't just… just steal kids off the street and magically expect it to be okay!" Reaching down, she grabs her back pack and turns to stalk out the back door—only to find Flint leaning against it, nonchalant as you like. "You." Glower.
Flint continues to lean against the door. He looks no less like he wants to kill the world than he did before, but his form is rather unobtrusive, overall. In fact, ignoring Reed, he matches Moxie's glower for a moment before glancing over to Charlene. "No. I think she… needs it, more than I do, right now." This, Flint says, before in fact taking off the cat hat, offering it out towards Moxie. "I know. World's g-gone, turned upside down. But." Words are effort, on this big of a moon, and Flint glances at Reed. "Chill." Then he turns back to Moxie. "Look. It gets better from h-here," he tells her, quite seriously.
Yay willpower… The curling of Charlene's upper lip to reveal a wickedly pointed canine stops, and the woman shrinks down just a bit more to her normal size. She glances over to the door and rolls her shoulders. "Hey Flint… new cubs." Discussing Moxie and Reed in front of them without even paying them attention. "Say we can't keep 'em here." Her attention goes back to Reed fully now, blue eyes burning. "Boy, you want to fight, you go outside and you go into the barn and you hit the heavy bag. No war form in Edgewood. Fucks up the floor right quick, claws and fightin' and blood." She takes a deep breath and blows it out her nose, calm radiating from her as she crosses her arms across her chest. "What would you rather we do, Moxie? Let you and him, in the middle of frenzy, run through St. Claire, leaving carnage in your wake?" She takes another breath. "You're Garou. We take care of our own, which is why you're out here."
Reed shakes his head, scoffing at Flint. "Whatever, dude." Charlene gets little better for a response. He smirks and huffs a chuckle, however there's little mirth in the sound. "We did fine on our own, without anyone else's help."
There is a moment of indecision, then Moxie takes off Flint's toque, swapping it for her cat hat, which gets jammed down onto her head with a vengeance. "You've got to tell them they can't keep us here," she asks Flint quietly. Then she turns on Charlene again when the woman starts talking about them while they're stood right there. "You're ga-roo, which gives you the right to tell us how to live? We've managed fine the past couple years."
"I noticed," Flint asides to Charlene. Another long pause, and he looks at the elder Galliard. "By the way, it's dead, Charlene-rhya. Most of what I. The. Came out here to, tell. Dealt with it. Saturday night. The few others're still, out there in the city. But th' one's dead. Banes in the tenement are dealt with too." He takes a deep breath, adjusts his stance leaning on the door, and takes his toque back, shoving it into a sweatshirt pocket. "Garou," he corrects Moxie. "Y'ain't done fine. You're garou too. It's. Why Regan Hope told y' go away. Why no one'd." There's a pause. "Et cetera." There's a distinctly kill-it-all expression on Flint's face, and eventually he stalks for the fridge, digging through it until he finds a soda. "Now sit back down. Both of you." There's a pause, and Flint glances at Charlene. "Charlene-rhya, maybe slow, down a bit. One thing at a time?" Another pause. "But. For now, you two stay here."
"That was before, though, Reed. Before becoming Garou. Two syllables. Ga-roo, short pause between the first and second syllable." An aside to the girl before she turns back to Reed, keeping Moxie in sight so she's not being ignored. There's another shuddering breath as Charlene re-takes her hat, jamming it back on her head, pacing for a moment before re-taking her seat. "Okay, look… hand to god, cross my heart an' hope to die, pinkie swear, you name it… it does get better. Right now I know you're confused. Scared. Worried about what happens next an' thinkin' of how you can get out of here and back to somethin' you know." She motions to Flint to see if she'll get her a soda before looking back to the pair. "You think cops or gangbangers are what you need to worry about any more? Where your next meal comes from? How you're gonna stay warm at night? That you don't need to worry 'bout any more. You c'n stay here, free. Food, free, all you c'n eat. It ain't safe out there, for you or the world, if you jus' go."
Reed looks at Flint and crosses his arms over his chest. He's not sitting, but he is silently challenging any claim that the two can tell him or his friend to do anything. "No one bothered us before, and we didn't bother anyone," he says to Charlene. "You keep saying it'll get better but I don't remember me or Moxie saying it sucked either. Just that we aren't staying here."
"That's what I said. Ga-roo," Moxie repeats, frowning as she is corrected. "And I ain't one. Whatever it is. I'm just me, and Reed is just him." Firm logic, that, and the nod of her head says she's going with it. The stubborn set of her jaw tends to agree. "This is some kind of church, is it? Stay here, eat our food, listen to our babble about how we're werewolves and you are too? What, are you some kind of furry institute, or god forbid, otherkin?" Yes, she's up on her internet-driven minorities.
Flint hands a soda off to Charlene and then grumps. "You are." Then he turns to look at Reed, and something about the young Glass Walker changes. Confidence, surety, authority, control. The cliath galliard has them, and he puts them into what he tells Reed. "Sit down, and we'll keep talking. It ain' church, or school, or the cops, but the moon's big a-and. Just sit down."
Charlene lifts the soda with a smile and cracks the seal with a hiss, swallowing most of it in two large gulps, burping softly to herself. Very ladylike, isn't she, but then, she stands up and something happens to her too, her voice becoming more persuasive, almost honeyed. "You are a Garou, Moxie and Reed. This is your home. This is a safe place to learn. To grow. To make a difference. Sit down, finish your dinner, and we'll show you things that you'll have never imagined were possible."
Reed pulls his abandoned chair out with a little more force than is necessary, then sits. He's still defiant, evident in his posture and expression. He jabs a finger into one of the sandwiches still on the table, mashing bread and tuna together.
Moxie may be defiant, but it's just regular teenage defiance with a bit of rage behind it. Not super-powered defiance. So it is that she finds herself sitting down as well even though she hadn't intended to, expression becoming sullen. Vengefully, she takes it out on a sandwich as well, though this is done by savagely stuffing one end into her mouth and biting it off. Take that, bread and dolphin-friendly tuna.
Flint perches on the counter once the two have sat down, and nods. "Better," he agrees. "Anyway. Want to tell me what, remember, from." At which point, frustration drives him off the counter, to kick the cabinet, and then hang his head. A moment later, Flint's composed himself again, into 'being an adult', and glances at Reed and Moxie. "How you, got here, that is?"
Reed doesn't look particularly inclined to answer at this point. His gaze flicks to Moxie then back to the sandwich he's slowly mashing with a finger.
Moxie is busy savaging a sandwich. She doesn't say anything either now, just watches Flint with wide green eyes, a combination of wariness and a hint of betrayal in there. Not that they'd ever done more than exchange hats and a few words, but so out of her depth is she that everything sticks right now.
Flint snarls under his breath. "Can't help if, don't know what happened," he points out to Moxie, quietly. And sincerely, it would seem, that he does want to help. "Either've you have, time you…" He pauses, searching for words, then continues. "Can't remember? In the past day and a bit? That. Is frenzy. Or at least, most likely, it was frenzy." There's a brief exchange of glances between the galliards, and the elder excuses herself wordlessly into the other part of the house, the younger hops back up onto the counter. "And you don't have to stay here forever. Just a bit, while everything gets sorted, while people figure out who'll teach you, et cetera." Flint focuses on Reed, after that. "Punching the punching bag helps more. Or in a bit, if you want. We could go over to the garage and work on stuff. You're angry. I know." There's quite a bit of the galliard's own rage evident. "The moon, Luna. When the moon's big like this, it's all worse."
Reed draws his hand away from the sandwich and curls it into a fist when Flint snarls. The sound might not be directed at him, but he responds just the same even if the fist doesn't go anywhere. He still doesn't speak, but that level of rage coming off him is nearly palpable.
"Sewell and Maddie brought us here." Moxie offers that nugget of information once the sandwich has been vengefully macerated and masticated, and she's finished it. "It all went a bit weird." That said, she grabs her bag and heads for the garage, the suggestion of the punching bag apparently sounding good to her.
Flint calms himself quickly enough, reining his anger in, and looks at Reed. "Easy," comes the word, persuasive and gentle again. "Whatever it is can wait. Smaller moon. You two go over to the garage," he agrees, but then adds, more forcefully. "But stay here. This house. Edgewood. You need anything, call me." There's a moment. "Flint," the galliard offers helpfully, can set on the counter, and then he shifts to lupus, right there in front of them, before turning towards the door out of the kitchen.
Reed doesn't show the slightest bit of surprise, only deep anger that seems to have no set direction. He leaves the ruined sandwich on the table and turns to follow Moxie, his own pack dragged out from under the table as he makes an exit, too.
27 November 2012
The moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (92% full).
The back meadow, if anyone were to be paying attention, has a mostly black-furred, slight of form wolf trot across it, and close to and up to the house. And then footsteps across the back porch, followed by Flint opening the door, and looking around. And then doing a bit of a double-take, as he slinks into the kitchen. "Charlene-rhya," comes the greeting from the cliath galliard, polite, leaning against the door after he's closed it behind him. Moxie and Reed get a brief nod.
"Doesn't mean anything, huh? Shows how much you know, Cub." Charlene chuckles, shaking her head, hair bobbing as she does. "And, yes, while the definition of you sitting here and not allowed to leave is kidnapping, we can keep you here, and we're gonna keep you here 'cause you can't go back to the way things were. When you changed into a ten-foot tall Werewolf you officially gave up bein' part of the flock. You're dangerous if you're not taught the right things." She starts to pace, actually growing at least six inches as she does. "People'll just instinctively shy away from you 'cause of the rage inside of you. And then there are the things that don't like Gaia's keepers very much…" She stops, her head almost brushing the doorjamb, letting loose another small chuckle. "You'll learn about them soon enough."
As Charlene shifts size, Reed shifts positions and puts himself slightly in front of Moxie. His gaze flicks briefly when movement behind the Fury turns out to be the strange kid from the streets, though it's the woman he addresses first. "If you're trying to scare me, lady, you'll have to do better than that. And you." He nods toward Flint, and his tone grates with anger only strengthened by the weight of the moon. "You need to replace Moxie's hat. She needs a new cat-hat."
"How DARE you laugh at him." Moxie rises from the table, sparks almost flying off of her as her rage bubbles to the surface, her defiance paying little heed to Charlene's changing. "This is not funny, this is insane. You can't just… just steal kids off the street and magically expect it to be okay!" Reaching down, she grabs her back pack and turns to stalk out the back door—only to find Flint leaning against it, nonchalant as you like. "You." Glower.
Flint continues to lean against the door. He looks no less like he wants to kill the world than he did before, but his form is rather unobtrusive, overall. In fact, ignoring Reed, he matches Moxie's glower for a moment before glancing over to Charlene. "No. I think she… needs it, more than I do, right now." This, Flint says, before in fact taking off the cat hat, offering it out towards Moxie. "I know. World's g-gone, turned upside down. But." Words are effort, on this big of a moon, and Flint glances at Reed. "Chill." Then he turns back to Moxie. "Look. It gets better from h-here," he tells her, quite seriously.
Yay willpower… The curling of Charlene's upper lip to reveal a wickedly pointed canine stops, and the woman shrinks down just a bit more to her normal size. She glances over to the door and rolls her shoulders. "Hey Flint… new cubs." Discussing Moxie and Reed in front of them without even paying them attention. "Say we can't keep 'em here." Her attention goes back to Reed fully now, blue eyes burning. "Boy, you want to fight, you go outside and you go into the barn and you hit the heavy bag. No war form in Edgewood. Fucks up the floor right quick, claws and fightin' and blood." She takes a deep breath and blows it out her nose, calm radiating from her as she crosses her arms across her chest. "What would you rather we do, Moxie? Let you and him, in the middle of frenzy, run through St. Claire, leaving carnage in your wake?" She takes another breath. "You're Garou. We take care of our own, which is why you're out here."
Reed shakes his head, scoffing at Flint. "Whatever, dude." Charlene gets little better for a response. He smirks and huffs a chuckle, however there's little mirth in the sound. "We did fine on our own, without anyone else's help."
There is a moment of indecision, then Moxie takes off Flint's toque, swapping it for her cat hat, which gets jammed down onto her head with a vengeance. "You've got to tell them they can't keep us here," she asks Flint quietly. Then she turns on Charlene again when the woman starts talking about them while they're stood right there. "You're ga-roo, which gives you the right to tell us how to live? We've managed fine the past couple years."
"I noticed," Flint asides to Charlene. Another long pause, and he looks at the elder Galliard. "By the way, it's dead, Charlene-rhya. Most of what I. The. Came out here to, tell. Dealt with it. Saturday night. The few others're still, out there in the city. But th' one's dead. Banes in the tenement are dealt with too." He takes a deep breath, adjusts his stance leaning on the door, and takes his toque back, shoving it into a sweatshirt pocket. "Garou," he corrects Moxie. "Y'ain't done fine. You're garou too. It's. Why Regan Hope told y' go away. Why no one'd." There's a pause. "Et cetera." There's a distinctly kill-it-all expression on Flint's face, and eventually he stalks for the fridge, digging through it until he finds a soda. "Now sit back down. Both of you." There's a pause, and Flint glances at Charlene. "Charlene-rhya, maybe slow, down a bit. One thing at a time?" Another pause. "But. For now, you two stay here."
"That was before, though, Reed. Before becoming Garou. Two syllables. Ga-roo, short pause between the first and second syllable." An aside to the girl before she turns back to Reed, keeping Moxie in sight so she's not being ignored. There's another shuddering breath as Charlene re-takes her hat, jamming it back on her head, pacing for a moment before re-taking her seat. "Okay, look… hand to god, cross my heart an' hope to die, pinkie swear, you name it… it does get better. Right now I know you're confused. Scared. Worried about what happens next an' thinkin' of how you can get out of here and back to somethin' you know." She motions to Flint to see if she'll get her a soda before looking back to the pair. "You think cops or gangbangers are what you need to worry about any more? Where your next meal comes from? How you're gonna stay warm at night? That you don't need to worry 'bout any more. You c'n stay here, free. Food, free, all you c'n eat. It ain't safe out there, for you or the world, if you jus' go."
Reed looks at Flint and crosses his arms over his chest. He's not sitting, but he is silently challenging any claim that the two can tell him or his friend to do anything. "No one bothered us before, and we didn't bother anyone," he says to Charlene. "You keep saying it'll get better but I don't remember me or Moxie saying it sucked either. Just that we aren't staying here."
"That's what I said. Ga-roo," Moxie repeats, frowning as she is corrected. "And I ain't one. Whatever it is. I'm just me, and Reed is just him." Firm logic, that, and the nod of her head says she's going with it. The stubborn set of her jaw tends to agree. "This is some kind of church, is it? Stay here, eat our food, listen to our babble about how we're werewolves and you are too? What, are you some kind of furry institute, or god forbid, otherkin?" Yes, she's up on her internet-driven minorities.
Flint hands a soda off to Charlene and then grumps. "You are." Then he turns to look at Reed, and something about the young Glass Walker changes. Confidence, surety, authority, control. The cliath galliard has them, and he puts them into what he tells Reed. "Sit down, and we'll keep talking. It ain' church, or school, or the cops, but the moon's big a-and. Just sit down."
Charlene lifts the soda with a smile and cracks the seal with a hiss, swallowing most of it in two large gulps, burping softly to herself. Very ladylike, isn't she, but then, she stands up and something happens to her too, her voice becoming more persuasive, almost honeyed. "You are a Garou, Moxie and Reed. This is your home. This is a safe place to learn. To grow. To make a difference. Sit down, finish your dinner, and we'll show you things that you'll have never imagined were possible."
Reed pulls his abandoned chair out with a little more force than is necessary, then sits. He's still defiant, evident in his posture and expression. He jabs a finger into one of the sandwiches still on the table, mashing bread and tuna together.
Moxie may be defiant, but it's just regular teenage defiance with a bit of rage behind it. Not super-powered defiance. So it is that she finds herself sitting down as well even though she hadn't intended to, expression becoming sullen. Vengefully, she takes it out on a sandwich as well, though this is done by savagely stuffing one end into her mouth and biting it off. Take that, bread and dolphin-friendly tuna.
Flint perches on the counter once the two have sat down, and nods. "Better," he agrees. "Anyway. Want to tell me what, remember, from." At which point, frustration drives him off the counter, to kick the cabinet, and then hang his head. A moment later, Flint's composed himself again, into 'being an adult', and glances at Reed and Moxie. "How you, got here, that is?"
Reed doesn't look particularly inclined to answer at this point. His gaze flicks to Moxie then back to the sandwich he's slowly mashing with a finger.
Moxie is busy savaging a sandwich. She doesn't say anything either now, just watches Flint with wide green eyes, a combination of wariness and a hint of betrayal in there. Not that they'd ever done more than exchange hats and a few words, but so out of her depth is she that everything sticks right now.
Flint snarls under his breath. "Can't help if, don't know what happened," he points out to Moxie, quietly. And sincerely, it would seem, that he does want to help. "Either've you have, time you…" He pauses, searching for words, then continues. "Can't remember? In the past day and a bit? That. Is frenzy. Or at least, most likely, it was frenzy." There's a brief exchange of glances between the galliards, and the elder excuses herself wordlessly into the other part of the house, the younger hops back up onto the counter. "And you don't have to stay here forever. Just a bit, while everything gets sorted, while people figure out who'll teach you, et cetera." Flint focuses on Reed, after that. "Punching the punching bag helps more. Or in a bit, if you want. We could go over to the garage and work on stuff. You're angry. I know." There's quite a bit of the galliard's own rage evident. "The moon, Luna. When the moon's big like this, it's all worse."
Reed draws his hand away from the sandwich and curls it into a fist when Flint snarls. The sound might not be directed at him, but he responds just the same even if the fist doesn't go anywhere. He still doesn't speak, but that level of rage coming off him is nearly palpable.
"Sewell and Maddie brought us here." Moxie offers that nugget of information once the sandwich has been vengefully macerated and masticated, and she's finished it. "It all went a bit weird." That said, she grabs her bag and heads for the garage, the suggestion of the punching bag apparently sounding good to her.
Flint calms himself quickly enough, reining his anger in, and looks at Reed. "Easy," comes the word, persuasive and gentle again. "Whatever it is can wait. Smaller moon. You two go over to the garage," he agrees, but then adds, more forcefully. "But stay here. This house. Edgewood. You need anything, call me." There's a moment. "Flint," the galliard offers helpfully, can set on the counter, and then he shifts to lupus, right there in front of them, before turning towards the door out of the kitchen.
Reed doesn't show the slightest bit of surprise, only deep anger that seems to have no set direction. He leaves the ruined sandwich on the table and turns to follow Moxie, his own pack dragged out from under the table as he makes an exit, too.