Sweeping branches of evergreen pines form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing. In the center is a fire pit with several old logs polished from use for seats. A separate stack of firewood is discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce, protected from the damp by a tarp. At the edge of the clearing and extending back a bit into the woods resides a rough wooden structure with a slate tile roof. A stone slab rests off to one side of the clearing in a place of some prominence. Nestled in among the pines are a few hardy perennials--red alder, quaking aspen, and a big leaf maple or two--that, come spring, will create a profusion of color in the clearing.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
The room is fairly large, once the home of all the library's materials that fell under the heading of 700: Arts. Nearly all were taken along in the move to the new library, although a few particularly tatty specimens appear to have been left behind on one of the remaining bookshelves, of which there are several. One other is also still actually being used for its original purpose, bearing a collection of rather newer books in varying condition. Another seems to have become an ersatz dresser, with neatly folded clothing on the shelves and a towel hanging over one corner to dry. A wheeled suitcase seems to be acting as a drinks cabinet next to a desk and a pair of rickety chairs; most of the other furniture has been removed or shoved against a wall, out of the way, including a stained and lumpy twin mattress sitting on its short end. It's a corner room, and there are two many-paned, arch-topped windows in each of the outer walls. On one side, a queen-size mattress in much better repair is laid on the floor between them, with pillows and linens on it suggesting it sees regular use.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got nicely-fitting dark indigo jeans with a plain white tank, its ribbed cotton skimming close enough to hint at the musculature beneath. Over that, he's wearing a long-sleeved, navy blue shirt, unbuttoned; judging by the white-on-red number patches on the left arm, the flag patch on the right shoulder, and the round fleur-de-lis patch to the left of the collar, it was once part of someone's Scout uniform... probably not his. Okay, the 'Boy Scouts of the USA' patch over the right pocket's a hint, too. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Here is a young woman who is built like a track star with shoulder length brown hair and matching brown eyes. Her skin borders on the slightly tanned due to being kissed from the sun from her outdoor activities. Alicia is of caucasian descent with a hint of peruvian mingled into her DNA. Her apparel tends to be a mix of urban streetwear in the form of loose fitted cargo pants and crop shirts, to long skirts with button down blouses. Fairly tall at five-eight, she looks to be a young woman who has seen her share of scraps, and radiates an aura of confidence and showmanship with how she walks. Under her shirts, her stomach has a number of hacksawed looking scars along her skin that criss-crosses around to her back and just under her breast.
A teenager, maybe 14 or 15 years old. The whole 5"7 of his somehow spell out "farm boy", with a body that obviously has been subjected to a more or less healthy dose of sunlight and the abs that tell of a young life that has seen quite a bit of labor.
Well, either that or he is one of those that spend a good deal of their youth in a fitness center with a tanning booth.
He is not unpleasant looking, with a cleanly shaven face (or one that needs no shaving just yet to stay that way), well defined chin and high cheekbones, with a pair of grey-blue eyes, a face that could probably be considered cute if he used his facial muscles more than he absolutely has to, almost like trying to give his face a nondescript look. The blond hair he has cut down to a crew cut does nothing to help here, he seems to go for the "practical" style rather than following some fashion trend.
Practical also seems to be the theme of his clothing style, a pair of khaki pants and matching shirt, both slightly worn but clean, along with a pair of boots on his feet that have equally seen a good deal of use but are (usually) kept clean and well cared for.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this young boy's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build that could use a bit of bulking upas he is built like a high school track runner. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement, and during the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. He looks like your average, ordinary American young teen that plays outside and is fairly active. Tall at five foot ten, he is a few inches higher than most his age for now.
Thick honey-blonde hair, styled in a poofy set of curls, rings this pretty blue-eyed young woman's head. She's in her late teens, and her hair's currently left down, though it's occasionally pinned up. She stands about five and a half feet tall, and is a little on the thin side of things, though not to an extreme. She dresses mostly in informal styles, from ripped jeans and tank tops to the occasional sundress.
Currently, she wears the former, her black tank top emblazoned with a large sequined red heart, and her jeans so ripped as to be nearly indecent. About half of the heart's sequins are missing. Her feet are clad in red strappy lightly-heeled sandals that have seen better days. She wears little in the way of jewelry, just a black wooden bracelet, a stainless steel and rhinestone mood ring, and (probably fake) gold earrings. When she speaks, a fairly thick Southern accent is evident.
This is a North American cougar (Puma concolor couguar), which is not an uncommon animal in Washington State, although they are rarely seen by humans. Typical of the species, it has a slender, muscled body with a round head and pointed ears. Like most cougars, this particular specimen is substantially longer, taller, and heavier than the average wolf. He likely tips the scales at about 160lbs and measures nearly 8' from nose to tail: Much of that is certainly tail. This cougar's pelt is slightly more reddish-orange than usual, although not unusually so. Lithe, powerful, sinuous musculature is readily visible beneath the cat's short fur, giving some indication as to the power and speed available to this apex predator should it choose to use it. The black "moustache" marking around his nose and mouth is more pronounced than usual, giving the feline's already-handsome face an even more suave--almost debonaire--appearance.
As Snakepatcher:
Stocky and large, the gray wolf is among the heavier of his kind. His muzzle is brutish and short, placed among unforgiving features. His coat is overly thick, bearing winter's thickness in the heat of summer, and appears not of a piece, but to have been assembled in a patchwork fashion, with scars joining the patchwork. His right leg is mangled, missing much of its muscle, and heavily scarred, but still able to bear his weight
This short, skinny white kid is only a few inches over five feet tall and looks to be around twelve or thirteen years old. His straight black hair is cut in a basic, functional style that requires little maintenance -- super-short on the back and sides and only slightly longer on top. He's got a thin face with a beaky nose, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. He's not a bad-looking kid, quite the opposite, but there's still something about him that makes most normal people uneasy, a feeling of potential violence, of predatory intensity.
He's typically dressed in jeans and t-shirt and sneakers, typical casual kid-wear, with a grey hooded jacket for outdoors. Apart from the footwear, his clothing is all a little bit too big on him, but one might imagine that he'll grow into it in a year or so.
Thane isn't a man who's appearance stands out much. He's caucasian of skin tone with a faint swarthiness should he stay out in the sun long enough to catch a tan. His bones are pronounced, giving him the appearance of leanness despite having a solid, even musculature that speaks of someone who's gained his athleticism through rounded activity versus focused weight training. His hair is a tawny brown in most lights and usually kept in a short style. Often, there's a good day's growth of beard on his face which seems to hide small nicks and old scars. His eyes are a mid-tone blue, often held under pensive brows.
There is a look to him, the weight of something undefined. It's like looking into the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. It's even more haunting considering his blind right eye is couched in scars like an attack from a bear.
Usually, he's casually dressed but cleans up when the need calls. He's never seen among the normal public in anything but long sleeves regardless of the weather, underneath showing massive scarring on on his forearms. They don't seem to restrict movement, but the oddly darkened scars are numerous like lightning bolts across his skin. Another deep slice runs at the upper portion of his abdomen.
The day was cloudless and nearly summer temperatures. As the sun has set and the moon is rising unseen in the sky, the air remains warm and pleasantly dry and the stars are all out in a blanket of diamonds. All in all, it's a perfect night and several faces are already at the moot. Thane, of course, who's apparently elected to sit in a folding lawn chair not far from the fire which is stocked low and likely more just for light. Amongst a few others weaves the coywolf, Three-Mountains, who is looking quite cheery with his tail swishing in a lazy wag.
Salem perches moodily on a branch in one of the trees at the border of the clearing, one shoulder against the trunk, legs dangling.
Sprawled out on the ground is Mouse-Trap, who looks to be napping near the fire. His tail thumps heavily upon the ground behind him. At times, he gives a soft noise in his throat, like a deflating wheeze.
Frederick is sitting on one of the logs, his backpack down in front of him, between his legs. He appears to be a little worn out, one might even see a little slump in his posture.
Brings-the-Pack enters the area, perhaps surprisingly, on the ground instead of up in a tree. Although on a side of the clearing that's largely free of other garou. He settles immediately, just beside the treeline, and off to himself.
Felix wanders in from elsewhere on the bawn along with Lilah, looking cheerful and pickings a few little twigs and leaves out of her curls as they head over. "Anyway, now I kinda wanna find a recently abandoned flour factory someday," he's telling her, as he drops down to sprawl beside his packmates. The others assembled get a grin and a wave.
A grizzled Garou ponderously paces out of the trees, taking his time to select a suitable spot. Snakepatcher sniffs at the atmosphere and settles in his spot.
The Gaian Elder makes her way on to the bawn after some time, wearing a wind breaker and a pair of plain black pants. Taking inventory of those gathered, her eyes fall upon the Alpha sprawled in his lawn chair. Quirking a brow, she settles in next to the fire and plants herself down.
"I never knew that, neither, but I could see ya wantin' that," Lilah says with a nod to Felix, taking a seat beside him. She waves to those nearby, also looking pretty cheerful at the moment. She's quiet, after that.
Without preamble Three-Mountains strolls over to Mouse-Trap and flops over his packmate, nipping at his ears. All good! he remarks with a satisfied sniff at the Ahroun.
Thane glances towards the gathering Coyote pack with a faint upward pull to one corner of his mouth. Then the Alpha is looking over the others as they gather though only really lingers ever so briefly on the magecat before moving on. After giving everyone a chance to settle in he claps his hands together and rises up out of the chair. "Well good evening. You all know the drill so let's get to it! I've got a bit of something new for later on that I think will help us out but first business! Anyone got anything? News, something to bring to everyone's attention, juicy gossip?"
Mouse-Trap lets out a loud 'oof' at the feeling of his packmate flopping over him. He lets out a bark. This one does, oh glorious Sept Alpha! He has news to share! After pushing himself out from under Three Mountains, he straightens up and puffs out his chest.
Brings-the-Pack seems largely content to remain silent and observe various individuals at the gathering, briefly returning Thane's gaze but seemingly knowledgeable enough about garou ettiquette to look away first.
Salem absent-mindly chews on a fingernail, scowls when he catches himself doing it, and folds his arms across his chest, focussing on the action below.
"It's my birthday," Felix volunteers brightly, "I'd like to bring that to everyone's attention, just in case anyone's got extra cake. Or beer. Or confetti. Or dancin' girls. You know, the usual offerin's." He reaches over to tug one of Three-Mountain's ears, and then leans against Lilah, getting (somehow even more) comfortable.
Lilah tries to conceal a smile at Felix's information, but it ends up as an outright grin. She doesn't speak up, so she must not have any news. But she does kiss Felix's cheek. ...since it's his birthday, and all.
Thane waves a hand to Mouse-Trap, "Get on with it then." And then the same hand turns to point towards Felix. "Mazel tov. And if someone's bored Felix apparently would appreciate some strippers and cake - or a stripper in a cake if you're feeling like a baller. We already know he'll drink anything so feel free to go cheap."
Frederick snaps into an upright sitting position as Thane gets out of his chair, otherwise the Fenrir remains quiet. He only moves his backpack from between his legs to his back and stretches out those legs, his concession to comfort it seems. Instead of speaking, he only looks slowly from one to the other, taking inventory of the gathering.
Mouse-Trap gives a chuff towards Thane, then scowls at his packmate. Stop trying to steal the spotlight! Sit there. Look pretty. He growls before he clears his throat and begins. ~The world famous Coyote Pack decided to trick the Enemy in the Queen's Tower. Those assholes are boring. So, with the help of our kin, we went to all the College Frat Houses and handed out fliers for free beer and pizza on Game Night. Everyone was to meet in the Queen's Tower Lobby to watch the Game! We got most of them on board. Three hundred people showed up! We had beer and pizza a block away to hand out as they came marching in through security.~ He cackles in a wolfen matter. ~No one could stop the mob as they piled in and started turning music up and drinking. The cops were called. But, it was too late! We hid smoke bombs on two garbage cans that they wheeled in filled with kool-aid and glitter. When the bombs went off, they set off the sprinklers and destroyed all their equipment, as well as showered everyone in red punch and glitter.~ He lets out a laughing howl. ~We all sat back across the street and watched the chaos with sunglasses, wigs and sweaters. It took over an hour to bring order.~
Mouse-Trap then adds, ~Happy Birthday.~ to Felix.
Three-Mountains throws back his own head from where he lays and lets out a high-pitched yelping howl of celebration and victory. ~We got them good! Just smell for the sweet-smelling Wyrmthings, they're all shimmery and sparkly now.~
Felix pulls a Coke bottle from where it's sticking out of his jacket pocket and has a drink of it, pointing the top toward Thane in an approving sort of manner as the Alpha adds his combo suggestion. Mouse-Trap's scowl gets a grin in return. "Hey, I can't help lookin' pretty," he says, "an' I can't steal what's already mine." He hushes then to let his packmates speak, adding afterward, "Got some other folks involved also, they brought the music an' shit. Made a pretty decent party, actually. Aside from bein' hilarious."
Salem grimaces, unenthused and unimpressed with the Coyote pack's news.
Lilah, not being able to tell what Mouse-Trap is saying, nonetheless grins, so she must've had some idea about this at the very least. She grinned at Thane's remarks, nodding her head in approval, and she does the same at Felix's reply, even though she doesn't know what he's exactly replying to.
Frederick looks between the coyote pack members, slightly shaking his head. Sparkling leeches, that's just wrong on so many levels. "I guess they're pretty pissed now, hmm?" He pauses, watching Mouse-Trap. "Poking a stick in the hornets' nest, I dunno."
Thane turns a wide smile towards the Coyote pack. "Well done. It's about time someone got through to tap them on the nose. I'm sure your totem is proud as a peacock. It's about time someone had the balls to do something." He turns then to look back over the gathering, "Sooo, anyone else got anything to share? If not we're moving to the next part. Night's ticking."
Mouse-Trap nods his head firmly with a wide grin and a tail wag. He thanks you great, wise and powerful Alpha! Your words do us great honor.
Alicia lets out a slight smile at the story and antics, giving a brief shake of her head. Resting back against her log bench, she ponders for a moment, as if to mull something over, then goes back to staring at the gathering.
Felix apparently hasn't got anything else to say at present, though he does give Thane another grin at the remarks.
Snakepatcher dutifully listens to the announcements with the gravity of a student cramming for exams and yet isn't quite sure if this will be on the test. He shakes out his spring-shedding fur and sprawls on the cool ground.
"Bueller?..." Thane murmurs as he looks over all those present before shrugging as no one else declares business. "Well then, next on the agenda. It came to my attention there's a little known Rite. Just something small called the Rite of Unity that's supposed to help strength the resolve of those who've gathered against a given foe. Well we've got a few. So, I picked it up and I think it'd be a good idea for the sept. It certainly can't hurt. It's very simple. As one, we howl our devotions to our spirit allies and to one another and embrace being one force against all who'd stand against us, bolstering another's weaknesses with our strengths."
And no one needs to encourage a Lupus to start howling. Three-Mountains pulls himself up onto his paws with his tail wagging in agreement with this idea. He raises his head and begins a raucous, joyous howl to celebrate his adoration for his pack, tribe, sept, and the spirits great and small.
Mouse-Trap wags his tail even harder as he nods his head. Yes, this one agrees with the Alpha's idea of a rite. We all need unity! See how wise our Alpha is? He barks to the Sept, then joins his packmate in a loud, throaty howl that is more like the baying of a junk yard dog.
Ghost is late, and while she isn't make enough noise to be terribly obnoxious, she clearly makes no effort--or, versely, she IS making an effort, just in the opposite direction--to be silent in her approach. She appears at the edge of the Compound, pauses briefly to tug herself free of brambles, and then fairly slinks, hands in pockets, toward the gathering, with her shoulders practically touching the bottoms of her ears.
Reflection approaches from the direction of the Caern about halfway through the rite being described. His gait is heavy and obvious. He says nothing and simply gives a curious tilt of his muzzle. The Fenrir sits at the edge of the gathering, waiting to be led in the Alpha's rite.
Felix hands Lilah his drink and shifts to Lupus, sitting up straighter and lifting his muzzle to howl along with his packmates, enthusiastic and melodic, expressing appreciation and allegiance to the Sept and spirits.
Brings-the-Pack looks momentarily perplexed as to what he's supposed to do, eyes sweeping over those gathered for prompts that might prevent him from creating a faux pas. Should he howl like the others? Can the cougar-mage howl at all? Or would it be a digitized voice howl or a cougar-like yowl? Would his participation ruin the rite? And then his eyes alight on Lilah, a kinswoman and not a garou, to observe what she does.
Snakepatcher shakes himself back upright and raises his muzzle, joining in the group howl. We are strong as one.
Frederick slides off his log in a fluid motion as his form blurs and shifts, soon a grey muzzle rises upwards as he joins the howl, adding a throaty, rough note to the song.
Ghost looks confused as well, and her cheeks flush, as if she's just walked in on something embarrassing. She looks from those Garou that have started howling to those who haven't yet, her expression just a little deer-in-headlights.
Salem shifts to lupus -- yes, a wolf up in a tree -- and dutifully adds his voice to the others.
After a few moments, the Gaian Elder takes the lupus form and joins in as well, her voice beauitful and haunting as it fills the crisp night air.
Lilah glances over at Felix, then looks to Thane. She's probably not sure either, but unless Thane happens to look her way and shake his head, she seems determined to join in. She holds her hands to the side of her mouth to aid her in trying to mimic the lupine howls she's hearing. Hers is a bit more like a yip, but points for trying, right?
Thane takes to his Lupus form to add his howl last to the mix, except it's not the low bay of the Shadow Lord. It's the yapping, yipping howl of a coyote. The air begins to reek of ozone and thrum with the building of spiritual power. And it's then something comes crashing through the trees. It's a Hispo but dear lord it is bright, lurid, hot pink and damned if it isn't sparkling like it was frosted in glitter. ~NO!~ It yips in the tiny squeaky voice of an angry Pomeranian. ~Don't do it! That isn't me!~ And the pink Hispo is missing the same eye as the Sept Alpha. Thane? looks to the other Thane? and begins laughing, which is odd because wolves physically are unable to laugh. With a poof of smoke the facade drops and it's a coyote there edged with the gleam of ephemeral light, cackling for all he's worth. "Gig's up!" declares the coyote in perfectly audible English.
Ghost seems to come to an immediate, perfectly-reasonable-to-her reaction. She takes two steps back from where she stopped at the howling, and bolts back into the bushes.
Mouse-Trap widens his eyes at the chaos that unfolds about them, then lets out a sputtering cough. At the sight of his pack totem, he looks over to Felix and Three-Mountains, then barks ~...we should ... run ... very fast. ~
Brings-the-Pack seems to be just about to mimic Lilah's attempt at a howl, lifting his head skywards, inhaling, and then aborting whatever might have come next as a second, vastly more pinkish Thane appears, and then the original Thane turns into a Coyote spirit. He looks around, perhaps wondering what the garou are making of all this before doing anything himself.
Salem cuts off his howl quite abruptly, staring down in astonishment -- and then, abruptly, he reverts back into homid form and puts on the stoniest of stony neutral faces. He's not amused in the /slightest/.
Three-Mountains clamps his mouth shut and turns his head to blink at Ohno. Then his ears slick back as he raises up his head and sniffs at the air. ~...was this part of the plan?~ He asks of his packmates and his posture hunkers down as he inches in closer to them and takes up one side of Lilah protectively.
Delivers-The-Verdict 's howl is cut short (maybe a good thing, considering his accent carries over even into lupus, everything that boy utters sounds like a declaration of war, even if it's an inspiring howl), the Fenrir snarling faintly as he takes a few steps back, ducking slightly with his ears flat against his head as he looks from one "Thane" to the other, obviously trying to find out which one is the real one.
~Whoa shit,~ is what Felix's howl trails off to, eyes widening as well, and he looks broadly inclined to follow Mouse-Trap's suggestion, but he moves in more protectively on Lilah's other side, slightly in front of her, and shifts up to Hispo to make a broader wall. The head-shake to Three-Mountains is pretty human, ~I don't think...?~
Lilah breaks off her yowling when the Pink-Thane arrives, clearing her throat which is now quite raw, no doubt. She looks confused, and then concerned, looking between Pink-Thane and, presumably, Not-Thane. When Felix and Three-Mountains move in protectively, she carefully gets to her feet, in case running should be necessary. She also quite cautiously doesn't meet anyone's gaze at the moment.
Pack> Three-Mountains whines even through the link, clearly terrified, "We didn't do /this/!"
Pack> Mouse-Trap says "Pfff. Where did this pink stuff come from? You didn't tell me about that."
Pack> Chugs-Mystery-Brew says "He's gonna rip our legs off. An' beat us with 'em."
Ohno, as the imposter is revealed, is grinning like he was hand animated. As Ghost bolts, the spirit sighs audible. "...oh come on! It's just a game!" He yaps after her before shrugging narrow shoulders and points one paw up at Salem. "And don't think I don't see that frown! It gets any deeper and someone'll be able to climb up it to sit by you. Honestly, you lot... soooooooo seeeerriiiiooous. UGH. How do you get up everyday? I heard what that weird-fingered Gnawer said last time. You kids needed a stickectomy. Well, you just attended the Rite of the Stickectomy!" He howls to the skies and the energy built is unleashes, washing over the compound and out through the bawn like a wave of ice cold water. "You'll figure it out in the morning, but I've given you all a little gift given the nod by the Big Cheese himself. See I got to talkin' to my bosses and they showed me this little trick. I promise you... probably... will be just fine, but take this as a little eye opener. Yes, even my dear proteges over there. Ya'll need a lesson in opening your minds to new possibilities."
While the coyote speaks, the pink-furred Consumes-Shadow is growling and fuming but it just sounds like a balloon loosing air. He actually seems at a loss for words as his mouth opens and closes or they've gone so squeaky they've transcended the supernatural range of hearing. His eyes do though turn on Tactical Frivolity with a look that's clearly plotting their deaths twelve ways over - to be carried out simultaneously.
==================================== Sept ==================================== Message: 5/211 Posted Author April Fools! Thu Apr 7, 2016 Consumes-Shadows ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ April Fool's might have been days before the moot, but Tactical Frivolity apparently had a Thing planned. Turns out with some help from their totem they waylaid the Sept Alpha from attending moot and instead their totem himself posed as Thane. He lead the gathered individuals in a 'Rite of Unity' which was reportedly designed to strengthen the bond, but instead, was revealed to be a 'Rite of the Stickectomy' - with a special thanks to Winter for the terminology. After apparently impressing his supervisors, Ohno launched a surprising dose of spirit mojo that the gathered unintentionally helped fuel with the 'rite'. The aftermath is apparently turning the Garou's flaws on their head to encourage them to expand their horizons and shed light on ways they can grow. The big finale? Ohno didn't exclude his own children from the lesson. To Coyote, everyone always has room for improvement. OOC: What the heck does that mean? For example! A super serious character might find the world full of laughs. A beautiful person becomes ugly. An urban character trapped in Lupus-Crinos. A wilderness character trapped in Homid-Crinos. An eloquent speaker is stuck speaking in rhyme. An honest character becomes a compulsive liar. A dishonest character is forced to always tell the truth. An Alpha personality feels like an Omega and vice versa. These are just some ideas. You know your character best! This is designed to be challenging but generally harmless (if embarrassing at times) with the idea to teach each Garou a lesson about themselves and what life's like on the other side of the coin. Also, to give you a chance to explore some new aspects of your character. It's made to last about two weeks. Learn your lesson, you get off the hook. You don't? Maybe it lasts longer, maybe not, that's your call! This is voluntary and of course appropriate gifts, traits, etc that'd block this sort of things would be in effect if you wanna be a party pooper. ==============================================================================
Mouse-Trap stares at his pack totem for a long moment before he looks back to his packmates. Then, with flattened ears, he says, ~ Will it help if I say that we had /no/ clue about any of this? ~ He backs off a few paces from the angry glare of the Shadow Lord, showing a bit of throat as his tail tucks between his legs.
Ghost is well out of sight as Ohno calls after her, though a few moments later those in the Compound can hear a thud and a yelp some distance away that's not audibly distinctive enough to tell if she's still in homid or not.
Concurrently is better than consecutively, surely? There's only so dead you can get at once... Chugs-the-Mystery-Brew's ears go down too, tail tucked and back arching. ~We're as surprised about this turn of events as y'all,~ he agrees, doing the best he can to radiate his sincerity and lack-of-needing-killin'. He doesn't back away, but probably only because he's still acting as a Lilah-shield.
Salem swears in Serbian and pushes off his tree branch to land, with a heavy thump, in Crinos. ~Serves you right for holding a moot on the /new moon/,~ he says to Thane as he moves to stand between the Shadow Lord and the Coyote packmembers. ~This is your fault, not theirs.~
The cougar-mage looks around pointedly and with a more critical eye. "The spiritual magicks the coyote used do not appear to be intentionally malicious," he offers after looking individuals over with but a cursory glance. "Very much what you would likely classify as Wyld energies." This is supposed to make people more at ease, perhaps?
Frederick shifts back to his homid form but remains sprawled on the ground as he looks up at Salem as he leans against his backpack. "What fault? Ain't like the pink poodle did anything, ya know?" He shrugs slightly as he get more comfortable. "Look around you. Did anything happen? Coyote spirit plays a prank. Big whooping deal, and everything's back to normal."
There's a rather odd sounding giggle in the distance. It's sharp and short and doesn't sound particularly humorous really.
Lilah has her eyes mostly on the ground and on others' feet; this is not a great time for a kin to Coyotes to be around. Of course, it's also not the best time for her to comment, albeit quietly, "Everyone's always so *mad* all the time. S'not our fault this time, anyway."
Three-Mountains whines as he drops and rolls over with his tail firmly between his legs, electing a full and groveling submission is probably the best course of action.
Ohno just looks to his fearful pack and sighs. "You pranked the Wyrm in one of his dens but cower to your own? Tsk." And with a flourishing bow with one paw to his chest, he flashes a grin to the assembly and vanishes with a cheery, "Ohno, out!"
Consumes-Shadow ever so slowly turns his eye from the coyote pack onto Scar and bulks up to his Crinos form - still pink and sparkling. ~You dare blame /me/ for the actions of their pack totem?!~ He roar-squeals. ~So does having the moot on the full moon give spirits the right to attack us because it's the Ahroun's moon? All the times you bite your tongue but now you find reason to use it on a ridiculous accusation? If you think you could do so much better then either challenge or keep quiet and sulk and scowl like you always do, Charach.~ He's oblivious to the giggling, being otherwise occupied looking extremely angry.
Mouse-Trap lets out a wolfish equivalent of 'oh snap' under his breath as his ears slant backwards, then shoots himself up into the hisp form.
The Child of Gaia blurs into her own Crinos form, stepping forward. ~Woah, woah. Everyone take a deep breath and calm down. We should not be slinging insults at one another or pointing the finger either. We have more important things to focus on than tearing into each other with anger. Perhaps Coyote was right. We could use a bit of unity now and again, even if we are to make fun of ourselves and have a laugh at our expense.~ She holds her large fuzzy paws out in a calming manner. ~We should move back to business and not seek to spill blood.~
Scar's ears flick back, then forward. He bares his fangs in a humorless grin up at Thane and definitely looks like he's about to, but then Alicia speaks up, and he breaks the gaze to look over at her. ~Fine.~ He doesn't even seem angry about it, though it takes him a few seconds to shift down to glabro.
"Isn't that business?" Ghost has returned, though this time she was far quieter. Her voice is a little shakey, and she's looking distinctly pale, but one could easily be forgiven if they missed those things, because her eyes--pupil, iris, and white--are a flat, unnatural black that doesn't seem to catch any light at all. "Isn't that always our business?" She leans a little heavily on one of the smaller saplings near the Compound's edge, as if she were using it for support, although she seems perfectly capable of standing.
Chugs-Mystery-Brew DOES start backing up this time, attempting to move Lilah along behind him as he does so. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead glances side to side, snaps it shut, and continues with the gradual kin-herding retreat. When things seem to be defused, he pauses, but it doesn't look exactly 'stopped'.
Lilah whispers softly to Felix and the rest of the Coyote pack near her, "Ohno's got a *point.* Why're we more afraid now than then?" She looks pretty mortified in general, and keeps her gaze lowered. She purses her lips, going silent again for now. ...at least until she suddenly adds, "Also I'm hungry. Y'all got anything to eat?" Despite her words, she moves wherever Felix and the others herd her.
Brings-the-Pack quietly observes, staying out of the way, as tempers hopefully cool off. He's clearly dwelling on some thoughts, as well as the area where Ohno had just been standing earlier.
Frederick is actually comfortably slouched against his backpack, very obviously not willing to interfere in the battle of the titans. After all, the Gaian has already defused the situation, so why get up?
Shifting back into his homid form, Justin is standing in a raggedy pair of jeans and a snug black top. With a soft sigh, he says, "Felix old chap. I do believe it is nigh past our curfew and we should merrily be on our way to our living quarters." Instead of a Spanish accent, his voice appears a bit more refined. "I do say that the temperature of everyone's mood is quite high."
Three-Mountains slowly gets his feet back under him and shakes out his fur. He looks over towards his pack as the fight nearly happens, gives a perplexed snort at Justin, and the normally pretty submissive Lupus fluffs himself right up and parks himself squarely in front of the pack like a rangy guard dog. Even as things settle slightly he's still stiff-legged and warding.
Consumes-Shadows settles from the Murder setting on the scale down to just Mildly Foaming as the Child of Gaia hits the brakes but he doesn't move until Salem's in his Glabro form. He regards the groveling coyote pack with disgust but Ghost's return - and speaking - has him squinting at her. ~What in the hell are you talking about?~ He squeaks at her with all the adorable tone of a fluffy kitten, nose wrinkling in something approaching confusion.
<OOC> Salem says "Thane = Yzma at the end of Emperor's New Groove, got it."
<OOC> Chugs-Mystery-Brew says "Please somebody draw that."
<OOC> Lilah says "Ogod, yes."
<OOC> Three-Mountains says "YES!"
<OOC> Three-Mountains says "To all the above."
<OOC> Consumes-Shadows was also gonna make Thane super fluffy, but the image of him with a sparkly, fluffy pink 'fro in Homid broke my imagination.
"Spilling blood," Ghost says, still sounding rather shakey. She brings up both hands, fingers curled like claws. "That's what you--we--do. That's business." She breathes in deeply, and then presses those claw-curled fingers against and over her eyes, enough that she's in danger of breaking the skin. "Kill that thing. Then kill the next thing. Then kill the other thing. Then kill each other some."
Felix shifts up to Homid as well, still eyeing the assembled, and whispers back to Lilah, "Well, we're =supposed= to be fightin' =them=," he answers, "an' anyhow, submissive ain't necessarily the same as afraid. Plus gettin' gutted's inconvenient an' painful an' would really interfere with doin' anythin' else tonight, which I kinda had plans, an' I don't want you accidentally gettin' hurt." He blinks, then, glancing aside, and looks stricken. "Aw, fuck. This is gonna suck."
Salem raises an eyebrow, then heads over to Ghost. ~You look like shit.~
"You sound weird," Lilah whispers to Justin before chewing at her lower lip. She blinks as well when Felix gives that answer, and she slowly nods her head. "Yeah. It is." She extends a hand to squeeze his shoulder lightly, frowning, and adds quietly, "Ya wanna head back t'the Library? Seems like it'd be less tense." Pause. "A *lot* less tense."
Consumes-Shadows gives his head a shake and throws up both hands. The sparkle! Jazz Hands! ~Scar, she's one of yours supposedly so you had fun with that, because if I stay here anymore I'll be doing just what she's babbling about.~ He grunts out and sounds abruptly worn out. ~This shit better wash out.~ He grunts and begins to lumber off into the woods.
Three-Mountains moves to follow after his pack but he keeps shooting warning looks over his shoulder as if waiting for someone to come chasing after them.
<OOC> Lilah says "IT WILL NEVER WASH OFF!"
<OOC> Salem ahahaha
<OOC> Felix says "Never wash off the soul!"
<OOC> Consumes-Shadows rolls all over Lilah's stuff. HAVE SOME GLITTER.
Ghost keeps her hands over her eyes as she answers. "Ha ha ha. This is a funny joke. Hooray."
The contemplative cougar-mage seems to have slipped off into the woods when no one was looking. Cat-mages: what can you do?
Frederick chuckles and shakes his head, and after a lengthy struggle against himself he finally decides that yes, he does indeed have to get up, leading to an elaborate, lengthy ordeal to get his body into an upright position. Eventually he even picks up his backpack, grunting as he slings it over his shoulders. "Why exactly do I keep carrying that around anyway...", he mutters as he looks around. "Well, if everything's said and done I'm outta here." He waits for maybe a nanosecond whether anyone disagrees with him leaving before turning around on his heel and shuffling off into the woods.
Salem squints up at Ghost, then reaches out to tap her on the arm. "Let's go, we'll talk."
"You do," Felix agrees, looking to Justin, and Lilah's question gets a nod. "...an' yeah. I definitely want to go back to the Library. WAY less tense." He reclaims his drink from her and takes her hand, glancing over his shoulder at the few that remain and then heading out with his pack.
Ghost flinches visibly at the tap, but she rocks a little on her heels and turns to follow him. She lowers her hands just enough to see, though her eyes are still flat black.
Lilah is mostly quiet on the journey back to the Library, but she does comment on a few things. Namely, that she's relieved everything went okay and that she's really hungry, no joke. "Forgot to eat 'fore we left," she'll admit. When they reach the Library, she pauses to tuck a curl behind her ear, and then starts to head up toward their room.
Felix is relatively quiet for Felix as well, although after a bit he does start singing with the radio as usual. Lilah gets the usual arm around her as they drive, too. He allows that he's kind of hungry too, and that everything could've gone a lot =more= okay, this really isn't what was supposed to happen... In the Library, he snags Lilah's hand as she starts for the stairs, and gestures toward the kitchen. "Think we still got a pizza. Let's steal it. An' maybe some cake, if we still got any..."
Lilah pauses at Felix's words, and then shrugs. "Ain't right, me stealin' a pizza like that... could go to someone else. But it's hard t'say no to ya." Her tone is adoring, but her expression's still rather mortified, albeit less-so than during the moot. She heads toward the kitchen, still holding his hand, but then asks suddenly, "What'd ya mean, it isn't what was supposed to happen? What *was* supposed t'happen?"
"Well, Lin brought 'em partly to apologise for droppin' in on us from the Umbra like that the first time an' since it was you an' me she dropped in on, I reckon it belongs to us as much as anyone," Felix replies easily enough, "They're better before they start curlin' up in the center anyhow." Her sudden question gets a chagrined expression, but the mouth comes open and he answers as he opens the fridge and pulls out the sole remaining pizza box, then opens the cake box, considers what remains in it, and takes that whole thing as well, stacking it on top of the other. "Well, Thane was just supposed to get =distracted= long enough for Ohno to run the fake rite, only it was supposed to really be a fake rite, start out real normal-like an' get sillier. Like, start out howlin', end up doin' the chicken dance, somethin' like that. Get people to loosen up an' take shit less serious, plus maybe remind 'em we DO gotta work together. Only..." Well, she saw what happened instead. One of his Coke bottles gets shoved into a pocket, and he's ready to go, bumping the door shut with his hip. And THEN thinks to ask, "You need a drink?" He steps aside so she can grab one if she likes, his hands now being fairly full.
"I s'ppose," Lilah allows, "...you got a point." She listens to his explanation without interrupting (thank heavens for small miracles), though she does comment as soon as he trails off, "It sounds like it coulda been a good idea, but I can't believe I lived through t'night. An' if this lasts, I'mma get myself killed 'r maimed 'r somethin', cuz I cain't seem to keep myself t'myself, an' I don't like it. Not one bit. I'm so mad at Ohno I could spit, but I'm trynna keep from sayin' he's a dick only I just did, huh? Sorry, Ohno." She swallows thickly, and gets into the fridge to pull out a Mr. Pibb 2-liter that's about half-empty. "I don't wanna get drunk, cuz I can only imagine how bad this gets if m'tongue's loosened," she explains, and shakes her head, frowning. "Guess I should be glad I already toldja I love ya, cuz that's gonna slip out at some point." She presses the 2-liter to her now-reddening cheeks. "Let's get upstairs 'fore somebody sees me blathering like an idjut."
Felix leans over and tries to give Lilah a kiss despite the boxes, with a crooked smile when he pulls away. "Well, he kinda is a dick, it's one o' them coyote things," he says a bit apologetically, "An' okay, fair enough. You ain't any kinda idiot though, sayin' shit or not." He bumps his shoulder against hers and starts for the stairs. "...like I said before," he mutters, almost to himself, "This is gonna suck."
Lilah returns that kiss in kind, and his words seem to calm her, particularly those about Ohno, for whatever reason. She bumps his shoulder right back, and then nods. "Yeah. It is. It already does," she says simply, and starts up the stairs to their room. "Better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you're a fool than open it and remove all doubt," she quotes, though even saying it seems to embarrass her all over again. She opens their door for him, since he's got the pizza... unless he tries to get to it first.
Felix has just started eyeing up his bounty and the door for this 'opening' thing, but steps aside to let Lilah handle that. It's a simple solution! Once inside, he sets the boxes down on the mattress, and sets himself down on it beside them. "I've heard that somewhere before," he says, about the quote.
Lilah smiles faintly as he lets her open the door, doing so and holding it open for him before following in after him. She closes the door softly, and then wanders over to sit beside him on the mattress. "I ain't sure who said it. Twain, maybe?" She shrugs, and then kisses his cheek. "I really do love ya," she breathes out, and seems relieved to finally get to say something more along her usual lines.
Now that his hands are free, Felix takes advantage of the fact to reach over and pull Lilah in for a proper kiss in reply to that. "Keepin' you," he murmurs, when he lets her go again, and he opens up the pizza box to see what they've ended up with. A couple slices are gone, but it seems to be the Canadian-bacon-and-pineapple, which will apparently do fine. "So this ain't quite how I expected to birthday," he admits. "But I got pizza an' cake an' Jack an' Coke an' you, an' no massive lacerations, so I can work with that."