Currently the moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (55% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.75 and falling, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 37 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)

It's a Philodox moon, not that one can tell, given the clouds. Djehuti's evidently got some energy to burn, since he has a soccer ball and is kicking it about, occasionally lining up for a resounding thwack against the reinforced walls, occasionally juggling it from foot to foot. His pack and coat are over by the ladder, which he also occasionally uses as a target, trying to shoot it up to the second floor.

Maybe it's the moon, maybe the further restriction of where it's okay to go out and run, with the weirdness on the bawn and spreading, but Izzy's countenance is darker than usual as the cub comes in from the house -- and then looks briefly shocked as a soccer ball hits the ladder not three feet away. "...oh! Oh, hi."

"...I should really learn to put up signs /before/ I almost bean people and/or cut off their circulation," Djehuti calls up apologetically, as he hunts down the ball. "Hey," he adds, as he starts juggle-kicking it again.

A shake of the head. "I shoulda been paying more attention," Izzy replies, eyeing the ball a moment before starting to climb down the ladder. "Someone coulda been throwing something worse, or something..." A sigh, and the cub drops to the ground from about halfway up the ladder, landing fairly nicely.

"Well, generally people either throw other people, or not much else. The Get do use axes, though, you're right." Djehuti sends the ball Izzy's way, lightly.

"People throw bombs sometimes. Though, I dunno that I'd be able to get far enough out of the way if someone did that, in which case it wouldn't really matter that much how much attention I was paying, I guess." The cub's eyes narrow slightly at the ball, possibly judging the trajectory. Contact is successfully made! However, apparently Izzy wasn't much of a soccer player, because the kick's rather less light than Djehuti's. "Aah! Sorry."

"They do," allows Djehuti, "Though I've yet to notice them throwing any /here/." There's a pause as he jumps up to head the ball, corralling it downwards and back toward Izzy, though not with perfect control or aim -- evidently, he did play, at least at some point. "Unless I'm not keeping up on events?"

Izzy's pretty quick and coordinated; it doesn't fully make up for a lack of any particular practice, but it helps. The ball gets directed back, with less force this time, and passable if imperfect aim. "Well... if so no one's told me about it either. So prolly not."

"Oh, good." Djehuti deflects it off the outside wall, and back toward Izzy. "I did once have a cub try and attack me with what turned out to be an active mine, but that also turned out to be a misunderstanding." Without missing a beat, he goes on, "So, how's the learning?"

Izzy does miss a beat, and has to scramble to try to corral and return the ball. "Wait, why did a cub try to attack you? And why with a mine? How did they even HAVE a mine? And um. It's okay, I guess? Feels really slow right now. And I can't even really go running now 'cause of things being weird on the bawn."

Djehut palms it (illegal! illegal!) and starts dribbling it. "They attacked me because they were angry at me because I had just cubnapped them. This was in Israel, where there an unfortunate number of the things. He thought it was a dud, though. He just wanted to brain me. I prevented that, and then when we mutually discovered, to our considerable chagrin, that it wasn't nearly as old as he thought, though also not nearly so hair trigger as people think, we carefully freaked out, and then brought it to the proper authorities." He nods, though, sadly. "But believe you me, you're right to avoid it. Wyld can be..." He searches for words, and ends up with the fairly mundane but for his emphasis, "/terrifyingly/ unpredictable."

<OOC> Djehuti picked the wrong kind of bomb for this to be logical. Life! Difficult! Woe!

"...oh. Well, that all makes sense, then. I was thinking about trying to brain you guys too when you cubnapped me. Only, I didn't have anything to use, so." Izzy sighs. "They were saying it's too dangerous so we need to stay away from it until... until it's not dangerous I guess. Which I dunno how long that's going to be, except it's too long."

The man rolls the ball to her, bowling-ball style. "Wouldn't at all have blamed you. We were definitely in creepy stranger territory." Djehuti nods at what she says. "Silvertip-rhya sprouted musk-ox horns, from exposure. To the fruit, more specifically. And they haven't fallen off yet. Considering that I once saw Wyld emanations put someone's lungs on the outside of their body... I am not going anywhere /near/ there. The time estimates for when it was going to arrive were "Soon," so I suspect the time estimates for when she is done birthing are similarly vague."

"Definitely," Izzy agrees, with the ghost of a smile, though it disappears as swiftly as it arrives. The later info makes the cub blanch. "Lungs on the outside of their body. Did. Um. Did they live? And yeah. I won't go near that either. It's just. Really hard not having anywhere to run." A foot on the ball, to stop it, and then a tap with the side of that foot to roll it back.

"No," Djehuti says, rather grimly. "Hence my trepidation. It is not a /tame/ ontological concept, the Wyld..." He trails off, regarding her. "There are woods outside the Bawn. And there is Sunrise Road and environs, near along to Kent Crossing. Would that be a reasonable range expansion?" He returns the ball to her, evidently trying to put some kind of spin on it which fails, leaving him mildly crestfallen.

Izzy is quiet a moment, likely thinking about the poor person with the misplaced lungs. "If you think that'd be okay -- I mean, safe enough and all that -- then yes, please. That'd be good." The cub leans down to pick up the ball, and turns it over a few times before tossing it back. "When it does things like that. How do we know the Wyld's better than the others? And not, not also corrupted or something?"

"Yes. Check in and all that, but," he waves a hand, "Fly and be free-er than before, at least." Then, he stops. "Well." Djehuti considers the question. "I don't know how to express it other than to say that according to all I have been taught, it is under siege by the Weaver, but not corrupted. The thing you have to consider, with the Wyld, is that it is not /controlled/. It changes, it creates, it changes and creates chaotically. And it does not play by our rules, for we are far more stable than it. So I would not say it is better or worse, merely that it is."

Izzy nods to the checking in, and considers the rest silently for a few seconds. "So then do we favour the Wyld because things are out of balance and it's currently the underdog, then? As opposed to, sort of... for its own sake? Like, if what's happening to the caern started happening all over, taking everything else over, would we be going oh yay or trying to balance that?"

"Well. I don't know that we /favor/ it?" He stops. "Or. Certainly, many tribes do favor it -- The Furies, as I have mentioned, being one. But to me, and to anyone who doesn't anthropomorphize their spirits of nature /too/ fuzzily, they are just that -- spirits of nature, red in tooth and claw. The fact that we work against the Wyrm is primarily because it is corrupted, and thus more ultimately dangerous to the fabric of reality. If the Wyld became corrupted in similar ways, Gaia forbid, then yes, we would work against it. And if this current crisis goes beyond our Caern, and threatens the larger area, we will probably have to combat it, as well." This seems to thrill him not at all.

Izzy nods slowly, quiet again. When the reply does come, it starts out as simply, "Okay." Then, "Is this all because of the wasp thing? Should we be preparing somehow just in case we have to do some kind of combatting? Or, well, I guess I mean should I, 'cause maybe you already are."

"Yes. What I expect is a surprisingly large spiritual wasp is at this moment approaching the Caern and planning to lay her eggs there. I..." He finally picks the ball up, and fiddles with the backspin as he thinks. "The thing is, is that Chimera -- the Caern's Totem -- made the warnings as clear as She possibly could, before she left. The wasps /will/ come, and if we fight it, there will be death. I would be willing to die, to protect humans, but from the way the dreams made it seem, it seemed as if the area of effect would be on the Bawn, and not elsewhere. So, because I trust my Lady of Mirrors, I do not think that we need to combat. Merely to wait." He sends the ball toward the cub, succeeding with the backspin, this time. "Which is, of course, far harder."