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 A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall.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.
In another era, she might have been considered terribly attractive. As it is, she sits just on the prettier side of average. At about 5'6", the girl looks to be carrying around a hundred and sixty pounds, giving her a rather full, hourglass figure unusual for a girl in her mid-teens. She has quite a pretty face; it's a bit plump and tawny freckles are scattered across her nose and cheeks, but otherwise her complexion is unblemished, and her features are well balanced. Full lips frame almost-straight teeth, often revealed in a cheerful grin, and large, almond-shaped eyes, the irises a warm, gold-flecked shade of brown and the lashes thick and dark, peer out brightly through wire-rimmed glasses. Her mass of unruly black curls falls untamed to the middle of her back, stray strands frequently dangling before her face. It looks as though she might be wearing an almost imperceptible bit of makeup, perhaps a light dusting of gold eyeshadow and some sort of very pale peach lipstick; the only thing resembling jewelry, though, is a silvery key hanging about her neck on a dog-tag sort of chain.
Her style of dress is equally unlikely to get her on the cover of Cosmopolitan, but it wouldn't be out of place in the average high school. She's clad in a deep green tanktop of some stretchy, slightly shiny fabric, which clings to her curves, the v-neckline scooping low enough to display quite a bit of cleavage. The shirt does absolutely nothing to disguise her bustiness, in fact playing it up for a change. The hem is tucked into a threadbare pair of baggy dark blue jeans, cinched tightly around her surprisingly small waist by what appears to be a seatbelt -- the buckle even reads "GM". The frayed hems pool around the ankles of her decrepit black Docs, laced with sparkly silver laces which have also seen better days. Atop all this is a huge and ancient black leather motorcycle jacket, the cuffs of which constantly fall down over her hands. Slung over her shoulder is a bulging canvas backpack, probably military surplus, dotted with patches and pins in various colours and states of repair.
Her name isn't quite accurate. Her ears are pointing up. Those big, bat-wing like ears that, if she didn't smell like a Gaian, would remind a lot of people of some Black Spiral Dancers. Of course, given Garou, some people don't bother to find out, first.
Other than her ears, she's relatively boring. She's very sturdy -- burly might be a better description. About 6'11", it's the kind of burly that's got a lot of muscle to it -- it's just not well defined muscle.
Actually, she's not entirely boring. Her mop of mousy brown hair is long enough to mostly obscure her eyes, which, since her eyes are remarkably weird, makes sense. They're almost yellow, and don't look quite human. They almost look like cat's eyes, but they're not quite the right shape for that. The rest of her face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- maybe it's been broken, or maybe she was born that way. Makeup, it's clear, is of very little use to this person.
"Battered" would describe her choice in clothing quite well. Straining to fit over her figure are a black leather jacket, an almost new t-shirt, blue jeans, and doc martens. All slightly older than God, apparently.
She looks dirty in the way someone who's just gotten out of a long day's hard physical labor looks dirty, and it's clear she at least tries to stay clean.
The metis evidently feels she's checked the place thoroughly enough to feel safe in it, since she's currently asleep on the couch, snoring.
Bernie slips in, starting to let the door fall shut behind her, and whirls to catch it before it slams as she registers her napping Elder there. The grab is half-successful -- it doesn't make a loud noise, but she catches it a fraction of a second too late, and the main reason it doesn't is that her fingers are caught between it and the doorframe. There's a small, stifled high-pitched squeak before she extracts her hand and softly closes the door again, properly.
Kaz may be comfortable enough in here to sleep, but that doesn't mean that pretty much any noise, such as Bernie's, won't wake her up and send her upright, blinking. "Oh. Hey." She is far, far less frozen than the night of the Gathering; there's actual emotion there, for one thing. And flexibility.
Bernie wrinkles her nose at the door. D'oh, sacrifice for nothing. Alas. She turns from it and wanders over to the couch, dropping gracelessly into a portion of the unoccupied space, and replies, "Hey. 'sup? Sorry for wakin' ya..." before sucking on the wounded fingers a little.
Kaz shrugs. "If you didn't, someone /else/ checkin' to make sure there ain't no traps in here woulda." She slides over slightly closer to her packmate, and goes on, "Been buggin' th' Walker cubs. Th' new ones, I mean. They're, well, very Walkerish."
"Oh, yeah? Suits 'em, I s'pose. What've they picked up lately?" Bernie inquires, shifting to get comfortable, and wiping her now moist fingers on her jeans. "I haven't seen much of 'em for a while... figured they were kinda lyin' low."
"Couple guys." Kaz runs a hand through her hair, and then looks over into the kitchen. "Dammit. Remind me to haul some Coke out here." Sitting up slightly straighter, she produces one from her coat pocket, instead. "One of 'em just got shot -- on purpose, I mean, to make sure he'd know what it was like -- and one of 'em got his fingers broken so he'd shift." Kaz looks at the Coke, and says, "Ain't life just grand?"
Bernie wrinkles her nose again, shaking out the hand she caught in the door in sympathy with the nameless cub. "Peachy keen. Welcome to th' life, leave your lacka pain tolerance at th' door." The Coke gives her an idea, and she rises, heading for the kitchen, and adds to the ambient light by opening it up. "So, more guys? They figure out what moons, yet?"
"Theurge an' Galliard. They kinda asked me if I could help with th' Galliard's trainin'. Quentin, this is. Jacob's th' theurge. One've 'em's kinda gay, an' he jus' figured /that/ out, too, so he's kinda swimmin' in confusion. I ain't a lot of help on that front -- I mean, I din' ever have t'deal with what /human/ society thought of it." Kaz finally opens her Coke. "Anyway, so yeah, them Walkers is kinda blunt. But. Ain't my tribe, whatever, you know?"
There's the sound of the fridge closing again, then a cupboard door, and a little rummaging, before Bernie emerges, rather dusty bottle of Guinness in hand, and reclaims her seat. "Sounds like a lot t' deal with, yeah. They care? I mean, that he likes guys."
Kaz shrugs. "'s far as I know, he's only tol' me an' their Kin. An' /she's/ bi. I don' think they'd give a shit if he was, though, so long as he actually had a kid with someone at some point. Fuckin' Garou an' their fuckin' /breeding/." Kaz shakes her head, still not actually having drunk from the Coke.
Bernie looks rather glum at her poor beer. "Yeah," she agrees, and glares at the top, popping it off and catching it in the air out of absent habit before she takes a drink. "Anyway, that's good, I guess. Suck t' have things get more screwed up at once, an' all."
Kaz says, "Yeah. It's just, he's got a lot t'process. Shiftin' an' likin' guys an' gettin' kicked out of his house, before he got cubnapped, an' shit. 's all fuckin' stupid." The metis takes a swig of Coke, as if to steel herself, and looks up at Bernie directly. "So anyway, Bern. How're you doing? I mean, like, /actually/ doing?"
Bernie shifts, pulling a leg up on the cushion, and considers before answering. She looks as though she's taking a mental inventory. "...a'ight, I guess. Could be worse. Fuckin' glad it's summer, though, so at least I don't have school, y'know?" She takes another sip before daring to venture, "...how 'bout you?"
There's just the slightest hint of that closing up, over the link, but Kaz evidently represses it mightily. Leaning back against the couch, she shrugs. "I, um. I'd like to curl up in a lil' ball again an' jus' quit bein' me, but that ain't an option. So, I mean, other than that, I'm fine. Fun cubs, we got the goddam Caern back, people're chippin' in a lot've money when I busk... Not too shabby."
Bernie bites her bottom lip lightly, and nods, sipping again. Liquid good. "...yeah. Well, y'know, obviously, 'f I c'n help with anythin'..." She lets the offer hang, and looks around, taking the place in critically.
Kaz says, looking at her Coke, "Jus'... bein' yourself is... kinda what I need. 'm sorry I was all like, not there, before. Y'know?"
Bernie half-smiles, and glances sideways at Kaz. "Well, hell, that I c'n do. I'm good at that. ...I oughta go out an' meet all the cubs, now that things've settled some, huh."
Kaz's smile is slight, and sidelong as well, but it's there. Then she says, "There's some Strider cub hangin' around. I think Lyra likes him. I mean, in the 'likes him likes him' sense. /That/ kid's gonna kill me from cuteness some day, honest to God. Anyway, an' there's a Get cub, too. He's all goin', 'I want to be like my Elders!'. He's kind of fun to watch, observin' 'em, tryin' t'act like 'em. An' some Gaian, an' I /assume/ you heard Tobin an' Cam ain't no /cubs/ no more?"
Bernie grins, and nods. "Yeah, that got back t' me. I gotta track Cam down and console him or somethin'. 'bout fuckin' time. I mean, I think he beat Matt's record, even, didn't he? We were cubs t'gether, an' I've been Cliath over a year, now..."
Kaz rolls her eyes. "Talk about a fuckin' tribe with no fuckin' clue, with apologies to our packmate there. Honestly, I dunno which was worse, after awhile, the Fangs or them Fianna. I mean, you wanna know the meaning of the word bureaucracy, talk to a damn Fang. Anyways, so I got to be the one as told their final story to Susan, so's she could know if she should Rite 'em or not, so I was there for the whole shebang. /That/ was fun, that was."
Bernie gestures vaguely with her bottle. "Wish I coulda seen it. You should, like, reprise th' story for me, or somethin'. Was it thrillin' and excitin'?"
Kaz shrugs. "Only in the sense that it'd taken so goddam long for Cam and Tobin that they were both practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. I got t'talk -- at great length, 'cause as you know, when I get to talkin', there ain't no stoppin' me -- about what they'd done for the month or so they were on their Rite -- Cam got a couple talens made, Aubrey an' Tobes talked t'some spirits an' persuaded 'em to help fight with us, at the right time, an' various other stuff. An' then Susan made 'em jump over a fire, an' poof, cliaths, an' right damn time, too."
Bernie nods. "Tot'ly. Man. So, cool, then. Yeah, I gotta find Cam, for sure..." She sighs, and takes a drink. "Gotta find some stuff t' do, too. I mean, not that I'm not =busy=, but I feel kinda useless... y'know?"
Kaz nods. "Well. I can spout suggestions at the drop of a hat?"
Bernie shrugs, and nods back. "Yeah, sure. Shoot. Whatcha got for me?"
Kaz says, "Well. Caern cleanup, obviously. We can't have big ass equipment in there, but some've that shit, we need actual technology for. An' huntin' dancers. Like, th' normal kinda lookin' out for Angry Men doing Angry Things, but also, can you credibly track down gun shops an' shit, see if anyone's buying silver bullets? An' we needa see if we can get the hospital less happy than it is now, more prone to media problems. 'Cause we for sure need to make a fuckin' dent in the place. If you're into meeting random people, there's this Fang you /really/ needa talk to, name of Defies-the-Apocalypse. She's like my more-hyper second cousin, once removed. Um. Teach cubs."
Bernie brightens a little, and nods. "Kickass. Somea that, I c'n do. I'm sure I can... yeah, I got an idea for lookin' into the bullets, already, I just gotta finetune it... an' I'm all OVER workin' up some image sabotage for th' Hospital. Man, there's gotta be a million ways t' make th' place look bad..." She gets a faraway look, already contemplating the possibilities. "I'll think on it. And cubs. We even got any raggie cubs hangin' around, still? I haven't seen any of 'em in ages."
Kaz says, "Diz' an' Jervis, still. Tobin wants to make sure Jervis gets Rited Real Damn Soon, so if you see him around... bug 'im. I don' think you're the kinda trainin' Tobin's thinkin', but hey, who cares?"
Bernie nods, looking thoughtful. "'s good trainin' for a Raggie, this kinda project. 'least, =I= liked it... I'll see 'f I c'n run inta 'em, recruit 'em to th' cause or some shit. Yeah." She nods once, firmly, and takes a swallow from her bottle, eying it up afterward to judge the remaining contents. "...yeah. Cool."
Kaz says, "Y'know, you have no fuckin' idea how glad I was you was so gung ho over that shit. /No/ idea. Someone with them kinda instincts, an' that brain..." Kaz trails off, and shrugs.
Bernie half-smiles, and pinkens a little. "...thanks. Well, I like fuckin' with people's heads, I guess. Might as well use my powers for good insteada evil, right? Nice t' be sanctioned, an' all."
Kaz snorts. "Yeah, somethin' like that. It's more th' problem solvin' aspect /in tandem/ with other shit, but whatever floats your boat. Anyways." She stretches, and gets up. "I should go haul some trash around. You wanna come with?"
Bernie glances around again, and nods, shifting the weight of her backpack as she stands. "Yeah, sure, why not? This place looks like it's doin' pretty well without me, t'day."
Kaz mutters, "Rockin'," and grabs a trash bag or 5 on her way out.