The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.
The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or been eaten away.
This basement is only partly below ground level, and there are windows evenly spaced on the walls, right below the ceiling level. The main part of it is a large open area with a small kitchen in one corner and a large, ratty carpet in the center, covering the cement floor. There is a rather large window in the kitchen; it looks as though it might actually open onto the street. On the wall opposite the kitchen is a large bin, and there are folding tables along the wall perpendicular to it. On the other wall there are a few folding chairs, many fewer than one would expect from the number of tables.
A hallway next to the kitchen leads off to two offices and what once might have been a classroom.
From warehouses a few blocks away from the river, across a chunk of city more than a dozen blocks wide, factories brood over the streets like dark dragons over their piles of treasure, greedy and all-encompassing. Huddling around the factories are smaller, less imposing buildings that are probably warehouses, or storage locations for trucks. The factories spill fumes into the air, darkening the area and blanketing it in a stench to mark humankind's domination over the world. Some of the warehouses stand empty, some are boarded over, and some, on the northern and western fringes of the area, have been converted to bars, with bizarre lighting, frequent brawls, and music that blares loudly at all hours of the night. There are no residences here for anyone to complain, and the factory workers populate the bars thickly. Throughout the area, trash and oil mingle together on alleyway streets, impeding the paths to the dumpsters at the ends of many of the alleys.
Stretching a good quarter mile from the road, this gravel lane leads back to the Escrowe farm. Trees line the lane, their limbs bare but for the snow still clinging to them. In the distance, the farmhouse looms above the treetops, gleaming white as the snow from its yearly coat of paint. Silence prevails here, save for the rustling of the tall grasses in the fields when the wind blows.
The front entrance to the farmhouse is on the porch alongside the gravelled road which continues on around the eastern side of the house back to the barnyard. The opposite end of the lane turns back west to empty out onto Sunrise Road.
Also as Shadow Eyes.
Also as Three-Blades.
Three-Blades only growls, the Rage pumping through her veins dying down long enough so she shifts to Glabro as well. ~Big trouble now. Veil's shot to the Wyrm's Hellspiral and back.~ She takes one look at her arms and growls again, this time in pain. One look out the door, and she sees the blood spilled all over the ground, along with a few body internals that just should /not/ have been there.
From outside, a familiar if rather less calm than usual voice carries into the room, "...Oh... Fuck..." Bernie runs quickly up the steps, and stops in the doorway, surveying the scene wide-eyed. "...fuck," she repeats, more quietly. "...Yi?" she asks, seeing the crinos melding into a more familiar shape, "What th' fuck?" She drops her backpack on the floor by the door.
"Help me clean this up," Yi can only reply. "Explain later." She casts a glance at Nevada, then to the unconscious Rotem, and the knocking-on-heaven's-door Kyle. "Get a broom, from basement." She in the meanwhile, searches for a firehydrant.
Bernie swallows, and nods. She makes a move for the basement, then stops, and rummages in her backpack, pulling out a pack of kleenex. Darting back outside for a moment, she uses them to pick up the gun and bring it in and with her as she heads downstairs.
The hideous, bleeding Glabro shape of Nevada sinks its claws on the top of a pew, pulling up. His clothes nearly burst at the seams, the once-white shirt dark with blood and ripped to shreds. His back is a fresh red canyon of agony. His face is falling off on one side, revealing how his jaw works as labored breathing issues forth. A sob catches thick in his throat as he tries to flip Kyle over, to look at his wounds.
Yi finds the nearest fire hydrant a few feet away from the scene, carefully avoiding stepping on the blood as she hops down the steps and opens one of the hydrant valves with her hands. The sudden gush of water manages to thin out the blood some, washing it down into the gutters. She turns back up the steps, rips off the rest of the doorway to the church, and uses the wood to direct the water and wash the steps and street.
Kyle's stomach was blown out by the heavy pistol, blood still spewing down into his jeans and wife beater. The black youth stares back into Nevada's eyes, teeth chattering. "Cold..dude.... cold.... shit..ganna see god man.... ganna get kicked down ta' hell..." He rambles incoherently. "Yo..dawg... gotta say sumt'n. ah'fucked yer bitch.." A soft gurgle echos in his throat, spitting up some blood. "Wanted ta' sorry.. yo'."
Bernie comes back up after several minutes, laden with cleaning supplies -- not just the broom, but also a mop, two sponges, some PineSol, a bottle of Windex, and for some reason a box of baking soda. Thorough, at least. She carts it over toward her elder, with a somewhat traumatized look at the others, and then very much -not- looking at them, for the moment.
Thirty seconds. Thirty fucking seconds. If he wasn't hanging on the phone with Audrey so long.. he wouldn't have run into Kyle. And then he wouldn't have taken him along. And this wouldn't have happened. Thirty fucking seconds. "Wasn't mine," Nevada rumbles in a broken, slurring Glabro voice,"I'm sorry.. fuck.. love you, man. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.. " He mumbles it over and over, losing coherency, it becoming a mantra.
Rotem wakes up slowly, blinking several times and groaning as he sits up. He leans against a Pew, sitting on the floor and pulling his legs up towards him, his arms wrapping about them, holding them tightly, as he rocks back and forth, muttering incoherently.
Yi turns off the water, hissing as the pain of her clawed arms lances through her, her sweatshirt soaked in both blood and water. "Please clean up blood," she says to the shocked Bernie. Tossing the left over door to the side, she climbs up the steps and has a look at Kyle and Nevada. Placing a rough hand on the galliard cub's shoulder, she nudges him aside. Shifting down briefly to homid, she has a look at Kyle's face, touching it with her hand gently. "I'm sorry, Kyle. Your friend Nevada, he is very sorry too. Please, forgive us, and go with peace to your next life."
"Dude..." He says, reaching up to slightly trace along Nevada's cheek. "Ah'love you too.. man.." Tears flood down his cheek as he coughs once more, blood spilling over his lips. "Ay'. When ah'get ta' heaven, ah'll keep th'bong burning k man?" Choking once more, he leans his head back, eyes fluttering towards the Asian. Her words are lost as the light drains from his eyes, his chest falling for once last time as his body grows limp.
"...Right," Bernie mutters, "...clean up th' blood. I c'n do that." The cub regards the remaining mess a moment, biting her bottom lip, and starts pouring the detergent over the wet concrete, then scrubbing it with the broom. It seems to be working fairly well.
Rotem rocks back and forth, eyes wide and staring blankly into space. He mutters over and over to himself, incoherently.
Yi gently lowers Kyle's eyelids, then stands up. "I'm sorry, Nevada. I could tell he was a good friend." Glancing over to Rotem, she shakes her head and sighs before going back outside to help Bernie clean the mess that she feels was started by her for bringing Rotem to the church.
The Glabro sags, shaking with horrible, howling sobs. Sinking along the side of the pew, he doesn't care just what kind of internal organs are trying to escape his mauled body. He clutches the dead body to him, tightly, snarling vaguely in Yi's direction. His eyes are beginning to glaze over, rolling back in his head.
Rotem slowly stands up, mumbling to himself, the look in his eye's as if telling his state of mind, namely; The lights are on but nobody is home. He turns towards the exit, walking slowly down the church steps, as if on autopilot. He constantly mutters to himself as he walks.
Bernie glances up and down the street as she scrubs, half expecting the police to show up any second and ask her why she's messing with a crime scene. With blood. And dead people. That really wasn't exactly on today's 'to do' list. Most of the blood at least cleans up pretty well.
Yi grabs Rotem on his way down the steps, lifting him with his arms pinned to his sides and bringing him back into the church. "STAY." She growls this, adding that feral You-BETTER-do-what-I-say to the Persuasion.
Rotem just keeps mumbling as he is hauled back in, as if he doesn't even see Yi. He eventually just collapses to the ground. Curling up in the fetal possition and whimpering.
Bernie leans the broom against the side of the church for a moment and surveys the steps. Almost clean, just a couple stubborn spots, really. She tries some of the baking soda on them, it's supposed to work for blood on clothes, right?
The last of his stricken sobs gone out, Nevada buckles, blacking out. He reverts to homid with a final shudder, slouching over the dead body he's pulled into his grasp. Blood and bile drips out his mouth, and his glazed gray eyes point sightlessly at the floor. Only hard, painful breathing proves him to be alive.
Yi comes back out from the church, sighing as she takes a look at her clawed up arms one more time. Then, she remembers her job at Tin Yen. The manager... oh shit. She sets off a stream of curses in Cantonese, and tears the sweatshirt off her body, leaving the tighter navy blue shirt about her. With the sweatshirt, she wipes the blood dripping from her arms away. Her gaze finally finds Bernie. "Thank you, Bernie," she utters out in the best english she can muster in Glabro. "I'll take care of things inside."
"...uh huh," Bernie replies, scrubbing the last few noticeable patches of blood away. There. Nice and clean. No one will notice that. 'course, they might notice the destroyed door... She gathers the stuff up again and hauls it back inside.
Rotem stands up, blinking. He looks around with a cheek to cheek smile on his face now, as if some hidden humor has revealed itself to him.
Yi comes back from the basement after cleaning up Nevada as best she can, having ripped her sweatshirt to bits to wrap it around Nevada's torn up back and stop the bleeding. Meeting Bernie on the way out, she nods again in thanks and walks over to Rotem. Seeing the smile on his face, she growls and blurts, "What's so funny?"
Rotem turns to look at her in glabro, he tilts his head and smiles. "I'm completely insane. I thought I was just a.. a... I dont know what. And I still think you are.. I'm quite obviously mad." he says, laughing an eerie laughter, sounding like he just might be off his rocker.
Bernie pauses on her way back to the basement, noticing the floor inside. Well, anyone who wonders why the door's all splintered's going to see... right, that's bad. She sighs and sets the stuff all down on a pew, heading down to the basement again with a wary look at Rotem. A very -quick- one, as she notices the problem with undedicated clothes, and turns pinkish.
Yi curls her fingers into a claw-like hand and gets ready for a slapping motion. But, since there's enough to clean up already, she settles for a regular slap....from a glabro hand. "Snap yourself back." Turning to Bernie, she glances down at the dead Kyle, to the door, to the floor. "Big Dog's going to skin me."
Rotem shakes his head. just stareing at the dead Kyle, sitting down on the pew and stareing, silent.
Bernie pauses by the door, glancing around at the carnage. "...well, I'm not thinkin' it's gonna be hearts an' flowers, 'zactly..." She bites her lip again. "...we oughta put somethin' over th' door. We gotta tarp anywhere? Hold on, I gotta go get th' bucket..." She ducks down into the basement, a bit nervously.
Rotem shakes his head, mumbling and then looking to Yi, "Did I?" he asks softly.
Rotem seems to be on the edge of a breakdown as he asks this.
Yi takes the gun that was left on the pew. Shifting to crinos briefly, she crushes the gun in her claw, and then shifts back down into glabro. "What, kill him?" She sighs. "No, he shot himself while we were fighting. Welcome to our world, Rotem." She takes the crushed gun pieces and wraps them up in the kleenex.
Rotem blinks as he looks to Yi, "I.. I didn't?" he stutters horribly. "I-I-I.. I d-d-dont und-understand.
Bernie returns, lugging a bucket of soapy water, and sets it down as soon as possible. Ten gallons of water is pretty heavy, even if the bucket's leaking. "A'ight..." She pauses, "...Gotta be somethin' t' cover th' door with, i'n't there? Lessee..." She gets the mop and starts cleaning some of the floor while she thinks. Easier to deal with that way.
Yi makes a motion for Rotem to hush for a second while she thinks. "Ok. I'll take body, burn, get rid of body and gun. Bernie, watch new cub. Name's Rotem." She turns to Rotem, and growls. "If you hurt Bernie, I'll skin you." The glare in her dark eyes reveals a not-so-empty threat.
Rotem shivers slightly. "I.. I d-dont under u- understand." he whimpers helplessly.
Yi disappears into the basement to grab some 32-gallon trash bags.
Bernie looks around, trying to look at the corpse as little as possible... and the naked guy as little as possible... and sighs. "...siddown, 'kay?" she suggests firmly, "I'll try t' 'splain in a couple. An' find you some pants. Just hold on a sec, yeah?"
Rotem sits down slowly, sighing, just stareing at the body, shivvering horribly, not just from the cold.
Yi comes back up with about 6 trash bags, and walks over to Kyle's corpse. Carefully, she slips the bag around his body, and slips this bag into the 5 others, tosses the gun pieces in and ties up the bags tight. She tosses Bernie a pair of ripped up but still wearable jeans, thinking it might fit Rotem. "I'll be back." Hauling up the bag onto her shoulders, her form seems to ripple as she invokes a Ragabash gift of hers, Blur of the Milky Eye. Those not looking for her, would have a hard time finding her even in the daylight. She disappears around the tarp hanging from the doorway.
Rotem looks up to bernie and asks, perfectly seriously, "Am I dead?"
Bernie catches the pants and watches Yi go, opening her mouth to say something, too late. "...Not yet," she replies dryly, before turning to the new cub and tossing him the trousers. "See if those fitcha..." She rests the mop on a pew, and wanders over to the door, making sure the tarp covers as much as possible, and taping a couple trashbags to the edges to be safe before she wanders back over. "So," she says, considering, and leans back against the side of another pew, "...Okay, how 'bout first you tell me whatcha think you r'member, a'ight?"
Rotem says "Well, Yi, was talking about dreams and stuff, I thought she was crazy, she wouldn't let me go, so I tried to get out, I got out and then, then I got shot.. I thought I got shot.." he looks at his leg, confused, "I could have sworn I got shot.. then things went crazy.""
Bernie nods a bit. "Crazy how?" she prompts, "'cause you said you thought you were somethin'. An' Yi was somethin'. Same kinda somethin', right?"
Rotem says "I was.. something else.. yeah, same as she was, and a third one.. " he shivers and falls silent for a moment, finnally tears run down his cheeks as he whimpers out "What the hell is going on?""
Bernie runs a hand through her curls, and sighs. "A'ight," she begins, standing and heading over toward Rotem's pew, but pausing halfway there, "...you got those pants on yet?"
Rotem nods, "Ye-yes. I d-do." he stutters out oncemore, sighing as he pulls them closed.
Bernie nods once and proceeds to the pew, in that case. She plops down beside the other cub, "...okay, this's gonna sound highly freaky, tellin' you that first. Jus' keep in mind it's true an' it's not like y'don't have th' Other Freaky t' prove it, 'kay? So you're gonna stay here an' listen t' me an' not go weird or try an' leave, a'ight? 'cause we're not crazy. Well, I'm not, an' you prolly aren't either. Deal?"
Rotem nods silently, wiping a tear from his cheek softly.
Yi comes back into the church, slipping silently and quickly around the tarp that covers the doorway. The trashbag has disappeared, disposed of. She is about to wipe her brow from sweat, but remembers her arm is still a tad bloody, dripping ever so slowly. Looking up, she sees Bernie and Rotem still here.
"A'ight," the cub replies, "good. So, here's the deal You're a werewolf. I'm a werewolf, Yi's a werewolf, N'vada's a werewolf, we're all werewolves. 's a reg'lar werewolf jamboree. An' it's secret; other people can't know 'bout it, 'cause they'd freak, right? We look like normal people, only we can turn into huge kickass monsters, or wolves, or in between. So that's kinda the basic underlyin' facts there. Still list'nin'?"
Rotem nods slightly, "L-l-listening."
Yi glances down at the floor, seeing it cleaned as best possible. Her nose smells the PineSol, baking soda, and whatever else cleaner Bernie could've dumped onto the stains, and snorts softly. "Garou. That's the word for us. Not freaks. Not crazy." She moves down the center aisle and stops at the pew where Bernie and Rotem are sitting. Her dark eyes examine the cub, seeing the bruises on his neck and ribs. She remains silent, motioning for Bernie to continue.
Bernie breaks into a quick grin. "Good. 's a good start, then..." She glances up as Yi speaks, and nods, "Yeah, technical term is Garou. But it means werewolves. Overall 's mostly pretty cool, we get t' learn t' do some cool shit, an' y' kinda get another fam'ly, which's your tribe, which I'm guessin' is prolly us, which's the Bone Gnawers, an' that'll mean more t' ya later. So hi. I'm Bernie, by th' way. So anyhow, that's th' immediate personal part. Then we gotta go on t' th' big picture...." She glances sideways at the Cliath, to see if Yi wants to take over or if she should keep going.
Rotem says "D-does.. does it always happen.. like this?" he asks shakily."
Yi offers Bernie a small nod of approval. "Best way to teach you, Bernie," she says, "is to let you explain it." She leans against the pew. "No, not always like this, but the first time seems to be the worst for most." She clears her throat softly, taking to glancing between the two cubs and her arms. "You were born, and given a kinfetch. That was the rat, in the restaurant. It wasn't a real rat, but a spirit. Yes, like a ghost." She holds out her hand to Rotem. "I'm Song Yi Ling. You can call me Yi."
Rotem takes her hand shakily. "I.. so I'm, y-your.. I mean, we, w-we're... " he stutters on and takes a breath. "How many of us?"
"Lots, I think," Bernie replies, "...but not, like, Madonna fans lots. There's a buncha us 'round here though, an' I know this i'n't th' only place we are, so...." She considers, "...d' you watch TV? Like, ever see Buffy The Vampire Slayer?"
Rotem nods. "I u-used to. Don't t-tell me that sh-show is r-real..."
Yi glances up at mention of Buffy. Another one of those TV shows she watches on occassion. "More real than you think. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, magic. The whole thing. Don't you know, myth is often based on fact?"
Rotem nods, not really understanding, but just listening.
Bernie snorts and shakes her head, "Nah, I jus' wanna make an analogy an' if y' haven't seen it it won't make sense, right?" She trails off as Yi speaks, looking startled, "...whoa, wait, there's really vampires too? Serious? Fill me in on that one later, yeah?" The cub shakes her head, and adjusts her glasses, "...anyway. So, Buffy's like th' Chosen One, right? An' she's gotta fight evil t' protect th' world an' all that's good, right? 's her Mission, from On High, yeah? Well, us too, same deal. Only not so much vampires, or at least no one told me 'bout them...." She eyes her elder.
Rotem stares at Yi now, "So what are we fighting? Mad scientists, roach infestations, tooth decay?
Yi smirks, managing to push herself up to sit on the pew she was leaning against. Leaning forward to balance out as she plants her feet down onto the pew before her, she nods to Bernie and Rotem. "He might be a new moon," she grins at Bernie, appreciating a little humor in this. "Something like that. Tooth decay, that can be a very tough thing to battle. We have others who take care of the roach. Some even follow Roach." She motions with her head towards Bernie. "Vampires are very real. And magic users. Perrin, he is one of them. He, Jay and I are friends. There's not just vampires and mages and werewolves. Dragons, unicorns, gryphons, wererats..." she stops there, thinking that's a bit much for the cubs.
Rotem blinks at the mention of dragons. "So you are telling me I've just, what? slept through the day that lord of the rings became a text book instead of a novel?"
Bernie cracks a smile again, at that, and nods to Yi, "Could be..." She listens to the list, and shakes her head, then grins, "Okay, Beholders, are there Beholders? Orcs? Elves? I always liked elves..."
Yi nods to Bernie. "But that's beside the point. First, we have to give you a few rules." At this, she becomes a bit more serious. "Bernie, please do the honors."
Normally the thick door would muffle the brat-t-t-t of Matt's scooter as it approaches the church, but.... well, one can easily tell when he's parked the Lambretta and switched the engine off.
Bernie straightens up slightly at the noise, suddenly breaking into a grin again as she glances over her shoulder toward the tarps that cloak the doorway. "...Mm? Oh! Right, yeah..." She turns back to the new cub, "....right, so, okay. Like I said, it's a secret, 'cause people'd freak out if they knew we really existed, y'know? So there's a seta rules, laws kinda, called th' Lit'ny, an' don't take this wrong, but you don't get t' go out without us 'gain 'til you got it down, okay? 's for everyone's safety..."
Yi is a little more wary now, hearing that scooter come up. "Number one rule of the Litany..." she starts, handing the sentence to Bernie as she gets up and moves towards the 'door'.
Rotem says "w-what do y-you mean I-I-I dont /get/ to g-go out?"
Matt pushes the tarps aside with the 'to go' sack he's carrying. "Whot the bloody 'ell appened 'ere, then...oh. 'allo, Three Blades, Books. didn't know you 'ad a...Guest?"
Rotem rises up at this, standing in the pew. "I d-don't need pa-people telling me where I ca-can, should go.
Yi turns quickly, shooting a glare at Rotem. One of dominance, despite her small stature. "SIT." The command comes sharp, like a master commanding a dog.
Rotem growls slightly, not likeing being pushed like that. "Fuck you." he mouthes off to her, obviously having little respect for his elders. "I didn't ask for this, You fucking dragged me into this, I'll leave whenever I want to."
Bernie lifts one hand in a wave, and grins over at Matt, but it disappears, turning into a sigh at the new cub's words. "Yeah, well, learn fast, then," she advises him dryly. "'s only thirteen rules, an' if y' don't know 'em you're a danger t' yourself an' alla us, a'ight?" Her eyes narrow at him, "You know those bad movies where they say, we c'n do this th' easy way, or we c'n do this the hard way, your choice? This's where they'd say it. Sit. Listen. We'd all prefer to do this th' easy way. A'ight?"
Rotem folds his arms over eachother with a pout. "Fine, I can remember thirteen stupid rules.
Yi snorts, shooting Rotem a look as she shifts up to glabro to help speed the healing of her arms. Matt gets a quick nod in greeting as Yi checks the floor around the tarp. A shallow dent, caused by the bodies of two crinos smacking hard against the brittle stone floor, gets an examination as she squats and touches the cold stone.
Matt takes in the scene quickly, pausing to drop the bag in a pew, and dropping into a fair imitation of Luke's parade-rest stance. He gives a glance and nod to Yi, a quick grin to Bernie, and crosses his arms, an obstacle (if not the world's most forbidding one) to anyone who might want to leave the church through the tarps. "We'll not ask ye ta remember stupid rules, mate. Just ones that moight keep ye from antagonizin' one of us inta kililn' ye."
"Good choice," Bernie replies, with a slight nod, and then flashes a smile over to the latest arrival. "Hiya, Matador. Leftovers again, huh?" She looks back to Rotem, thoughtfully. "You up to this right now? We c'n take ya somewhere t' eat an' sleep first if y' want, prolly..." She shoots a quick glance over to Yi for confirmation.
Rotem shrugs. "Lets just get this over with, and then I'll take a nap. If I wake up and this isn't all some sort of fucked up dream. Then we can go over it again."
Yi catches the raggie cub's glance. "Tell Litany. I decide when done." She resumes her examination of the floor and surrounding doorway. Shaking her head, she sighs at the damage. How is she going to get this fixed, let alone pay for it without her job?
Bernie snaps off a quick mock-salute at Yi. "Right. So th' Lit'ny's th' thirteen laws all th' 'rou are s'posta follow. Ev'ryone agrees what th' rules are, but people interpret 'em diff'rently, so you're gonna be gettin' th' Gnawer version. Just so's y'know. So, okay: Rule Number One, no pooftahs... wait, wrong show." A fleeting grin. "Rule Number One, Garou Shall Not Mate With Garou." She declaims the rules in the tone of someone reciting from memory. "'kay, the reason on that one is, there's three kinds of us, born as humans t' humans, born as wolves t' wolves, or th' third, which is what happens if two werewolves have a kid. It doesn't come out right, th' kid's what's called a Metis an' can't have kids itself... plus 'pparently they always have some kinda deformity or hanidcap or somethin' like that. So basically, no makin' Metis. That one clear? Got any questions, ask 'em, ignorance of th' law's no 'scuse an' all that."
Rotem says "Then can I boff a metis?" he asks jokingly."
Yi growls, a strange mixture of human and feral sound. "No sex with other Garou. Simple. Next."
Matt smiles a little. A new perspective on the Litany. He takes time to assess the new cub, hoping this won't have to go the hard way.
Rotem shrugs slightly at this, moving to sit down in the pews. His arms remain crossed, a sigh coming from his lips. "Fine, I can live with that, what else?" he asks, still cross about these, 'rules' being imposed on him.
Bernie glances over toward the Fianna philodox -- just the person to be answering that in front of. She nods a bit as Yi answers, "...Honestly I get th' feeling diff'rent people'd give you diff'rent answers on that, but see, mosta th' ones who'd say no would also rip yer spine out through your mouth, so I'd pretty much suggest y' stay on th' safe side..." She considers, "..."Rule Number Two, Combat The Wyrm Whereever It Dwells And Whenever It Breeds. KNow how I was sayin' we fight Evil? Th' Wyrm's th' Evil. It corrupts things."
Rotem says "You fight a worm? geeze, can't you take on anything bigger? a cat, you know, a mammal or something?"
Rotem chuckles at this. Finding it funny, the mental image of Yi, in crinos, fighting a little worm, and losing.
Shadow Eyes walks in slowly, surveying the obvious damage to the church. The blood. The scent of death. He turns to the assembled garou, eyes narrowed to slits that almost glow with a blossoming anger. Who has done this? he growls, foam dripping from his muzzle, lips pulled back to show shard white teeth. His claws click on the bare floor.
Yi gradually works her way up to examine the doorway, moving over the taped trashbags. "Wyrm. With 'y'. Not worm, like fishbait. Wyrm is bigger than Garou. Much bigger, much uglier, and not joke." She turns to face Rotem. "If this is best you can do to me," she holds up her clawed arms, having since scabbed over. "Then you die against Wyrm. Quick, and painful."
Matt's accustomed smile all but disappears, and it might even be possible to hear his teeth grind. Eyes narrowed, he restrains himself from taking a step forward. Not his tribe, not his place.
Rotem nods. "Fine, so I have to fight this wyrm thing, does that take much time?" he asks, still underestimating it, for the simple fact that he has no inkling as to what it actually is.
Bernie smirks at Rotem, "Not 'a worm'. THE Wyrm. W-Y-R-M. Like dragons're called cometimes, y'implied y'read fantasy... The Wyrm is th' force of corruption. It's... pollution, an' destruction of the forests, an' corruption of people an' also big fuckin' scary things with huge claws an' teeth and green slavering foam at the mouths, 'least how I hear it, 'cause I haven't hadta deal with that kind yet. Yeah, it takes much time. But trust me, y'don't have anything better t' do."
Yi sees the tribal elder, and stiffens visibly. His question permeates the air for a few seconds, and Yi steps forward. ~It is my fault, Shadow-Eyes-rhya.~ Her gaze turns down, looking at the stain on the floor. Then, she looks back up, taking a deep breath. ~A cubnapping that went not as smoothly as planned. If there were a plan at all...~ She glances at Bernie and Rotem, motioning Rotem forward.
A few minutes after Shadow Eyes enters, a short young kid in a familiar baseball cap enters. He would close the door behind him, but apparently that is not an option anymore. He looks up, along the molding of the doors that aren't there anymore. He steps in slowly, letting the overcoat push out behind him. He jerks a thumb behind him, towards the doors. "Short version? Who did it?"
Rotem walks over to Yi as she motions to him. His hands rest on his hips for now. "What i-is it now?" he asks, a definite growl in his voice this time.
Shadow Eyes's back and shoulder fur gradually lowers, but does not smooth down completely, when mention of a cub is made. There will be, he says to Yi - which sounds simply like a bunch of growling to Rotem - there will be something done about this. I am more concerned about the scent of death. Who has died?
Shadow Eyes's nose, meanwhile, twitches towards Rotem, taking in his scent.
Matt steps out of the way of the Bone Gnawer convention. He makes an attempt to pass the 'to go' bag to Bernie, serreptitiously.
Yi would take to running a hand through her hair, but seeing as her arms are still healing, she refrains. ~A human. Nevada's friend, Kyle. I've gotten rid of the body.~ Quite simply, she motions with her hand to introduce Rotem. ~This is the cub.~ Her dark eyes glance to Rotem, then back to her elder. "Rotem. Meet Shadow Eyes, tribal elder. And Joey, also of Bone Gnawers."
Bernie winces slightly at the question, and sighs, the amount that this has bothered her suddenly visible for a moment. She shakes it off and accepts the bag from Matt, murmuring, "...thanks... I'll put it in th' fridge. 'less you wanna help." She stands, staying at the fringes of all this for now.
Rotem bursts out in laughter. "Tribal elder? What, he's a fucking DOG!" Rotem is having a ball now, laughing his ass off. "You people are insane. I was right. This is so just a dream. Last time I have two pizzas before bed."
Matt gives Bernie a significant glance, then glancing toward Shadow Eyes, the bag, etc.
Shadow Eyes growls again at the cub and slowly begins to shift and grow up into the large Crinos form; bulking up through the giant dire wolf-like hispo form before finally rising up on two legs.
Rotem backs up quickly as the dog shifts. "Umm, I-I'm going to t-take a big guess here, th-this is one of those lu-lupus things you talked about." he stammers and falls to sit in a pew.
Bernie's eyes widen a bit, and she backs up a step or two, watching the transformation. "...like I said," she mutters to the new cub, "we c'n all take a buncha forms. Including wolf. You wanna apologize, this might be a good time..."
"Damn straight," Joey mutters. He sighs softly, looking between the Elder in some non-homid form, and the windy portal that used to be doors across the way. "Now, cub," he drawls, leaning against the side of the pew and crossing his arms. "I'll be tellin' y'all now that calling your Elder a 'fucking Dog' is /so/ not the way to get on the right foot."
Shadow Eyes, having disabused the cub of the 'dog' idea, slides down into the homid form, brushing back an errent lock of hair. He rolls his shoulders like he's trying to get rid of a crick in his neck, then crack his knuckles.
Rotem stammers, "I-I sorry man, d-I'd d-didn't know. I.. I m-mean.." he just sighs. "God I h-hope I'm dr-dreaming."
If Yi could flatten her ears in this form, she would. However, she remains where she is by an act of will, also remaining in her now quite diminuitive glabro form. ~He has a small problem with...authority.~ She glances at Rotem, then back at a now almost over-pissed Elder. Bet her work manager would be laughing his ass off at Rotem now, if he were here and didn't have a Delirium problem. Crossing her arms, she tries to keep a straight face.
Joey is leaning against a pew, watching his Elder crack knuckles, and most likely other things in a few moment. The Ragabash male looks on almost wistfully.
Junior eases through the tarp-covered hole in the door, frowning. He stops, taking in the activity in the church.
Matt takes in the crowd of Bone Gnawers, maybe half the tribe, then grins, shaking his head. "Whot th' bloody 'ell am /Oi/ doin' 'ere," he mutters to himself.
Elan looks slowly back over to Rotem. "You are not dreaming, no. Not at all." He crosses his arms and glances back over to the doors, then to the cub. "I think we should all adjurn to the basement. Cub, that will be your new home for the next few weeks. If you want to ever leave it again without looking like a pile of chunky salsa, leave any ideas you ever had of having a problem with authority far, far behind."
Joey looks around Elan, towards Matt, with a quiet smile. "Um, you like us?" As Elan lays down the Law of the Way Things Are and How They Will Always Be, the short kid doesn't seem all that upset or bothered by the situation. Though, at the mention of chunky salsa, his stomach growls involuntarily.
Bernie lifts the bag a little. "...dropping off dinner, as I recall," she replies quietly, and starts to head toward the basement as instructed... that's where the fridge is, anyhow. She grins at Joey's comment, and nods, "Yeah, an' you like us, like he said..."
Rotem crosses his arms, too many, too much. He isn't going to shove his head onto the chopping block, and with a huff he turns to stomp down the stairs. Mumbling to himself several, less then flattering, words about the 'elder'.
Yi grumbles softly about the cold, and the tarp not serving much to help block the wind from coming into the large church sanctuary. Shifting down, she takes on the muscular hispo form, glad to have fur when she doesn't have a jacket.
Junior looks towards Joey. "What's up? What happened?"
Joey looks behind him. "Ah, Junior. There ya are. Ok, I'm staying at your place for a few days. New cub, ripped off the door, I think, met Elan, and said, and I quote 'What, he's a fucking dog.'" He just shakes his head. "You have the worst timing alive, Junior, let me tall ya."
Matt just shakes his head, and heads downstairs.
Three-Blades growls softly, almost apologetically in lupus. Sorry about the door. Trotting over to Bernie, she's almost like a giant dog, hoping to have a little scritch on her head.
Junior grins. "Sorry I missed it." He hrms, glancing back at the doorway. "Gonna have t' fix that."
Bernie does, in fact, scritch Yi's head. Well, it's just the right height... "C'mon, I gotta put this in th' fridge..." She follows the Fianna down the steps.
[Forgotten Church Basement]
Rotem moves to the opposite corner of the room, sitting down as before, legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. He watches the spectacle, wide eyed. Although he still would not venture anywhere near Nevada.
Three-Blades follows Bernie down the steps, carefully picking her way while favoring her two forelegs. She takes up a space next to Nevada, using her large bulk to warm the cub and observe the room. Especially, Rotem and her elder. Only now in her hispo form, does that scent of blood clearly show up in her nose and she sneezes softly.
Nevada freezes for a moment, stretched on the floor in one corner. Then he moves, a hairy, almost apelike Glabro arm reaching to feel his back. Not encountering any internal organs this time, he sits up, groaning as he does so. He might not look like an biology class dissection specimen now, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. A faded cut splits one side of his horrible face. He blinks at Elan. "Thank you, rhya," he mumbles, rubbing at his head. He squints at the room, letting his eyes adjust to the light. They narrow as he spots Rotem.
Elan nods to the cub. "Shh. You stay in that form and heal. You won't scar, and you'll be fine in a day or so." He stands up from Nevada's prone form. "Yi, do you need me to heal you?"
Joey steps quietly down the stairs, watching as he enters. As Nev is healed, he gived the older cub a small smile.
Bernie heads directly for the fridge, and opens it, slipping the bag inside in its entirety and bumping the door shut again. That done, she watches the proceedings for a bit.
Three-Blades rumbles a negative, though she lies down to take the pressure off her forelimbs. This one will rest a little. With a flick of her ears, she licks her legs before her.
Matt finds a corner, somwhat near Bernie. Unexpectedly, he finds himself uncomfortable, like a stranger in another man's house. His smile is missing, and he shuffles, trying to remain inconspicuous.
Elan does notice and look over to Matt at this time, though. "What's wrong?"
Rotem Peaks his head up for a moment from above his knees, then quickly lowers it back down, the room quickly filling up and making him uncomfortable. He growls to himself quietly and hopes, maybe, just maybe, they will forget about him.
Matt looks up and glances quickly around the room. "Oh, Nuffin' Elan-rhya. Joost realizin' Oi'm out of my territory. Oi only came by ta drop off more leftovers, and ran inta this..." at a loss for words, he gestures vaguely in Rotem's direction.
Joey leans against the wall now. He gives the new cub a once over glance, then looks back up the stairwall, frowning a bit. At Matt's admission, his attention goes right over there, a look of total curiousity rushing over his face.
Bernie wanders over to join Matt in the corner, leaning against the wall beside him, hands in her jacket pockets. "'m pretty sure 'f y'weren't welcome, someone'd already've said t' go 'way, right?" She shrugs lightly, and gives him a half-smile.
~Let the new cub alone,~ rumbles the newmoon hispo in the corner. She twitches her ears, and points them towards Matt's direction. A low whuff from her, letting him know he's very welcome around here.
Nevada looks away, then climbs to his feet. Like a big blond Tarzan with a serious overbite, he heads lumbering for one of the basement rooms, the quieter ex-classroom. He makes no eye contact with anyone, though a slight nod seems to be sent in Matt's direction.
Elan nods at this. "Matt is a friend of this tribe and has helped us a lot; he's welcome here anytime he wants to come, 'less we're talking Tribal stuff." He looks back to Rotem. "You. What is your name, and you don't happen to know your birthday, do you?"
Rotem perks up slightly, lifting his head up to speak oncemore, reminicent of 'vincent', "Rotem, and yes, I do know my birthday." he then thinks for several minutes, "May... umm.. 13th."
Elan pulls a battered book from a table. "And what year?"
Rotem stutters slightly oncemore, "U-umm, ninteen, uhhh.. e-eighty six. I think."
Elan flips through the book and then frowns a bit. "Warrior moon, I should have known. You were born under the full moon. That means you're born a fighter." He turns to the cub. "It also means you're even more dangerous than we thought. You'll have to be pretty careful."
Joey looks over to Junior. "Guess what," he says.
Junior sighs. "He's one of mine."
Matt blushes a little. "Fanks, guys. Means a lot, that does. An' Oi didn't mean Oi don't feel welcome. Joost don't feel Bone Gnawer." He punctuates his statement with a sheepish shrug and a grin for the room. "Steaks in the fridge, by the way."
Elan looks to the rest of the room.
Elan says "I need to scout up some way of repairing those doors. I'll be back later. Joey, go over some of the normal stuff."
Bernie arches a brow, and reaches over, patting Matt on the shoulder, arm, and then head with one hand and a thoughtful expression. "Nope," she agrees, "y'feel Fianna. But hey, y'could pass in a pinch..." She grins, and returns the hand to her pocket.
Joey shrugs. "Would, could," he admits to his Elder. "But I was passing through. My folks wanted to chat with me tonight about stuff."
Junior shrugs. "I can try a hand at it. At least a little."
Rotem speaks up, a sence of urgency in his voice, "Umm, I have to.. go."
Elan nods and moves on out. "I'll see if Pete can do it. Junior, go over the Litany and stuff. Rotem, we have a hole in the corner over there for that. Night, guys."
Joey jerks a thumb in another direction. "Bathroom's that way."
Rotem rises up, and then runs as fast as he can towards the direction Joey pointed at, finding the bathroom just in time. As his mun spares the others all the details. A few minutes later he emerges from the bathroom, sighing, and making his way slowly back into the main room.
Matt pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, counts in it, then pulls out a sheaf of twenties. "Should $200 cover the doors then? We could but some and 'ang 'em, roight?" He drops the twenties on the counter next to the fridge.
Junior heads over to Rotem. "OK..." He finds a seat on the floor, and nods for Rotem to take a seat. "I guess we get started."
Joey is just about to head upstairs, then freezes as he sees matt drop the cash. "Uh..." he says, completely dumbfounded. "I should go find Elan, now," he says, backing up the stairs. "Matt, thank you..."
Three-Blades rises to her paws, growling softly at Matt. This one wants the responsibility. She shakes herself, lifting her lip in pain as her bleeding legs get rattled slightly.
Rotem sits down on the floor beside Junior. "I dont seem to have much choice. I hope you enjoyed my pizza at least." he sighs. "You people been following me around or something?"
Junior shrugs. "Heard word you might be a cub, least one person has suspicions. So when I saw you, yeah, I decided t' take a look myself. Guess she was right." He looks Rotem up and down. "You're my moon, so i'll probably wind up helping t' teach you a lot."
Rotem says "What's the moon have to do with anything?"
Three-Blades whuffles, the lupine laughter rumbling from the large hispo. What does the moon have to do with wolves... She flicks her ears in good humor.
Bernie blinks at Matt, and just goes speechless for a few seconds. Everyone else's covering everything to be said anyhow. "...mmm, yeah," she says eventually, "think we could do that." She considers a moment. "...so didja make any 'ppointemtns?"
Rotem awaits a reply to his question eagerly. "And what is a warrior moon? What did he mean I'm more trouble? Oh, and Why would I have to be careful? Of what?", he fires the question's one after the other, not giving the poor 'teacher' a chance to reply. "And what about Metis? What is wrong with them? And how am I supposed to know who's like us? I mean, I can't tell the difference, so how am I supposed to avoid sleeping with em?"
Junior blinks. "One question at a time, please..." He grins. "Moons first."
Rotem chuckles, "Ok, if you insist, but I dont ussually drop my pants that easily."
Bernie blinks again, glancing over to the cub, and mutters to herself, "...he's -fourteen- an' this is a major issue? What th' hell boat did -I- miss?"
Junior smiles. "In our society, what moon you're born under tends t' determine what you're good at. For you and me, that's the full moon. We're called ahrouns, and we tend t' be the best fighters."
Three-Blades rumbles for Bernie to jump in on her behalf of the new moons of the Gnawers. Have to make ourselves known, you know. Her long tail curls in slow swishes behind her.
Rotem smiles proudly, "Ya damn straight bout that, Junior." he chuckles and continues, "Best in bed too, I bet."
Matt rolls his eyes. "Not my place ta say, really, but Cub?"--He deliberately refuses to use Rotem's name--"Take this serious, or someone is goin' ta throat you down the road."
Rotem glances up to Matt with a grin, "From what I have heard so far, I'm not sure if that would be a bad thing."
Junior arches an eyebrow. "Cub - throat means to kill. I don't think you want that."
Rotem chuckles. "Trust me, if 'throating means killing to you people, then the women aren't doing it right."
Junior shakes his head. "Are we SURE he's not born under Joey's moon...?"
Three-Blades flattens her ears, despite not quite understanding this slang. Something about the cub's tone in saying it just lended it to an insult of sorts. Don't push it cub. Of course, to Rotem it merely sounds like a low growl.
Junior turns his attention back to Rotem. "Look, cub. Less jokes, more listening. Or you stand a good chance of coming up with a serious case of dead. Got that?"
Bernie rolls her eyes at the new cub, shaking her head slightly. "Yi?" she queries, "...y'mind 'f I get goin' in somethin' resemblin' th' soon?"
Rotem shrugs, "Fine, I'm listening."
Three-Blades glances over as her homid name is called, her ears perking towards Bernie. She performs almost a human nod, dipping her head up and down between her shoulders with a short chuff of approval.
Rotem leans back against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted down slightly. "Lets just get this over with." he grumbles.
Junior nods. "OK. You're a full moon, like me. That means you'll be doing a lot of fighting. We all fight, but us full moons take the brunt of it, cause we're better at it. The other moons are better at other things. No-moons are better at scouting. Crescents are better at dealing with spirits. Half-moons are the judges for us, the lawkeepers. And the gibbous moons are the storytellers - the ones who keep the rest of the histories. You'll find out more in detail later, but that's the overview."
Three-Blades takes up a resting position alongside the corner, listening to Junior teach the new cub the ways of the Garou. Scouts, yes, and questioners. We see between the lines.
Junior glances at Three-Blades, and smiles. "I did say it was only an overview. He'll get the details later."
RotemShakes his head, "Hold on one second. So the n-no moons do the intel, we d-do the fighting, the crescents deal with the g-ghosts Yi was talkign about, and a-all the rest just sit on their asses and l-let other's do the real w-work? We go and f-fight stuff, and the.. g-ga-gibbi, gibbous, whatever, they write a-about it? Geeze.
Three-Blades rumbles, not sit on haunches. Moon dancers inspire. Help us fight with song, lift hearts and howl loud. Halfmoons keep the peace. They fight too. All packs have some problems. Halfmoons make sure we don't kill ourselves. We kill the Wyrm, adds the hispo, not without a lip lift at mention of the Wyrm.
Junior shakes his head. "Everybody fights. Halfmoons are mediators - they help keep peace among us. Galliards are almost as good at fighting as us full-moons as well."
Junior glances at Three-Blades. "He's not gonig to understand you, you know...not yet. Feel free t' join in, but you'd do better in English..."
Rotem nods, "So we all do everything, just we specialise in something, ok, I gotcha."
Matt smiles, coldly. "Each auspice is good fer somefing...Cub. You may need an 'alf moon, one day. Sooner than you fink, if you don't learn ta curb that mouf o' yers in front o' yer elders."
Three-Blades licks her chops, and rumbles to Junior. You are his teacher, this one assumes. I only add comment to you, help out in remembering lessons to teach. This one apologizes for interruptions.
Rotem says "Now w-what about the m-m-mites? m-Methos? Whatever, w-what is s-so wrong w-with em?"
Junior hrms. "The metis. They're what you get when a Garou mates with a Garou, and has a kid." He frowns. "Birth defects for one - they have things wrong with them - usually pretty bad. They're sterile, too. And lots of people say they're closer to the Wyrm."
Some aren't bad. Gnawers take care of their metis. They help a lot, like Ears. Blades shifts slightly around in her position, leaning a little more against the wall.
Bernie translates for Yi, "She said that some Metis aren't bad, an' we -- Gnawers, that is -- take care of ours, an' they help out. Like Ears, which's Kaz, which's who taught me first, so I think she's cool an' all. Anyhow..." she glances over at Matt, "...y'wanna go check out th' shape th' doors in? I don' think it's onea th' geometrics."
Three-Blades whines softly in apology about the doors. Should've looked before this one jumped.
"Sure," Matt growls through clenched teeth. "Let's see whot it's gonna take ta fix it." He leaves the cash on the counter with a glance to Three Blades, and heads upstairs.
Junior looks at Rotem. "Anyway, that's why we got one of the laws being "Garou shall not mate with Garou.""
Bernie follows Matt back up the stairs, with a quick wave to Yi as she goes. "Later," she calls back to the room, "...g'luck."
[Forgotten Church]
Matt almost stomps up the stairs into the Church. "Gah! Oi dunno, Books. Megan wants me ta 'elp wif the cubs at the farm'ouse, but Christ!"
Bernie looks around as she re-enters the church proper, and glances down at her jeans, sighing at the new blood stains on them, especially on the knees, and murmuring, "...dammit..." Speaking a little louder, she agrees, "Yeah, not exactly whatcha call a model student... man, -I- wanna slap him, an' I'm what passes for calm an' laidback 'round here." She shakes her head. "So," she queries a bit wryly, heading toward the door as suggested, "...how's things in Matt-land t'day?"
Matt tries to dismiss his fowl mood by waving his hands around his head. "Not bad, until encountering /that/ Ravi. 'bout fifty o' that two ton Oi made today." He approaches the door and runs his hand along the frame. "Hmm. Need new hinges too. Sad."
Bernie nods, looking over the debris. "...yeah... an' what's left of th' wood... well, we could have a campfire, I guess, get some weenie an' marshmallows..." She flashes him a quick smile. "Guess it was a productive day at least, huh? Didja call any of those places in th' paper?"
Matt shrugs. "One. Sunday though, so th' office wasn't open." He sighs. "Tomorrow, Oi guess. An' Oi'll 'ave ta get ahold of Three Blades ta go to the lumber yard lookin' fer a new door."
Bernie makes a face, and nods again. "...damn. Y'know, 's weird, without school an' all, I leep losin' track of th' days of th' week..." She leans out through the gap between the tarp and trash bags, "...we might be able t' salvage th' hinges, I think I see one of 'em in th' gutter, anyhow..."
Matt wrinkles his brow. "What the fook did 'e do, anyhow?"
"Honest?" Bernie shrugs, pulling her head back inside, "...I dunno. I got here jus' in time t' help clean up th' carnage. That's how come I'm with th' not bein' wounded an' all. Near as I c'n figure, he firsted an' messed up Yi an' N'vada, an' some guy I never saw before..." She breaks off, looking down, and runs a hand through her curls. "...I dunno 'zactly what happened to him. But he was human, friend of N'vadas seemed like." She swallows, and adds quietly, "...I never... saw anyone die before. I mean actually..." She trails off, biting her bottom lip.
Matt winces. "C'mere," He says, offering a hug. "Oi know."
Bernie accepts the hug, resting her head on his shoulder with a somewhat ragged sigh. "It's... I don't like that part," she says softly. "I can do blood and monsters and all that but..." She swallows again, and shuts up.
Matt hugs tightly. "Ssh. It's all right. Oi know, Oi know." He strokes her hair gently, eyes closed. A tear trickles down his cheek aftera moment.
Bernie stays where she is for a while, holding on tightly and shaking a little. Eventually, she pulls away just enough to give him a weak smile, "...y'know, for soem reason you're hell on my 'not crying' thing..." She swallows again and moves a hand to wipe her eyes, and then the tear from his cheek. "...thank you..." she adds quietly, and returns her head to his shoulder for the moment.
"Sorry," Matt chokes. "Ye just reminded me of Da, is all." He squeezes again.
Bernie gives a quick, fierce squeeze back. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, "didn't mean to..."
Matt wipes his eyes, pushing the memory back. "Nah, don't be." He is quiet for a while, then: "Oi love 'im, y'know. It's just 'ard that no matter whot Oi do, Oi'll never see 'im again. And y'fink that about anyone. When they bite it, they'll not be around the pope the next day, askin' fer a Lady ta buy piss."
Bernie nods, considering that, and squeezes Matt again. Eventually, she quietly says, "...please... don't get hurt, okay? 'cause I don't think..." She trails off, and just squeezes again.
Matt puts bernie at arm's length for a moment. "Fink about that, Books. 'ow likely do ye fink it is I'm goin' ta live ta see old age, given what we're doin'?" He smiles wanly. "Oi'll do me level best, though. And you do the same, hey?"
Bernie swallows and nods again, with an equally wan smile. "I still fully intend t' die in bed surrounded by great-gran'children, or great-gran'-nieces an' nephews anyway..." she jokes weakly, and looks at him for a few moments. One hand moves to her neck, toying with her necklace briefly, and then the other joins it a second, undoing the clasp.
Matt sniffs, giving Bernie a look of curiosity.
"...'m not really that r'ligious," Bernie says softly, looking at the necklace, the little charm hanging from the somewhat piecemeal chain Kaz found for her after her first change broke the original, "but I got this when I was, like, tiny, an' then when I maybe might've stopped, that was when I was kinda inta th' occult as bein' nifty an' all, an' I found out the sorta historic symbolism an' meanin' of it an' all... 's luck. Protection. Good stuff like that." She reaches around and fastens it fairly deftly around his neck. "...for th' Rite," she explains, "'cause I dunno when they'll send you. For luck. An' all."
Matt smiles, and toys with the charm, awed. "You serious, Books? Oi mean...fanks. Oi'll get it back to you after, promise." He gives her another squeeze, and punctuates it with a kiss on the cheek, but dangerously close to her mouth.
Bernie nods, holding on to him tightly again for a few moments. "Serious," she affirms, still quiet, and then half-smiles, "...and you'd better." She returns the kiss on the cheek, gently.
Matt looks back toward the door. "So let's see. Oi've got ta 'elp fix this door, break inta 'arbor Park fountain, find a flat, and keep my job. Oh, and get through my RoP wifout gettin' brown bread. No problem." A smirk.
"Hey, you're doin' great so far," Bernie points out, "...an' technic'lly, you don't -have- t' help with th' door; I mean, pretty damn sure y'already helped infinitely more'n anyone woulda asked... an' I'll still help with mosta those. Th' job, I think you're on your own with." She moves a hand to wipe her eyes again, and adjusts her glasses, making a face at all the dried tears on them. "...but right now, I kinda wanna go change, an' try an'... soak th' assorted blood out of my jeans... an' do somethin' distractingly nonviolent for a while."
Matt shrugs. "you got a change 'andy? 'm sure there's a laundrette around 'ere somewhere." He tries to keep the amusement out of his voice.
Bernie shakes her head, "Nope... clothes all back at th' Farmhouse. Don't usually figure I'll need anythin' else when I'm wearin' th' dedicated stuff, y'know..." She smiles a bit sheepishly. "Possibly I oughta stash somethin' here just in case, for future.
Matt chuckles. then nods toward the other side of the tarp. "Oi've got the Lambretta. Oi'd be glad ta ride you out there."
Bernie opens her mouth, and then snaps it shut again, with the slightest hint of a blush, and she nods. "...tha'd be nice, 's a long walk an' all. Thanks." She moves away, to where her backpack rests against the wall by the door, and picks it up.
"Whot?" Matt asks as he hold the tarp for Bernie to pass through. "Whot'd Oi say 'at's so funny?"
Bernie shakes her head, glancing down so her hair mostly cloaks the smile as she slips outside, "...nothin'. Notta thing. Nope."
[Jermantown Avenue, Industrial Sector]
Matt opens the seat and extracts his helmet and his spare, which he hands to Bernie, still shaking his head. "Somefing Oi said, wasn't it? 'M not fluent in septic."
Bernie pulls the ponytail holder from her pocket and pulls her hair back swiftly, accepting the helmet. "Mostly jus' me an' my paranomasia," she blushes a bit more, glancing down as she puts the helmet on, "...an' my 'cassionally badly behaved mind... basic'ly, over here we gen'rally say we'll give someone a ride. Ridin' 'em is... diff'rent. Like a piggy back ride. An' stuff. Anyone'd know whatcha meant though..."
Matt ahs. "/Give/ ye a ride. Got it." He smiles, taking in the other, then winks. "C'mon then. Oi'll ride you out ta the Farmhouse."
Bernie giggles a bit, and finishes checking the straps of the helmet. "Okay," she replies, with a quick smile.
Matt Hops on the scooter and cranks it, making room for Bernie.
Bernie slips on behind him, and wraps her arms closely around his waist. "Still think this's 'bout th' coolest mode of transport in th' city," she remarks, "includin' Rina's bike, an' that's not chopped liver either."
Matt turns his head to shout over his shoulder. "Oh, aye, but 'er bike could run rings around the Lambretta, 'ere. We don't do more than sixty down'ill." He demonstrates by pulling away from the curb, headed for the bridge to Kent Crossing.
Bernie holds on tighter as they begin to move, replying, "Well, speed's not everythin'... plus, y'know... speed limits an' all, anyhow, right?"
[Lane]
Fun as the ride may be, it's also *cold.* They arrive after a few miuntes, though, and Matt pulls the scooter in next to the porch, cutting off the engine.
It's probably not quite as cold sitting in back, with Matt to break some of the wind... Bernie gives him a quick extra squeeze as they come to a halt, and slides off of the scooter, starting to undo her helmet. "...-much- faster than walkin'," she remarks, "...I gotta get somethin' like that sometime. Bicycle at least..."
Matt laughs. "Or, ye could try livin' in th' city..." He waits for Bernie to dismount, then gets off the bike himself, removign his helmet and stowing it.
Bernie giggles, "Yeah, well, there's that too. I jus' like it better here'n crashin' at Signe's. Or Rina's. Or th' Hostel. Or places I'm technic'ly not s'posed to be." She grins, and hands the helmet back, pulling her hair free of the elastic band.
Matt shrugs, stowing the spare he thinks of as Bernie's helmet. "'nother reason ta get me flat settled soon, I s'pose."
Bernie smiles and heads toward the door. "C'mon... 's cold out here, an' I still wanna get outta this for a bit..." She pauses on the steps of the porch.
[Porch]
Matt holds the door open for Bernie, then follows inside.
[Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room]
Bernie slips her backpack off, letting it dangle from her hand for the moment. "...I'm going up, 'course; you comin' with or should I meetcha back down here in a few?" She tilts her head at him.
Matt raises an eyebrow. "As much as Oi'd love ta join you...." He sighs. "Oi'll wait 'ere. In the kitchen, actually. Glass o' milk?"
Bernie half-smiles, dropping the backpack over the side of the couch onto the cushions, and nods. "That'd be nice, yeah. Be right back, then..." She turns, then, and starts up the stairs.
Matt goes through the aperture at the northern end of the front hallway to enter the back room of the house.
In the back of the house, Matt busies himself in the kitchen, finding a couple of glasses and pouring the milk.
[Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room]
Matt brings the glasses to the table, setting one in front of Bernie and taking one for himself.
After several minutes, Bernie comes back downstairs, hands planted firmly in her jacket pockets, and wanders into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway a second. "Mm, milk," she comments, "...y'know what goes really well with milk? Cookies." She straightens and heads to the pantry, to get some, one might surmise.
Matt raises an eyebrow. "Leavver? Hmm. Looks good on you." He gives her an exaggerated club-scene up-and-down. "Can Oi buy you a pint, Miss?" He nods toward the milk.
Bernie laughs, blushing, and returns with, yes, cookies. Chocolate chip ones that she'd made a while ago, but that's the magic of tupperware. "Sure, cutie," she replies, and shakes her head, slipping into the seat by the milk. "...I dunno, they weren't that 'spensive, an' I kinna always wan'ed some. So hey, right?" She sounds a little embarrassed. "..an' thanks... cookie?"
Matt nods, taking the offered tupperware and setting it between them on the table. "Like Oi said, they look great on you. Alicia would be proud."
"I'll show her when she gets back t' humanity, prolly," Bernie replies, picking up her glass of milk, and taking a sip. "...still feel kina weird, though." She set the glass down again, and smiles at it, "...'m glad you 'prove."
Matt phbbts. "'ow could Oi not?" He grins, biting into a cookie. "Oi fink this werewolf lifestyle agrees wif you."
Bernie takes a cookie herself, replying, "....most bits." She glances at the other cub, "...I mean, there's def'nitely things I'd like t' change... but yeah. Mostly." She pushes a curl back behind her ear, and takes a bite of the cookie, "..mm. They're keepin' pretty well. Good."
"These are good," Matt mumbles around a cookie. "Excellent cook, you are."
"Thanks... cookies I c'n do," Bernie replies, "an' macachee an' burgers an', y'know, easy stuff. Good at that. But lasagna an' all, I think I'll mostly keep leavin' t' 'licia. She's better at that. An' she make a mean dead deer, too." She grins, and finishes off her cookie, washing it down with some milk.
Matt smiles as well. "Oi guess Oi'll stay out of the running then. Between Lasagna and cookies, whot else needs be cooked?"
"Meat," Bernie says firmly, "definitely meat. An' th' 'cassional pizza. Oh, an' also sometimes brie, with pastry on it." She pauses, taking a sip of milk, "...I had that at a party once. School thing, mainly for th' parents, they had all sortsa stuff. 's pretty tasty."
Matt holds up his hands. "All right. Oi'll do meats then. Bangers and Mashers fer breakfast?"
Bernie mmms, and nods, "Yes... 's sausages an' potatoes, right? Yeah. Sounds worth gettin' up for..." She picks out another cookie, and takes a good bite.
Matt nods. "'swhot Oi said. 'Bangers and mashers.'"
"Jus' makin' sure," Bernie replies, grinning, and leans back in her chair, finishing off the cookie and another gulp of the milk. She looks at her companion as she drinks, and then sighs a little, setting the glass down and checking to be sure she hasn't developed a milk mustache.
Matt surely has, and it probably matches his hair pretty well, but he doesn't really care. When the glass is empty, then maybe he'll wipe his lip.
Bernie glances at it several times as she reaches out to take a third cookie, which she just toys with a bit, keeping her fingers occupied. Her focus keeps drifting between Matt's mouth and the cookie. It's a fascinating cookie. Really. Nice arrangement of chips. And everything.
Matt innocently takes a cookie. Noticing Bernie's glances, he once again asks "Whot?"
Bernie blushes again, and regards the cookie more intensely. "...'s nothing..."
Matt raises an eyebrow, silently asking again.
Bernie sighs. "You've gotta milk mustache," she explains, and turns a little redder, adding almost inaudibly, "...an' for some reason it makes me desp'rately wanna kiss you." She breaks the cookie in two, and dips the corner of one half into her milk.
Matt leans over the table to take her hand. "Ah," he says softly. "Oi get that too. Whenever Oi see you."
Bernie squeezes the hand softly, and sets the somewhat soggy cookie down on the table, not really hungry anyway. "Me too," she says quietly, "...I mean, when I see you, though, not me. Obviously." She cracks a slight smile at herself. "Or not always see. Sometimes just think. 's just... 's not usually... just that was worse than usual."
Matt licks his upper lip, removing the temptation, finally. "There..." He looks up from under his brow, forehead wrinkled in concern. "Better?"
"...maybe a little..." Bernie regards him for several seconds, then looks down, shaking her head, one corner of her lips quirking up slightly, "...a little."
Matt smiles. "Oi could take off my shirt..."
Bernie giggles a bit. "...not that I wanna dissuade you... but I don' think that's likely t' make me wanna kiss you any less. T' be honest." She glances up at him, adding with a quick, mischevious grin, "...but hey, don't let me stop ya."
Matt chuckles. "Well, Oi /was/ goin' ta take it off before goin' ta bed, but if it's goin' ta be a 'ardship..." He finishes his milk, careful to take care of the moustache immediately, and stands, still holding her hand.
"Nono, please, don't change your plans on my account..." Bernie follows suit, finishing off most of her milk, the tip of her tongue flicking out to catch any remaining on her lip, and dropping the soggy cookie bits into the glass before she presses the lid back onto the cookie box.
"If you insist..." He smiles, coming around the table. Leaning in close, he says softly, "Oi fink it might be bending the rules a little, but Oi don't fink the Litany prohibits snugglin'."
Bernie smiles back. "Yeah?" she replies in similar tones, "...good..." She considers a moment, and says rather carefully, "...I think there's maybe a lotta things it doesn't prohibit. But then I guess I'm -s'posed- t' be a 'questioner of the ways', right? Plus," she meets his eyes for a moment, and then glances down, with a wry smile, "...I admit I'm kinda biased."
Matt pulls her gently to her feet. "Too bad I'm a 'keeper of the ways,' mmm?" He sighs. "We should be'ave." A significant glance, then he adds. "Not that we will, but we /should./"
"...I dunno," Bernie says thoughtfully as she rises, "...'s balance, maybe..." She smiles at him, and gives the hand a gentle squeeze, "...Decadence now, y'think?"
"Decadence." Matt agrees. He leads Bernie upstairs, disdaining the bed for the pile of pillows and sleeping bags on the floor.