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.
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 nicely-fitting dark indigo jeans, today with a blue t-shirt bearing the superman logo, the print very faded and the fabric looking thin enough that it may have genuinely gotten that way through time and not retro-merchandising. The shirt's rather snug in a flattering sort of way. Over it he's wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned, with a scattered pattern of tiny blue and red dolphins; he's also in possession of a pair of white plastic wayfarer-style sunglasses with iridescent indigo lenses. 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.
Though only 5'4", her slim athletic body is well toned with tight, sleek muscles. Her skin is a pale cream, left free of most cosmetics. Faded lines of white mark her wrists and arms, barely seen on her light complexion. Noticeably, however, is an ash-darkened scar running the length of the top of her right hand. Normally hidden by clothes is another - a jagged, large scar that runs from the back of her right shoulder blade up across and over her collar bone to her chest. Her eyes are a dark brown, ranging from neutrality to expressive. Her hair is long and wavy, a rich, dark auburn brown that is generally left loose, but occasionally bound. Her clothing is mostly cotton and denim, all of it generally casual and leaning towards a laid-back bohemian style.
A woman, in theory, but not one that could pass any close inspection as being a modern human. She's pushing 6 feet, with olive skin and shoulder length dark brown hair that's almost always pulled back into a simple, tight ponytail. Her eyes are dark, arguably black. She has a low brow and a jaw that's somewhat oversized for her skull, as well as visible dark hair on her arms and the backs of her hands, and she tends to walk with a hunched sort of lope, balanced on her toes rather than the flat of her feet. Her ears are distinctly pointed, as are her teeth.
Her clothing isn't ragged, but it does tend to be rather frayed around the edges. She wears faded jeans and old but sturdy sneakers with decent treads, a variety of cheap shirts, a long sleeved button-up shirt when the wind is up, and oftentimes has a light jacket tied about her waist, as if she wanted to be prepared just in case. Her hands are well calloused, both on the palm, fingertips, and knuckles. Oftentimes she wears a very well used pair of fingerless gloves, though often these appear to have been made fingerless after the fact.
The initial impression of this creature is a portrait of the enemy. Her fur is a dingy black and grey, and her ears are a little too long for a wolf, the fur on them a little too short and fine in comparison to the rest of her head. Small thin folds of bare grey skin stretch noticeably from the outside of her elbows and back toward her body, and again from the back of her legs to her tail; the patagia is minor enough and flexible enough to avoid restricting movement, but impossible to mistake for anything else. Her eyes seem entirely black except when they widen enough to show what little white exists, dark unpleasant pools that do nothing to soften her overall image.
She's wiry for a werewolf, but her musculature is well defined. Too well defined. Her fur and skin seem to pull unnaturally over her frame when she engages in any real movement, a sensation more subconscious than not, and a close study reveals patterns in what can be seen of her muscles that are a little too perfect, a little too precise. Her teeth and claws gleam brilliantly metallic and deadly sharp, clearly unnatural to any observer. She carries herself in a way that suggests she's intimately familiar with her warform and entirely comfortable using it.
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. Those with sensitive noses might notice he has no scent.
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.
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.
Slug's frame is tall and lanky, somewhere in the neighborhood of six feet tall and just under two hundred pounds... But it's hard to really pin down the particulars. His semi-loose, dull orange hoodie hides much of his body and breaks up his frame, hiding the outline of his body. The hood is almost always up, and he takes pains to use it to obfuscate as much of his face as possible... And it isn't hard to see why. The right side of this young man's tan face has been torn up something awful. Deep troughs of keloid tissue run from just beneath his wild red bangs, across his high cheek, and terminate somewhere on his slender, stubbled jaw. It's hard to tell when he's got his yellow sunglasses on, but not both of his blue eyes move. It's likely the right one is severely damaged in some way, or false.
Beneath the hoodie's neckline, one might get a flash of the white tank beneath, especially on a hot day. The zipper on his hoodie has been rubbed with grit and dirt to take the shine out of it, and so has every other bit of metal on him, from hoodie right on down to his black zip-up boots. His jeans are significantly tighter than his hoodie, and often stained with something or another. On his hands he wears a pair of black fingerless gloves, something cheap and throw-away.
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.
A man that looks to be in his early to mid forties, Thomas stands at just a hair under six feet. His features are predominantly Asian (Korean, to those who can tell the difference), with almond shaped eyes dark enough to appear almost black, low eyebrows, and a slightly crooked nose. His skin color speaks mostly toward his mixed heritage; it's darkly bronzed and weather beaten, with laugh lines crinkling near the corners of the eyes. His hair is a silky black, worn long and pulled back into a neat ponytail. He also sports a goatee, kept only long enough to be somewhat bristly to the touch, the black liberally laced with a smattering of grey hairs. The man's build is lean and compact, and he carries himself with a certain athletic grace that's unmistakable.
He appears to favor simple collared shirts of various types (usually black or white), and loose fitting, well worn jeans and hiking boots, but above all, he seems quite attached to a long brown oiled canvas duster. Even in warm weather, he's rarely seen without it. Occasionally, he pairs this with a brown fedora so battered and used that it might actually appear older than the man wearing it. He's wearing what looks like small, hematite beads around his neck, but most of the necklace is tucked under his shirt and out of sight.
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.
Val is roughly sixteen years of age, although she could easily be a touch younger, or older. She has an angular face, with high cheekbones, and a particularly prominent nose. The young woman's appearance is influenced by her strong northern Italian ancestry; brown eyes and pale olive-tinted skin that darkens to a deep rich brown during the summer months. Val stands an even five feet in height, with a slender whip-thin build, and only the faintest of curves that identify her as female. Her hair has been cropped short, spiked, and dyed a brilliant shade of lemon yellow. When she speaks, which is often, the stud piercing her tongue can be seen.
Currently, the teen is wearing a form-fitting white shirt, with a lacy v-neck. Over the shirt, she wears an attractively cut leather jacket with metal studs across the shoulders and along the waistline. On her right wrist, she wears a thin charm bracelet, from which dangle a few birds, an old-style sun with a face on it, an egg, and a lippy-mouth. Val's legs are covered by a pair of skinny denim jeans and her feet are shod in a pair of dark brown hiking shoes. On her fingers, she wears a number of thick rings, some with a mirrored surface, others holding the luster of stainless steel. The young woman wears what looks like a custom black leather backpack, with with a web-like design of stainless-steel cording threaded through the heavy material. The bag hangs from her shoulders, always filled with something or another.
Despite Val's youth, small stature, and thin frame, she moves with an easy, sure-footed grace. Her movements are quick, practiced, and at times, a little on the jerky side.
Pack> Trace is SMUG at the moment.
The skies are growing dark but remain clear, and while the temperature is mild there's a goodly wind pushing through the trees. It's enough to make the fire burning in the compound dance and hiss. Thane is present already in his human form, looking much as he always does and patiently awaiting the arrival of others.
Dakota is among those arriving. The Rite Mistress appears to be alone and is carrying a small bundle of red fabric cupped in one hand. She says nothing as she moves to find herself a place to sit and settles in with her legs crossed.
Trace has been here a while. Most of the day, in fact. He's sitting on the ground near the fire pit, cigarette lit and resting loosely between his lips.
Ghost arrives with hunched shoulders and her usual quiet step. She has a scoped rifle with her, but it's slung around her neck and one shoulder rather than readied for use. She heads immediately for an unoccupied spot near the rear of the gathering.
As Ghost passes a tree, there's a sharp pop! in one of the trees above those already gathered.
Felix has not been here nearly as long as Trace, but he's sprawled out on the ground by the Ahroun, an arm under his own head for a pillow, smoking as well while he chats with the Walker. "He thinks he don't have any, but I reckon we could find some somewhere. Float on Lake Arthur, maybe, next time it gets real hot--" He breaks off at the sudden pop, sitting up slightly and glancing that direction.
From not far away comes the sound of whistling, the typical, cheerful tune that presages Nolan's arrival.
Slug comes walking through the sticks, all wrapped-up in a loose bit of tattered brown cloth that could be called a poncho. Because that's not odd enough, the Gnawer's also got on a pair of moth-bitten Mickey Mouse ears. Patches of faintly glowing green moss cling to his shoulders, back, and ears, lending him the appearance of a man who's just won a fight with a glowstick.
<OOC> Spark says "The 'pop' is definitely NOT gunfire."
<OOC> Slug assumes it was One Direction.
Pack> Trace keeps most of his excitement contained to the pack link.
Ghost snaps her head sharply toward the tree, and looks up.
Snakepatcher comes from the depths of the forest, pacing his way through the trees, cautiously circling and sniffing from afar the scents from the sept compound before he comes into the area.
Pack> Felix lets amusement and anticipation show in the link. Not a touch of the apparent confusion he's displaying in person.
There's another pop! as Slug enters the clearing, and a series of them that get louder as Snakepatcher does so. The very last one, however, is accompanied by a rain of... confetti? Yes, that is glittery paper confetti, down from the tree and onto the Uktena.
Trace looks up at the first pop. The second, and then the series of them, seem to startle the Glass Walker from his attention on his conversation with his packmate. "Sounds like a plan," he says.
Thane squints towards the popping noise with a furrow of his brows. Given the tension in his position, it'd be likely to assume he'd be hackled if he had fur on. The appearance of the confetti only has his shoulders dropping a marginal degree and his eye turns, rather inevitably, upon the representatives of the coyote pack.
Pack> Trace says "The fun's barely started, act innocent!"
Nolan makes his appearance soon after the last of the pops, and his attention is still oriented on the direction from which they came when he steps into view.
Slug does look around, but he doesn't seem particularly interested or all that worried about the noises. He lights a cigarette as he walks toward the group of Garou, hand cupped around the flame to hide it's light in his palm. He looks in Dakota's direction, then at Snakepatcher, and to the sky.
Ghost's narrowed eyes narrow further, but she continues on to her chosen loner spot, looking irritable, but less alarmed.
Snakepatcher comes to a dead halt, sniffs at the confetti dripping off him onto the ground, and slowly scans around the area until he finds the Coyote pack members. The Uktena gives a pointed look at the Coyote pack member, stalks over to Felix and Trace, and shakes his coat vigorously until he gets as much confetti on the Coyotes as is on him.
All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel... The tinny melody that drifts out from somewhere on the ground is recognizable, and followed by another series of small pops! in the trees, and more confetti.
Felix's brow furrows at the further popping, and he sits up further -- and then there's confetti, and he gives a startled laugh. He takes an appraising look around at those arriving, and then, suddenly, confetti's been shaken onto HIM. He yelps, laughing a bit and trying to 'protect' himself with his arms. "Hey!" he protests, and then stops, turning his head to try to locate the music.
Pack> Justin says "I'm here! I'm here! What'd I miss so far?"
Coming through the treeline is Justin, looking as if he is hurrying quickly and picking leaves out of his hair. He is wearing a pair of saggy jeans and a tank top. As he heads through, a pop gives him a startled stumble, then looks upwards as he is showered with glitter. Amused, he heads for his packmates and flops down next to them. "I feel like I got Tinkerbelled."
Pack> Trace says "You missed that!"
Ghost settles into her spot, standing rather than sitting, and crosses her arms.
Pack> Felix laughs a fair bit more in the link than he is to normal view.
Trace doesn't make an effort to shield himself from the confetti being shaken onto him, but he can't help but start laughing at the glitter getting his packmate, and he looks over at Justin and shrugs.
Nolan brushes stray bits of confetti from his hair and shoulder. He looks around, and, after a moment moves to stand a bit nearer to Ghost.
A black furred fox with silver guard hairs flits out of the underbrush, seemingly unbothered by the near legion of Garou present. It pauses to shake a bit of confetti from its fur, then lopes near the fire and sits down as if it belonged.
"You LOOK like you got Tinkerbelled!" Felix greets Justin, laughing, "Prolly ain't the next new style." He leans over to ash his cigarette, then attempts to brush some of Snakepatcher's donated confetti from his hair. With the other hand, luckily. It's still not all that effective.
Thane gives a noisy snort as the glitter continues and growls, "That had best be biodegradable by morning or someone will be picking up every bit of that with tweezers." The music has him looking even more cross, "So is this all your work or do we have your totem to blame again?" The Alpha says to the trio of yote-pledged Garou.
Dakota gives Slug's questioning look a thumb's up with her free hand before she turns back to watch the goings on. As n o one is getting flayed, the Gaian isn't rushing to her feet, but the music does have her head on a swivel.
The music fades after one repetition. On the other hand, the arrival of the fox seems to trigger another series of pops in the trees that shade the clearing. This time, all of them rain confetti down upon those gathered.
Justin looks upwards at Thane with a wry grin on his face. "Hey boss, for a change, I have no clue what is going on. I'm not taking credit for this one, though I'm digging the tunes." He says as he snaps his fingers in time with the beat.
Ghost scowls a little and brushes confetti out of her hair and off her shoulders. Nolan gets a quick, slightly surprised looking glance, but the glabro'd Walker is clearly not enjoying herself at the moment.
Trace looks up from some contemplation at the series of pops. "Of course it's biodegradable," Trace says, somewhat indignant. Or at least, trying to be, though he's laughing too hard to keep a straight face by this point.
Nolan offers Ghost a grin and then turns his focus to Trace. "What was the lesson?"
Pack> Trace says "The lesson is going to be a punch to his face if he's not careful."
Pack> Felix snorts.
Pack> Justin is amused. "I don't know if I like that guy anymore. He reminds me of Fitz, but smarter."
Trace looks over at Nolan. "Why don't /you/ tell /me/," Trace suggests, the words taking on a hard edge, "whenever you've finally figured it out."
Pack> Trace says "I didn't like him to start with."
Alicia heads through the woods to take a stand next to Thane, leaning in to give him a gentle bump of the shoulder.
Something in Ghost's scowling expression cracks at this, and she makes a noise that's half snort, half actual, genuine laugh.
Felix does look like he's quite enjoying himself, glancing around as the confetti rains down. "I don't even know how you'd make somethin' do that," he says toward Thane. He does, however, also look as though he'd quite like to. Trace's declaration of biodegradability gets a broad grin at his newest packmate, and the response to Nolan's question doesn't dim it.
There goes the tinny attempt at music again, triggered by someone's movement apparently. This time, though, it's not the same melody. Nor does it come from the same place. The teensy weensy spider crawled up the water spout...
Slug stands right where he is, still, his posture much straighter than usual ( yet still somewhat slack ). He's staring off into the woods, or through them, his eyes practically glassed over.
Pack> Felix says "Ain't my least favourite person, but he does get on my tits with all that constant answer-demandin' shit."
Nolan chuckles, shaking his head, letting a few more bits of confetti fall from his hair. "Honestly, haven't a clue." He holds both hands up in a hapless shrug. "What am I supposed to learn?"
A blink of light takes the appearance of Briari as she drops her blurred gift once she crosses past the woods. She glances over her shoulder now and then, then takes a seat on one of the logs with a sigh.
Pack> Justin says "Yeah. I think he thinks he is being funny. I feel something is off about him though."
Pack> Trace says "Maybe he's supposed to learn to shut the fuck up. But telling him that would REALLY be more appropriate by punching him."
Pack> Justin says "You should tell him that. Dude is a cliath, he shouldn't be giving you shit."
The series of popping sounds as Briari sits down is much louder, or at least, much closer. In fact, it seems to be emanating from under the log, which 'gives' slightly. And then a moment passes and the realisation should set in for most of those gathered. Bubble wrap.
The fox seems unruffled by the noises and tinny music. He gives his fur a thorough shaking out, and then slides smoothly up into a far more human, far more recognizable shape, from which he adjusts his old battered hat and then takes up a cross-legged sit on the ground itself.
Pack> Felix says "I don't think he thinks he's funny. I think he thinks he's makin' us think. Don't reckon the intention's that that thinkin's that his face could use a fist."
Brings-the-Pack arrives as if from shadows, some 20' off the ground, on a branch, in his usual spot.
Thane crosses his arms in front of his chest as he looks towards Nolan. "I get the feeling the lessons are less about hard facts and more about 'lightening up'." A lesson to which the Sept Alpha seems to be heartily flipping a figurative bird to. He brushes off a few tinkles of glitter that are getting caught up in the wind.
Pack> Justin says "Oh No really likes him though. But I almost wonder if that's his way of pranking /us/."
Pack> Trace says "Pretty sure there's about ten or so more of those confetti things still up in the trees."
"Well, I'm lightened," Thomas drawls. "Shall we get this here party started?"
Nolan brings a fist to his mouth, theatrically coughing, "boring."
Pack> Trace says "The more he talks the more I want to punch him."
The cougar mage's appearance prompts one last round of pops! up in the trees. More glitter and confetti drifts down, though some of it seems to have been placed specifically to get Brings-the-Pack, who ends up just as covered in glitter as everyone else.
Pack> Felix says "Wonder what kinda prank might teach him a lesson he could use."
Pack> Trace suggests, "One where he ends up with duct tape over his mouth?"
Pack> Justin says "We could prank him with a tire iron."
Ghost makes an exasperated sound as she's forced to brush more confetti, and now glitter, from her hair and clothes. The attempt works for the confetti, but not for the glitter.
Pack> Felix says "I dunno, man, I remember last time you did that."
Trace doesn't seem like he's going to deign the Fianna ragabash with any more attention aside from a brief but wholly hostile glance, and he lifts his shoulders after Thomas speaks. Something does seem to be amusing the Walker ahroun, though, and it's not necessarily the prank itself.
Dakota remains where she's sitting with her knees brought up to her chest, giving a quiet chuckle from her spot and grinning a little wider as more glitter finds its way towards the mage. She politely stills her laughter though as Thane clears his throat.
"Let's." Remarks Thane on the tail end of the Kitsune's prompt. "As for the usual reason for this gathering, firstly, does anyone have any news they wish to share?"
Pack> Justin says "... Yes, we pranked that guy to death."
Briari lets out a clear of her throat and raises her hand upwards to gain the Alpha's attention.
Nolan laughs at something, still grinning as he shifts his attention between Briari and Thane.
Thane gives a wave of his hand towards Briari. "There's no bones here, just stand up and speak."
Slug simply shakes his head and ashes his cigarette, looking far too grave ( or tired ) for someone with a set of mouse ears.
Felix grins up at the glittery cougar, and shifts position, getting comfortable again as things get started. He hasn't yet finished his cigarette, and seems inclined to continue with it for the moment.
Brings-the-Pack starts at the pops, lowering to an attack/defense position, and then seems to realize he's been pranked. He shakes himself off, sharing glitter with anyone who happens to be below him.
Trace looks up at Brings-the-Pack, offering the cat a bright thumbs-up gesture and a slight grin.
Giving a nod of her head, Briari rises upwards from the bubble wrapped log, then gives a look out towards the rest of the Sept. "I feel that tonight is the time that I bring forth information that I have been holding on to for a few weeks now. I have been directed to gain as much intelligence as I can from the Spiral dancer known as Blue. By 'befriending' him, we were able to take out the mage with the information that he delivered to me. He also warned us of the upcoming attacks both in the city and here at Edgewood." She gives a moment to pause as she stubs her foot against the ground a few more times. "During one of our meet ups, I uncovered that he is actually the hive leader of Seattle known as Renegade and he has been using an illusion upon himself to conceal his identity. He is currently hiding from the Queen because the two are at odds. Both want the other dead and he has allies on the inside working against her under his command."
Ghost seemingly abandons her futile attempts to get the glitter off, and turns her attention toward Briari. Her expression settles into a sort of pursed, guarded look.
Slug smiles wryly, but he offers no input other than that. He sighs, looks at the stump that was his cigarette, and drops the remainder into a bottle produced from beneath his poncho.
Thane doesn't take this news with the least bit of surprise or added tension. Given the tension popping glitter bombs caused, it gives a pretty clear suggestion he's likely familiar with this bit of information.
Dakota listens to the shared news and gets a little pale, her lips pulling into a tight line. She doesn't say a thing but keeps a close watch on the other faces present and their reactions.
Nolan smirks, and then looks down at the ground not far from his feet, shoulders trembling slightly. After a moment, he looks back to Briari with a more neutral, if still lighthearted, expression.
Ghost's attention slides away from Briari for a moment as she looks toward Nolan. A frown--well, a deeper frown--pulls at the corners of her mouth.
As Briari speaks, a teenager with bright yellow hair appears on a branch above the Mage-Cougar.
Thomas rubs his chin. His eyebrows have arched noticeably, and he seems to be as interested in the other Garou's reaction to this news as the news itelf.
"Renegade also came by the other day to speak with me. He confirmed what we already suspected, that Peter, one of our kinfolk of the Shadow Lords, who was working on the inside to infiltrate the tower's security has been compromised. Peter was the one who gave away our safehouse information, as well as Edgewood. It is not his fault though, the Queen used her mind controlling powers on him to make him her slave. So now I guess he is in love with her." Briari says as she continues to kick the ground a few more times. "And, after our talk, Renegade had his allies break Peter out of the tower and is now holding on to him while he ... ah ... detoxes .. from the spell he is under." She shifts her jaw a bit. "I tried to bargain his release but Renegade is playing hard ball with me. If I push him too hard he will see me as a threat. So .. that is where we stand with Peter. He is no longer in the tower. Renegade has assured me they are not going to harm Peter and he will be released back to us soon." She shrugs her shoulders upwards. "So, take that however you want to. I know he has been playing me as much as I have been playing him and we have been dancing in circles on the chess board for awhile now. I don't know what to do. I can track him anywhere and everywhere. I can lead us to his hiding spot. We can attack him. But .. right now it's two against one in regards to the Queen."
Trace pulls out another cigarette and lights it from the base of his old one as this news all gets relayed. It does seem to have sobered his mood though, and he casts a silent glance towards the sky.
Ghost's jaw tightens as she turns her attention back to Briari.
Felix does look slightly startled -- not at Briari talking to Blue, but the Renegade part, that gets his eyebrows up a bit. So does the part about Peter. He glances toward the tree he last saw the raven in, just in time to see her famous bird-into-girl trick; it gets a quick grin in her direction.
<OOC> Val did actually pop into existence via gift. sorry. one hand tablet typing. feeding the baby.
Briari gives a lick of her teeth, then says, "During the assassination of the mayor, three spirals appeared to be after Renegade, and he found me in the crowd. I caught sight of them and recognized at least one, which was the pig nosed spiral from the club that he was DJing at. So, after I found out their location, I dropped that bit of info to him to see how he would react. I was trying to gauge his emotional response to see if they were his packmates or actually spirals under the Queen's influence. I told him that a hit squad was enroute to take them out. The next day, he told me that he took care of them by simply 'telling' them to leave." She rolls her shoulders back. "So that means either he lied to me and they /were/ his packmates, or he actually has a stronger influence on the spirals under the Queen's service and that his name alone is enough to send them cowering off. As far as I know, they are no longer in St. Claire and they have left the area."
Trace drums his fingers on his knees and continues to simply listen.
When Briari's words turn to Peter's situation, Nolan's expression becomes sour. That is, until the flash appears above, and he turns his focus on the girl, there. He seems to tense for a moment, but as the others don't seem alarmed, he lets his attention split between girl and Glass Walker.
Thomas audibly sighs. "Well, that' a ball've trouble and no mistake."
After a few moments, Briari gives a nod of her head, then says, ".. and that's all." She inches back to her log and settles down, sliding her head down into her hands.
Brings-the-Pack looks up at the yellow-haired Val on a branch above him, moves slightly so he's less directly underneath the corax, and then settles back down on the lower branch he's on. A few more specks of glitter fall to the ground below.
"A safe bet to assume a large portion of what he says are lies." Thane says as Briari finishes. "He wouldn't be here unless he didn't trust others to act on his behalf but neither is he going to do anything, especially involving us, that doesn't leave him at some benefit. Briari is aware that I've spoken to him. Tempting as it would be to remove him, we need to keep sight on the bigger issue. He has agreed that, if his people get out and we don't come after him, he'll aid us in the attack on the Tower. Not directly, but assist in sabotage, misdirection, and all of that we'd expect from Garou who fight from the shadows. The matter of us /needing/ their help is another topic. If we try and make a move on him likely he'll leave, but I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't leave a mess for us to contend with. Of course, help or no, there's no saying he'll be happy staying in Seattle and out of our business like he's said or if he wouln't come for us. Me? Right now I say he's the lesser of the evils we face."
Pack> Justin says "Well, that's a bag of suck."
Val balances on her perch with the aid of her hands, as her legs swing loosely back and forth. "The Spirals that chased Blue did skip town. Can't confirm that they're all currently out of town right now. I watched them for awhile. The didn't talk much and struck me as kinda quiet. Most Spirals I've eyeballed are louder and more violent, even when it's just three of them holed up in a motel. Struck me as a bit odd, is all."
Pack> Trace says "Yeah, it really is. But we need to deal with the Queen first even if that means... this."
Tearing his attention away from the girl above to focus on Thane, Nolan rolls his shoulders in discontent. "So, uh. What did we give up?" he asks, looking from Thane to Briari and back.
"Nothing. I gave nothing up. I'm a good chess player." Briari can be heard mumbling to herself as she runs her fingers back through her hair. "I nudged him enough to get information out of him that would be useful in taking out the mage. It was a win-win for us. We do his dirty work, he hand delivers the package to us. We actually worked pretty well together all things said."
"But he knows where you live, right?" Nolan asks. "Or lived, I know you said you were moving. Does he know the name the lease was under?"
Ghost shifts in place, looking back and forth between the speakers.
Slug sits down on the ground, one knee up, the other leg straight out. "He's learned your name. My name. Thane's name. He's learned other little things, things that might or might not be important, depending on what his goals are. Anything that might seem useless to us might be important to him. Every piece of info can be used to paint a picture."
Briari gives a shake of her head. "No, my lease was under the name of Jessica Jones. That was my 'alias'. I am sure he can track me wherever I go if he has the same skill-set as I do. But, I am not important. I completed what I sought out to. If he comes for me, then I will make sure that he has a bad day in return. But I'm no longer living at my flag."
Trace is listening for a long time, but then there's a moment, and he glances over towards Briari, and pushes to his feet to address his tribemate. "When you can stomach the idea and put it in a way, where you consider that 'working with', you have taken steps down the wrong road already." He lets out a breath. "Watch yourself." That said, he sits back down, lotus-pose like he was before.
Pack> Trace says "I. Don't. Like. It."
Thomas raises an eyebrow at Trace. No commentary from him though, it seems. He's still rubbing thoughtfully at his scruffy beard.
Val's legs stop swinging. "I'd say he got his hands on a Gaian Kinfolk. Although, I'd be worried about the poor guy's mental health at this stage."
Pack> Justin says "It is what it is. We /got/ the mage which gives us complete entry to the tower. It's not a total loss. Sides', if they got Peter, he is probably going to give up more than anything she could have gave."
Thane turns his eye up to Val and adds, "Followers of the Beast of War are. These follow the Eater of Souls. They don't want your blood, they want your mind." He turns his eyes back towards Nolan. "We gave nothing that isn't already known - or compromised." He adds on Val's statement. "He has people inside the Tower. Suffice to say, what the Queen knows of us he probably knows. He's a powerful Ragabash by all accounts. No doubt he can find quite a lot out if he wants. He stated he was content to have us be brains and brawn and he helps remove the Queen, a working truce so to speak. Perhaps more correctly a cease fire. The Queen is as much a risk to the hive as she is to our caern. He goes home at the end, we're left with the Queen gone, and that's that. Given word is now out who he is though, I can't guarantee he wouln't just leave to avoid the risk of anyone getting an itchy trigger finger. What Briari did was with my knowledge and consent. She's kept me informed of things through this process."
Trace settles back down, although his own tension has risen significantly.
"Names have power," Nolan says, half under his breath, and he glances from Briari to Slug and then refocuses on Thane. "What about the kin?"
Pack> Justin says "Chill bro. Trust in the boss man. So far we've made far more impact than other Septs have. We're fifty percent to victory."
Pack> Trace makes a skeptical, half-strangled mental noise in the pack link, and an impression of shaking his head. "You just told me to trust. A Shadow Lord. Not exactly about to happen."
Pack> Justin says "Yeah, a Shadow Lord who has personally raised me since I was a cub and trained me to fight when my own tribe peaced the fuck out and left me high and dry."
Ghost seems rather antsy. She's shifting her weight repeatedly from one foot to the other, but she's also not speaking.
Pack> Trace lets out a mental breath. "That may be. In any case. Trust takes..." there's a pause. "Time."
"Peter's future is being discussed." Thane says to Nolan. "His life may still be forfeit. Even if he never intended to betray us, what the Queen's forces can do to the mind can have... permanent impacts. There's no saying he has any sanity left. As we haven't gotten confirmation from Renegade that Peter is actually alive, whole, and in his possession is questionable. He could just be a false bargaining chip."
Ghost suddenly turns sharply on her heel and heads off into the brush.
Thomas finally speaks up. "Well...'scuse the interruption, but there're ways to verify." He glances up toward Val and Brings-the-Pack, before looking back toward Thane.
For just a moment, something harder edged comes to Nolan's posture and expression, but then Ghost makes her departure, and he turns to watch her leave. When he turns back, the humor is back in the form of a smirk. "All right," he says.
Tilting her head over to Thomas, Alicia says, "Yeah?" She sounds genuinely curious. "How can you tell?"
Ghost's departure sets off another round of sharp pops! above the garou, more confetti raining down on them, and apparently the tinny 'pop goes the weasel' music once again.
Pack> Justin lets out a mental snicker, followed by a loud laugh.
Pack> Trace says "I did /say/ there were more."
Pack> Trace a moment later adds, "Well. I told you guys, at least."
Brings-the-Pack pushes to all fours, balancing effortlessly upon the branch he's perched upon. He addresses the sept. "I had a lengthy talk last night with the Hanford mage, who has primarily been studying The Nothing, but who has also spent a short while looking into the Queen's forces. As most of you likely know already, The Nothing has been corrupting the Queen's allies and is an immediate threat. We discussed the feasability of tapping into the wraiths' telepathic communication network, to either listen in or disrupt it, and we both came to the conclusion that this action would almost certainly open up the listener or broadcaster to the Queen's influence--if not the entire collective influence and will of those connected. If the garou--or other allies gathered here tonight--have similar gifts or rites or magicks, be warned that attempting something along these lines might lead to your own corruption." He then adds, "The wraiths are able to suck life away, and the ones who suck more life from others become much stronger than others of their kind. Beware that the wraiths are not equal to one another. Just because one was easy to best does not mean the next one will be. Also, the wraiths can give life back; however, this give-and-take quickly bends the will of the recipient, making them slaves to the wraiths and servants to the Queen. This may be what was done earlier to Peter, and this may be how they manage to recruit Spirals, mages, and others--forcing them to do the Queen's bidding whether they wish to or not." He further adds, "If this was done to the Spirals from Seattle, then not only has the Queen taken many of them to serve as her soldiers, but those soldiers have also likely shared the location of their hive, safehouses, access to bank accounts and other resources, the names of their septmates and kin, and other valuable knowledge. Renegade most certainly has reasons enough to want to see the Queen destroyed and to work with the sept. Something to consider while discussing Peter."
Thomas explains, in his usual casual way, "Tracking Gifts won't work if'n he's dead. Same with rites. And there're ways to go take a look that I don't think they'd notice." He quiets, however, as Brings-the-Pack starts to speak.
Felix glances off after Ghost, head slightly tilted and a furrow to his brow, though they dissolve to small snirk as another of the poppers goes off. The lift to his mood is brief, though, and he goes back to looking quietly thoughtful as the cougar speaks.
Justin gives a firm nod. "Yeah, and it fucking hurts when they do that too you. It's why I got aged up a few years. When they snag you, it paralyzes you and all you can feel is your guts on fire."
Pack> Felix laughs somewhat more in the link than aloud, at that residual confetti.
Nolan peers up at the cougar, brow creasing. "Sounds a bit like torture," he says, turning back to the others. "Would you want to give up on someone who risks himself for your cause and is tortured for his trouble?" He glances in the direction Ghost went. "Might make your current allies a little cautious about risking their lives."
"No one is going to give up on Peter." Alicia confirms with a firm tone to her voice. "We owe it to him to get him back. We just have to make sure we can pull it off without compromising the security of our Sept, or getting a bunch of us killed in the process. Obviously we can track him, perhaps we can get eyes on the situation and see what we're up against first. /Then/, we can make a decision." She says as her head tilts up towards Val and Nick.
"I know what that give and take feels like." Thane says to Brings-the-Pack. "Once didn't prove enough to do any serious damage but it would be fairly easy to break the will even of Garou given enough time. Kinfolk... it's be simple. If I can recover Peter I will but I also can't risk everything for him. He knew the risks going into this and accepted them. I don't enjoy working alongside the Spirals but in *this* endeavor I don't see why Renegade would turn on us. Later? Maybe he'll have to tend with him, certainly the day will eventually come, but why damage his forces fighting us and them? If we succeed against the Queen, we've proven ourselves all the stronger foes for him to challenge. We lose? Well, there likely wouln't be any of us left to fight back against anyone. I'm keeping an eye out for the knife though. At the moment, that's what we have. If you have issues with it, I can call another meeting to discuss this when more of us are present or you can speak to me directly."
Brings-the-Pack suggests, "With Renegade's sept divided, and with his Seattle hive, safehouses, kin, and remaining sept members endangered, the garou of this sept may be in a position to simply demand Peter's return."
"I tried that. I got an 'or what' response back on the phone with him." Briari says as her shoulders lift. "But, I'm sure he doesn't take me seriously either as a threat to him, at least not physically."
Trace's gaze follows the conversation, from one speaker to the next. He tips the cigarettes, still open and previously on his lap, in his packmates' direction, during this, but is otherwise silent.
Felix accepts Trace's offer, with a slight tilt of the head in thanks. He lights the new cigarette from the small remainder of the last, then pinches that one out. He's quiet as well, and also clearly paying attention to the speakers.
Pack> Felix says "Thanks."
"How weak is his hive?" Nolan asks. "We don't really know, do we? Do we know how strong they were before all of this?" He takes a step forward, now that Ghost is gone, and looks around at the others. "Are we in a position to make demands of anyone? There are Dancers crawling all over the house by the road. They're digging trenches, building fortifications against us. They haven't dug too far into the forest, but they will. And what are we going to do about it?"
Pack> Justin says "Someone needs to wire his mouth shut."
"Why don't you scout it out for us and let us know what you find." Justin pipes up as he fishes out some gum from his pocket, then pops a piece into his mouth.
"Can confirm that," Thomas offers. "Messing up your meadow something awful." At the scent of cigarette smoke, he himself seems to give in, as he pats around inside his duster (apparently his duster has inside pockets), and produces a flat tin that, when opened, is clearly full of hand rolled cigarettes.
"I just told you what I found," Nolan says to Justin, half laughing through the words.
"It's a major city, with at least one pack of Renegade's strength, and it's been there a long time." Slug sucks in a lungful of ash and sighs. "Just assume that Seattle's strength is on par with our's, little more, or a little less."
"Whose Spirals are at Edgewood? Renegade's? Or the Queen's?" The cougar-mage makes a guess. "I suspect they are the Queen's, which should give an idea of how depleted Renegade's forces are." He qualifies this statement with, "This is just an assumption on my part and not some mystickal insight I've garnered."
Trace glances between Nolan and his packmate. This time, though, when he speaks he doesn't stand, remaining sitting. And fairly still. "I've been tossing the idea around," Trace says, "picking off their outliers and whittling down their numbers by Edgewood. At this point we have to assume the ones who took the house are directly under the Queen's thrall," he says, with a nod to Brings-the-Pack. He takes a breath. "I ain't gonna ask anyone to go with me that isn't volunteering. But it would sure as hell be nice to do."
"If you'd like to go visit Seattle and find out, be my guest." Thane says with a growl in his voice to Nolan. "We don't even know much about Renegade let alone the hive but given we've all existed at a relative stalemate I'd presume Slug's assessment is a good point to start. Our reputation helps for things winding up dead that come against us, and that was Renegade who said that. As for Edgewood, that's not high on the priority list. If we can get around it to take out the Queen, then good. They'll be easier to remove without her influence. We can't waste lives and supplies on Edgewood that we need at the Tower."
Thomas lights up, then tucks his tin away again. He's quiet now that the Garou are talking back and forth more.
Trace looks over at Thane, head tilting to one side for a moment. "Wasn't suggesting a direct confrontation. More along the lines of sniper rifle and some silver. Pare down their numbers some."
"Just outta curiosity," Felix asks, "What happened to the silver bullets those wraiths were shootin' when they crashed the moot? They didn't manage to shoot 'em all before we got 'em, right? An' do we know where in the tower the Queen is? 'cause I kinda thought she was on the top floor, but," a glance up toward Val, "I think maybe that ain't right."
Giving a stretch of her body upwards, Alicia says, "Which brings the conversation full circle. What should we do about the tower? We got two floors that are blacked out that we are sure she is hiding on. We know they can slip into the umbra as well. The tower is surrounded by banes the size of semi trucks. With the mage out, we can at least get inside, but we need to figure out who is going in and we need an exit strategy."
<OOC> Thomas says "As a minor correction, three floors I believe."
Ghost returns with as little fanfare as she left (perhaps less, if the confetti has finally run out). She looks incredibly tense, but whatever sent her off seems to have been buried.
Nolan blinks at Thane. Then blinks again. "They're sitting on the doorstep of the caern, and you don't think that's a priority? They're becoming entrenched. They're building a staging area from which to attack. What happens when you ignore their army, and go after the tower? What happens to your caern, then?"
"Speaking of the Queen," Val says, piping up again. "I took a little look around the top floor of Queen's Tower right before Edgewood was attacked. Floor was empty, aside from a single massive ritual space. "There were some dried up husks that used to be human and one poor sot that had this huge pimple like thing growing out of his back. Took video, so anyone who wants to tale a lookie-loo can."
"Nolan, if you're so fucking concerned, go do something about it. All you do is run your fucking mouth but I don't see you getting your claws wet. Either we throw bodies at the Edgewood and risk getting killed and losing a lot of bodies, or we take out the Queen first which will fuck up her influence on them, /then/ we deal with them after if they are still sticking around. If you got a better idea, fucking say it instead of throwing out a bunch of fucking Captain Obvious questions at us. I know that is your /thing/ but I'm five seconds from breaking your fucking jaw so we can get some peace from your annoying as fuck voice." Justin fires back at the Ragabash as the beast rises up in his throat, rumbling out as a growl.
Pack> Justin is obviously frustrated.
"Heyo, hold on a pinch," Thomas says around the cigarette. "Ain't that his whole job?"
Trace puts a hand on Justin's shoulder very briefly, standing up as his packmate speaks. And walking over towards the Fianna ragabash, with a glance back briefly. "You're five seconds. I'm past that," he murmurs, though Thomas's words get half a moment pause. When he /gets/ to Nolan, though, there's no words. Instead, he moves far too fast in closing the distance and there is rage fueled, forceful punch straight to the Ragabash's jaw as the ahroun calls on his gift of Falling Touch. "Congratu-fucking-lations," Trace says, looking down as he walks off. "You learned the fucking lesson." He takes a breath. "All by yourself."
Trace is practically radiating rage at this point, and he takes a slow steadying breath. A few people get nods, and then the ahroun is exiting stage left, which prompts one last round of confetti-glitter-explosions in the trees in his wake.
Briari glances back and forth between the Coyotes and the Fianna, then looks up to Val. "I would love to see that video.."
Pack> Trace says "I'm gonna go take a walk. Before I throat him."
Pack> Justin says "No way man, you should stick around. Dude is a cliath. He needs to know his place. If you peace out, he wins."
Ghost startles, being so close to the sudden violence. Her tension seems to snap as well, and roughly the instant after Trace's hit connects, she surges up that single step more into crinos. A crinos with patagia, slightly too-long, too-lightly furred ears, black eyes, and metal teeth and claws. It's not exactly a sight to lower tensions. She snarls, spitting froth.
"Everyone calm the fuck down!" Alicia commands as she steps forward, shifting upwards into the warform as well. ~We are not going to start killing each other out here. We need to take a deep breath, process all of this information, then make a plan. Seriously, we are so close to victory. We have made deeper strides than any other Sept. We need to hold it together and do what we do best, which is stop the enemy.~
Brings-the-Pack watches the garou below berate one another, start hitting, and things escalating in general. He takes a few steps backwards, reversing upon his branch, as if preparing to depart--potentially in haste.
Val eyes the Garou warily, then turns her attention to the Cougar. "Hey there Whiskers, have a question for you. If the Queen is using this give and take of life for to addict people in a way and make them serve her, could you poke at the Spirals around Edgewood and see if they are addicted? Briari said something about Peter needing to detox. Can't imagine that is any fun and if the same thing were to happen to the Spirals if we took out the Queen... Well, it might give us an advantage. Oh fuck!" Val swears, as all hell starts to break loose.
Thane squares his shoulders and stands up straighter as he fixes a look on Nolan that's tight with reining in his growing agitation. When the punch is thrown though the Shadow Lord is in Crinos with a flare of Rage and his roar fills the air. ~ENOUGH!~ One claw is pointed towards Trace. ~Go cool off.~ Then to Ghost, ~You, calm down.~ And finally to Nolan, his lone eye wrathful. ~And you. Job though it may be, Ragabash, I now ask you: With what army? You can see how many of us there are. We cannot fight two wars at once. We go for the Queen. Without her, the Spirals have no leadership. We can sweep Edgewood with them fighting to recover.~
Pack> Felix says "Do what you gotta, man."
Thomas continues to sit and smoke, although the sharp eyed would note he's watching the others very carefully, and while his limbs show no sign of tension, that's no guarantee he's not prepared to move.
Slug makes a 'tsk' sound and spits, his cigarette hanging limply from his fingers. He looks around at all the collected Garou, tilts his mouse ears back, and claps his off hand to his sweaty brow. "You don't have to attack them. You don't even have to clear them out of Edgewood. All you really have to do is convince them to leave, if that."
Nolan watches Trace's advance, and though he makes no move to block the punch, nor to defend himself, he does roll with it, laughing even as he hits the ground. "It's a ragabash's job to question," he says as Trace walks away, one elbow underneath him, one hand rubbing at his jaw.
Felix similarly sits and smokes, watching the interactions with less than his usual expressiveness; he's actually fairly hard to read at the moment, aside from the clear attention to what's going on. The first really clear reaction is to Slug, who gets a rather interested look. "Whatcha got in mind?" he asks his tribemate; from the tone, he must think it likely there's an answer.
Ghost-in-the-Machine's ears slick back and, with effort, she drops from a full stand into a three point crouch. She doesn't manage a shift downward though, and her tongue lolls as she pants heavily.
Pack> Trace says "I'll be up by the boulder, eventually. Figure I'll set the fireworks off later tonight."
Pack> Felix says "Nice. Everything's better with fireworks."
Pack> Trace gives a bit of a mental nod. "Yeah. I heard Thane yelling at me to go cool off as I left... Figure the boulder will be good for watching them from."
Pack> Felix says "Catch you there later, I reckon."
Brings-the-Pack stops his slow, backward retreat as things seem to calm down. He looks upwards to Val and says, "I might be able to. Might not. But it could be something worth attempting."
Val nods, legs starting to swing back and forth again. "Alright."
"The easiest, simplest thing would be to attack somewhere else. Don't need to stay. Don't need to do a lot. Just attack here, attack there, stretch their forces and make them react. You could even use this to convince them that these attacks were nothing, just little... pokes. Then the main attack might catch them off guard." Slug pauses for a puff, looking up at the sky. "If they're the Queen's men, them being at Edgewood is an advantage, in a way. It means less people at the tower. You could attack hard, fast, and win, with most of them too far away to react. Or," Slug gestures in a rolling manner. "Just harass them from a distance. Use infra-red, Cyber Senses, stuff. Pick out the wraiths in the group. Scout. Shoot at them. Harass them with RC cars that have bombs strapped to them. Call for rain from the spirits so they're cold and miserable, ambush them when they go to the city for food. Stuff like that. There are other ways of doing it, but those are the most obvious options."
Brings-the-Pack looks about to see what the other garou seem to think of Slug's various suggestions.
Thane slowly resumes his breed form and takes a few moments to straighten out his shirt while the others speak. "If you can formulate a way to risk minimal Garou keeping Edgewood busy while the rest move on the Tower, it might help to divide the Queen's attentions. My concerns remain the same though. We need our best on the Tower. Enough will have to stay behind during the attack to watch over the caern as it is. The next full moon is Midsummer, the time of The Great Hunt. If Gaia does not call on us to strike, then by the next full moon we need to prepare. We can't wait forever and if she comes for us then our chances of victory are slim."
Nolan remains prone for a bit longer, rubbing at his jaw. When Slug starts offering other options, though, he grins, and pushes to his feet and dusts off the leaf debris.
Ghost-in-the-Machine seems to shrink in on herself, and with further effort, she slowly, slowly returns to glabro, where the scoped rifle slung around her shoulder and neck reappears. She remains crouched for the moment, and there's a darker look in her eyes than usual.
"I like RC cars with bombs on 'em," Felix says, grinning at Slug, "...or RC planes maybe too. I know shootin' at 'em from afar's somethin' Trace'd plenty like to do. If we had them silver bullets they were aimin' to use on us, be fun givin' 'em back. Still think if any of 'em go off alone they oughta be gettin' got..." He drums his fingers briefly on the log behind him. "It'd be nice to be doin' shit. Aside from patrollin', I mean."
"Larger rifle," Ghost mutters. She rubs her hairy face harshly before looking up. "Bigger caliber, I mean. It's too expensive for me though."
Nolan casts a glance toward Ghost, and then does a double-take, watching her for a little longer. "Hmm," he says, without much obvious meaning behind the sound.
Brings-the-Pack seems to notice the Uktena who's present. "Reggie," the cat says towards him. "I am hoping to observe and study someone who knows how to use the gift that creates darkness, like I have been told the Uktena know, and which the Spirals seem to commonly use. Do you know it? And perhaps some other time you could use the gift while I examine how it works? I ask because I am looking at ways to render it useless when the Spirals use it against the sept next."
"Where's it at? Might be we could just lift it," Felix suggests, looking to Ghost; the cougar's request of Reggie draws some of his attention as well.
"I could," Ghost says, although her frown deepens. "It wouldn't be uh, hard. It's just it's really expensive. So's the ammunition. And it would probably make the local news." She licks her lips. "I could, uh, we wouldn't need that much ammunition, I guess. But it would set the store owner back pretty hard if his insurance isn't good."
Sparkles glitter in Snakepatcher's fur, making this Uktena disco-ready, as he slowly cranes his head upwards, seeking that who would use his name from so high above. Have you not spoken of this causing corruption? The Uktena then snorts, sending a small sparkling hurricane. I forgot. Wait. And he transforms into his homid-form, the transformation sending showers of glitter worthy of any transformation from Sailor Moon. "Did you say just tonight that it would cause corruption?" He taps his chest, "My corruption?"
"Why don't we just steal it from the polce, instead?" Slug suggests in a tone that might just be half-serious.
Brings-the-Pack looks down at the uktena ahroun, quirking an ear back quizzically for a moment, and then pivoting in forward. "No. That was the wraiths. If they drain you and feed you and drain you and feed you repeatedly. I merely wish to study this gift that the Uktena and the Spirals seem to have in common. If you know it, that is. I've not seen Silvertip recently or I would have asked her."
Nolan turns a quizical glance to the Uktena, staring for a moment, before turning back to Ghost and Slug. "Then what?"
"Depends. Before making any plans, you study your enemy. You look at what they're doing. You think about them. The best possible victory is won without fighting," Slug says, shrugging. "Though that's not likely."
Ghost admits, "I don't know if they have one. Maybe. Harder to get." She explains to Nolan, ".50 cal. It would, um, punch a pretty thorough hole in anything. Probably won't kill the Dancers. Not uh, not without a head shot. And its loud, really loud. Silver ammunition would be impractical, probably impossible. But getting shot with it would stop or severely slow anyone." There's a nervous sort of fidget with her fingers. "I'd have to get used to the recoil again, but I'm a lot stronger these days."
"Ah. Good for that clarification", Reggie's nod turns into a shake as he clears an ear of glitter. "I know the gift of creating darkness."
Felix sprawls out a bit more, leaning on one of the logs -- it makes a few bubble-wrap pops, and he looks startled for a fraction of a second before he laughs and continues getting comfortable. "We got cops an' ex-cops around," he says, "Kin. Might be they'd know if the cops got one, an' where it'd be. If you did wanna look there." The idea seems to be amusing.
Nolan nods to Slug. "I can help with that. I've got a good vantage to keep an eye on things over at the house."
"Excellent," the cougar-mage purrs at Reggie. He then asks, "Perhaps you could demonstrate it for me a few times in the near future? It might help save lives when the Spirals next attack. Or undermine their battle strategy."
"Good." Slug stands up then, hands in his pockets. "Now, no one do anything risky that'll force everyone else to react. We'll set everything up, pick something, and go from there- and try to remember to chill out. This was all during a New Moon." He jerks his head at nothing in particular. "Things could have gotten bloody if this had been a regular moot."
"I'm tempted to use it right now", Reggie holds up his hand, squints, and shakes off errant specks of confetti, "to stop feeling like an extra on Twilight." He grimaces at Slug's line. "Countin' by sevens. I'm up somewhere in the high hundreds."
"If now is better for you, I have no objection," the cat-mage replies to the Uktena. "Although... perhaps not where it might affect the others present?"
"I'm so chill I'm in danger of freezer-burn," Felix says, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette before he takes another drag off it. It is at least =closer= to true than when the moon is larger, or at least it appears to be. "If y'all are gonna plot shit, though, let me in on it."
Nolan laughs aloud at something Slug says, and gives a small shake of his head. He looks over to Ghost and says, his voice softer than before. "I found someone to take the trip with me. We'll head off as soon as there's a bit more moon to see by."
Ghost adjusts the strap around her chest, then looks at Nolan. She gives a small nod in response.
Reggie holds up a hand as he shakes his head. "After I stop having to count." He eyes his shiny hand, "Going to take more than a count", shifts down to lupus, and charges off into the forest.
"Killer." Slug hooks his thumb off into the woods. "I'm going to go... not be around Garou for a while, and chew on some aspirin." And with that, he turns and leaves.
Nolan rubs again at the side of his jaw and gives a nod to Slug. "Seems like a plan," he says, but rather than leave, he starts digging around under the logs and around the edge of the clearing.
As if to punctuate things, as Slug is leaving, there's a pop from in another of the trees, and another brief shower of glitter and confetti, where no one currently stands. Felix glances over, and watches with continued amusement as it falls.
Now that the more violence-prone garou are gone, Brings-the-Pack drops out of the tree and lands on the ground with a soft *whump*. He stretches and yawns. "Well. Glad the earlier violence at the moot did not escalate further."
Ghost makes a heavily exasperated noise as she again tries, futilely, to brush glitter out of her hair. "This is never fucking coming out."
"So am I," Nolan answers the Mage-Cat with a laugh. "It probably would have been a lot of my blood turning all that confetti red." There doesn't seem to be any glitter left on him, nor any dirt from where he fell.
Felix watches Ghost aim to brush the glitter out with, alas, more amusement, although after several moments he relents and offers, "Yeah, it will. Shower or jump in the lake or somethin', it'll be fine. 's just sugar-based, 's made to go on cakes."
Brings-the-Pack suggests to Nolan, "Sit further away from them next time. Or don't provoke them quite so much. Perhaps both, to be on the safe side. They both seem to have short fuses." To Felix he asides, "So you were in on the joke?"
Again, Nolan laughs, and he looks over to the cat. "I'm not sure I'm capable of that. Especially since the one who punched me wasn't the target of the questions I was asking. If he's going to react like that to the important questions that need asking, even when they're not being asked of him, it's possible I'm going to need to gain a few more bruises."
"What's even the point of that?" Ghost asks. "It just made a mess." She forces herself to stop trying to brush it away, however, and finally settles into a full sit, rather than the crouch.
Brings-the-Pack turns, as if preparing to leave. "Garou are not entirely rational creatures. And some allow their anger to rule them." A beat. "Or simply have difficulty controling it."
"He told me what the glitter is," Felix replies to the cat, tapping his temple, and then glances around again, mostly at the trees, "I got no idea how he managed this." He takes another drag off the cigarette, considering the Fianna for a moment. "You ask me," he says, "which you didn't, but I'm gonna pretend you did, you got some good questions but you ain't got a lotta tact with 'em. You ask shit like you got all the answers an' everyone else's an idiot. Except then answers ain't your job, as I recall. Gets folks' back up." He shrugs. "Yeah, they got fairly short fuses. They're Ahrouns."
Ghost's nose wrinkles, but any comment she has seems to be held back. Instead, she turns to watch Brings-the-Pack as he makes to leave.
"Answers aren't," Nolan agrees with a grin, lifting a hand to wave farewell to the cat. "It isn't the ragabash's job to know everything. It isn't anyone's. The job of the ragabash is to keep people from leaping forward without having thought everything through. The questions need to be asked. They don't even need to be answered in that moment. When I ask, "What about the house by the road?" I'm not saying, "We need to take control of it right this second, and here's how!" I'm saying, "We can't /ignore/ that they have an army on our doorstep, and are becoming more and more entrenched." If I have to get punched in the face to keep the leaders of this Sept from taking our forces to the tower and forgetting the army that will take the caern while we're gone? It's worth it."
Felix sits up a bit more, leaning an arm on the log as he looks across it to where Nolan is; there's more bubble-wrap popping, but this time he doesn't particularly react to it. "An' I ain't sayin' don't ask. Like I said, you got some good questions, an' there's a lotta shit that needs considered. All the fuckin' time. All I'm sayin' is, how shit gets said affects how folks take it. An' a buncha the time, the way you say it comes off like you DO expect instant answers, an' like if folks ain't got 'em, they're fuck-ups. Like you're puttin' yourself above it all, an' now an' then it's a question that yeah, of =course= some folks've been thinkin' of it, even tryin' to bring it up. Trace's been wantin' to do shit about Edgewood for ages. So've I, though I sure as hell ain't gonna claim I'm doin' mad plans an' schemes that are gonna save all our asses or nothin'. I just don't like 'em there an' plus, I get bored." He shrugs again, and leans the other way, ashing his cigarette into the firepit. "I ain't a Ragabash, an' I ain't a great planner. But that's my impression if you ain't =sold= on gettin' punched bein' ideal." There's a quick grin.
"Being Ahroun isn't an excuse," Ghost finally says. After a moment she continues, a little firmer. "You shouldn't try to piss them off just because, but they shouldn't try to uh, try to lord their anger over everyone else. It's their responsibility to keep themselves under control."
"Well," Nolan says, and then pauses as Ghost chimes in, and he nods at her words. He rubs at his chin, though there's no sign of redness or impending bruise. "It's not the /goal/ to get punched, though it is the goal to get attention. If I ask..." He pauses and his posture changes, shoulders hunchingb, brows rising. His voice, when he continues, is a little higher pitched, softer, more cautious. "If I'm. If I'm meek, and. And unassuming. And quiet and calm and nonthreatening..." He straightens, laughing, and shakes his head. "They won't think about what I'm saying." He grins, glancing over at Ghost, and then back to Felix, something else clearly on his mind.
Pack> Trace is significantly calmer now than he was earlier.
Felix grins more at the change of voice and posture, shaking his head. "Yeah, but ain't necessary headin' =that= path either. The aim's gettin' people to take shit on board, yeah? So it ain't ideal if they end up wantin' to fight it on principle, neither. Or resentin' it when they gotta accept you got a point. If I was tryin' to make those points, I sure as hell wouldn't be all 'oh um if you don't mind' an' shit, but I'd be tryin' to come off on the same side. Workin' with." He takes a drag, with a faint smile, and then inclines his head slightly to Ghost. "...an' nah, folks shouldn't oughta lord their whatever. Anger or not. Far's I've ever seen it's just harder for 'em. On average. Right or wrong, generally speakin', they just =are= gonna have shorter fuses'n some other folks."
"Yeah," Ghost says. "But everyone else has fuses too." Her shoulders hunch a bit at the end of this as she turns to look where most of the Garou departed, and then she lets out a heavy breath it wasn't entirely clear she was holding.
Nolan laughs again and shakes his head at Felix. "Try this. Just for a day or so, try asking questions. Ask them as nicely as you like. But ask. Ask why, ask how, ask whatever comes to mind, and if nothing comes to mind, force it, because there are always questions to be asked. I'll bet you..." He frowns and digs around in his pocket, eventually pulling out a folded set of bills and a few coins. "I'll bet you, what, five dollars? That no matter how nicely, how respectfully you go about it, just having the questions asked will put them on edge. They get defensive, not because of /how/ the questions are asked, but because they /are/ being asked."
Felix inclines his head slightly to Ghost again, and shakes his head back at Nolan. "I already ask a lotta questions. You ask 'em to prod people into thinkin' about shit might be they ain't yet. I mostly ask 'em to find out the answers, 'cause I gotta know what's goin' on. Or try to, anyhow. Ain't been punched for it yet." A slight pause. "Well, not since I settled down here, anyhow. I asked a lotta snarkier shit when I was a cub an' all. 'cause I =wanted= to fuck with folks." There's a brief grin again, somewhat toothier than before, and then a shrug. "It ain't really about askin' =nicely= or... I ain't quite sure what you got in mind as askin' respectfully. Anyway, I gave you my two cents, I reckon I don't mind takin' your five dollars if that's whatcha want. But I ain't necessarily gonna ask every question that comes into my head."
"I don't like most of what was said tonight," Ghost says, unasked. A little of her previous tension has returned. "Is that how it is around here? Making deals with them, and um, and just hoping they keep their word about captured kin?"
"If you won't ask questions to try and make them think, you don't get my money," Nolan says, winking at Felix. His attention turns to Ghost, though, and his expression sobers. "I can't answer that," he says. "But those are good questions."
Felix tilts his head, glancing sidelong off at nothing while he exhales a breath of smoke, and allows, "I =might= now an' then ask shit to try an' make someone think. But it ain't that often, 'cause like I say, I ain't a Ragabash. ...an' if I do I don't generally let on." Ghost's questions get a thoughtful look. "I dunno," he says, "I think might be you been around here longest of the three of us, technically. I ain't sure I'm real thrilled with that situation neither, but on the other hand, workin' with those fuckers DID help get that warper outta the way an' I s'pose it makes sense not trying to fight both groups at once. Wouldn't trust 'em half as far as I could throw 'em though. An' I really don't like the idea of 'em havin' hold of one of our kin."
Pack> Trace says "Guess I'm going to come back and clean up the stuff that isn't biodegradable, I think."
Pack> Trace adds, "I'll try not to punch anyone this time."
Pack> Felix says "A'right. Give you a hand if you want. Still got Nolan an' Ghost hangin' here, everyone else's cleared out."
Pack> Trace says "Yeah. I'm not that far off, be there in a few."
"They don't think that way," Ghost says, her voice quiet, but thick with tension. "They don't /think/ that way. The way they were saying."
There are footsteps from the forest, though no one in sight quite yet.
Any trace of humor is gone from Nolan's posture and expression, and his lips twitch in a frown. "No," he says with infinite certainty. "No, they'll use what they can, of us, from us, and there is no such thing as a bargain struck. Anything we give with the thought of getting something back is a loss. Maybe we gained something. Maybe. But at what cost?" He swallows, glancing toward the sound. "And no one, kin or garou, is disposable."
"Sounded like there's intention to try an' figure out just where an' how he is," Felix says, "...an' don't think which way, logically?" It sounds like a genuine question. "Are you thinkin' they're more likely to go all scorpion an' the frog than wait 'til after they got the joint enemy down to start eyein' us up for next?"
Ghost shakes her head in response. "I don't know. But they um, they don't act in good faith. They don't respect us, and they /like/ hurting people, especially Garou. And Briari..." Her voice trails off, and once again she looks in the direction most of the Garou left. Whatever she was going to say appears to pinch off at the end.
"Scorpion and the frog," Nolan says with an uncertain tone and a lift of his shoulders. "I don't think it's as straightforward as that. But if they have the opportunity to hurt us? To gain from us while serving their own needs? They'll take it. The Wyrm isn't just about destruction," he says, glancing to Ghost and then returning to Felix again. "Corruption, seduction. A deal made with the devil /always/ has a cost, and it's never as straightforward as what you see on the page."
Trace comes into the clearing, thumbs jammed into his pocket and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He raises a hand in greeting, and then-- carefully-- goes to kneel briefly next to one of the trees, coming out with a small thing about the size of his thumb, most likely a motion sensor.
"Yo, T!" Felix calls to his packmate as the Walker arrives, lifting a hand in reply; there's still a bit of lit cigarette in his, although it's nearly finished. He looks back to the others, considering. "I don't reckon no one thinks they ain't liable to try an' play angles to get shit workin' in their best interests. 's a question of what they think their best interests are..." It's more thinking out loud than anything else. "Whatcha thinkin' about Briari?" he asks Ghost, then.
Ghost's cheeks flush a little. "Look, she's..." She hesitates again, and then continues, ".../naive/. I mean, really...really naive. And she's always talking about being inexperienced. And Mr. Thane has her dealing with the guy in charge of the Seattle Hive? A Ragabash? And she's doing it alone? I just. I couldn't do that, I know I couldn't."
Nolan glances to Trace at his arrival, but most of the Fianna's attention remains on Ghost. He nods once, a hint of humor returning to his expression. "A child, attempting to negotiate with the Devil himself," he says. "Do you think she has what it takes to know when she's being manipulated? Maybe, just maybe, there should be someone keeping tabs on her? Keeping an eye on her and her interactions with the man. He knows where she lives, her name. What more does he know?"
Trace moves to pick up the next motion sensor as the others talk, and there's a nod. "And also," Trace pipes up, grumbling as he apparently by accident steps 'on' something that sets off one last thing of glitter and confetti to come raining down on him, "this has been kept from, as I understand it, a lot of people up until this point. While I understand the need for... sensitivity regarding who knows what about what is going on so we do not give away too much if we /are/ compromised somehow. I don't really believe either that she has a handle on just how much she's up against." He sighs, and crouches in place. "How do we know she didn't give away more, and simply doesn't remember it?"
Pack> Trace says "He has a point. Briari's my tribemate, but this isn't the first time such a thing has come up with reference to her."
Felix eyes what little is left of his cigarette, and takes a final drag before pinching it out. "She's pretty good at computers an' scoutin' shit, least as far as I can tell. Wouldn't be my first choice for social shit. Or second. She's smart, but she ain't good at people. Far's I think I recall, reason it's her is she's the one he approached offerin' the mage up, and she sorted that shit out with him." He's quiet a moment. "Don't think I know why he knew who she was. Definitely ain't sure why he decided her an' not someone else. Suspect he'd know some others of us to see."
Ghost frowns. "She said that uh, she said he gave her the information on the mage because she'd befriended him." She fidgets in place, and then stands again. "People aren't computers. Or, um, chess pieces. How do we protect her now?"
Nolan gives a swift shake of his head. "He picked her, because he thinks she's an easy mark. She /befriended/ him. She had him at her apartment. Overnight. He 'crashed' there. She may not trust him-- To all that's holy, I pray she doesn't -- But somewhere inside, she thinks that she's in control, and that he's responding to her the way /she/ wants." He runs a hand back through her hair. "Someone needs to be watching when she's with him. And someone needs to keep a close eye on her for taint."
Trace gets up again, moving to pick up a few more things, most of which were buried on the ground, before coming over to sit down next to his packmate. "She's fairly prominent on the Walker web," Trace says. "When I first came to town, I was able to get in touch with her, solely on information that was available without too much security. So pretty much anyone else who could get into it probably could too, and I'd bet something that someone of theirs could do that." There's a snort. "And contrary to popular beliefs about my tribe, I'm actually not great with computers."
"Which I guess leaves who an' how," Felix says to Nolan, "...even if it was someone else, seems to me it wouldn't be a bad idea havin' back-up an' someone watchin' for taint. 'course that means someone who can sense it..."
Ghost's shoulders hunch further. "I don't think anyone should be doing it. We don't know what they can do."
Nolan gives Ghost a sympathetic look. "True or not, that's not something we can control," he says. "She's going to be in contact with him, unless someone can convince the Shadow Lord to put an end to it. And true to his tribe, he doesn't seem to have much concern for the individual, where he thinks the gain is worth the risk. Look what happened to his own kin. How long was he a prisoner in the tower? And still would be."
Trace is silent for a long moment. "Indeed," he eventually says. "It seems to me as rash to be dealing with Renegade like this as it would be to lead an uncoordinated strike on the Tower, though for different reasons. But it is playing with fire," Trace says, "and there's that thing, they say, about playing with fire." There's a pause. "Someone always gets burned."
Ghost says nothing, but her sour expression likely speaks for her.
"He did initiate the lookin' into what was up with Peter in the first place," Felix notes, and stretches a bit. "An' everythin' we do's a question of whether the gain's worth the risk. 's just different calculations. We ain't all always likely to come up with the same results. Either of you know how to sense taint?"
"Harder to tell in the city where everything's dark," Nolan answers the last, without really answering, and he lets the first go entirely.
Trace looks up into the trees for a long moment, and then finally looks back down. "I really /do/ think that taking out Spirals who are around Edgewood, if done right, wouldn't be a waste of resources or time." There's a slight grumble to the ahroun's voice, but no increase of tension. "It's not exactly like we're sitting around here doing that much else."
"I can," Ghost replies, a little dully. "People aren't calculations either. They're not supposed to be." She glances toward Trace, but apparently has no response for him.
"Can at least check up when she's out here, then," Felix says, "...an' you can put the value of a person at infinite, but you're still makin' a calculation. 'course then you gotta consider the value of the folks bein' sent to get the first person back, also, an' if that's also infinite..." He shrugs. "I ain't sayin' I love it or I think we shouldn't oughta try an' do nothin', but everythin' we do we're weighin' what's worth what. It ain't always cold, but it's always a thing."
For a moment, Nolan's eyes close and he draws in a breath. Maybe it's the connection with the moon getting to him, or the topic, or something else entirely. "No one should be left in her hands. In their hands," he says after a beat, and he looks over to Felix. "Not for a day, let alone the weeks that he was there, while nothing was done. Now he's gone from one enemy to another, and we still haven't spoken of a rescue. We're relying on the hope that they will honor the word they gave to Briari, and, "when he's done detoxing" they'll give him back to us. What do you suppose they're doing to him, now? Remember, this is the type who spins webs of lies for Briari, not the type to cut her down. We're not mounting a rescue because, even if we assume he's lying to us, we don't want to upset him? How long before Peter loses all sense of himself and what we are? How long before he decides that we aren't there for him, that the ones who truly care? Are the ones that are holding him, that freed him from the Queen."
Trace takes a long breath in. "For once," he says towards Nolan, quietly, "I wholly agree. It seems like they are so fucking worried about 'not offending' the agent /of the Wyrm/," there's a growl that rises under that for emphasis, "who might help us if he doesn't stab us in the back first, that they are losing sight."
"I know that," Ghost says, with a tug downward at her frown. "But that doesn't mean you behave like it, you know?" Her eyes flick to Nolan, and then to Trace. There's another tightening of her jaw at something. "No," she says. "No they're not helping us. That's, uh. That's what I meant. They don't help us. They help themselves. That's how people have to think about it."
Pack> Trace mutters over the pack link. "That's what I meant. Fucking Shadow Lords. Fucking /secrets/."
Felix tilts his head. "People were talkin' about trackin' an' findin' out exactly what his situation is for real, an' about tryin' to get him back," he says, "Thomas, Alicia. Even Thane was actually sayin' we get him back if we can, though I dunno if he had rescuin' kinda shit in mind or not. Now, I ain't in favour of the Queen or the dancers havin' him at all neither, not for any amount of time, but I been yelled at enough for not plannin' ahead an' thinkin' shit through entirely to at least grant yeah sometimes shit goes better that way." Ghost gets a slightly quizzical look. "Is that... are people not thinkin' about it that way?" He glances to his packmate, and his brow furrows for a couple moments. "I mean, we ain't even Wyrmish, an' we sure as hell ain't aimin' to help =them=. We're aimin' to help =us=. It's just a question of temporary overlap." A slight pause. "Which is creepy enough anyhow. Ain't a fan of wantin' somethin' they also want. Why's it so important for them, when she ain't even in their territory no more?"
Nolan gives a brisk shake of his head. "That's just it. We're assuming that their needs and ours overlap, and that we can take advantage of that overlap. It's not scorpion and frog, because it's not so straight forward as they'll sting us because they have to. No. They'll be looking for an opportunity to sting us, watching for it. And every single gain they make in "helping" us against the Queen, is a gain they will use against us as soon as there's an opening. They're not offering to put themselves at risk, only to allow us to weaken ourselves in taking down their enemy. And every single thing we do "with" them, gives them another tool to use against us the next day. Do you see?"
Trace looks over at Ghost, and simply responds, "Yes," in assent. Possibly in assent to what Nolan is saying, too. There's an idle glance at his watch, and he gets to his feet. "Like I said earlier. Thinking that we can take advantage of that, what Briari has been doing... victories that it has lead to or not it is already on the wrong path." The Walker ahroun picks up his jacket and begins to turn to leave. "I have another round of patrols to make now that I cleaned up here. Enjoy the fireworks, I'll be around."
Pack> Trace sighs, tiredly. "It's a big Bawn. There's not enough Guardians. And as right as Nolan is, it's the same stuff that I have been trying to say, almost since I got here. I don't think that anyone will listen. Justin won't, he worships the ground Thane walks on."
Pack> Felix says "You need company patrollin'?"
Pack> Trace says "Sure, if you wanna come, wouldn't hurt."
Ghost wraps her arms loosely around her knees. She nod slightly as Nolan speaks, but again she seems to have gone quiet.
"Do I see what you're sayin'? Yeah, I reckon so," Felix says, though he still looks faintly perplexed. "I just thought it was obvious they'd be out for themselves an' shouldn't be trusted except to do an' be what they are. Cooperation or not." He pushes up to his feet, and stretches. "Still wish someone had an answer for why they give a shit of this size. Seems like an awful lotta time an' risk an' effort for fightin' someone they already drove outta town..." He glances at the sky, and sighs. "Patrol time again, I s'pose."
Trace nods towards Felix as his packmate gets up, offers Ghost and Nolan both a tense but not unfriendly wave, and moves off towards the edge of the clearing.
"Good question," Nolan answers with a grin. "I think I'll head back to the caern for a bit," he adds, looking to Ghost. "You're welcome to join me, if you don't have better things to do."
Ghost hesitates for a moment, and then nods. She gets to her feet in a single, smooth motion. "Nothing better to do," she replies.
Felix gives the remaining pair a grin and a light mock-salute, two fingers to his temple and flicked foward. "Talk to y'all again soon, I reckon. Stay safe an' shit," he says, and starts out of the compound, catching up with his packmate
Nolan nods to Felix as he leaves, and then tips his head in the direction of the caern. "Good enough," he says to Ghost, and starts heading in that direction.
==================================== Media =================================== Message: 11/264 Posted Author Fireworks show? Sat Jun 4, 2016 Runetree ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A small amount of coverage is devoted to the following: Late Saturday night, nearly midnight, Kent Crossing and surrounding areas received an impromptu, somewhat small fireworks show. There were a variety of small-to-medium amateur fireworks set off in a showing that lasted about five minutes, from what authorities believe was a vacant lot outside of town. Anyone with more information is encouraged to call in tips. ((From the direction of the Bawn, if anyone is watching, one burst of the fireworks unsurprisingly resembles a coyote. The rest is a much more standard fireworks display.)) ==============================================================================