Sharks and fomori.
Saturday, 21 January 2012 14:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouWe're not screwed. It'll suck, but we're not screwed.
21 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (14% full).
It's raining outside, occasionally turning to a slushy icy mess, and aside from a trip outside, Doodle has mostly been chilling in the Tenement today. In lupus, she's got some odd grease marks on her, especially on her head, which suggests she was out in a more grimy part of town before the weather got too crappy. She sprawls out on the couch, a bowl filled with beer on the floor, watching a TV-edited version of Species. It's pretty close to the end at this point.
Shoed feet wander into the break room, carrying Devon in from the hall. His fingers are laced together, hands hooked behind his head, pace the meandering speed of one having exhausted resources for entertainment while it rains. His gaze passes over the television and lupus watching it, idling feet slowing even more.
Footsteps echo from the stairs down the hallway, and then in the hallway, before Flint makes his way to the doorway of the breakroom, hair hanging wet in his face and jacket still slightly damp. Hands in his pockets, a glance is given first to Doodle, then to Devon.
Cheese Doodle's ears flick as she hears the arrival of the two other walkers showing up, but doesn't bulge from taking up the bulk of the couch. Nope, she's too busy watching the alien-type-thing in the Sewer on the TV.
Devon casts a look behind him, upper body turning to afford him a look at Flint. He gives the cub a slight nod, then regards Cheese Doodle and the movie again. "What're you watching," he asks after a brief inward debate, taking a step toward the couch.
Flint offers a half nod to Devon in response, before the cub makes his way over to the kitchen. "Want anything?" The question is called out to both of them, as Flint busies himself with the microwave and getting food.
Cheese Doodle barely budges, and definitely doesn't make any room for Devon. The lupus seems to ooze across the couch, filling up the available space. Turning her eyes away from the TV just momentarily, she tells Devon that she's watching the TV. She turns back to watching the action scene, before adding helpfully that the humans are chasing the bad thing.
"If there's any Coke left," Devon asks sending another glance to Flint. He edges up beside the couch, then slightly in front of it without blocking the wolf's view. A look passes from the screen to Cheese Doodle, then back again. He doesn't ask to join the Fostern, but sinks downward to sit on the floor all the same.
Cheese Doodle notices Devon sitting down on the floor, and immediately gets up to pop off the couch. She noses the bowl of beer slightly away from Devon, lest he make a move on her drink. While she's down there, she takes a moment to lap some of it up, tail wagging a bit. Clearly a beer fan. I saw a fomori that was like that, once! She says, licking beer off her muzzle.
Flint nods, in between the glances of watching his lasagna heat in the microwave. The boy digs into the fridge a moment, seemingly satisfied that the microwave isn't going to just explode. One can of soda is set on the counter, and the cub crosses over towards the couch, grinning a little as he offers the can out to Devon.
Devon scoots over just a touch, giving more space to Cheese Doodle and her beer. He grins faint at her claim. "Was that around here," he asks, looking up Flint as he takes the can. "Thanks, Flint."
Cheese Doodle doesn't seem to hear the question, popping back up onto the couch. The hefty wolf paces in a tiny little circle, like kneading the couch cushions, before flopping down again. She glances over at Flint, and does a bit of a blink-take at him. You're the one that frenzied, right?
"Welcome," Flint asides to Devon, paying more attention to Doodle. The boy's brow furrows, but he nods. "Yes," he answers, quiet. "The basement, and," he adds, gaze at his feet for a moment, and utterly ignoring the beep of the microwave in the background.
Cheese Doodle licks her nose again, thinking for a long moment. With the commercial break, she turns her attention entirely to the cub. Um… yes! Down! She chimes in, cheerfully. Very down. At the bottom!
"Yeah," Flint says, looking at Doodle. "Sorry about that." The cub falls silent for a moment, shoulders slumping. "Was… not the best day, really."
Cheese Doodle looks wonderfully oblivious of whatever it is Flint's saying, and enthusiastically agrees. Yup! She says, glancing back at the TV. Still commercials. The beer gets a second look.
Devon opens his mouth to speak, glancing between Doodle and Flint. But after a second, he decides against it, turning his attention to the television.
The microwave beeps again, and Flint ducks his head. "Food," he says by way of explanation. "Just a second." The cub looks from Doodle, to Devon, and back to the lupus again, before making his way over to the microwave.
Cheese Doodle glances between the two Walkers, looking generally confused about what's going on. Still, she ignores the lack of conversation easily, and goes back to watching the TV.
"Where'd you see that fomor," Devon asks again, pulling back the tab on his soda can. "Around here or… out around the woods? Or somewhere else entirely that's not even remotely like Washington?"
Mouse steps through the doorway, in the process of rubbing at her eyes. Someone looks like she just woke up, and her hair isn't helping that impression. It's sticking out in little wisps as it pleases, especially in the back.
Flint grabs the plate from the microwave, balancing it half on his arm with a bit of a wince, before turning around. A nod is given to Mouse, before the boy makes his way over to sit down on the floor near the couch with his food, settling where he can see Doodle and Devon both without getting in the way of the television.
Cheese Doodle sits up a little more on the couch when Mouse comes in. There's a TV-edited version of "Secies" on, where it's near the climax. Doodle looks a tad greasy, like she'd been screwing around in a dirty part of town earlier. She's also got a bowl full of beer on the floor - a liquid lunch, it seems. Hi! She calls cheerfully to Mouse. Devon's question gets considerably more pondering. Fomor? Oh! Fomor! Yes!. There's a long pause before he finally mentions Washington. Oh! No, not here. North! At the place humans store their boats! And Shark lit it on fire. She glances to the TV - the Humans should have lit the bad thing on fire, too.
"Shark lit it on fire," Devon echoes, curious yet sounding doubtful. He looks toward the door, stretching back and neck to peer over the couch from his place on the floor. "Hey, Mouse-rhya."
"Hey," Mouse says in return. She bites back a yawn and turns toward the kitchen, though halfway there she pauses, giving Doodle a closer look, before she asks the three of them, "Everything going fine in here?"
Flint pauses in the middle of a bite of food, watching Doodle. "Shark?" he questions, a repeat of Devon's question, head tilted to the side. Flint seems to notice that he's holding his fork in mid-air, returning it to his plate to take another bite of lasagna.
Shark! Doodle agrees, popping up to all fours. She walks back and forth on the couch, which doth protest under the action. Shark was mean. Not nice at all. Bad packmate. Badbad. She goes through the motions of miming out being a dick, which apparently involves growling a lot, and stealing a bowl of beer (which Cheese Doodle takes a few laps from).
"S'far as I know," Devon replies with a small grin to Mouse. "Cheese Doodle-rhya's telling us about…" he pauses, watching the lupus' explanation. "Shark. And fire. And a fomori that looks like the monster on this movie."
Cheese Doodle agrees enthusiastically. Shark! Fire! Fomori! She says, licking beer off her muzzle.
Mouse's mouth twitches upward, and she gives Doodle another glance. "Sounds fascinating. We still have any burritos?" She pulls the freezer door open.
Flint nods agreement as well, grinning a little as he watches Doodle's explanation. "Don't know about burritos, Mouse-rhya," the cub says, carefully waiting until he isn't speaking around a mouthful of food, "but there's lasagna—" as evidenced by that the boy is eating it "—from when Rina made it the other night, still. 's good."
Devon grins again, shaking his head at Doodle. Until lasagna is mentioned. "There's left overs," he asks, half standing as he looks first at Flint, then to the fridge.
Cheese Doodle finishes off her beer while the others talk about food, nosing the empty bowl over to the wall. Delicious liquid lunch achieved.
No overblown entrance nor initial glib remark announce Riley's presence. Instead, the ragabash merely wanders in to the breakroom and immediately wanders over to the fridge, opens it, kneels, and begins to rummage through it. His brow furrows, and he opens the freezer. Whatever he's looking for, he clearly doesn't find it. He closes the refrigerator door and leans back against it, "There was like half of a huge cake left last night." He leads, "And now, it's gone. I'm not pointing any fingers, but if anyone wants to come clean."
"Rina lasagna," Mouse says. "Right." And she pulls out the container with the lasagna instead. "Okay, well, I'm going to eat, aaand…then I'm probably going to be out. You guys need anything while I am? I could stop at the store on the way back."
Cheese Doodle notices Riley's arrival, and perks up when she sees him. She clammers up on the back of the couch, looking over it over at the Ragabash. Evac! She barks, happily. She then, rather clumsily, jumps over the back and bounds over towards him, wagging.
A shrug is offered to Riley's statement, though Devon does cast a glance toward Flint. "No one mentioned there was cake."
"There was cake?" This seems to be the first that Flint's heard of it, but he shrugs, attention turning back towards the nearly finished plate of lasagna in his lap. "Don't think so," the boy adds, absently, in answer to Mouse's question.
It's exceptionally difficult to keep on the frowny face of cake-theft when assailed by an enthusiastic lupus, complete with frenzied tailwag. Riley deflates from his grumpy pose in a heartbeat, kneeling back down, a grin spreading over his features. "Doodle! I was wondering if you were still kickin' around! Still breaking hearts?"
Mouse pulls out a plate, and begins dishing herself up some lasagna. She spares a glance to the happenings behind her.
Cheese Doodle pops up on her hind legs to lick Riley's face excitedly (it smells like beer), before forgetting herself and sniffing him in a rather undignified, lupine manner. I didn't know you came back! That's so cool! She says, still wagging.
Devon takes the opportunity of couch abandonment and Doodle's preoccupation with Riley to slink onto one of the cushions.
Riley immediately lifts his hands to scrub his fingers in a playful tussle through Doodle's fur, giving her a series of enthusiastic scritches for her trouble, looking truly pleased by her enthusiasm. "Well, good! I was trying to come in more 'under the radar' than on it."
Mouse sticks the plate in the microwave and starts it up, then turns, arms folding loosely over her chest as she leans against the counter.
Me and Paladin and the renunciate and some others are going to make a pack soon! Cheese Doodle tells Riley, excitedly. It's going to be awesome! I hope we're going to get roach again!
Plate empty, Flint stares down at it for a moment, before picking it off his lap and getting up, making his way over to the kitchen in order to wash it, busying himself at the sink and humming a bit as he does so.
Devon glances over the back of the couch again, mouth twisting off to one side. "You doing alright, Mouse-rhya?"
Doodle and Riley nerd out at each other a bit by the fridge, before Riley leaves. Doodle, far more exited than before, starts heading back to the couch. The fact that Devon has occupied her seat gets an unhappy look.
Devon glances at Doodle and very casually slides from the couch back onto the floor. He even edges himself around to the side, looking up at Mouse again. "Any more leads on anything?"
Cheese Doodle seems very pleased with her couch dominance, and relocates herself to her former throne. SHe does keep a head up, watching Mouse, instead of the end of the movie.
Mouse pauses, jaw working. "…Yeah. Maybe. Well, no, scratch that, one definite possibility of a lead, and then one…really weird. Something. Which might be pretty big."
Flint finishes putting away the dishes in silence, thumbs stuck into his pockets. "I have some stuff I'm s'posed to work on," he says, quiet, moving over towards the bank of computers and starting one up.
Cheese Doodle's head cocks to the side at Mouse's so eloquent explanation. Which makes even more sense to those who have a tentative grasp of english, or who had beer for lunch.
Devon's brows draw together, though it's not quite a frown. "Okay," he replies, slowly. "That's… Well… Good luck with it all. Or…" He shakes his head as he stands, moving toward the fridge with unopened soda can in hand.
Flint stares at the computer for a minute before sitting down, half turned for the moment to watch, but the boy's attention quickly turns towards the project in front of him, which seems to for the moment simply be reading through a database.
"Theurges," Mouse says, by way of explanation. "Spirit shit. You know. I will definitely have one hell of an info-dump for everyone in a little while. But, on the subject…have you three heard about what happened at the Open Caern rite?"
Cheese Doodle sets her head down on the back of the Couch when Mouse explains her explanation a bit. Theurges, she agrees, nose quivering a bit. She doesn't respond to the question, though.
Devon responds with a shrug as he opens the fridge and replaces the soda within it. "Yeah, sure," he says as he closes the fridge again. "Spirits and whatever, not-my-job things. And I was at the Open Caern rite. Heard the Gatekeeper mention what happened wasn't supposed to happen."
"Definitely not what's supposed to happen," Mouse agrees. "Granted, the way they were doing the rite was, uh, weird. I don't know it, but I've never heard of people using it as a group activity. Maybe that influenced things. Anyway, okay, since you were there…What'd you think of Jeb?"
"I …" Devon frowns slightly, thinking back to the conversation. And the location. "It… I don't know. He talked like a Shadow Lord. Or a Ragabash. Or… Like I guess Chimera would. He spoke directly but… really didn't give any answers to anything. Nothing I remember as significant or that we hadn't already figured out." He pauses, turning to leaning against the fridge while he considers. "I think he made more questions than he gave answers to. And I'm not sure we should trust him fully."
Mouse nods slightly. "Well, he definitely confirmed theories, so that was helpful. Even though they were kind've theories we were hoping would be handily trashed. And you're right, we should be careful about trusting him. We don't know him very well, yet. Spirits have their own motives. How about what he was talking about; that bit about how he wanted his city to be like it was, and the Caern to be as it was, that sort've thing? Any thoughts?"
Too much not-change is bad, Doodle chips in, cheerfully. The wolf slides off the couch, and shakes herself off. Things always same? Not change. Things going forward can be good. She starts to stretch out.
Devon frowns slightly as he thinks. He glances toward Doodle, the frown deepening slightly as he adds in consideration for the wolf's thoughts. "I'm not sure what he means by the city and Caern being how it was before. To achieve that would take several lifetimes… Or some really powerful spirits. Unless he wants us to go by force and raze the city, but that seems a little… I don't know. Abstract?"
Mouse shakes her head. "Too literal, I think. I don't think he expects us to suddenly turn it back into a little frontier town. He was talking about reinforcing the past, and…okay, I don't think it's any coincidence that there's that whole historical display going on uptown. But yeah. I'm not too terribly fond of how he wants things to remain the same. And that forest we popped into was fucking spooky."
Cheese Doodle licks her muzzle, before happily declaring that she's sure it'll make sense. Finishing stretching, the lupus starts to trot off, back down a floor to go bug Ishmael.
"That forest could be symbolic of how our own is going to turn," Devon says quietly, musing, "when this all explodes." He takes in a breath, then shakes his head. "There's no telling what he meant. Like I said, he was direct, but to such an extent that there could've been hidden meanings. Judging just by what we know, he could literally mean take it back to a frontier town, however unlikely it'd be."
Mouse scratches at one of the thin, spidery scars along her jaw line. "Maybe, but this stuff going on out there, that's all Wyld. And whatever's causing it, Wyld isn't the type of thing to be compatible with a never changing forest that never grew but always was."
Devon nods slowly, his expression so far unchanged. "Could we need to expand our territory," he asks, tone implying that he's throwing out ideas no matter how unseemly they may be. "Or move? He mentioned the Caern going away… Being safe… Do Caerns die?"
"They do," Mouse says, and her tone goes a bit grim. "Not generally on their own, though. From what it sounded like, to me, it's more we lose the Caern, rather than the Caern being lost. It might go dormant. We know Chimera's…going away."
Flint looks up from the computer again, turning around to face the conversation and brow furrowing at Mouse's words slightly.
"So… Could be a warning of something coming, too." Devon raises a hand, scrubbing fingers through his hair. "Could be an attack coming. Have any of these dreams seemed like prophecy? Foretelling of something? Or just disjointed messages like from another's point of view?"
Mouse grunts. "They often overlap. But a few of them, definitely. The uh, the dream where I got the scar, that's more direct than I think I've ever seen Chimera be. Definitely prophecy."
Flint props his elbows up on the back of the chair, chin resting on his hands while he listens to the conversation.
Devon looks at Mouse for a moment, then tips his head toward her. "Think it might've been someone other than Chimera trying to tell you… or us… something?"
Mouse shakes her head slightly. "It's hard to be sure about anything to do with dreams, but this one? Very, very Chimera. And it fit pretty closely with what Jeb told us. It was like she was speaking directly. Or as…directly as she can. In her way. If it wasn't Chimera, then it's a spirit that knows a whole lot of us very well and can give a very, very accurate impersonation."
Devon lets out a slow breath, gaze settling somewhere in front of himself again. "Can't imagine what you guys with the dreams are going through, trying to figure out what's going on. I haven't had any dreams of the sort that'd be useful, and that with inexperience and lack of information …I'm not terribly useful." His gaze lifts toward the ceiling. "I want to argue it's still possible. —What if it was Jeb? He seemed to know an awful lot about us."
"We talked to Jeb when we opened the Caern," Mouse points out. "If it was Jeb, then he was acting with Chimera's favor there. And…yes, it's possible. Don't ever start thinking anything to do with spirits is impossible, that's a good attitude to have. But, well. I think he's a city spirit. And doing worry about being useless. Right now, sure, there's not much you can do personally, but you can do things. And soon enough, there'll probably more than you can stomach as far as fighting shit goes."
"I'm not convinced he's acting with anyone's favor," Devon answers. "The whole thing just… I don't know. Chalk it up to inexperience or the heebie-jeebies from what Oath-Breaker and Reflection's-Howl were saying, or just plain paranoia. And… sorry. I just… I'm sitting around on my hands because I have no information to offer and… Yeah. People assume Ahrouns don't do the thinking thing."
Flint turns to look at the computer for a moment, frowning at the file that's open before turning fully to save and close what he'd had up, closing the computer down afterwards.
Mouse says, "Look at it this way. If Jeb's not acting with Chimera's blessing, then he hijacked a rite to our Caern totem right in the middle of the Caern, and swept us away to somewhere, then put us back again. That's not impossible, but a spirit that could do that is unbelievably fucking powerful. I'm not sure he'd need to ask us for anything, if that were the case."
Devon hooks a hand on the back of his neck, sidelong glance casting at Mouse again. "Right. But… he could be. He could be another totem avatar. What about Grandfather Thunder? Crazy as it would seem for a tribal totem to align to a Caern as well, it's still possible. —What about the wasps? They've come up… a few times now? The hunt, the solstice thing, possibly after the Opened Caern rite. The pregnant lady in the dreams is dressed in wasp-ish colors."
The cub's gaze flicks over between Devon and Mouse, settling once again on the Elder as he pushes in his chair and crosses over towards the kitchen.
Mouse shakes her head. "That's not crazy, Grandfather Thunder's the Caern totem of a number of Septs, I'm sure. Cockroach certainly is. Chimera's the totem for the Stargazers, don't forget. …Well, what few are left anyway. But the thing is, this is basically hijacking Chimera in her seat of power. That's not something some random totem can just do. And it's really not Grandfather Thunder's style. —As far as the wasps go, we don't know yet. That's what we're trying to figure out."
Devon nods slowly, once again taking up that look of thought. "Has anyone gone looking for wasps in all of this," he asks, a vague gesture toward the way that'd eventually lead to Edgewood and the Bawn. "To see how they're acting or reacting?"
"Or if there are more, or less, than usual?" Flint adds, pausing halfway to the refrigerator, then continuing.
"It's what Silvertip told me to do, yeah," Mouse says, looking a tiny bit aggravated. "I haven't really had much luck."
"Where've you looked," Devon asks, glancing toward Mouse.
"The scarred forest," Mouse replies. "Oak grove, that area."
Flint busies himself with the fridge for a little bit, coming out with the container of lasagna once again. The boy has a hollow leg, considering the serving he'd had just a while earlier. A nod is given to Mouse, the cub's brows furrowing in faint thought as he goes about dishing himself another plate.
"Have you been on the Bawn lately," Devon asks, changing the subject without actually changing it.
Mouse shakes her head very slightly. "Relatively, if by that you mean the past two weeks or so. But not very recently. I know about the new growth."
Flint tilts his head to the side, brows drifting upward in half a question to whoever, before he crosses over t stick the plate in the microwave again.
Devon nods, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Anyone tried anything with it? Tried eating it or… anything?"
Mouse lifts a finger. "…Don't eat it. But actually, yes, I think so. A contact of mine was going to examine it—I need to track down the person he gave the info to, to find out what he found out."
Another nod, this one slower. Devon sighs and takes a few steps from the kitchen, moving toward the television and now vacant couch. "On a different note, I got my hands on one of those darts that fits that gun I brought in. And a vile of blood from the animal those men were chasing. Can't find anything conclusive, except that those men didn't want to be traced."
"Don't eat it," Flint repeats to himself, more for memory than anything else. "Right." He looks over at Devon, brows raised a bit. "Which means they're good at not wanting to," the boy states, quietly.
Mouse's eyebrows arch. "Reeeally now? Interesting. Maybe you could collaborate with Ishmael? I'm not sure he's up on his chemistry, but it'd be really interesting to see what we could find out about it."
Flint looks over at Mouse. "I was… halfway through highschool chem," the boy offers, quiet. "Pretty decent at it overall, read a bunch more than we ever did in classes."
"No shit," Devon says with a lilt in his tone, putting a question to his response to Flint's interjection about the men. "I tried finding what was used in the tranq, but I don't have the resources. I don't even want to try identifying the blood. I know that things were black market and I've been meaning to catch up with Ishmael. Figured he might have the technique I lack. I do have one question about it all, since the guys and I were theorizing about the men we fought…"
Mouse nods. "Well, if you three need extra help, I know a thing or two too, but I bet you can." And to the last bit, "Yeah?"
Flint stares at the microwave for a little, now, as if he's trying to will the countdown to make his food hot sooner, but there's a tilt of his head towards the conversation nonetheless.
"They were armored, geared like you'd expect of military or CIA or something." Devon turns and leans against the back of the couch. "They knew what they were doing, and they knew how to fight us. More… I got into a grappling match with one of them, in Crinos, and he was strong enough to get out of my grasp."
"Sounds like the Dancer kin we were dealing with a few years back," Mouse says, frowning. "But that doesn't explain the strength. Fomori, maybe?"
"Dancer kin and fomori were two thoughts," Devon agrees. "Or some kind of hunter. Elliot-rhya's heard of humans who do that sort of thing, but only fomori might explain the strength."
Mouse narrows one eye. "Well, I've…heard of 'hunters'. Basically, that some humans with a strong enough will to resist the Delirium sometimes see things they shouldn't, and get ideas. Not uh, super organized super strong magical humans though."
Plate gets removed from the microwave, and after grabbing silverware, Flint simply moves over to one end of the table. Out of the way of the conversation so he can eat, but still listen.
Devon looks at Mouse for a moment and nods. "These guys weren't affected by the Delirium," he adds. "Just an all around strange… thing. Oh. One of them had a dagger made from the tooth of a skull pig. If that adds to any possible ideas."
Mouse's expression twists. "Yeah, I saw that. Elliot brought it over. That's…honestly, Dancer kin fomori would be my best bet. I don't like the implications of it otherwise. Of course, I say that as though I like the implications of organized Dancer kin, which, no."
Devon sighs and shakes his head. "Man. I hope we don't find anything useful, that… it all just disappears. If they're fomori Dancer kin, and if they're coming back… we're screwed."
"No we're not," Mouse says firmly. "We've wiped out two hives just in the time I've been here, one of whom already had a Pit with a really nasty totem. And before I showed up, the Caern was overrun by them at one point, and we still beat their asses. We're not screwed. It'll suck, but we're not screwed."
Devon looks up at Mouse for a long moment, then nods. "Not screwed then, but …it'll suck," he admits with a sigh.
Flint looks up, nodding when Mouse speaks, before he looks back down once again.
Mouse nods at Devon and leans off of the counter. "We're never screwed until we are. Keep that in mind. And even when we are, we might surprise you. We're Cockroach's kids for a reason." She reaches back to take her (untouched) lasagna plate, and starts for the door.
"Survivors," Devon says quietly, slouching a little as he half sits on the back of the couch. "Thanks for the insight, Mouse-rhya," he calls, when the elder begins to leave.
"Seeya, Mouse-rhya," Flint says, plate of food ignored for a moment to glance over to where Devon sits on the couch.
Mouse waves over her shoulder, and steps out.
21 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (14% full).
It's raining outside, occasionally turning to a slushy icy mess, and aside from a trip outside, Doodle has mostly been chilling in the Tenement today. In lupus, she's got some odd grease marks on her, especially on her head, which suggests she was out in a more grimy part of town before the weather got too crappy. She sprawls out on the couch, a bowl filled with beer on the floor, watching a TV-edited version of Species. It's pretty close to the end at this point.
Shoed feet wander into the break room, carrying Devon in from the hall. His fingers are laced together, hands hooked behind his head, pace the meandering speed of one having exhausted resources for entertainment while it rains. His gaze passes over the television and lupus watching it, idling feet slowing even more.
Footsteps echo from the stairs down the hallway, and then in the hallway, before Flint makes his way to the doorway of the breakroom, hair hanging wet in his face and jacket still slightly damp. Hands in his pockets, a glance is given first to Doodle, then to Devon.
Cheese Doodle's ears flick as she hears the arrival of the two other walkers showing up, but doesn't bulge from taking up the bulk of the couch. Nope, she's too busy watching the alien-type-thing in the Sewer on the TV.
Devon casts a look behind him, upper body turning to afford him a look at Flint. He gives the cub a slight nod, then regards Cheese Doodle and the movie again. "What're you watching," he asks after a brief inward debate, taking a step toward the couch.
Flint offers a half nod to Devon in response, before the cub makes his way over to the kitchen. "Want anything?" The question is called out to both of them, as Flint busies himself with the microwave and getting food.
Cheese Doodle barely budges, and definitely doesn't make any room for Devon. The lupus seems to ooze across the couch, filling up the available space. Turning her eyes away from the TV just momentarily, she tells Devon that she's watching the TV. She turns back to watching the action scene, before adding helpfully that the humans are chasing the bad thing.
"If there's any Coke left," Devon asks sending another glance to Flint. He edges up beside the couch, then slightly in front of it without blocking the wolf's view. A look passes from the screen to Cheese Doodle, then back again. He doesn't ask to join the Fostern, but sinks downward to sit on the floor all the same.
Cheese Doodle notices Devon sitting down on the floor, and immediately gets up to pop off the couch. She noses the bowl of beer slightly away from Devon, lest he make a move on her drink. While she's down there, she takes a moment to lap some of it up, tail wagging a bit. Clearly a beer fan. I saw a fomori that was like that, once! She says, licking beer off her muzzle.
Flint nods, in between the glances of watching his lasagna heat in the microwave. The boy digs into the fridge a moment, seemingly satisfied that the microwave isn't going to just explode. One can of soda is set on the counter, and the cub crosses over towards the couch, grinning a little as he offers the can out to Devon.
Devon scoots over just a touch, giving more space to Cheese Doodle and her beer. He grins faint at her claim. "Was that around here," he asks, looking up Flint as he takes the can. "Thanks, Flint."
Cheese Doodle doesn't seem to hear the question, popping back up onto the couch. The hefty wolf paces in a tiny little circle, like kneading the couch cushions, before flopping down again. She glances over at Flint, and does a bit of a blink-take at him. You're the one that frenzied, right?
"Welcome," Flint asides to Devon, paying more attention to Doodle. The boy's brow furrows, but he nods. "Yes," he answers, quiet. "The basement, and," he adds, gaze at his feet for a moment, and utterly ignoring the beep of the microwave in the background.
Cheese Doodle licks her nose again, thinking for a long moment. With the commercial break, she turns her attention entirely to the cub. Um… yes! Down! She chimes in, cheerfully. Very down. At the bottom!
"Yeah," Flint says, looking at Doodle. "Sorry about that." The cub falls silent for a moment, shoulders slumping. "Was… not the best day, really."
Cheese Doodle looks wonderfully oblivious of whatever it is Flint's saying, and enthusiastically agrees. Yup! She says, glancing back at the TV. Still commercials. The beer gets a second look.
Devon opens his mouth to speak, glancing between Doodle and Flint. But after a second, he decides against it, turning his attention to the television.
The microwave beeps again, and Flint ducks his head. "Food," he says by way of explanation. "Just a second." The cub looks from Doodle, to Devon, and back to the lupus again, before making his way over to the microwave.
Cheese Doodle glances between the two Walkers, looking generally confused about what's going on. Still, she ignores the lack of conversation easily, and goes back to watching the TV.
"Where'd you see that fomor," Devon asks again, pulling back the tab on his soda can. "Around here or… out around the woods? Or somewhere else entirely that's not even remotely like Washington?"
Mouse steps through the doorway, in the process of rubbing at her eyes. Someone looks like she just woke up, and her hair isn't helping that impression. It's sticking out in little wisps as it pleases, especially in the back.
Flint grabs the plate from the microwave, balancing it half on his arm with a bit of a wince, before turning around. A nod is given to Mouse, before the boy makes his way over to sit down on the floor near the couch with his food, settling where he can see Doodle and Devon both without getting in the way of the television.
Cheese Doodle sits up a little more on the couch when Mouse comes in. There's a TV-edited version of "Secies" on, where it's near the climax. Doodle looks a tad greasy, like she'd been screwing around in a dirty part of town earlier. She's also got a bowl full of beer on the floor - a liquid lunch, it seems. Hi! She calls cheerfully to Mouse. Devon's question gets considerably more pondering. Fomor? Oh! Fomor! Yes!. There's a long pause before he finally mentions Washington. Oh! No, not here. North! At the place humans store their boats! And Shark lit it on fire. She glances to the TV - the Humans should have lit the bad thing on fire, too.
"Shark lit it on fire," Devon echoes, curious yet sounding doubtful. He looks toward the door, stretching back and neck to peer over the couch from his place on the floor. "Hey, Mouse-rhya."
"Hey," Mouse says in return. She bites back a yawn and turns toward the kitchen, though halfway there she pauses, giving Doodle a closer look, before she asks the three of them, "Everything going fine in here?"
Flint pauses in the middle of a bite of food, watching Doodle. "Shark?" he questions, a repeat of Devon's question, head tilted to the side. Flint seems to notice that he's holding his fork in mid-air, returning it to his plate to take another bite of lasagna.
Shark! Doodle agrees, popping up to all fours. She walks back and forth on the couch, which doth protest under the action. Shark was mean. Not nice at all. Bad packmate. Badbad. She goes through the motions of miming out being a dick, which apparently involves growling a lot, and stealing a bowl of beer (which Cheese Doodle takes a few laps from).
"S'far as I know," Devon replies with a small grin to Mouse. "Cheese Doodle-rhya's telling us about…" he pauses, watching the lupus' explanation. "Shark. And fire. And a fomori that looks like the monster on this movie."
Cheese Doodle agrees enthusiastically. Shark! Fire! Fomori! She says, licking beer off her muzzle.
Mouse's mouth twitches upward, and she gives Doodle another glance. "Sounds fascinating. We still have any burritos?" She pulls the freezer door open.
Flint nods agreement as well, grinning a little as he watches Doodle's explanation. "Don't know about burritos, Mouse-rhya," the cub says, carefully waiting until he isn't speaking around a mouthful of food, "but there's lasagna—" as evidenced by that the boy is eating it "—from when Rina made it the other night, still. 's good."
Devon grins again, shaking his head at Doodle. Until lasagna is mentioned. "There's left overs," he asks, half standing as he looks first at Flint, then to the fridge.
Cheese Doodle finishes off her beer while the others talk about food, nosing the empty bowl over to the wall. Delicious liquid lunch achieved.
No overblown entrance nor initial glib remark announce Riley's presence. Instead, the ragabash merely wanders in to the breakroom and immediately wanders over to the fridge, opens it, kneels, and begins to rummage through it. His brow furrows, and he opens the freezer. Whatever he's looking for, he clearly doesn't find it. He closes the refrigerator door and leans back against it, "There was like half of a huge cake left last night." He leads, "And now, it's gone. I'm not pointing any fingers, but if anyone wants to come clean."
"Rina lasagna," Mouse says. "Right." And she pulls out the container with the lasagna instead. "Okay, well, I'm going to eat, aaand…then I'm probably going to be out. You guys need anything while I am? I could stop at the store on the way back."
Cheese Doodle notices Riley's arrival, and perks up when she sees him. She clammers up on the back of the couch, looking over it over at the Ragabash. Evac! She barks, happily. She then, rather clumsily, jumps over the back and bounds over towards him, wagging.
A shrug is offered to Riley's statement, though Devon does cast a glance toward Flint. "No one mentioned there was cake."
"There was cake?" This seems to be the first that Flint's heard of it, but he shrugs, attention turning back towards the nearly finished plate of lasagna in his lap. "Don't think so," the boy adds, absently, in answer to Mouse's question.
It's exceptionally difficult to keep on the frowny face of cake-theft when assailed by an enthusiastic lupus, complete with frenzied tailwag. Riley deflates from his grumpy pose in a heartbeat, kneeling back down, a grin spreading over his features. "Doodle! I was wondering if you were still kickin' around! Still breaking hearts?"
Mouse pulls out a plate, and begins dishing herself up some lasagna. She spares a glance to the happenings behind her.
Cheese Doodle pops up on her hind legs to lick Riley's face excitedly (it smells like beer), before forgetting herself and sniffing him in a rather undignified, lupine manner. I didn't know you came back! That's so cool! She says, still wagging.
Devon takes the opportunity of couch abandonment and Doodle's preoccupation with Riley to slink onto one of the cushions.
Riley immediately lifts his hands to scrub his fingers in a playful tussle through Doodle's fur, giving her a series of enthusiastic scritches for her trouble, looking truly pleased by her enthusiasm. "Well, good! I was trying to come in more 'under the radar' than on it."
Mouse sticks the plate in the microwave and starts it up, then turns, arms folding loosely over her chest as she leans against the counter.
Me and Paladin and the renunciate and some others are going to make a pack soon! Cheese Doodle tells Riley, excitedly. It's going to be awesome! I hope we're going to get roach again!
Plate empty, Flint stares down at it for a moment, before picking it off his lap and getting up, making his way over to the kitchen in order to wash it, busying himself at the sink and humming a bit as he does so.
Devon glances over the back of the couch again, mouth twisting off to one side. "You doing alright, Mouse-rhya?"
Doodle and Riley nerd out at each other a bit by the fridge, before Riley leaves. Doodle, far more exited than before, starts heading back to the couch. The fact that Devon has occupied her seat gets an unhappy look.
Devon glances at Doodle and very casually slides from the couch back onto the floor. He even edges himself around to the side, looking up at Mouse again. "Any more leads on anything?"
Cheese Doodle seems very pleased with her couch dominance, and relocates herself to her former throne. SHe does keep a head up, watching Mouse, instead of the end of the movie.
Mouse pauses, jaw working. "…Yeah. Maybe. Well, no, scratch that, one definite possibility of a lead, and then one…really weird. Something. Which might be pretty big."
Flint finishes putting away the dishes in silence, thumbs stuck into his pockets. "I have some stuff I'm s'posed to work on," he says, quiet, moving over towards the bank of computers and starting one up.
Cheese Doodle's head cocks to the side at Mouse's so eloquent explanation. Which makes even more sense to those who have a tentative grasp of english, or who had beer for lunch.
Devon's brows draw together, though it's not quite a frown. "Okay," he replies, slowly. "That's… Well… Good luck with it all. Or…" He shakes his head as he stands, moving toward the fridge with unopened soda can in hand.
Flint stares at the computer for a minute before sitting down, half turned for the moment to watch, but the boy's attention quickly turns towards the project in front of him, which seems to for the moment simply be reading through a database.
"Theurges," Mouse says, by way of explanation. "Spirit shit. You know. I will definitely have one hell of an info-dump for everyone in a little while. But, on the subject…have you three heard about what happened at the Open Caern rite?"
Cheese Doodle sets her head down on the back of the Couch when Mouse explains her explanation a bit. Theurges, she agrees, nose quivering a bit. She doesn't respond to the question, though.
Devon responds with a shrug as he opens the fridge and replaces the soda within it. "Yeah, sure," he says as he closes the fridge again. "Spirits and whatever, not-my-job things. And I was at the Open Caern rite. Heard the Gatekeeper mention what happened wasn't supposed to happen."
"Definitely not what's supposed to happen," Mouse agrees. "Granted, the way they were doing the rite was, uh, weird. I don't know it, but I've never heard of people using it as a group activity. Maybe that influenced things. Anyway, okay, since you were there…What'd you think of Jeb?"
"I …" Devon frowns slightly, thinking back to the conversation. And the location. "It… I don't know. He talked like a Shadow Lord. Or a Ragabash. Or… Like I guess Chimera would. He spoke directly but… really didn't give any answers to anything. Nothing I remember as significant or that we hadn't already figured out." He pauses, turning to leaning against the fridge while he considers. "I think he made more questions than he gave answers to. And I'm not sure we should trust him fully."
Mouse nods slightly. "Well, he definitely confirmed theories, so that was helpful. Even though they were kind've theories we were hoping would be handily trashed. And you're right, we should be careful about trusting him. We don't know him very well, yet. Spirits have their own motives. How about what he was talking about; that bit about how he wanted his city to be like it was, and the Caern to be as it was, that sort've thing? Any thoughts?"
Too much not-change is bad, Doodle chips in, cheerfully. The wolf slides off the couch, and shakes herself off. Things always same? Not change. Things going forward can be good. She starts to stretch out.
Devon frowns slightly as he thinks. He glances toward Doodle, the frown deepening slightly as he adds in consideration for the wolf's thoughts. "I'm not sure what he means by the city and Caern being how it was before. To achieve that would take several lifetimes… Or some really powerful spirits. Unless he wants us to go by force and raze the city, but that seems a little… I don't know. Abstract?"
Mouse shakes her head. "Too literal, I think. I don't think he expects us to suddenly turn it back into a little frontier town. He was talking about reinforcing the past, and…okay, I don't think it's any coincidence that there's that whole historical display going on uptown. But yeah. I'm not too terribly fond of how he wants things to remain the same. And that forest we popped into was fucking spooky."
Cheese Doodle licks her muzzle, before happily declaring that she's sure it'll make sense. Finishing stretching, the lupus starts to trot off, back down a floor to go bug Ishmael.
"That forest could be symbolic of how our own is going to turn," Devon says quietly, musing, "when this all explodes." He takes in a breath, then shakes his head. "There's no telling what he meant. Like I said, he was direct, but to such an extent that there could've been hidden meanings. Judging just by what we know, he could literally mean take it back to a frontier town, however unlikely it'd be."
Mouse scratches at one of the thin, spidery scars along her jaw line. "Maybe, but this stuff going on out there, that's all Wyld. And whatever's causing it, Wyld isn't the type of thing to be compatible with a never changing forest that never grew but always was."
Devon nods slowly, his expression so far unchanged. "Could we need to expand our territory," he asks, tone implying that he's throwing out ideas no matter how unseemly they may be. "Or move? He mentioned the Caern going away… Being safe… Do Caerns die?"
"They do," Mouse says, and her tone goes a bit grim. "Not generally on their own, though. From what it sounded like, to me, it's more we lose the Caern, rather than the Caern being lost. It might go dormant. We know Chimera's…going away."
Flint looks up from the computer again, turning around to face the conversation and brow furrowing at Mouse's words slightly.
"So… Could be a warning of something coming, too." Devon raises a hand, scrubbing fingers through his hair. "Could be an attack coming. Have any of these dreams seemed like prophecy? Foretelling of something? Or just disjointed messages like from another's point of view?"
Mouse grunts. "They often overlap. But a few of them, definitely. The uh, the dream where I got the scar, that's more direct than I think I've ever seen Chimera be. Definitely prophecy."
Flint props his elbows up on the back of the chair, chin resting on his hands while he listens to the conversation.
Devon looks at Mouse for a moment, then tips his head toward her. "Think it might've been someone other than Chimera trying to tell you… or us… something?"
Mouse shakes her head slightly. "It's hard to be sure about anything to do with dreams, but this one? Very, very Chimera. And it fit pretty closely with what Jeb told us. It was like she was speaking directly. Or as…directly as she can. In her way. If it wasn't Chimera, then it's a spirit that knows a whole lot of us very well and can give a very, very accurate impersonation."
Devon lets out a slow breath, gaze settling somewhere in front of himself again. "Can't imagine what you guys with the dreams are going through, trying to figure out what's going on. I haven't had any dreams of the sort that'd be useful, and that with inexperience and lack of information …I'm not terribly useful." His gaze lifts toward the ceiling. "I want to argue it's still possible. —What if it was Jeb? He seemed to know an awful lot about us."
"We talked to Jeb when we opened the Caern," Mouse points out. "If it was Jeb, then he was acting with Chimera's favor there. And…yes, it's possible. Don't ever start thinking anything to do with spirits is impossible, that's a good attitude to have. But, well. I think he's a city spirit. And doing worry about being useless. Right now, sure, there's not much you can do personally, but you can do things. And soon enough, there'll probably more than you can stomach as far as fighting shit goes."
"I'm not convinced he's acting with anyone's favor," Devon answers. "The whole thing just… I don't know. Chalk it up to inexperience or the heebie-jeebies from what Oath-Breaker and Reflection's-Howl were saying, or just plain paranoia. And… sorry. I just… I'm sitting around on my hands because I have no information to offer and… Yeah. People assume Ahrouns don't do the thinking thing."
Flint turns to look at the computer for a moment, frowning at the file that's open before turning fully to save and close what he'd had up, closing the computer down afterwards.
Mouse says, "Look at it this way. If Jeb's not acting with Chimera's blessing, then he hijacked a rite to our Caern totem right in the middle of the Caern, and swept us away to somewhere, then put us back again. That's not impossible, but a spirit that could do that is unbelievably fucking powerful. I'm not sure he'd need to ask us for anything, if that were the case."
Devon hooks a hand on the back of his neck, sidelong glance casting at Mouse again. "Right. But… he could be. He could be another totem avatar. What about Grandfather Thunder? Crazy as it would seem for a tribal totem to align to a Caern as well, it's still possible. —What about the wasps? They've come up… a few times now? The hunt, the solstice thing, possibly after the Opened Caern rite. The pregnant lady in the dreams is dressed in wasp-ish colors."
The cub's gaze flicks over between Devon and Mouse, settling once again on the Elder as he pushes in his chair and crosses over towards the kitchen.
Mouse shakes her head. "That's not crazy, Grandfather Thunder's the Caern totem of a number of Septs, I'm sure. Cockroach certainly is. Chimera's the totem for the Stargazers, don't forget. …Well, what few are left anyway. But the thing is, this is basically hijacking Chimera in her seat of power. That's not something some random totem can just do. And it's really not Grandfather Thunder's style. —As far as the wasps go, we don't know yet. That's what we're trying to figure out."
Devon nods slowly, once again taking up that look of thought. "Has anyone gone looking for wasps in all of this," he asks, a vague gesture toward the way that'd eventually lead to Edgewood and the Bawn. "To see how they're acting or reacting?"
"Or if there are more, or less, than usual?" Flint adds, pausing halfway to the refrigerator, then continuing.
"It's what Silvertip told me to do, yeah," Mouse says, looking a tiny bit aggravated. "I haven't really had much luck."
"Where've you looked," Devon asks, glancing toward Mouse.
"The scarred forest," Mouse replies. "Oak grove, that area."
Flint busies himself with the fridge for a little bit, coming out with the container of lasagna once again. The boy has a hollow leg, considering the serving he'd had just a while earlier. A nod is given to Mouse, the cub's brows furrowing in faint thought as he goes about dishing himself another plate.
"Have you been on the Bawn lately," Devon asks, changing the subject without actually changing it.
Mouse shakes her head very slightly. "Relatively, if by that you mean the past two weeks or so. But not very recently. I know about the new growth."
Flint tilts his head to the side, brows drifting upward in half a question to whoever, before he crosses over t stick the plate in the microwave again.
Devon nods, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Anyone tried anything with it? Tried eating it or… anything?"
Mouse lifts a finger. "…Don't eat it. But actually, yes, I think so. A contact of mine was going to examine it—I need to track down the person he gave the info to, to find out what he found out."
Another nod, this one slower. Devon sighs and takes a few steps from the kitchen, moving toward the television and now vacant couch. "On a different note, I got my hands on one of those darts that fits that gun I brought in. And a vile of blood from the animal those men were chasing. Can't find anything conclusive, except that those men didn't want to be traced."
"Don't eat it," Flint repeats to himself, more for memory than anything else. "Right." He looks over at Devon, brows raised a bit. "Which means they're good at not wanting to," the boy states, quietly.
Mouse's eyebrows arch. "Reeeally now? Interesting. Maybe you could collaborate with Ishmael? I'm not sure he's up on his chemistry, but it'd be really interesting to see what we could find out about it."
Flint looks over at Mouse. "I was… halfway through highschool chem," the boy offers, quiet. "Pretty decent at it overall, read a bunch more than we ever did in classes."
"No shit," Devon says with a lilt in his tone, putting a question to his response to Flint's interjection about the men. "I tried finding what was used in the tranq, but I don't have the resources. I don't even want to try identifying the blood. I know that things were black market and I've been meaning to catch up with Ishmael. Figured he might have the technique I lack. I do have one question about it all, since the guys and I were theorizing about the men we fought…"
Mouse nods. "Well, if you three need extra help, I know a thing or two too, but I bet you can." And to the last bit, "Yeah?"
Flint stares at the microwave for a little, now, as if he's trying to will the countdown to make his food hot sooner, but there's a tilt of his head towards the conversation nonetheless.
"They were armored, geared like you'd expect of military or CIA or something." Devon turns and leans against the back of the couch. "They knew what they were doing, and they knew how to fight us. More… I got into a grappling match with one of them, in Crinos, and he was strong enough to get out of my grasp."
"Sounds like the Dancer kin we were dealing with a few years back," Mouse says, frowning. "But that doesn't explain the strength. Fomori, maybe?"
"Dancer kin and fomori were two thoughts," Devon agrees. "Or some kind of hunter. Elliot-rhya's heard of humans who do that sort of thing, but only fomori might explain the strength."
Mouse narrows one eye. "Well, I've…heard of 'hunters'. Basically, that some humans with a strong enough will to resist the Delirium sometimes see things they shouldn't, and get ideas. Not uh, super organized super strong magical humans though."
Plate gets removed from the microwave, and after grabbing silverware, Flint simply moves over to one end of the table. Out of the way of the conversation so he can eat, but still listen.
Devon looks at Mouse for a moment and nods. "These guys weren't affected by the Delirium," he adds. "Just an all around strange… thing. Oh. One of them had a dagger made from the tooth of a skull pig. If that adds to any possible ideas."
Mouse's expression twists. "Yeah, I saw that. Elliot brought it over. That's…honestly, Dancer kin fomori would be my best bet. I don't like the implications of it otherwise. Of course, I say that as though I like the implications of organized Dancer kin, which, no."
Devon sighs and shakes his head. "Man. I hope we don't find anything useful, that… it all just disappears. If they're fomori Dancer kin, and if they're coming back… we're screwed."
"No we're not," Mouse says firmly. "We've wiped out two hives just in the time I've been here, one of whom already had a Pit with a really nasty totem. And before I showed up, the Caern was overrun by them at one point, and we still beat their asses. We're not screwed. It'll suck, but we're not screwed."
Devon looks up at Mouse for a long moment, then nods. "Not screwed then, but …it'll suck," he admits with a sigh.
Flint looks up, nodding when Mouse speaks, before he looks back down once again.
Mouse nods at Devon and leans off of the counter. "We're never screwed until we are. Keep that in mind. And even when we are, we might surprise you. We're Cockroach's kids for a reason." She reaches back to take her (untouched) lasagna plate, and starts for the door.
"Survivors," Devon says quietly, slouching a little as he half sits on the back of the couch. "Thanks for the insight, Mouse-rhya," he calls, when the elder begins to leave.
"Seeya, Mouse-rhya," Flint says, plate of food ignored for a moment to glance over to where Devon sits on the couch.
Mouse waves over her shoulder, and steps out.