A subtle undulation of the land forms an curious, natural spiral in the open ground. One side of the formation rises to create a half-circle or crescent of earth surrounding and encompassing the spiral. The ground is littered with rock and flagstones, both large and small. Someone has carefully gathered up a trove of these and erected a clear fire pit. Flagstones with smooth surfaces have been laid along the upper lip of half circle of earth around the fire pit, turning it into a nice seating area. All debris and flammable material's been removed from within the spiral, and a fire has been laid. Just beyond the spiral's edge, wood has been collected and piled for future use. Surrounding this, the rugged walls of the canyon have been half buried by the Wyld surge, making the upper slope of the valley more gentle than it was before. Stands of Douglas fir and white pines mix with hemlock, lodgepole pines, and western larch trees to fill much of the open space, but the trees here are not nearly as dense as they are in the surrounding forests of the bawn. The sparse woods allows a partial view of the sky, and both sun and moonlight filter down to create enigmatic and beautiful shadow patterns on the forest floor. That floor is blanketed with a thick, soft rug of shed pine needles, lichen and leaf debris. The moss-covered relics of old, dead trees occasionally mark a place where once great sentinels loomed above.
The caern expands in two directions from here. The escarpment wall and raised dais form one point of the new triangle, while the center of the caern and its gigantic, Wyld-influenced tree marks the other. The only obvious way out of the caern is the valley slope that leads to the central bawn.
The center of the caern is alive with spiritual power. The Wyld surge has definitely left its mark--not just on the land or vegetation, but on the place itself. Those with long memories might realize that it has doubled in potency, returning to a state more comparable to the Wheel Renewed than the Hidden Walk. Spirits abound. Though the majority of them are Wyld in nature, there's an influx of a wide variety and type, including some associated with the Weaver. There are also a select few that the garou often associate with the Wyrm, though none here ping of taint in any way, shape or form. An innumerable number of Lunes dance in the air overhead, while the cat-tail and stair-step moss that covers the old growth forest in a near complete blanket glow a brilliant, luminescent green. Together, they illuminate the area on even the darkest of new moons. The remnant of the colossal wasp nest drapes the old caern's chasm, covering the waterfall and lake with a smooth, solid shell that nevertheless doesn't stop the sound of playful water spirits from escaping through the walls. The giant trees that fill the forest seem impossibly majestic, but not even they can compare to the single, inexplicable paragon that sits at the center. The caern tree cannot be defined--it has no species and no exact shape, and yet it is always there, making its presence felt deep in the soul.
The air is charged with the power of the place. Even the most imperceptive would, standing here, feel the heart of the earth beating in its own constant and reverberating thrum. Outward, the umbral forest extends in all directions.
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.
A big wolf-looking dog -- or could it be a small actual wolf? It seems to have that kind of cheerful doggy enthusiasm, but the colouring is right and it does seem a bit wild, as if some of that energy is coiled deeply within it, ready to strike. Its eyes sparkle with life, and it sometimes seems to smile, displaying rows of sharp, even, shiny white teeth.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this man'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, but underneath his clothes is a body fitted with new muscle. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement. During the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. After a mishap with a monster, he was aged roughly five years forward and now looks like a young man in his early 20's. Now at 6'2, he has finally hit the rest of his growth spurt.
Shaggy gray and white coat, the wolf looks to be a mix of German Shepherd and wolf. Warm gold eyes are set before his long muzzle and coal black nose. His body is healthy with a bit of lankiness to it. He appears to be rather young and feisty.
A young man of average height and athletic build, he is generally seen with a cunning smile and an easy manner. His dark hair is cut short, just enough length that the waves take form. (If he let it grow out, it would probably lead to unruly curls.) His eyes are green, or perhaps hazel, depending on the light. His skin is pale and freckled, and his cheekbones, while not extreme, are prominent. The straight nose and strong chin can lead to a more stern impression, but it's broken easily when he grins.
Today he wears a simple grey hoodie with a Red Sox logo on the front. His denim jeans are, if not new, well cared for, as are the blue and grey tennis shoes beneath. Around his neck, visible against the grey of the sweatshirt, he wears a pendant of carved, black stone strung on a thin cord of braided leather.
Trace stands six feet in height, with a confidence and certainty to his bearing that makes him seem a little taller, but still the last vestiges of the awkward gangliness of teenagerhood as well. A hint of five o'clock shadow frames a tanned face, hazel-green eyes under perpetually messy hair that reaches just past his ears. The man is dressed neatly, but the clothing is designed to give him ease of movement-- jeans, black leather converse shoes, and a worn leather bomber jacket that's never far from his person over a plain dark blue button-down shirt with a button-down collar worn with enough buttons open to see the white a-shirt underneath and the hint of a tattoo on one shoulder. Today the sleeves are rolled up, nearly to his elbows.
Six-Shooter is broad-chested and broad-shouldered. Green-hazel lupine eyes peer out from behind a slightly darker mask on his muzzle, and his fur fades from dark grey on his back and head to lighter grey on his chest and limbs. He is on the larger side for a wolf, and there's no mistaking the strength throughout his frame, nor the tightly controlled single-purposed anger buried behind his composure. There are scars on his right foreleg and shoulder where fur no longer grows.
It can take a minute to properly identify just what this canine is. To those in the know, though, his species isn't quite so vague. As a coywolf, Watcher physically resembles his coyote heritage more than his wolf as a whole. He's smaller and leaner than a wolf, with the longer ears and lighter build one would expect to see on a coyote. He's got a thick coat, though, and it lends him a bit of false bulk that usually makes him just look a bit shabby. His paws are also larger, ending with curving claws. His muzzle is a bit broader though not so heavy as a wolf but contains the same array of sharp teeth. Overall, he's a tawny grey-ticked coloration with a darker saddle. His undersides are lighter and he has yellow eyes.
After having escorted Watcher's young pup back home to her family, the coyote pack has went on a hunt of their own for a certain Ahroun. The trio of lupine leap and bound through the woods, chasing each other and nipping at one another's tails and ears as they jockey for place and rank through their run with the Uktena easily outpacing the two of two legged born Gnawers. As they come into view, Mouse Trap barks. He sees him! There he is! Quick, get the rope and a bag to catch him in!
Song-of-Ashes may outmaster his packmates in four paws and is fairly smart for a feral, but some days he just hits a mental stumbling block. As he comes to a halt, he cocks his head at Mouse-Trap and his posture shrinks to a confused sort of apology. He didn't know he was supposed to bring anything and it seems the lupus is regretful of it.
Can wolves swear? Chugs-the-Mystery-Brew seems to manage it, somehow. About fucking time! He continues his path until it reaches the Walker, and attempts to stop with his front paws on Six-Shooter's back, to 'hold him in place'. Got him!
Six-Shooter perks an ear and huffs a greeting when he hears the familiar sounds. Six-Shooter has been here, comes the slightly wry statement, head lifting up and a slight whole-body shaking off that follows. And has been not-here. And then he's pounced on, twisting a little to nip at the other's paws, and there's the slightest hint of a growl that's not quite warning before the Glass Walker takes this as an invitation to tussle and to gain the upper hand. Or at least free himself. It is a very big bawn. That's followed by a questioning whine. Important?
Tumbling right in after Chugs is Mouse Trap as he leaps in to tackle the other Ahroun. They are so coordinated in their wriggling, squirmy attack as he nips here and there where he can. Got you! Quick, Three Mountains! THE ROPE! (Obviously there is no rope, but let's have the feral born panic some more.) Very important that we capture you!
Song-of-Ashes huffs that he is not Three Mountains but the protest is short lived as he looks left, right, then under and utters a high-pitched whine that's threatening to break into a mournful howl. There is none! He'll look for vines! And then the Galliard's galloping for the path back to the edge of the treeline.
It's about this point that a jaunty sort of carefree whistling can be heard from just beyond the treeline.
It is, at least, a clearly playful attack. Chugs seems perfectly willing for it to turn into a tussle, which in itself likely counts as Six-Shooter getting free, although the upper hand is harder to get, particularly now that it's more or less two to one. Don't you try to escape! You have a spirit to meet! And it IS a very big bawn. He seems decidedly amused with the last agreement.
Six-Shooter is not making himself particularly difficult to capture, nor is he biting back particularly hard, but he's not giving in, either. Boop! After all, it's more fun when you can manage to hit your friends on the nose, right? Boop! Very important, he agrees. Could have howled. Six-Shooter would have come. The whistling, however, prompts squirming away and a bit of a distance out from the other two wolves with far too much speed to be natural, the alertness now all business.
Laughing, Mouse Trap howls after his fleeing packmate. Forget the rope! It is fine! Giving a wolfish grin to the pair, he sprawls out across Six-Shooter's back with a final flop, then peeks over the shoulder of the other to the whistling. Yes, OhNo wishes to meet you now on the other side. He confirms. He is eager.
Song-of-Ashes is halfway up the path when he hears Mouse Trap howl and he stops and looks over his shoulder. Huffing, he drops his head and tail and moves to turn about and return to his pack like a failure. As it so happens, the whistling brings one oversized ear upright and is followed by the other to fix on the approach of Nolan.
Those who've met him probably recognize Nolan's vaguely melodic whistle, and it's not long before the man himself appears at the edge of the caern. One eyebrow lifts as he spots the others, head tipped to the side as an amused grin forms.
With Six-Shooter's sudden added speed, Chugs suddenly finds himself landing on the ground instead of his friend's tail, and blinks. Unfair! Still, the whistling has his interest as well, and he glances that way as he rises, shaking out his fur. Attackers don't often whistle. Not melodically, anyway. He makes a friendly move in Nolan's direction as the Fianna comes into actual view. Hello!
There is both agreement, and an amused tongue-loll from Six-Shooter as he looks at the two Gnawers, followed by a shrug and ruffling of fur around his shoulders. Still. The expression that the Fianna gets is not entirely friendly, not yet, and comes instead with some measure of expectation conveyed in the expression. That expectation doesn't go away as the Walker Ahroun shifts up to his birth form and lifts a hand in a wave. In fact, his expression remains remarkably similar.
Justin perks his ears upwards and gives a wry grin to the Fianna as well. He bumps his shoulder to Chugs, then gives Song of Ashes a lick at the ear as he comes closer, chuckling. He was joking you silly tail. Pushing upwards to his paws, he gives a stretch of his body. With a wuffle to his Galliard packmate, he brings his muzzle down close to his ear and grunts out in the mother's touch.
Justin whispers "~I thought of him being good pack material too. He questions everything. But he seems so aloof.~"
Song-of-Ashes wrinkles up his nose and nips at Mouse Trap's neck, not entirely friendly like, and growls out a mild irritation at being made to look foolish. He thumps his rump down onto the ground and turns away from his packmate to look to Nolan with a twitch of his nose. Who are you?
"Nolan," answers the Fianna with a mildly confused look toward the lupus. "AKA Squirrel, ragabash of the Fianna." He starts to point over at the top of the cliffacross the way and then waves his hand dismissively. "Anyway, I'm still here."
Chugs nods slightly to Mouse-Trap, and then shifts up to Homid as well, stretching as he reaches his more accustomed shape. "Evenin', Nolan," Felix greets the Fianna again, "'sup? You run into anythin' interestin' lately?"
Trace nods acknowledgement and the tension in his posture eases a little bit. "Trace Garza. Six-Shooter, Ahroun and Fostern of the Glass Walkers, and Guardian here." There's a nod. "Nice to meet you." There's a grin angled back towards the Coyote pack, and Felix gets a slight shoulder-bump then. "Don't worry," he tells the Coyote pack, "the bag and rope aren't necessary, I promise."
"Yeah, but it'd be way more fun. We even rented this windowless van ..." Justin says one he shifts up as well, then puts Song of Ashes into a bit of a headlock, followed by a rub of his fingers into his scruff. "Hey Nolan! What's going on bro? Good to see you're still in one piece. We're about to head to the Umbra so OhNo can initiate.. I mean .. greet Trace here. You want to come?"
Song-of-Ashes is headlocked and left looking sheepish again at the look from Nolan. The coywolf remains quiet on the subjects at hand though he's still there and listening.
Nolan continues on into the caern, angled toward the fire pit. "Met the cougar and the Rabbit," he offers, repeating the dismissive wave before his hand finds his pocket. To Justin, he says, "That sounds more like a pack thing than an all hands type of activity."
Felix returns Trace's shoulder(ish)-bump, grinning. "Long's you're sure. It =will= make it a lot easier dealin' with the fact we ain't got either, I admit. Unless you'd fit in my duffel." He gives the Walker an appraising eye, then glances to the Fianna again. "We got a Rabbit? I mean, of a kind we don't eat?"
Trace lifts his shoulders and shrugs, and shakes his head. "Don't think I would," he notes. "And I don't know, it might be the sort of thing that just gets funnier with an audience."
"Up to you, Nolan. I know that OhNo been curious about you as well. He thinks you're funny." Justin says as he dusts off his jeans, then slips out a pocket mirror and opens it up to reveal his reflection.
"Funny?" Nolan asks with a bit of a snort. "I'm /funny/," he repeats, more to himself than the others. "An otter thinks I'm funny." He shifts course, then, and rather than take a seat by the fire, he heads toward the great tree. "Rabbit's a fox, or so she said," he adds as an afterthought, calling across to Felix as he finds one of the reflective areas on the trunk.
"Coyote," Felix corrects Nolan, more or less in passing. "A fox like Thomas's a fox? I didn't know we had more of 'em about. So we got a girl fox too. That's interestin'..." He glances to the Uktena, checking whether he seems inclined to lead the group on the crossing this time; if not, he moves over to steal a bit of Justin's mirror for the moment.
Trace pulls a pocketknife from one pocket in to start crossing over himself. There's not much reflective on it, but apparently, it's enough.
Song-of-Ashes has been listening attentively, though seems a bit boggled and intrigued at mention of foxshifters. He didn't know those existed! As his pack gathers to cross the lupus moves to join them in his customary lead-the-urrah-homids-across position.
There is a chuckle from Justin as he waits for Felix and Watcher to snuggle up close, then he lets the Uktena lead them through to the other side.
Given that he's cliath, homid, and traveling alone, Nolan manages the crossing far more easily than one might expect.
It takes Trace quite likely the longest of any present to cross, and when he does, he tucks the pocketknife back away into a pocket, a single and easy breath as he looks around the caern.
Felix takes a good breath as they arrive on the other side, stretching and taking an appreciative look around, particularly at the Tree. It's not a view that's managed to get old, yet, if it ever will. For now, though, he's a bit more focused on his companions, and glancing about for the pack's totem.
As the members of the Sept crosses over, resting in the Caern's center is a rather long and lanky coyote with bright glowing eyes. Instead of laying on the ground, he appears to be settled in a hammock that is tied between two trees, lazily rocking side to side as a human like animal hand is wrapped about a large drink with a twirly straw jutting out of it. Reaching up with his other forepaw to tug a pair of shades down to peek out of them, he gives a quick 'snap' of the fingers as everything goes 'poof' and he lands on his paws, looking much like a normal animal that belongs in the woods. *Hoooowl are you all doing?* He calls over to the coyote pack. *Ah, /this/ must be the one you have all been babbling about. Oh! And you brought fluffy tail as well. Will I be gaining two new pranksters tonight instead of one?*
Song-of-Ashes pops across like there was an open doorway and a people mover, easy even for a lupus and with a pack to boot. Scrawny guy must be heavy on the mojo. He jovially gambols over to Ohno, tail wagging as he greets the totem spirit. ~The Alpha does want all in packs.~ The Galliard says but makes no further commentary.
Nolan steps back from the others and crosses his arms. One hand lifts and waves, a simple warding gesture, before settling again. "Nah. I'm just a spectator at this sport."
Trace blinks a few times more, and there's a brief glance towards Felix, and the Walker is suddenly more tense than he was, although nowhere near the edge of his control. But it's there, at the very least. "And this must be the coyote /I've/ heard so much about," the Glass Walker says, not quite a retort.
"Still just meetin' up, Ohno!," Felix tells his totem easily, "Ain't nothin' quite decided yet. Just sayin' hi, today. An' yeah, this here's Trace. We like him. Trace, yeah, this here's Ohno!. We like him, too. As you mighta guessed." He looks back to the spirit, "Trace useta pack under onea your relations, a while back."
*They told you about me, hmm? Hopefully none of it is any good.* OhNo! says as he gives a leap forward, just to slooowly float through the air in a lazy way, giving a slow twirl before he lands again next to Trace. He tilts his head and gives a few sniffs at him, then gives a wry cackle. *You used to pack under one of my brothers I hear, yes? Yeeees? Tell me all about your jokes. Any famous ones?* He asks as he gives a nod of his head, causing a pot of tea and a few cups to appear with a poof of purple smoke. The pot begins to fill each one up, then sends them one by one to the members near by. With a tilt of his head to Nolan, he seems to be looking at him rather intently for a moment, then 'hmmms' in his throat before his attention once more directs to the others in the pack. *Yes, he does, doesn't he? Mister lonely over there.*
Trace grins a little bit, and sits down, lotus-pose on the ground. "I did," he says. "And there was that time we superglued awakened glitter on half the elders of the tribe in the Bawn's elevator," he continues, "but. Anyway." There's a somewhat purposeful and yet restrained build-up to the way Trace is going about this, "What's the difference between light and hard?" A glance around follows that, and a shrug as he takes the cup of tea, turning it in his hands.
Nolan snorts and gives a quick shake of his head. "Never said I was lonely," he says with a grin.
"One =is= the loneliest number," Felix notes toward Nolan, with a grin back, though it's just as casual as most of his comments. He accepts the tea, and is about to take a sip when Trace asks his question. The timing is pretty good, since if that laugh had come afterward someone might be wearing the tea instead. Presumably he has an answer, though he looks to the totem to see what the coyote's might be.
*You can sleep with the light on!* OhNo! says with a waggle of his brows, followed by a wink. *Here is one in return. Why do ghosts love elevators?* Cackling, he gives a floating circle about Nolan once before he sprawls out on his back in front of Trace, giving his hind leg a twitch. *Awakened glitter you say? Did they shine for days?*
Trace snickers a bit. "It lifts their spirits!" he replies, shaking his head a bit for a moment. "No," he adds. There's a somber pause. "Not just days," the Walker says. "It took them most of a week, /todo la semana/, before they got any of the glitter off."
Nolan watches the spirit, but lifts a brow as he considers the banter. After a moment he takes a few steps closer to the others. "What did they learn?" he asks, both brows raised expectantly.
Felix snickers as well, and drops to sitting. He seems pretty amused at the image of the glittery elders, and glances to Nolan at the Fianna's question, considering briefly. "Well, if nothin' else, I reckon they learned to pay more attention for a while."
*See, this is why I like you, Nolan. You question everything and anything, even if you don't care for the answer. You just like to make people squirm.* OhNo says to fluffy tail with a cackle, then pushes himself upright, giving his ear a scratch with his hind leg while sipping on his floating tea cup. *Yes, what did they learn?*
Trace doesn't seem uncomfortable, but his grin has disappeared and the touch of the dark mood has intensified a little bit. And on top of that, there's a moment of truly palpable rage despite the Walker's control, which doesn't seem to waver either. "Paying more attention to their comings and goings," Trace agrees, and the anger is audible as well. But it's hard to figure out who it's directed at. "They learned for a while. Until we lost Steel Angel to the wraiths and the Queen thing there. So maybe they didn't fucking learn."
Nolan winks at the Coyote, and turns his grin to Trace. "So what would you do, differently? A better prank? A different joke?" He's still keeping himself separate from the main group, but he's close enough, now, for casual conversation.
Justin gives a glance between the trio of them as they talk, then looks over to Felix with a lift of his brow. "Hey Trace, it's cool dude. No need to get upset. You know?"
"Someone don't learn a lesson so great, don't always mean the problem was the teachin'," Felix says. "Sometimes it is. Sometimes it ain't." He shrugs a little, and glances toward Justin, then to Trace.
Trace doesn't seem inclined to answer this latest question with anything more than a glare. "If I was upset," Trace notes, evenly, watching the others, "I wouldn't still be sitting here, and Nolan wouldn't still be standing. Angry, on the other hand, nothing's going to change that." There's a shrug that follows.
"Just questions," Nolan says to Felix, his grin not diminished in the slightest. "If I don't like the results of something I try, I usually try something else. I wonder, what could I change, next time?" He starts walking, pacing a few steps to the side and then circles around in the other direction. "Questions are how we learn things, eh? So how about you?" he says to Felix.
As the conversation flows on, Oh No is sipping his tea in a rather regal manner, but now he is wearing a top hat with a monocle settled over one eye. *Mmm, this herbal blend is quite impeccable I must say.* He gives another loud slurrrrp, then floats a cup over to Trace as well for him to handle. *My son, if I may call you son, it is not to be disrespectful, but because I am /very/ old and wise and handsome, but son, I understand your anger. Even us grand and majestic totems of wisdom feels the anguish of your loss when the mean and nasty Wyrm shits in our cereal.* He floats up closer to the Ahroun, then leans in to whisper against his ear.
Felix stretches out his legs, feet rotating a bit, and tilts his head at Nolan. "How 'bout me which?" he asks. "Do I learn shit by asking questions, do I wonder what I could do different next time, or what?"
Song-of-Ashes has been a perfectly unobtrusive lupus. He sits there, listening and watching, perhaps mentally cataloging this for posterity. He still isn't actually chiming in, though at points he does look properly amused or considering. All in all though, the Uktena sits there and watches.
Trace shifts as he sits a little, the tea cup sipped from, and there's a few nods, and a quiet murmuring of assent towards OhNo! at the quiet words. "I know," he says, barely above a whisper but audibly enough. Still, the expression that he manages isn't quite a smile, although it's close.
Justin watches the pair of them for a moment, coyote and friend, then looks over to Felix and Nolan.
Nolan gives a bit of a laugh to Felix. He casts a glance toward Trace and the spirit, another toward Justin, but then returns his focus to the first. "Any of it," he says. "All of it. What would you do? You see a weakness? The enemy has a foothold on the bawn, right? What would you do, now? What would you change if you could?"
The spirit gives a smile to Trace, then leans in to bump his muzzle to his ear for a moment before floating off a few feet to curl up once more in his hammock that reappears with a shimmer. Sprawling out, he takes another sip of his tea, then lets out an 'ahhhhh'.
Felix glances at totem and Trace as well, with a definite hint of curiosity, but back to Nolan at the answer. "...yeah, I learn shit by askin' questions a fair amount," he says, "but I ain't a Ragabash so it ain't how I roll all day every day. An' I reckon I wonder what I could do different next time sometimes shit goes wrong. Other times I guess I just try an' make a note not to do what fucked up again. What I'd change if I could's us havin' to be half in hidin'," there's a hint of disgust with that, "...I mean, assumin' I can't just change those assholes bein' around at all. Still think might be a way to make the wraiths' telepathy shit a problem for 'em, but, dunno how." He shrugs. "If I had some good ideas for shit to do now I'd be tryin' to get folks to do 'em, already."
Trace reaches up with his free hand and ruffle's the spirit's ear a small bit before the end of the interaction. "Ain't that the truth," he remarks, though it's somewhat still to no one in particular when he shrugs. "And who's to say that going back and doing something different actually produces a different outcome? After all, we Gaia's warriors, not Gaia's fortune-tellers."
Nolan laughs aloud at Trace's addition. "No way to know," he says. "But lots of options to try. And if you don't ask the question, if you don't consider the question, you'll make the same choice and then, you know, you'll have the same outcome." He circles around to face Felix again. "So the wraiths. Has anyone tried getting in their heads? Mindspeak? Mental Speech? Anybody asked the cougar to reach out and touch them?"
Felix tilts his foot and nudges Trace in the ankle with his toe, for no readily apparent reason. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to doing it, either, though it's clearly intentional. "Nah, we ain't tried yet as far as I know," he says, "though we been talkin' it some. Cougar's thinkin' through how to do it, talkin' 'bout tryin' to maybe set up some kinda intermediary fuse thing to keep his mind safe, last I heard. Ain't seen him in a minute. There's two problems with tryin' to just reach out an' touch 'em. Number one is, we dunno if they can," he pauses, looking for how to put it, and shrugs, settling on, "backwash or somethin', an' that might be a problem, an' number two, prolly we don't want 'em knowin' we tried it 'cause if one of 'em knows hypotheoretically they all do. Anyway, that's what folks've said when it was gettin' talked about. Also, maybe usin' part of the dead wraiths from the moot attack in talens that'd let us poke their link-thing. 'cause even if we can't use it to really fuck 'em up, which'd rock, seems like if we could get rid of it that'd at least put 'em in a bad spot too."
"All good things to think about," Nolan says with a bit of a nod. "At least all the work collecting the bones will be worth it. Is anybody working with the spirits, yet?"
"In general? I know Dakota's been workin' on talen shit, though I dunno exactly what except the bodies're involved," Felix says, glancing toward the tree with slightly narrowed eyes. "Ain't actually got a chance to really talk a lotta things with Theurges, lately." From the tone, this is a realisation. "So I ain't entirely sure. My =guess= would be yeah, but who an' how much an' exactly how..." A headshake.
Trace does grin a little bit at the nudge from the Gnawer galliard, though for a long moment, he's sipping the tea and listening. Then he huffs quietly. "That was the theurge who was saying at the last thing, that that sort of talen making ended up disgusting?" he asks Felix, confirmation.
"Who, and how much," Nolan repeats, giving a small shake of his head. "Disgusting?" he asks, turning his focus to Trace. "Because of the bones, or is something else going on?"
Felix nods to Trace. "Yeah, that'd be Dakota. Ritemistress, Adren Gaian Theurge. She's in charge of that part, from what I've heard." Nolan's headshake gets a small shrug, though it doesn't seem like a dismissive one, "Do my best, but I'm just one Galliard." The ghost of a glance toward the Walker as he adds, "An' it's a real big bawn. Impression I had is it's makin' talens outta body parts that's kinda gross." A less ghostly look to Trace, to see if he happens to have any further insight on that one.
Trace lifts his shoulders in a slightly bigger shrug this time around. "Haven't met her properly or anything," he notes. "Just overheard her at one of the gathering things speaking to someone else. If there is something else going on, well, /no sé/, and I haven't been told either."
"Well," Nolan says, glancing from one to the other. "I guess I'll go have a look for myself." He offers a grin and a nod of his head, and then shifts his course to circle back toward the tree.
As he hums to himself, OhNo! continues to watch the three as he gives an amused grin. *See, now you guys are thinking outside the box. I like it.* After finishing off another cup of tea, he floats off the hammock and makes his way back towards Trace with a saunter.
"Well, lemme know what you find," Felix requests, giving the Fianna a half-smile, "I am =tryin'= to keep track of everythin' goin' on an' who's doin' it, at least." He takes a sip of his self-refilling tea, and glances sidelong toward the totem as OhNo! approaches.
Trace nods to Nolan, once, and then unfolds his legs and leans backwards on his free hand. "Boxes," the Walker notes, "are mostly only good for shoving your shit in when moving from one place to another."
Once the Fianna leaves, the coyote spirit gives a knowing grin before he turns back to his packlings and the Glass Walker. *Well?* He asks as he floats around him a few times in lazy swimming like circles. *Do you have any questions for me? Anything you are curious to know?*
"Ain't the only time boxes're good for shovin' your shit in," Felix murmurs, and flops onto his back, one arm under his head as a pillow, the other managing not to spill ALL the tea while he moves, though some does splash over the side.
"I said mostly," the Walker points out, laughing for a moment. "I have a million questions and none at the same time." He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I suppose there's one that comes out above the rest, though." A pause, and he continues, "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
*Roughly twenty-four miles an hour.* The coyote spirit says with a wily grin immediately in response. *I like you. A lot. Even if you are grumpier than I usually play with. But, I think I can help lighten you up. You lost a lot and your heart is heavy. I can bring you laughter, family and terrible jokes.* OhNo says as he settles down in front of him. *So I ask you. Will you join my cause in pranking the Wyrm and doing no good? Pretty please with sugar on top?* There is amusement in the Discordian voice of the coyote. *And you can ask me those million questions as they come to you as long as we prank side by side together.*
Felix grins at Trace's reply, and more so at the question and the answer. He looks as though he's about to chime in, but when the spirit continues, he goes quiet instead, listening, and looks from the totem to the Walker when OhNo! finishes. His head tilts, brows lifting a bit in question.
All of this prompts the first lasting smile that Trace has had the entire evening. He inhales, and glances from OhNo! to Felix to Justin to Watcher and then back to OhNo! once again. "/Sí/. Yeah. Yes," he eventually says after a long moment of silence. "I'd like that." He pauses again, and then continues. I'd like that a lot, to get to move forward with you guys by my side."
The coyote gives a wider smile upon his face. *Oh! That is very good news indeed. I was afraid to go with plan B if you were to refuse. It would involve a lot of lime jello with chunks of fruit in it.* Leaning forward, he wraps a massive paw around the Glass Walker and tugs him in for a hug. *Welcome my son and brother and uncle and puppy in law to your new family. Now, as an entrance fee, I believe you know the drill. By the next full moon, you must go out and lay the laughter on some poor fool.*
Justin perks upwards at the acknowledgement, then lets out a loud whistle between his fingers. "¡Increíble! ¡Tengo mi hermano de otra madre española!"
Felix whoops and sits up, throwing an arm around Trace and giving him a hug as well -- or half of one, anyhow. It's enthusiastic, either way. "Welcome to the pack, man!" He grins broadly, and asks OhNo!, "Did you have to mention jello? I've been hungry all day."
Pack> Justin waves!
Pack> Felix grins!
Trace leans his forehead against the coyote spirit's muzzle for a long minute. "Oh, I have plans," the Walker states in reference to the prank-to-be, grinning. "Though I might need a few supplies from town, but oh yes, I have plans..." He grins, and Felix gets a half hug in return as well. "Except for the whole cooling part, might be able to make jello shots back at the compound if I tried hard enough." There's a long pause that follows, and a little bit of blinking at the contact that he isn't used to. The Glass Walker has walls, and they're strong and significant, but there's a difference in them now, followed by a smile.
Pack> Trace says "Yeah."
"I got a bottle of tequila that I snagged in the city in hopes that you'd say yes." Justin says with a proud grin on his face, his own smile stretched in happiness. He seems to be full of energy now. Wide awake.
Ohno bumps his snout against his new follower, then chuckles. *I can't wait to see it! I hope it has fireworks. Lots and lots of pretty colors.* Cackling, he gives a salute across the brow, then starts off with the most cocky of saunters that a coyote can possess. Reaching out of no where, he puts on a pair of shades, then says, *Prank ya later guys! Also, come up with a new pack name.* With that, he swirls away in a colorful swirl of smoke, then whisps off through the trees.
"I got..." Felix trails off, head cocked and gaze off sideways while he takes a mental inventory, "...well, I got some various shit. Though no tequila, I don't think. Wonder how we could set jello if we tried it? We know anyone with a gift for makin' shit cold?" He glances after their disappearing totem, "Also he just reminded me we're gettin' on June. Prime firework-gettin' season startin' up!"
Trace grins. "I can think of some people that could use fireworks being set off under their tails," the Walker notes. "That tequila sounds like an idea," he agrees. "Pretty sure I can work fireworks into all this somehow." He says, "I know I'm kinda a little grumpy and touchy sometimes..." this is delivered deadpan enough that the Ahroun clearly knows it's an understatement, "and I'm really glad that you guys think well of me to pack with me anyway."
"Who's tail are you thinking of setting them off under? Samantha?" Justin lets out a snicker as he pushes himself upwards. "And I'm cool with you being grumpy. We're going to do great things together, I know of it. The four of us and maybe Benny if he comes back with his head out his ass will run this city and paint it purple once all this Queen crap blows over."
"Usually I aim for paintin' it red, but I reckon you could talk me into purple," Felix says, grinning again. "An' I'm in favour of workin' fireworks into near anythin'." He pushes up to his feet as well, stretching. "Anyway, you ain't THAT grumpy, an' we all got our flaws." Pause. "'cept me, obviously. I'm flawless."
The Walker slips upward and back into his lupus form when he gets to his feet, and nips quietly at Felix's ankles. Uh-huh. His posture is full of evident disbelief at the whole flawless part. Many tails, he clarifies. We could paint it red and purple at the same time.
"Pretty sure you're the shortest person in the pack, stumpy." Justin says to Felix with a grin as he pushes at his shoulder, then shifts down into the wolf form as well to give a loud howl to the umbral sky. We should drink!
Felix grins broadly at Justin, and shrugs. "Yeah, for sure I am. An' you're the tallest, beanpole. So what?" He nods to Trace, "Prolly a couple other colours while we're at it," and then shifts down to join the others in the lupine form, and join Justin in a joyful howl.
Six-Shooter gives a loud, joyful howl that finishes off with a series of shorter howls, before turning to pounce on both of his new packmates and tussle briefly again. We should, he agrees.