Some days.
Sunday, 16 December 2012 13:24![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouBut not today. Today I might be okay.
16 December, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (21% full).
It is the crescent moon, time of dark mystery and forbidden knowledge. Nieve is for once not shepherding the Lucent Witness, but has come to the fountain to meditate, to help keep her inner thoughts in line.
Midday comes, and at some point in the park that's less populated in the realm, Flint crosses over, a process which even at the glade, does take him several minutes. He pushes a hand through his hair and takes a breath, letting the park calm him, and then moving over towards his tribemate with a brief wave and nod.
"Requiem," Nieve greets quietly, glancing up as she hears movement, dark eyes resting on the cliath. "You are here for leisure, or to speak with me?"
Flint purses his lips and raises his shoulders in a shrug. "I dunno," he says, coming to sit near Nieve, near the fountain, knees to his chest. "Both, a little, I think. Yes, but I'm…" he pauses and collects his thoughts. "Not entirely sure what it is I want to talk about." As usual, Flint speaks slowly and carefully, and quietly.
"Start where you need to," is Nieve's reply—though spoken mildly as always, her tone does hint at the prickling of the moon. Even the most laid-back of Garou such as she bears the burden, after all.
Flint nods, draping his arms about his chest. "Ky's… doing better. Went home, all that. He'd gotten a hold of… somehow. Somewhere. But he didn't, and we burned it," the cliath says, and there's clearly almost an element of resentment in Flint's voice. "And it keeps making me think, and I just don't… want to think, not really."
"About blood?" Nieve asks, tilting her head slightly at Flint. "About when it happened to you?" She is quiet and to the point, turning to face the cliath a little more fully.
"Yes," Flint acknowledges, straightforward and not dodging the subject. "About that it's still out there. Whether I'd be able t-to, not do it, have it and not. I don't think so."
"Easy way to find out." The adren offers a faintly sly smile. "I know people who know people. There are leeches in St. Louis my former septmates are… handling. Wouldn't be hard to get some if y'want to test it."
The galliard bites his lower lip, and shakes his head. "I don't know I even want to find out," Flint says. "Because I'm… afraid, that the answer is no, or that I won't be able to." There's a glance to Nieve. "I just don't want to think about it, but it's not exactly… like I do good at that either, and all. Kavi-rhya still has, my knife, and Lex has my other one, and that's not… I'm not allowed to, so."
The Theurge tilts her head slightly the other way now. "I trust you, Requiem. I ain't got any problem with you not tryin' it, but if you want to, th' offer stands," she replies quietly. "Despite all attempts, Unfettered is unfettered once more."
Flint nods to Nieve, and pushes his hand through his hair again. "Thanks, Nieve-rhya," is the eventual response. "I'd like to… trust myself again," he admits. "But when it comes down to it right now, I don't. Not really. And then it's my fault, and I blame me, and Riley blames me, and." Stress from the topic at hand, even with the new moon, makes the words more disjointed again.
"Your pack should focus on somethin' other than vampires for a while," Nieve suggests, after a moment of silence. "Plenty of other wyrmspawn in th' city to look into."
Flint grins a bit, genuine even if he has to force the expression for a moment, strained from a general lack of doing so frequently. "Never see another again it'll be too soon," Flint agrees. "Except killing Rose. That, I. I… know, other people are working on it but I still want to. To get to put it all the way behind me because I'll know that it's dead."
"And how will you know? If it changes faces like we change clothes, how will you know it is dead?" the Theurge asks, almost philosophical but with an edge of hard question as well.
The faint grin disappears, replaced by a grimace, and then Flint squints his eyes shut. "I don't," he admits. "I have to get past it, whether it's… still out there, or not. But I want things to go back to. To normal."
"Then stop thinking about it. If it returns, you will deal with it. If it doesn't, it must already be dead." The adren's logic is sound, to a point. "Practice not giving a shit about it."
Flint considers the adren for a long, long moment of silence, and nods. "Yeah. I… need to get back to doing more things, that are… more conducive for that. More conducive for not blaming myself, too."
There's a brief smile from Nieve. "If you start to fret over it, use Dance of Lights for another problem. It's got more uses than the obvious," she suggests quietly. "If you don't know the ritual, I will teach you."
There's a nod. "I know it," Flint says, eventually relaxing a little bit and laying back in the grass, hands linked behind his head. "I… found an app on my phone for the screensaver, that I use most of the time. When I don't use a candle."
The Theurge nods. "I use an app as well," she acknowledges. "It helps me avoid focusing on stupid shit, as much as it does pointing to a specific task. Try it," she finishes.
Flint grins. "Thanks. I. I will," the cliath says, less dourly than at the beginning of the conversation. "Yeah. That's… I focus on whatever stupid shit too easily, get caught up in it, and that's when I just want to… not think. Except not thinking doesn't help, really, but it always feels like it does, in the… in the short term."
The older Walker offers a rueful smile. "You'll learn your own way in time, no doubt. 'til then, Dance of Lights. Now, can y'get out of my space? I'm tryin' to bleed off anger, an' I doubt you're volunteerin' to get ten shits beat out of you."
Flint grins at Nieve. "Some days, I'd be the first to volunteer," the cliath says, but the implication, as he shifts to lupus and trots off to another part of the park after getting a little closer to wag at the theurge, is that that is not today.
16 December, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (21% full).
It is the crescent moon, time of dark mystery and forbidden knowledge. Nieve is for once not shepherding the Lucent Witness, but has come to the fountain to meditate, to help keep her inner thoughts in line.
Midday comes, and at some point in the park that's less populated in the realm, Flint crosses over, a process which even at the glade, does take him several minutes. He pushes a hand through his hair and takes a breath, letting the park calm him, and then moving over towards his tribemate with a brief wave and nod.
"Requiem," Nieve greets quietly, glancing up as she hears movement, dark eyes resting on the cliath. "You are here for leisure, or to speak with me?"
Flint purses his lips and raises his shoulders in a shrug. "I dunno," he says, coming to sit near Nieve, near the fountain, knees to his chest. "Both, a little, I think. Yes, but I'm…" he pauses and collects his thoughts. "Not entirely sure what it is I want to talk about." As usual, Flint speaks slowly and carefully, and quietly.
"Start where you need to," is Nieve's reply—though spoken mildly as always, her tone does hint at the prickling of the moon. Even the most laid-back of Garou such as she bears the burden, after all.
Flint nods, draping his arms about his chest. "Ky's… doing better. Went home, all that. He'd gotten a hold of… somehow. Somewhere. But he didn't, and we burned it," the cliath says, and there's clearly almost an element of resentment in Flint's voice. "And it keeps making me think, and I just don't… want to think, not really."
"About blood?" Nieve asks, tilting her head slightly at Flint. "About when it happened to you?" She is quiet and to the point, turning to face the cliath a little more fully.
"Yes," Flint acknowledges, straightforward and not dodging the subject. "About that it's still out there. Whether I'd be able t-to, not do it, have it and not. I don't think so."
"Easy way to find out." The adren offers a faintly sly smile. "I know people who know people. There are leeches in St. Louis my former septmates are… handling. Wouldn't be hard to get some if y'want to test it."
The galliard bites his lower lip, and shakes his head. "I don't know I even want to find out," Flint says. "Because I'm… afraid, that the answer is no, or that I won't be able to." There's a glance to Nieve. "I just don't want to think about it, but it's not exactly… like I do good at that either, and all. Kavi-rhya still has, my knife, and Lex has my other one, and that's not… I'm not allowed to, so."
The Theurge tilts her head slightly the other way now. "I trust you, Requiem. I ain't got any problem with you not tryin' it, but if you want to, th' offer stands," she replies quietly. "Despite all attempts, Unfettered is unfettered once more."
Flint nods to Nieve, and pushes his hand through his hair again. "Thanks, Nieve-rhya," is the eventual response. "I'd like to… trust myself again," he admits. "But when it comes down to it right now, I don't. Not really. And then it's my fault, and I blame me, and Riley blames me, and." Stress from the topic at hand, even with the new moon, makes the words more disjointed again.
"Your pack should focus on somethin' other than vampires for a while," Nieve suggests, after a moment of silence. "Plenty of other wyrmspawn in th' city to look into."
Flint grins a bit, genuine even if he has to force the expression for a moment, strained from a general lack of doing so frequently. "Never see another again it'll be too soon," Flint agrees. "Except killing Rose. That, I. I… know, other people are working on it but I still want to. To get to put it all the way behind me because I'll know that it's dead."
"And how will you know? If it changes faces like we change clothes, how will you know it is dead?" the Theurge asks, almost philosophical but with an edge of hard question as well.
The faint grin disappears, replaced by a grimace, and then Flint squints his eyes shut. "I don't," he admits. "I have to get past it, whether it's… still out there, or not. But I want things to go back to. To normal."
"Then stop thinking about it. If it returns, you will deal with it. If it doesn't, it must already be dead." The adren's logic is sound, to a point. "Practice not giving a shit about it."
Flint considers the adren for a long, long moment of silence, and nods. "Yeah. I… need to get back to doing more things, that are… more conducive for that. More conducive for not blaming myself, too."
There's a brief smile from Nieve. "If you start to fret over it, use Dance of Lights for another problem. It's got more uses than the obvious," she suggests quietly. "If you don't know the ritual, I will teach you."
There's a nod. "I know it," Flint says, eventually relaxing a little bit and laying back in the grass, hands linked behind his head. "I… found an app on my phone for the screensaver, that I use most of the time. When I don't use a candle."
The Theurge nods. "I use an app as well," she acknowledges. "It helps me avoid focusing on stupid shit, as much as it does pointing to a specific task. Try it," she finishes.
Flint grins. "Thanks. I. I will," the cliath says, less dourly than at the beginning of the conversation. "Yeah. That's… I focus on whatever stupid shit too easily, get caught up in it, and that's when I just want to… not think. Except not thinking doesn't help, really, but it always feels like it does, in the… in the short term."
The older Walker offers a rueful smile. "You'll learn your own way in time, no doubt. 'til then, Dance of Lights. Now, can y'get out of my space? I'm tryin' to bleed off anger, an' I doubt you're volunteerin' to get ten shits beat out of you."
Flint grins at Nieve. "Some days, I'd be the first to volunteer," the cliath says, but the implication, as he shifts to lupus and trots off to another part of the park after getting a little closer to wag at the theurge, is that that is not today.