All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.
Yi grins and wavers a hand at Nevada. "Your rep is as good as that bullet there." She glances between the two of them, then moves to poke at Nevada. "You better come back to the apartment tonight, because I have to make pancakes in the morning." She smirks wryly. "But for now I have to get back and take care of a few things. I'm giving you a Pure, untouched Garou galliard cub here! Make sure you take care of her, got that?" She gives Nevada a stern look around a sisterly smile.
"Pure? Me? Nah," Christy muses, with a laugh. "Nice t' meet ya, Nevada. Nothing's goin' on -- except she finally told me why the hell I'm here, an' it's all cool." She pauses, and says, "Am I soundin' like some ghetto nerd? Growing up in California does that to you."
"Kid," Nevada says, leaning against the wall, sandwich in hand. "I wouldn't know what one'd sound like." He takes a bite. "Gotcha, Mulan. Count on some Mickey Mouse in the frine pan bright n early tomorra."
Yi salutes the two, and moves out via the kitchen ways and half singing, half humming. "Swift as a coursing river... with all the force of a great typhoon..." Exeunt!
Matt almost plows into Yi on his way in through the sliding door, but ducks to the side, giving her a quick nod. He holds the door open still for Bernie to come in behind him, then heads for the pantry to grap a couple of bottles of Guinness before continuing to the living room.
Bernie flashes Yi a grin as they pass each other, and turns it on Matt as she takes the door from him and closes it behind them. That done, she follows him into the other room. "Hey, Chia!" she greets Nevada cheerfully, giving the new girl a curious look.
"Yeah, well, if you go down there, be prepared to speak Spanglish and prance around declarin' you're a democrat, because being a republican and being American is evil," Christy chimes to Nevada, absently, and her eyes trail to Bernie and Matt. "Hi!" she greets, mayhap too friendly, and she suddenly glances down to the ground, but up again. "Name's Christy...I'm, uh, a Fianna." What did Yi say? Oh, yes. She adds belatedly, "Fianna galliard."
"Whaazup, guys," Nevada says, wagging his half a sandwich Christy-wards. "New kid. Check it out." His packmates are given a brows-up look, before he turns back to the cub. "California's a bit away. How'd you turn up in St. Claire?"
"Well, I was actually in Massachusetts for awhile before I came here. My mom decided to drag her and obviously m'self here -- to see my aunt Blythe. That's how I got here," Christy says, open enough as she glances down to pick at the dirt hiding under her short fingernails.
Matt quirks an eyebrow in Christy's direction. "Gercha. Cub Oi take it? You'll be needin' a stella then. 'ere." He passes her one of the beers, and offers the other to Bernie.
The mention of California piques the slightly older girl's interest, and she studies the new Galliard a moment. "So where in Cali're you from?" she asks, "...I useta live in Pomona, 'f y'know where that is. Nearish L.A..." She moves to accept the beer from Matt, and then pauses, "...nah, you keep it an' talk t' your cub uninterrupted. I c'n get another."
Well, she certainly never expected being given a beer. Christy takes the can, and scruitinizes it, before saying, "Are you sure? I'm underage. And, um, I don't have a good experience with drinking. Well, people who drink. Like my dad." 'My dad' is spoken almost angrily, but she shakes her head, and says to Bernie, "Newhall. Kinda near, um...well, about fo9rty miles northwest of L.A."
"Well, it were nice meetin' ya, Christy," Nevada excuses himself from the conversation, licking the last of his sandwich off his fingers. "Bottoms up, an all 'at." Matt and Bernie get nods and drinky-drinky motions before he ducks out, heading for the kitchen door.
Matt smiles. "You're Fianna. Oi was takin' Leo Sayers in th' battle when Oi was twelve. Wif a little 'elp from Gaia, it won't bovver you when it counts." He pulls his union jack bottle opener from his pocket and pops the top on his Guinness, appraising the new cub. "Galliard, Fianna. An' Cub. Doan't forget that part eivver, when yer introducing yersel'. 'as anyone gone over th' rules o' the mickey wif you?"
Christy does not take any motion to drink from the beer; she just holds it awkwardly in one hand. In reply to Matt, she shakes her head, voicing, "No, no one's gone over any...rules. Just that I'm a Fianna Galliard and...cub. And that we're kind of like Fionn mac Cumhail's warriors who fought for Erin way back when."
"Oh yeah," Bernie remarks, "...where Magic Mountain is, yeah?" She drifts back into the kitchen, wandering back in a few moments later with her own bottle in hand. She perches lightly on the arm of the sofa a moment, and gives the bottle in her hand a Look. The bottle cap pops off, making a little jump into the air, and she snatches it out of the air with the other hand before taking a sip.
Matt finds a comfy chair, with room enough on the arm for Bernie. "Hmm. Basics then. An' take these ta hart, neh? No leavin' th' farm'ouse, or th' grounds, until yer elder (an' there's a good chance that'll be me) tells you it's all roight."
"Got that," Christy chimes in reply to Matt, deciding to pop off the top of the bottle of beer. She peers at it, then takes a sip -- and promptly makes a face. "This is so not my kind of stuff." At Bernie's comment, she nods vigorously. "Yeah. Magic Mountain."
Bernie rises and resettles, more firmly this time, on the chair's arm. She takes another sip of her Guinness, and arches a brow, looking over to Matt: "...Hmmm. We =sure= she's Fianna? I mean, blasphemy." She grins, briefly, and settles in and back, getting comfy.
Matt raises his gaze to the heavens, muttering "Fookin' septics." He smiles as he looks back to the cub, however. "Ah, well. Ye'll probably learn ta tolerate it, as mooch as we drink the stuff. Brian-rhya prefers it over water, sensible man that 'e is. Oi suppose before Oi fill yer head wif rules that doan't make sense Oi should ask ye if anyone's talked wif you about shiftin'?"
"I've heard of shifting. Changing," Christy replies to Matt, glancing to Bernie and then back to the philodox. "I've never shifted, changed, whatever, though...obviously."
"Well. I wouldn' say =obviously=..." Bernie trails off, and glances sidelong at Matt. "...She hasn't changed. Alas." It almost seems to be a question. She takes another drink of her beer before asking, "...so, 'f y'don't mind me askin', what =do= y'know yet?"
"That I'm a Fianna, I'm Garou, and I'm a galliard." Christy's mouth twitches. "Oh, and a cub. I know a lot about the original Fianna, but not the...Garou Fianna. If there's a difference. That's really it."
Christy adds, "And that there are, um, auspices, phases of the moon you were born under that...determines your 'place' in society. Am I right?"
Matt, also curious to get a feel for what he needs to tell his new tribemate, waits, taking a long draught from his beer.
Bernie nods a bit at the cub, waiting for her to go on. When nothing's forthcoming, she asks, "...so that's it so far, huh? Nothin' else?"
Christy has fallen silent, after speaking what she _does_ know about the Garou -- frighteningly little, but that's to be expected.
"Nothin' else," Christy says to Bernie, elaborating no more.
Upstairs, the shower starts running.
Matt's brow furrows, his eyebrows coming together. "Hmm. Shoulda left ye wif a little more than /that./ So, it falls ta us. Well, you're Garou. As am Oi, an' Books, 'ere. My name is Matthew Fulton, cliath philodox o' th' Fianna. Also knows as Speaks-in-Circles, an mostly...Matt. We, the three of us, an' most everyone ye meet out 'ere is a werewolf, in that we change our shape, inta wolves. Oi'll let Books continue, while Oi demonstrate." He hands off his beer and stands up out of the chair.
Christy, having nothing much to say, just offers Bernie and Matt a vague grin as she steps back, eyes upon her tribesmate.
Bernie glances from one hand to the other. Heyyyyy. Two beers. She grins back at the cub, and nods. "An' I'm Bernie Rosenberg, also known as Stomps-Th'-Wyrm-With-Steeltoed-Boots, Cliath Ragabasha th' Bone Gnawers, same Tribe as Yi an' Chia, who you met." She pauses, watching the girl. "'f you haven't seen anyone change yet... well, stay calm, a'ight? Not gonna hurtcha or anythin'." She looks over to Matt, to see if he's started yet.
The shower shuts off; the sounds of singing can barely be heard.
Matt nods, giving Bernie an 'up' gesture with his thumb, following it with a blur into Glabro.
Christy's reaction is not a scream, not blabbering about how she might be on drugs, nothing like that: she stares at Matt, awed. "Holy Mother of God," she says quietly.
Matt's grin is very toothy, and feral. "Wait," he growls, barely understandable. "It gets better." He looks to Bernie waiting for her to explain the form before he goes on up.
"Funny," Bernie remarks mildly, "=I= never figured she'd look like that..." A sip of one of the beers; she doesn't seem to pay much attention to which. "So. That form's called Glabro, 's th' near-man. As y'c'n see, it makes us look like we're 'bout t' hit someone onna head with a folding chair. But still kiiiiina human, y'know, like if it's way dark an' you're not lookin' too hard, at least..."
Matt shifts up again, as slowly as he can manage, which isn't very. Crinos. His clothing fades, and the toothy grin blurs completely into a werewolf's smile.
Eventually, Kaz, in shorts, a t-shirt, and no shoes, comes ambling down the stairs, hair still dripping. She's humming quietly, but cuts it off as she sees the demonstration in progress. She grins at her packmates and the newcomer, and heads into the kitchen for a few moments.
The reaction to seeing Matt in the wolf-man form does not make her scream, panic, freak out. Christy's jaw drops somewhat and she exclaims, "Holy mother fucking shit, I can change into that?!"
Speaks-Circles preens, blowing on his claws, then buffing them on the fur of his chest.
"An' whatta image THAT is," Bernie remarks, grinning at the exclamation. "Yeah, well, your version of it, anyhow, yeah." She giggles at Matt's preening, and puts on a TV-quoting voice, "We can make you faster, stronger, much better than before. We have the technology." Dropping it, she shrugs, "Well, a'ight, no technology, but yeah. Crinos. Th' big ass oh my god werewolf form. Grabs most people right by th' brainstem an' yells, 'PANIC!!!'."
There's the sound of water in the kitchen, and eventually Kaz wanders back out with a large mug. "Instinctive. A lot of 'em won't even 'member you."
Speaks-Circles grins again, this time showing off LOTS of teeth, all sharp and pointy. ~I cannot imagine why. I am a complete kitten.~
Christy tilts her head at Speaks-Circles; she turns to Bernie, and then grins crookedly. "And why d' we do this? Do we fight something?"
Bernie bursts out laughing at Matt, and puts on a babytalk voice. "Awwwww, Speaksie-weeksie jussa li'l puddytat, is 'e? Scritch you unnera chin an' getcha a bowla milk anna balla yarn? Awwwwwwwww so kyOOt!" She snickers, shaking her head, and shivers. "Eeeew, I feel dirty," she remarks, normal voice again, and washes her mouth out with some beer. "...Oh, hell yeah, we fight somethin'. That's a whole lecture in an' of itself... we'll do that one next, after th' other two forms, yeah?"
Nodding and laughing at the same time is Christy's response to Bernie and her babytalk. "Awww, how cuuuute," she drawls along with, and laughs out loud; Kaz gets her attention, and she turns to look over her shoulder and smile. "Hi."
Speaks-Circles drops to all fours, then shifts further, into hispo. A bowl of milk would be nice, yes. And some grapes, peeled.
Kaz mutters, "I ain't Beulah," and grins at Christy. "Yo. I'm Kaz. Ears, t'Garou. Th' rest I c'n tell you when Matt ain't bein' a model for you."
"Sure as hell isn't a sexy model, like that," Christy teases, looking back over to Matt. "Wolf?" she queries aloud. "Really big wolf."
Matt's comment gets a distinctly amused look from the Ragabash, but she leaves it be. "Hispo," she declares, "near-wolf. Also known, yeah, as big-fuckin'-wolf. But not us'ly by us. An' tch, no taste. I mean, hey, check out those legs," she adds, teasingly.
Kaz interjects, "Dire wolf. In legends." She finds a seat on the ground, leaning against the wall, and watches.
Speaks-Circles hmphs. This one gets his fair share of mates. He shifts once more, this time into lupus. He pads back to his chair, and sits in front of it, comfortable once again.
"And wolf," Christy says, watching the philodox of her tribe go to the last of the forms with major interest.
Bernie arches a brow at the lupe, and shifts the bottles enough to reach over and ruffle his fur a bit, between the ears. "Does he, now," she remarks, amused again, and nods at Christy, "Wolf. Ta da! Five forms, an' those are they. You, too, can be a wolf or a huge ravening beast! All it takes is jus' five minutes a day... well, no, but, yeah, that's what you c'n do, or will soon."
"That's fucking cool," Christy informs Bernie absently, eyes upon Speaks-Circles.
The roar of a modified Harley coming to a stop outside heralds Kyle's entry into the front of the house. Minimal helmet tucked under one arm, the Get hulks through the door and pushes it shut behind himself with a boot heel.
"I'm going to go to sleep," the newly initiated Fianna cub says, and offers a vague grin to both Bernie and Matt, before turning and waving to Kaz and glancing at the arriving Kyle. "Hi, bye, night, all that." With that, she saunters upstairs.
Christy mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing before continuing up to the second floor.
Kaz, who's seated against one of the nearer walls, raises her mug of water in a salute to the Get. "Night Christy," she mutters.
Kyle has about enough time to blink and frown at the departing Christy. "Hrm," he grumbles, sending a nod towards Kaz's upraised mug. He tosses the helmet onto one of the empty couch seats and leans against a wall.
Speaks-Circles yurfs in Christy's direction, then nods at the incoming Get. He blurs as he stands having two feet now and all, twisting through crinos to return to homid, and retrieve his beer.
Bernie, perched on the arm of a chair with a beer in each hand, passes one of them back to Matt, watching the cub run off with a raised eyebrow. "Mm. Weird kid," she remarks, and then flashes a smile at the recently arrived Get. "Hey."
Kaz says, "Hey, any kid that don't freak's ok with me." After finishing her water, she rises back to her feet.
Kyle wrinkles his nose in response to the "hey." He looks up the stairs, "Who was that, anyway?"
Matt glances up the stairs unconsciously, before answering. "Christy. Fianna. New cub." he sips the beer. "Galliard, if Oi remember roight."
Kyle's scowl deepens. "Poor kid," he laments sarcastically.
Kaz says, "Huh. Galliards bustin' out all over," and heads into the kitchen. She rattles around in there for a moment or two before disappearing out the back door again.
Kyle watches Kaz bustle about with bemusement, "Someone should drive a nail through one of her feet. Keep her in one place for more than a minute."
"It happens," Bernie replies, "....stayin' in one place, I mean; no reason t' believe anyone's ever nailed her down." She relaxes a bit in and back to the chair, getting more comfortable to work on finishing her beer.
Kyle moves away from the door frame and shoves his helmet aside to sit on the couch. "Hey, you seen that Toni kid around here?"
Matt shrugs. "No, doan't know her, actually. Anovver new cub?"
Kyle snorts, "Get cub. Been here a little over a year. I ain't sure she ever leaves her room."
Bernie shakes her head, "Nah, I seem t' recall she's been a cub for, what'd she say, like a year?" She looks to Kyle for confirmation, "... th' girl from that one day, with breakfast? Yeah," she nods, as he speaks, "...an' yeah, also. I swear, spent a couple months here mosta th' time, never saw her 'round, so. She gotta be hidin' herself somewhere."
"Shows ye 'ow often =Oi've= been out 'ere in th' last few monfs." Matt sighs, killing off his beer.
Kyle coughs roughly and runs the back of his hand across his mouth. "Well. Learning to be a Garou's on her. She don't get it straight soon, well." His expression grows baleful.
There's a hint of something like a wince from Bernie as she glances downward, and drains what little remains in her own bottle. "...yeah," she half-murmurs, and adds, "...you'd think after a year, you'd be gettin' pretty proactive."
Matt shrugs, standing. "One fing if yer waiting on an elder to teach you. Cub's got nuffin' ta do =but= learn, though." He stops in the doorway, turning back to Bernie. "'m goin' ta head back ta th' pope. You stayin' out 'ere, in case Alicia drops by?"
Kyle doesn't have much to say on the topic of Alicia, so he leans back further after shrugging noncommittally.
Bernie shifts the backpack hanging from her shoulder, checking the watch threaded into the bottom of one of the straps. "...nah, 's late. She's prolly asleep already anyhow, an' I don' fancy doin' that walk late t'night. Think I'll go with."