Totally how things usually go.
Monday, 23 January 2012 10:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouThat is not a wolf.
23 January, 2012
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (0% full).
Rowan wanders downstairs, dressed in an oversized (srsly oversized, it's a 2XL on a 5'4" frame) black hoodie and sweatpants. She's looking for someone, that's apparent.
Flint looks up from his perch on the couch, complete with a book in his lap, at the sound of someone entering. "Hey." The boy's brows furrow for a moment as he regards the other cub, before he settles for half-dropping the book and waving.
Devon has been pacing, into the laundry room and back out again to make a round through the lobby, then back. It's on his way out of the laundry again that he notices another body enter, pausing to look in askance at Rowan.
Tim knocks on the door to the Tenement, shave-and-a-haircut style, and gives the camera a feral grin.
Rowan picks at her sleeves. "Have you seen Mouse… er, Mouse-rhya? She said we were gonna work on shifting today." She darts a look over toward the door at the knock, perking a bit. "Maybe that's her?" …yeah, someone doesn't know how the cameras work yet.
Slug rides the elevator down to the lobby, stepping through the doors when they slide open. The Gnawer has a pleased smile on his face— and a new wound. There is a bright red mark that runs down the usually 'normal' side of his face, perilously close to his eye. "Hey." He calls to those assembled, waving.
Flint shakes his head, picking himself up from the couch. "Haven't," Flint responds, half distracted as he sets the book on the table and glances over at the feed for the cameras. "Not, but." Apparently satisfied, the boy makes his way over to get the door for Tim, a nod given to Devon as he does so. "Hey." Half a pause in his step and the boy nods to Slug as well, before actually getting the door.
Devon shakes his head. "Haven't seen her yet today," he says, stepping over to look at the monitor along with the lucky fellow who drew watch duty. He frowns faintly, then shrugs as he goes to open the door, giving Slug an absent wave. He stops short when Flint beats him to it, a single brow raising and arms folding over his chest.
Tim steps inside once the door is open, raising his eyebrows to Flint in a thank you. (He is very much not Mouse in almost all ways possible.) He gives Devon and Slug a collective wave of hello—then he spies Rowan, and the familiarity drains from his expression to be replaced by something much more calculating. "Well. What do you have here?" he asks no one in particular.
Rowan sees Slug, and looks a bit uneasy. "Are you okay?" she asks, warily. And then Tim enters, and his calculation sets the kid a little off-kilter. "—uh. Rowan. Ragabash cub, apparently." There's a tilted smile, attempt at humor. Though she's apparently a little baffled by influx of people.
"Just a flesh wound. Got another on my chest." Slug gradually rises up into Glabro and scratches at the wound on his cheek, the suddenly hairier and taller Gnawer grunting as his fingernail hits a tender spot. He waves at Tim, then points towards Rowan. "New person. She's ou—" Pause. "Mouse's student. Sorta."
People haven't stopped influxing either, because in the time it takes the elevator to ride up to the top floor and back again, Mouse pops out of the elevator. She's not wearing a coat right now, which makes two things pretty obvious: she looks decidedly lanky in the torso without a coat, though still not to the point it would be supernaturally remarkable—and she has a tail. A long, skinny tail, covered in a small smattering of downy fur, which she apparently hasn't bothered to conceal yet today. Oh, and she has a gun, which she's currently fiddling with, which apparently belongs to the empty shoulder holster she's wearing. "…Whoa, people central."
Flint looks over at Devon, half-quizzical, before the elevator distracts the cub further. "Hey Mouse-rhya," the boy calls out, stepping back into the lobby proper from where he'd been getting the door.
"Sorta?" Tim echoes, moving to lean against the arm of a couch. He surveys Rowan a little longer, during which Mouse arrives, and he then looks at her with raised eyebrows. If he's phased by the gun, it's not apparent (or maybe he's just focused on the subject of Rowan). "Roach kinfetch? Or did she just not have one?"
"Hey, Tim-rhya," Devon says, a greeting that's offered quietly as he looks toward the elevator. "Mouse-rhya," follows, turning that hello into a question. A glance is spared for Slug and then Tim, as though wondering if either of them would know the reason behind the Theurge's weaponry. "Uh… We sort of found her… after the fact."
Rowan fidgets. "Didn't have one," she says, with the teenage all-knowing of someone who just found out what that even means two days ago. And then, Mouse! She looks a mix of relieved, though her gaze flits to that tail once or twice while she pretends she isn't looking. Face, Rowan, we look at the face! "—I haven't had any luck yet," she says, guardedly, to the elder.
Slug looks over his shoulder as the elevator goes into motion. He sidles off to the side and turns his attention towards the doors, waiting to see who's coming down. "Finders keepers." Slug adds on to what Devon says. He starts to say something to Mouse, then goes quiet when he sees the gun in her hand.
"Lost cub," Mouse explains. Her tone is rather light today, all things considered, especially since, as usual, she looks a little worn and tired. "Who is getting shooting lessons today. Basement time, Rowan." She jerks her chin toward the door. "All've you lot can come too, just don't crowd. Maybe sit in Salem's apartment." She doesn't say Salem's former apartment, or old apartment. "C'mon, kid. This ought to do it if nothing else will."
Flint folds his arms across his chest and glances, halfway, at Devon, before simply moving out of the way and over towards the basement, though the boy doesn't walk particularly fast.
Devon shares that glance with Flint, just a quick slant of his eyes toward the younger boy, before joins in the procession downstairs. He's a little quicker, catching up with the male cub just enough to tip his head down and whisper to him.
"Think you're good as far as that lesson goes," Devon whispers.
Tim gives Slug what might possibly be the nastiest and most infuriated look anyone at the Walk has ever seen on him. Then it disappears (with considerable effort) and he asks Mouse, "No living relatives to contact—no one to check on and talk to? No names to look up?" A glance at Rowan poses that question to her as well. He seems inclined to follow.
"What, because of the noise?" Rowan looks baffled, but she does follow. To Tim: "Um. I only know my adoptive parents. I left home to find my—" And now, she looks really embarrassed for a tick, "Real family. I don't know who they are. Or where they are. Mom said I came from Egypt, but that's …all."
"No luck so far," Mouse explains to Tim, though she does give Slug a brief, narrow look, before padding down the stairs into the basement.
Flint shakes his head at Devon as the boy descends down the stairs, but for now, Flint's silent, filing into the basement with everyone else.
Devon shrugs again, lagging until he's a full step behind Flint. He, too, heads down the stairs behind the elder and new cub. And save for a glance behind, sort of askance of Tim, he keeps to himself.
Slug doesn't seem all that bothered by the nasty look that Tim shoots in his direction, or he doesn't notice it because his eye is mostly upon Mouse. Crazy people with guns have a habit of drawing his utmost attention. "So… Our Totem Quest succeeded." Slug says as he follows the procession down the stairs.
"Egypt." The way Tim says the word, it's not just a country somewhere on a map. He takes a deep breath as they descend the stairs, and addresses Rowan directly. "Do you know how she knew that? Like did she know your birth parents, or did she have something of theirs?"
"Uh. I don't. Know." Rowan looks back at Tim, looking a little confused now. "They didn't really want me to go to try to find them. I … left on my own. That's just where they adopted me from." Rowan adds, "I was just a baby, so I don't remember anything."
"I heard," Mouse says. Once she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she turns along the wall—and there's a brief glance spared for the painting, which turns a bit longer as she looks at it, as though she's never really seen it before. Then the moment passes, and she releases the ammo clip from her gun, handling it carefully as she tucks it into the pocket of her slacks, and produces another one, which she's much less careful about before sliding it into her pistol. Click, click. "Rowan, you're going to want to strip. And I know, audience and all, but trust me, no one's really going to be looking. We're kind've used to the naked weirdness. Flint, you've had 101 already, haven't you?"
The question is met with half a beat of initial silence before the boy answers. "Yes, Mouse-rhya," Flint responds, mouth pressing into a faint but not truly uneasy line at the question.
Devon watches Mouse carefully, observant, as he moves just to the side of the stairs. Room enough is left for Tim and Slug to continue into the basement. His hands fall from his chest and into his pants pockets.
"We got Peregrine. The falcon." Slug mentions in passing, half to Mouse, half to anyone within earshot that may care. He moves off to the side and casually sets his hands on his head, snorting at something Mouse says.
Tim sighs, closing his eyes briefly. "Right." One of his hands forms a fist, and the knuckles go white before he releases it and steps away, taking a spot to one side. He looks resolute and ready for…something.
Rowan just stares at Mouse. "What?" And then, something clicks. "Oh." And her cheeks turn positively scarlet. "Because the clothes—are you sure this is going—" Still, though, she peels off the sweater and the pants, but then looks stubborn. She's wearing a loose sleeveless shirt and boxer shorts underneath. "If these get ruined I still am wearing the others," she says, folding her arms. "And that way I'm not naked—uh. So is shooting in here safe? What are we shooting at?" She's clearly nervous, though, eyes darting from one to the other. Anxious. And talking to cover it up, apparently.
Mouse points. "Go stand over there, away from everything. —Rowan is having problems shifting again," she explains to Tim. "So this is more like Remedial Shooting, today. And don't make that face, I'm still looking into her background. You know I'm not going to stake a claim over someone obviously yours. And if it's less obvious, we can challenge." She continues fiddling with her gun. "Rowan, you really probably do want to strip completely."
Flint shifts another half-glance over at Devon, the boy's hands hooking slightly into his pockets.
"Don't worry," Devon supplies helpfully, shifting a little so he can lean against the wall. "Perfectly safe down here, s'why Mouse-rhya brings cubs down here."
"Well, that's one way to tap into the beast. Guess she doesn't have a whole lot of… Mmm, anger." Slug turns his attention Mouse, or to the general area of Mouse, diverting his gaze away from the cub.
Tim relaxes a fraction as Mouse speaks, and assures her, "If it's less than obvious, there won't be a Challenge," his tone firm. He averts his eyes to the ground, so he can only see Rowan out of the periphery of his eyesight.
Rowan looks continuously more uneasy, but seems to trust that she's not the one getting shot at (hahahaha, oh naivete). She skulks over that way, cheeks still entirely red as she scoots out of her clothes. The shirt, though, is clung to so it forms a sheet over her front, her arms crossed over it. Lordy, this kid is scrawny. "If this doesn't work," she squeaks, but fails to deliver on anything further.
Mouse appears ready to continue with matters, but she's interrupted by her cellphone before she can issue further instructions. The Elder Walker mutters something in disgruntled Japanese and fishes her cellphone from a pocket, excusing herself to the stairwell.
Slug turns his head as Mouse exits the room, his hands gradually lowering away from his ears. "… Huh. Guess it was important." Slug looks at the assembled Garou and claps his hands together. "So! Uh. Cub? Do you know what auspice you are? What your job is?"
Devon turns slightly, watching Mouse go up the stairs before letting out a sigh and returning his attention to the group in the basement. "Yeah, teaching about Auspices'll probably put her to sleep before helping her learn to shift. Should teach her the way Sol taught me." That's said with a faint smirk.
"She's naked," Tim points out to Slug as he watches Mouse go. "If we're not gonna have her shift, at least let's let her get dressed." He pauses and looks at Devon, eyebrows raised. "You're the ranking Walker here now," he says pointedly. "Which is it—shifting or Auspice?"
Rowan just stares at Mouse, and then Slug, and then the other two. She hugs her shirt-curtain to herself, owlish. Ogod.
"I didn't say we should teach her about the auspices, I asked her if she knew which one she was. Ahrouns are easy to change, for instance." Slug turns his attention to Rowan and starts walking towards her, his expression taking a turn for the thoughtful. "What happens when you try to shift?" He asks, growing steadily closer.
Flint looks over at Devon for a moment, brows raised in just a hint of question and curiosity. But then, the boy's shifted his gaze towards Rowan — though not directly at her — offering the girl a very faint smile in the most reassuring way he can manage.
"Yeah, totally easy to change the second time," Devon mutters, frowning at Slug. He glances at Tim, then shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what Auspice she is right now, job's to get her to change forms. No more talking." Direct as ever, he drops into lupus to stalk past the Gnawer and at the female cub. A growl starts, quietly, but showing some very real teeth, hackles lifting as ears and head lower in unfeigned aggression.
Tim barely stays where he's standing as Slug and Devon advance on Rowan. There's a definite lean to his stance, and one of his hands is a fist again, but he remains in place.
Rowan eyes Slug, uneasy. "I—uh. Get sort of sick and then it sto—" And then Devon. Her eyes go round, and she looks a bit distressed. "What are you doing? What's he doing? Why is he—"
"If that's an order from a Walker concerning that cub, who am I to question?" Slug rumbles out, dropping his hand away from his face. The Glabro comes to a stop some three or four feet away from Rowan. As soon as he stops the hulking, hairy brute vanishes from sight entirely. Almost as suddenly as he disappeared, he reappears, his muscles bulging and bones cracking as he swells into Crinos with astonishing speed. He lunges forward and roars into the poor girl's face, assaulting her face with atrocious breath and flecks of spittle that fly from his fanged maw.
Flint watches from the distance he's at, glance given to both Tim and to Devon as the boy shifts up to Glabro himself. Nor does Flint make any move towards the other cub. For now, he's just watching.
Red-Hands goes absolutely still when Slug reappears in front of the cub, and for a long second it looks as though he may turn his aggressive demeanor on the Fostern. Silent, once again wordless, he turns away, to return to his place by the stairs.
"Use your Rage to protect yourself!" Tim shouts over the sound of Slug's roar, his voice urgent. And he too shifts, taking Crinos.
Really, it doesn't take long. It's remarkably fast, actually. A shriek turns into an unholy shriek as her body snaps into complete flight mode. What was once a girl is now a black bundle of fur, and it attempts to streak towards the door (and Tim), but gangly limbs end up tripping over themselves into a pile of legs, black fur, ears, and still keeping up with that unholy caterwauling.
The difference? They expected a wolf. What is on the floor is most definitely Not a Wolf. It's a cat. A long limbed, black feline roughly the size of a serval. And it's in the Bastet equivalent of a fox frenzy.
Black-Light tenses up when the girl starts screaming in his face, his ears splaying back behind his head. He readies himself for a fight, lifting his hands to push where he expects a fully grown Crinos should be. He paws only surge through the air and hit nothing, sending the Crinos stumbling forward. He hits the wall and rights himself, spinning around with an astonished look upon his face.
Flint tenses noticeably, hand coming up to cover one ear as if it'll actually help anything, before blinking a few times at where Rowan had been. That sound, really.
It's a testament to Golden's reflexes, mental and physical, that he takes in the quick approach of a black-and-clawed-something and moves to catch it. Maybe embrace is a better word—he doesn't seem to want to chance it—her—getting away.
Red-Hands lifts his head at the sound, turning to look over his shoulder and at the source. Ears perk at the sight and he's right beside Tim, leaping at the cat …thing. To slow it or stop it or knock it into the Strider's grasp.
Cats in feline are quick, but she's also flailing hopelessly. She manages to blunder straight into Golden, and he manages to get ahold of her. Ever tried giving a terrified cat a bath? That's about what holding on to her is like.
Black-Light turns around entirely and leans back against the wall, eying the small animal that's fighting against Golden. He studies it warily, very slowly shifting down into Glabro. "So… Uh. That's not a wolf." Slug points out, helpfully.
Flint watches further, shifting back down into his birth form for the moment when he notices that Devon and Tim seem to have the thing under control. "Yeah," the cub echoes, looking over with brows furrowed a bit. "Definitely not."
Red-Hands twists, to keep from crashing into Golden. And the cat. And, seeing that things are mostly managed, turns and starts up the stairs to find Mouse.
Golden clenches his teeth and tries to grip Rowan in a manner which will somehow accomplish the competing goals of minimizing her movements and keeping hold of her while also not hurting her. ~Tell her to calm down,~ he grunts. ~And don't let her out that door.~ He doesn't seem to care who does which.
"Dude, she's a shifter doing a thing. Words ain't gonna help much." Slug walks quickly over towards Golden and the kitty thrashing in his arms, taking a closer look at her.
Rowan continues flailing. And lets out another feline shriek. Tim has her mostly clamped down, though hind legs twist up to kick at the arm restraining her front end. Kickkickkick. She's smaller than a lupus, and Tim can all but feel all those little bones under her skin. Scrawny cat.
Hands get shoved in pockets again and Flint takes a few steps towards the stairs and where Tim is, head tilted in curiosity. "May, may not," Flint says, shrugging. "Rowan." The girl's name is said, loudly, though only once.
The door that Mouse vanished into—The bathroom? Sure, why not—opens, and she steps out, phone in hand. "What the hell is that n—" Blink. Bliiiink. Stare. "…"
Golden grunts at the battering his arm takes, and keeps on holding the cat. He flicks an ear at Mouse, but it's the only attention he can spare for her. He seems inclined to wait out the Frenzy, or whatever it is.
Slug seems to inclined for another approach. He studies the feline for a few seconds, watching it's movements and the way it thrashes about rather intently. Then he abruptly raises and gives it good sock to the noggin with his meaty fist.
Hard to say whether it's Flint or just the frenzy wearing down, but eventually she settles a bit, though she's still breathing very, very fast. The black cat twitches now and then, a foot jerking or tail flopping, but her eyes roll to look at all those around. Her jaws open and she squeaks a few times, and then starts jerking as Slug approaches. Clonk. She's not hard to put out. Less hard headed than a wolf. Addled, she lolls limply in Golden's grip, but doesn't shift down.
"Not a wolf," Flint supplies when Mouse asks, a nod given to the Elder as the cub shrugs. Gaze returns to Slug, and then to Rowan, the boy frowning a bit.
"Oh." Mouse says, as her brain apparently catches up with her eyes. "…Oh. Ohhhh, shit." The phone is shoved into her back pocket, entirely forgotten, and she hurries further out into the room. "What happened?"
Golden slowly lowers Rowan to the ground, panting as he does so, and sets her down. He stays crouched over her, alert for any sudden movement. ~They tried to scare her into shifting. It worked.~ He sniffs at the cat. ~Do they heal like we do?~ he asks, looking skeptical.
"I thought they were all dead. Never saw a cat before." Slug wanders over towards a nearby wall, leaning against it. His attention stays fixated on the unfortunate cat on the floor. "Seen a fox. Seen a bird. Never a cat. Well- At least we know neither Tribe has a right to claim her."
The cat lies limply on the floor, jaws parted slightly. She's breathing and her whiskers are twitching, she's just taking her sweet time coming around.
Flint, for his part, makes his way to crouch near the cat, a bit of distance kept but curiosity winning out over that. "Apparently," the cub asides, not quite to Slug or anyone in particular, "they're not."
Mouse shakes her head very slightly, still staring. "Good God, I have no idea. I." As Slug speaks, she shakes her head a bit more. "I knew they were still alive. Kaz had to deal with a few when she was on her Adren challenge. But those were, uh. I. Oh shit."
~Now what?~ Golden asks, keeping watch over the cat, lest it prove to be just as fast out of a Frenzy as in one.
"Well." Mouse eyes the stairs, the door, Golden, and then the other two. She breathes, and something about her seems to settle—though she can't hide her ratcheting tension—"Slug, stand on the stairs in case she frenzies again. And everyone shift down." For her part, she starts undoing the shoulder holster, because apparently she's of a mind that guns right now are a bad thing.
Slug walks over towards the door at Mouse's direction, shrugging his shoulders. "Looks like the 'now' is we keep her safe and try to get ahold of her Kin." He passes through the door, leaving it open in his wake. The Gnawer shifts down to Homid on his way up, but he doesn't go further than a few steps before turning and sitting down. His posture loosens up, and his expression changes to one of thoughtful contentment.
And, she stirs, gradually, while the others are talking. She picks her head up drunkenly, and has a moment of unease before she realizes what's going on. And then— oh hay. Pain's forgotten. She has fuzz! Ignoring the others, she starts slowly picking herself up (plopping on her face more than once) with a sense of wonderment that translates to 'I did it!' that's clear even for a blind man. Even if when she tries to stand up she completely falls over. And she's apparently completely oblivious yet that she's not quite like the others.
Flint shifts to sitting crouched, half watching Mouse and half still watching the cat, attention fully turning towards her when she starts to get up. Thumbs hook in his pockets, elbows out a bit for balance.
Golden takes his birth form and moves back a half-shuffle so Rowan isn't crowded. He watches her movements and reactions, especially as Mouse approaches.
Mouse sets her holster aside, gun included—though it can be inferred that clip she took out of it before is still in her pocket—and drops into a crouch in front of, if not too close to, the exploring feline. "Rowan?"
The cat tries to lever herself up to all fours — she hikes her butt up, then pushes her front legs up, which causes her hind end to sway over to the left and plunk down again. Her ears airplane sideways and her whiskers wrinkle in clear feline frustration, but then Mouse calls her name. She looks up, those green eyes focusing clearly on the elder of the Walkers. She blinks. There's clearly some rudimentary communication there, but wolves wouldn't be able to read it.
Flint shrugs a moment, after staring at Rowan for a bit, sitting down all the way crosslegged.
Mouse's own out of place tail, long forgotten by this point, is swaying from side to side, the tip occasionally giving a significant twitch all on its own. She seems absolutely fascinated as Rowan tries—and fails—to get her feet under her, but that non-communication has her fascination fading into more practical concerns. "Ah, oh. Okay, that's going to be the first problem. Ah, Rowan? I've no idea what you're saying. But I bet you're probably feeling a little drained. Why don't we ah…scoot you over onto the couch, there, and you can sleep it off a little."
"Can you walk to it?" Tim gestures at the couch, his eyes on Rowan. "Try and climb on?" He murmurs under his breath, "Getting on furniture is instinctive for cats, right?"
"Just… Have a little cat nap." Slug suggests after Mouse speaks, waving the 'cub' on. "When you wake up, you'll be in human form again."
Flint glances over between Rowan and the couch, brows furrowing. "It's not that far over," the boy offers to the cat, scooting to his feet and out of the way so that the path is clear. "On the other hand." A shrug, and the cub falls silent.
The cat makes a squeaking noise, jaws parting, and she cranes her head over to look. Her ears flatten, then perk up again. Tailtip twitches. And then, as though accepting a challenge, she gets up and drunkenly sways toward the couch; her back feet are lifted far too high as she tries to walk, and that tail lashes back and forth. Still, she makes it over, and then stares at the couch. That foot off the ground seems terribly high. Whiskers twitch. One paw lifts, claws dig in. Oh hey. Ditto with the other. And then, she sort of slimes on top of it like a slug-cat, ending up on the couch and looking mightily pleased with herself.
"If you were any closer, I would punch you," Mouse tells Slug, sounding utterly serious. Rowan, however, gets a half quirked ghost of a grin. "Sleep it off, kid. You did good. I'll be back down to check on you in a bit, okay?" Because this is totally how these things go. Really. Truly. She gestures toward the stairs, giving the others a significant look.
"Sleep well kid," Tim says over his shoulder, and heads up the stairs.
23 January, 2012
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (0% full).
Rowan wanders downstairs, dressed in an oversized (srsly oversized, it's a 2XL on a 5'4" frame) black hoodie and sweatpants. She's looking for someone, that's apparent.
Flint looks up from his perch on the couch, complete with a book in his lap, at the sound of someone entering. "Hey." The boy's brows furrow for a moment as he regards the other cub, before he settles for half-dropping the book and waving.
Devon has been pacing, into the laundry room and back out again to make a round through the lobby, then back. It's on his way out of the laundry again that he notices another body enter, pausing to look in askance at Rowan.
Tim knocks on the door to the Tenement, shave-and-a-haircut style, and gives the camera a feral grin.
Rowan picks at her sleeves. "Have you seen Mouse… er, Mouse-rhya? She said we were gonna work on shifting today." She darts a look over toward the door at the knock, perking a bit. "Maybe that's her?" …yeah, someone doesn't know how the cameras work yet.
Slug rides the elevator down to the lobby, stepping through the doors when they slide open. The Gnawer has a pleased smile on his face— and a new wound. There is a bright red mark that runs down the usually 'normal' side of his face, perilously close to his eye. "Hey." He calls to those assembled, waving.
Flint shakes his head, picking himself up from the couch. "Haven't," Flint responds, half distracted as he sets the book on the table and glances over at the feed for the cameras. "Not, but." Apparently satisfied, the boy makes his way over to get the door for Tim, a nod given to Devon as he does so. "Hey." Half a pause in his step and the boy nods to Slug as well, before actually getting the door.
Devon shakes his head. "Haven't seen her yet today," he says, stepping over to look at the monitor along with the lucky fellow who drew watch duty. He frowns faintly, then shrugs as he goes to open the door, giving Slug an absent wave. He stops short when Flint beats him to it, a single brow raising and arms folding over his chest.
Tim steps inside once the door is open, raising his eyebrows to Flint in a thank you. (He is very much not Mouse in almost all ways possible.) He gives Devon and Slug a collective wave of hello—then he spies Rowan, and the familiarity drains from his expression to be replaced by something much more calculating. "Well. What do you have here?" he asks no one in particular.
Rowan sees Slug, and looks a bit uneasy. "Are you okay?" she asks, warily. And then Tim enters, and his calculation sets the kid a little off-kilter. "—uh. Rowan. Ragabash cub, apparently." There's a tilted smile, attempt at humor. Though she's apparently a little baffled by influx of people.
"Just a flesh wound. Got another on my chest." Slug gradually rises up into Glabro and scratches at the wound on his cheek, the suddenly hairier and taller Gnawer grunting as his fingernail hits a tender spot. He waves at Tim, then points towards Rowan. "New person. She's ou—" Pause. "Mouse's student. Sorta."
People haven't stopped influxing either, because in the time it takes the elevator to ride up to the top floor and back again, Mouse pops out of the elevator. She's not wearing a coat right now, which makes two things pretty obvious: she looks decidedly lanky in the torso without a coat, though still not to the point it would be supernaturally remarkable—and she has a tail. A long, skinny tail, covered in a small smattering of downy fur, which she apparently hasn't bothered to conceal yet today. Oh, and she has a gun, which she's currently fiddling with, which apparently belongs to the empty shoulder holster she's wearing. "…Whoa, people central."
Flint looks over at Devon, half-quizzical, before the elevator distracts the cub further. "Hey Mouse-rhya," the boy calls out, stepping back into the lobby proper from where he'd been getting the door.
"Sorta?" Tim echoes, moving to lean against the arm of a couch. He surveys Rowan a little longer, during which Mouse arrives, and he then looks at her with raised eyebrows. If he's phased by the gun, it's not apparent (or maybe he's just focused on the subject of Rowan). "Roach kinfetch? Or did she just not have one?"
"Hey, Tim-rhya," Devon says, a greeting that's offered quietly as he looks toward the elevator. "Mouse-rhya," follows, turning that hello into a question. A glance is spared for Slug and then Tim, as though wondering if either of them would know the reason behind the Theurge's weaponry. "Uh… We sort of found her… after the fact."
Rowan fidgets. "Didn't have one," she says, with the teenage all-knowing of someone who just found out what that even means two days ago. And then, Mouse! She looks a mix of relieved, though her gaze flits to that tail once or twice while she pretends she isn't looking. Face, Rowan, we look at the face! "—I haven't had any luck yet," she says, guardedly, to the elder.
Slug looks over his shoulder as the elevator goes into motion. He sidles off to the side and turns his attention towards the doors, waiting to see who's coming down. "Finders keepers." Slug adds on to what Devon says. He starts to say something to Mouse, then goes quiet when he sees the gun in her hand.
"Lost cub," Mouse explains. Her tone is rather light today, all things considered, especially since, as usual, she looks a little worn and tired. "Who is getting shooting lessons today. Basement time, Rowan." She jerks her chin toward the door. "All've you lot can come too, just don't crowd. Maybe sit in Salem's apartment." She doesn't say Salem's former apartment, or old apartment. "C'mon, kid. This ought to do it if nothing else will."
Flint folds his arms across his chest and glances, halfway, at Devon, before simply moving out of the way and over towards the basement, though the boy doesn't walk particularly fast.
Devon shares that glance with Flint, just a quick slant of his eyes toward the younger boy, before joins in the procession downstairs. He's a little quicker, catching up with the male cub just enough to tip his head down and whisper to him.
"Think you're good as far as that lesson goes," Devon whispers.
Tim gives Slug what might possibly be the nastiest and most infuriated look anyone at the Walk has ever seen on him. Then it disappears (with considerable effort) and he asks Mouse, "No living relatives to contact—no one to check on and talk to? No names to look up?" A glance at Rowan poses that question to her as well. He seems inclined to follow.
"What, because of the noise?" Rowan looks baffled, but she does follow. To Tim: "Um. I only know my adoptive parents. I left home to find my—" And now, she looks really embarrassed for a tick, "Real family. I don't know who they are. Or where they are. Mom said I came from Egypt, but that's …all."
"No luck so far," Mouse explains to Tim, though she does give Slug a brief, narrow look, before padding down the stairs into the basement.
Flint shakes his head at Devon as the boy descends down the stairs, but for now, Flint's silent, filing into the basement with everyone else.
Devon shrugs again, lagging until he's a full step behind Flint. He, too, heads down the stairs behind the elder and new cub. And save for a glance behind, sort of askance of Tim, he keeps to himself.
Slug doesn't seem all that bothered by the nasty look that Tim shoots in his direction, or he doesn't notice it because his eye is mostly upon Mouse. Crazy people with guns have a habit of drawing his utmost attention. "So… Our Totem Quest succeeded." Slug says as he follows the procession down the stairs.
"Egypt." The way Tim says the word, it's not just a country somewhere on a map. He takes a deep breath as they descend the stairs, and addresses Rowan directly. "Do you know how she knew that? Like did she know your birth parents, or did she have something of theirs?"
"Uh. I don't. Know." Rowan looks back at Tim, looking a little confused now. "They didn't really want me to go to try to find them. I … left on my own. That's just where they adopted me from." Rowan adds, "I was just a baby, so I don't remember anything."
"I heard," Mouse says. Once she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she turns along the wall—and there's a brief glance spared for the painting, which turns a bit longer as she looks at it, as though she's never really seen it before. Then the moment passes, and she releases the ammo clip from her gun, handling it carefully as she tucks it into the pocket of her slacks, and produces another one, which she's much less careful about before sliding it into her pistol. Click, click. "Rowan, you're going to want to strip. And I know, audience and all, but trust me, no one's really going to be looking. We're kind've used to the naked weirdness. Flint, you've had 101 already, haven't you?"
The question is met with half a beat of initial silence before the boy answers. "Yes, Mouse-rhya," Flint responds, mouth pressing into a faint but not truly uneasy line at the question.
Devon watches Mouse carefully, observant, as he moves just to the side of the stairs. Room enough is left for Tim and Slug to continue into the basement. His hands fall from his chest and into his pants pockets.
"We got Peregrine. The falcon." Slug mentions in passing, half to Mouse, half to anyone within earshot that may care. He moves off to the side and casually sets his hands on his head, snorting at something Mouse says.
Tim sighs, closing his eyes briefly. "Right." One of his hands forms a fist, and the knuckles go white before he releases it and steps away, taking a spot to one side. He looks resolute and ready for…something.
Rowan just stares at Mouse. "What?" And then, something clicks. "Oh." And her cheeks turn positively scarlet. "Because the clothes—are you sure this is going—" Still, though, she peels off the sweater and the pants, but then looks stubborn. She's wearing a loose sleeveless shirt and boxer shorts underneath. "If these get ruined I still am wearing the others," she says, folding her arms. "And that way I'm not naked—uh. So is shooting in here safe? What are we shooting at?" She's clearly nervous, though, eyes darting from one to the other. Anxious. And talking to cover it up, apparently.
Mouse points. "Go stand over there, away from everything. —Rowan is having problems shifting again," she explains to Tim. "So this is more like Remedial Shooting, today. And don't make that face, I'm still looking into her background. You know I'm not going to stake a claim over someone obviously yours. And if it's less obvious, we can challenge." She continues fiddling with her gun. "Rowan, you really probably do want to strip completely."
Flint shifts another half-glance over at Devon, the boy's hands hooking slightly into his pockets.
"Don't worry," Devon supplies helpfully, shifting a little so he can lean against the wall. "Perfectly safe down here, s'why Mouse-rhya brings cubs down here."
"Well, that's one way to tap into the beast. Guess she doesn't have a whole lot of… Mmm, anger." Slug turns his attention Mouse, or to the general area of Mouse, diverting his gaze away from the cub.
Tim relaxes a fraction as Mouse speaks, and assures her, "If it's less than obvious, there won't be a Challenge," his tone firm. He averts his eyes to the ground, so he can only see Rowan out of the periphery of his eyesight.
Rowan looks continuously more uneasy, but seems to trust that she's not the one getting shot at (hahahaha, oh naivete). She skulks over that way, cheeks still entirely red as she scoots out of her clothes. The shirt, though, is clung to so it forms a sheet over her front, her arms crossed over it. Lordy, this kid is scrawny. "If this doesn't work," she squeaks, but fails to deliver on anything further.
Mouse appears ready to continue with matters, but she's interrupted by her cellphone before she can issue further instructions. The Elder Walker mutters something in disgruntled Japanese and fishes her cellphone from a pocket, excusing herself to the stairwell.
Slug turns his head as Mouse exits the room, his hands gradually lowering away from his ears. "… Huh. Guess it was important." Slug looks at the assembled Garou and claps his hands together. "So! Uh. Cub? Do you know what auspice you are? What your job is?"
Devon turns slightly, watching Mouse go up the stairs before letting out a sigh and returning his attention to the group in the basement. "Yeah, teaching about Auspices'll probably put her to sleep before helping her learn to shift. Should teach her the way Sol taught me." That's said with a faint smirk.
"She's naked," Tim points out to Slug as he watches Mouse go. "If we're not gonna have her shift, at least let's let her get dressed." He pauses and looks at Devon, eyebrows raised. "You're the ranking Walker here now," he says pointedly. "Which is it—shifting or Auspice?"
Rowan just stares at Mouse, and then Slug, and then the other two. She hugs her shirt-curtain to herself, owlish. Ogod.
"I didn't say we should teach her about the auspices, I asked her if she knew which one she was. Ahrouns are easy to change, for instance." Slug turns his attention to Rowan and starts walking towards her, his expression taking a turn for the thoughtful. "What happens when you try to shift?" He asks, growing steadily closer.
Flint looks over at Devon for a moment, brows raised in just a hint of question and curiosity. But then, the boy's shifted his gaze towards Rowan — though not directly at her — offering the girl a very faint smile in the most reassuring way he can manage.
"Yeah, totally easy to change the second time," Devon mutters, frowning at Slug. He glances at Tim, then shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what Auspice she is right now, job's to get her to change forms. No more talking." Direct as ever, he drops into lupus to stalk past the Gnawer and at the female cub. A growl starts, quietly, but showing some very real teeth, hackles lifting as ears and head lower in unfeigned aggression.
Tim barely stays where he's standing as Slug and Devon advance on Rowan. There's a definite lean to his stance, and one of his hands is a fist again, but he remains in place.
Rowan eyes Slug, uneasy. "I—uh. Get sort of sick and then it sto—" And then Devon. Her eyes go round, and she looks a bit distressed. "What are you doing? What's he doing? Why is he—"
"If that's an order from a Walker concerning that cub, who am I to question?" Slug rumbles out, dropping his hand away from his face. The Glabro comes to a stop some three or four feet away from Rowan. As soon as he stops the hulking, hairy brute vanishes from sight entirely. Almost as suddenly as he disappeared, he reappears, his muscles bulging and bones cracking as he swells into Crinos with astonishing speed. He lunges forward and roars into the poor girl's face, assaulting her face with atrocious breath and flecks of spittle that fly from his fanged maw.
Flint watches from the distance he's at, glance given to both Tim and to Devon as the boy shifts up to Glabro himself. Nor does Flint make any move towards the other cub. For now, he's just watching.
Red-Hands goes absolutely still when Slug reappears in front of the cub, and for a long second it looks as though he may turn his aggressive demeanor on the Fostern. Silent, once again wordless, he turns away, to return to his place by the stairs.
"Use your Rage to protect yourself!" Tim shouts over the sound of Slug's roar, his voice urgent. And he too shifts, taking Crinos.
Really, it doesn't take long. It's remarkably fast, actually. A shriek turns into an unholy shriek as her body snaps into complete flight mode. What was once a girl is now a black bundle of fur, and it attempts to streak towards the door (and Tim), but gangly limbs end up tripping over themselves into a pile of legs, black fur, ears, and still keeping up with that unholy caterwauling.
The difference? They expected a wolf. What is on the floor is most definitely Not a Wolf. It's a cat. A long limbed, black feline roughly the size of a serval. And it's in the Bastet equivalent of a fox frenzy.
Black-Light tenses up when the girl starts screaming in his face, his ears splaying back behind his head. He readies himself for a fight, lifting his hands to push where he expects a fully grown Crinos should be. He paws only surge through the air and hit nothing, sending the Crinos stumbling forward. He hits the wall and rights himself, spinning around with an astonished look upon his face.
Flint tenses noticeably, hand coming up to cover one ear as if it'll actually help anything, before blinking a few times at where Rowan had been. That sound, really.
It's a testament to Golden's reflexes, mental and physical, that he takes in the quick approach of a black-and-clawed-something and moves to catch it. Maybe embrace is a better word—he doesn't seem to want to chance it—her—getting away.
Red-Hands lifts his head at the sound, turning to look over his shoulder and at the source. Ears perk at the sight and he's right beside Tim, leaping at the cat …thing. To slow it or stop it or knock it into the Strider's grasp.
Cats in feline are quick, but she's also flailing hopelessly. She manages to blunder straight into Golden, and he manages to get ahold of her. Ever tried giving a terrified cat a bath? That's about what holding on to her is like.
Black-Light turns around entirely and leans back against the wall, eying the small animal that's fighting against Golden. He studies it warily, very slowly shifting down into Glabro. "So… Uh. That's not a wolf." Slug points out, helpfully.
Flint watches further, shifting back down into his birth form for the moment when he notices that Devon and Tim seem to have the thing under control. "Yeah," the cub echoes, looking over with brows furrowed a bit. "Definitely not."
Red-Hands twists, to keep from crashing into Golden. And the cat. And, seeing that things are mostly managed, turns and starts up the stairs to find Mouse.
Golden clenches his teeth and tries to grip Rowan in a manner which will somehow accomplish the competing goals of minimizing her movements and keeping hold of her while also not hurting her. ~Tell her to calm down,~ he grunts. ~And don't let her out that door.~ He doesn't seem to care who does which.
"Dude, she's a shifter doing a thing. Words ain't gonna help much." Slug walks quickly over towards Golden and the kitty thrashing in his arms, taking a closer look at her.
Rowan continues flailing. And lets out another feline shriek. Tim has her mostly clamped down, though hind legs twist up to kick at the arm restraining her front end. Kickkickkick. She's smaller than a lupus, and Tim can all but feel all those little bones under her skin. Scrawny cat.
Hands get shoved in pockets again and Flint takes a few steps towards the stairs and where Tim is, head tilted in curiosity. "May, may not," Flint says, shrugging. "Rowan." The girl's name is said, loudly, though only once.
The door that Mouse vanished into—The bathroom? Sure, why not—opens, and she steps out, phone in hand. "What the hell is that n—" Blink. Bliiiink. Stare. "…"
Golden grunts at the battering his arm takes, and keeps on holding the cat. He flicks an ear at Mouse, but it's the only attention he can spare for her. He seems inclined to wait out the Frenzy, or whatever it is.
Slug seems to inclined for another approach. He studies the feline for a few seconds, watching it's movements and the way it thrashes about rather intently. Then he abruptly raises and gives it good sock to the noggin with his meaty fist.
Hard to say whether it's Flint or just the frenzy wearing down, but eventually she settles a bit, though she's still breathing very, very fast. The black cat twitches now and then, a foot jerking or tail flopping, but her eyes roll to look at all those around. Her jaws open and she squeaks a few times, and then starts jerking as Slug approaches. Clonk. She's not hard to put out. Less hard headed than a wolf. Addled, she lolls limply in Golden's grip, but doesn't shift down.
"Not a wolf," Flint supplies when Mouse asks, a nod given to the Elder as the cub shrugs. Gaze returns to Slug, and then to Rowan, the boy frowning a bit.
"Oh." Mouse says, as her brain apparently catches up with her eyes. "…Oh. Ohhhh, shit." The phone is shoved into her back pocket, entirely forgotten, and she hurries further out into the room. "What happened?"
Golden slowly lowers Rowan to the ground, panting as he does so, and sets her down. He stays crouched over her, alert for any sudden movement. ~They tried to scare her into shifting. It worked.~ He sniffs at the cat. ~Do they heal like we do?~ he asks, looking skeptical.
"I thought they were all dead. Never saw a cat before." Slug wanders over towards a nearby wall, leaning against it. His attention stays fixated on the unfortunate cat on the floor. "Seen a fox. Seen a bird. Never a cat. Well- At least we know neither Tribe has a right to claim her."
The cat lies limply on the floor, jaws parted slightly. She's breathing and her whiskers are twitching, she's just taking her sweet time coming around.
Flint, for his part, makes his way to crouch near the cat, a bit of distance kept but curiosity winning out over that. "Apparently," the cub asides, not quite to Slug or anyone in particular, "they're not."
Mouse shakes her head very slightly, still staring. "Good God, I have no idea. I." As Slug speaks, she shakes her head a bit more. "I knew they were still alive. Kaz had to deal with a few when she was on her Adren challenge. But those were, uh. I. Oh shit."
~Now what?~ Golden asks, keeping watch over the cat, lest it prove to be just as fast out of a Frenzy as in one.
"Well." Mouse eyes the stairs, the door, Golden, and then the other two. She breathes, and something about her seems to settle—though she can't hide her ratcheting tension—"Slug, stand on the stairs in case she frenzies again. And everyone shift down." For her part, she starts undoing the shoulder holster, because apparently she's of a mind that guns right now are a bad thing.
Slug walks over towards the door at Mouse's direction, shrugging his shoulders. "Looks like the 'now' is we keep her safe and try to get ahold of her Kin." He passes through the door, leaving it open in his wake. The Gnawer shifts down to Homid on his way up, but he doesn't go further than a few steps before turning and sitting down. His posture loosens up, and his expression changes to one of thoughtful contentment.
And, she stirs, gradually, while the others are talking. She picks her head up drunkenly, and has a moment of unease before she realizes what's going on. And then— oh hay. Pain's forgotten. She has fuzz! Ignoring the others, she starts slowly picking herself up (plopping on her face more than once) with a sense of wonderment that translates to 'I did it!' that's clear even for a blind man. Even if when she tries to stand up she completely falls over. And she's apparently completely oblivious yet that she's not quite like the others.
Flint shifts to sitting crouched, half watching Mouse and half still watching the cat, attention fully turning towards her when she starts to get up. Thumbs hook in his pockets, elbows out a bit for balance.
Golden takes his birth form and moves back a half-shuffle so Rowan isn't crowded. He watches her movements and reactions, especially as Mouse approaches.
Mouse sets her holster aside, gun included—though it can be inferred that clip she took out of it before is still in her pocket—and drops into a crouch in front of, if not too close to, the exploring feline. "Rowan?"
The cat tries to lever herself up to all fours — she hikes her butt up, then pushes her front legs up, which causes her hind end to sway over to the left and plunk down again. Her ears airplane sideways and her whiskers wrinkle in clear feline frustration, but then Mouse calls her name. She looks up, those green eyes focusing clearly on the elder of the Walkers. She blinks. There's clearly some rudimentary communication there, but wolves wouldn't be able to read it.
Flint shrugs a moment, after staring at Rowan for a bit, sitting down all the way crosslegged.
Mouse's own out of place tail, long forgotten by this point, is swaying from side to side, the tip occasionally giving a significant twitch all on its own. She seems absolutely fascinated as Rowan tries—and fails—to get her feet under her, but that non-communication has her fascination fading into more practical concerns. "Ah, oh. Okay, that's going to be the first problem. Ah, Rowan? I've no idea what you're saying. But I bet you're probably feeling a little drained. Why don't we ah…scoot you over onto the couch, there, and you can sleep it off a little."
"Can you walk to it?" Tim gestures at the couch, his eyes on Rowan. "Try and climb on?" He murmurs under his breath, "Getting on furniture is instinctive for cats, right?"
"Just… Have a little cat nap." Slug suggests after Mouse speaks, waving the 'cub' on. "When you wake up, you'll be in human form again."
Flint glances over between Rowan and the couch, brows furrowing. "It's not that far over," the boy offers to the cat, scooting to his feet and out of the way so that the path is clear. "On the other hand." A shrug, and the cub falls silent.
The cat makes a squeaking noise, jaws parting, and she cranes her head over to look. Her ears flatten, then perk up again. Tailtip twitches. And then, as though accepting a challenge, she gets up and drunkenly sways toward the couch; her back feet are lifted far too high as she tries to walk, and that tail lashes back and forth. Still, she makes it over, and then stares at the couch. That foot off the ground seems terribly high. Whiskers twitch. One paw lifts, claws dig in. Oh hey. Ditto with the other. And then, she sort of slimes on top of it like a slug-cat, ending up on the couch and looking mightily pleased with herself.
"If you were any closer, I would punch you," Mouse tells Slug, sounding utterly serious. Rowan, however, gets a half quirked ghost of a grin. "Sleep it off, kid. You did good. I'll be back down to check on you in a bit, okay?" Because this is totally how these things go. Really. Truly. She gestures toward the stairs, giving the others a significant look.
"Sleep well kid," Tim says over his shoulder, and heads up the stairs.