You step onto a cracked but clean tile floor that was probably once red, but is now a faded salmon pink. A large, rectangular communal table seating about 10 takes up the middle of the floor, with mismatched smaller tables arranged near the large front windows. The long counter in front of the kitchen door sports plates of fragrant bread, cookies, and muffins and bowls of fresh wild fruits. A small, rattling fridge in the corner holds a selection of juices and cold spring water in reused bottles and jars. Atop the refrigerator is a can for cash donations; next to it is a box for barter payments. Scrawled on the box in black marker are the words "Pay what you can, when you can."
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt hangs untucked above them, long sleeved and fastened with a row of small, black stone buttons. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
He's a scrap of a youth who looks like he's missed a few too many meals. To call him average height would be on the generous side of accurate. To call him rail thin would be giving him credit. His golden-toned skin hints at Latino heritage, a notion reinforced by his sleek, straight black hair, which falls just past his shoulders and is worn in a tail tied off at the base of his neck. Several strands have fallen free to frame a pretty face -- not handsome, pretty. The bone structure is delicate and soft, and his smooth cheeks look like they have never needed the touch of a razor. He must be fairly young or he's got androgyny working for him. Dark eyes glitter behind the errant locks of his hair, bright and intelligent.
The grey woolen sweater he wears practically swallows his body whole. The garment is several sizes too big, rolled up at the sleeves so as not to engulf his delicate, frail-looking hands. The loose black breeches he wears are torn and ragged, but the faded green leggings he wears beneath are fairly intact. Though his clothing is threadbare, it looks reasonably clean. On his small feet are leather boots that have seen better decades, held together mostly by duct tape and willpower. Whether slung over his shoulder or resting nearby, he is almost always in possession of a battered leather satchel that has seen its share of duct-tape repair and carefully sewn patches.
Danny stands just under six feet tall and moves with an odd grace that's difficult to categorize. It's not quite the artful manner of a dancer nor the economic movements of a trained warrior, still there's certainly something different in how he carries himself. Fit musculature on a lean frame gives him the look of a runner, and his clean and smooth features suggest a northern European heritage. He has well-defined cheekbones that lend a youthful cast which may belie his true age, while a losing battle with a five-o'clock shadow makes his otherwise friendly smile a little disreputable. His eyes are expressive and match colors with his wavy, full, chin-length hair: a deep dark brown that's only just this side of black. His arms and face have been tanned by long days in the sun, but an exposed portion of his collar line indicates he'd be far more pale if he spent some time indoors.
His clothing is casual and work-oriented: the shirt is a long-sleeved, heavy flannel button-up in dark grey, and is accompanied by a loose pair of dark brown, suede leather pants that have been tucked into his boots. The boots look quite new, calf-high and made of black leather, with simple, elegant tooling along the sides. A stamped silver coin bearing the triune horse symbol of Epona hangs around his neck on a silver snake chain.
In his mid-twenties now, Derrick is a few inches over six feet tall, and has faint echoes of the swimmer he used to be. He's gained some bulk, enough so that his frame could be called solid, but he still has the long chest and long legs that are the hallmark of sprinters and swimmers. There's occasionally a strange grace to his posture, an odd energy that draws the eye, but it's somewhat counteracted by the fact that he's almost constantly fiddling with something. His face is fairly thin, with thick, long brown hair that falls down slightly past his shoulders; he no longer ties it back, except when he's going into battle. His eyes are a warm, dark hazel, expressive and intent. There's slight tension hovering about him, and he seems fairly solemn, serious even, but even given this tension, there is often the trace of a smile around his eyes, a quiet warmth to his voice.
He's wearing tan linen pants, and a green linen shirt. His moccasins look in dire need of repair.
There's something about Justin that marks him as completely human, without a drop of more interesting blood. There's also something that speaks quietly of power held on a tight leash. Physically, he's a perfectly average height with a broad and stocky frame that is not fat (yet) but is made to carry a lot of it. He's probably from a variety of European stock; his face is open and gentle, his nose just large enough to be interesting. He wears a short, neat beard, trimmed close, and gold-wire-rimmed spectacles with expensively slim lenses. Behind the specs, his eyes are a light, tawny brown, almost golden. His hands are a scholar's: large and dexterous, inkstained, callused where his pen rests on his right ring finger. Callused in new places, lately, from rougher work than turning pages. His hair is dark, somewhere between auburn and brown, and almost excessively thick and shiny. It's usually worn in a glossy, waist-length braid. The color is broken by a thick streak of startling, pure-white hair that starts above his left temple. So much white in his hair makes him look older than he might otherwise seem--late thirties or more, as opposed to late twenties.
He's wearing jeans and a white shirt under a dark grey sweater, and leather boots of a rusty color. In the cold of the early year he often wears a heather-gray woolen cloak, as well. Always within reach, if not actually in hand, is a wooden staff as tall as he is.
She is a tall, willowy redhead with green eyes that curiously compliment her dark Mediterranean complexion. She has classicallyNear Eastern features.She speaks with a unplaceable accent - definately not the flat American accent, but otherwise unplaceable.She is wearing a long dark cotton dress with Indian embroidery.Copper jewelry colours her wrists.
This slender young man draws the eye, first with his waterfall of perfectly white hair-- not blond, but white and fine as Queen Anne's lace-- carelessly confined with a simple tie at the nape of his neck. His features are delicate and symmetrical to a startling, almost inhuman degree. His skin is pale, nearly translucently so, which reinforces the fragility suggested by the fine lines of his jaw and collarbones; in contrast to this, his eyes are the deep, thoughtful blue of an evening sky.
He is currently wearing a black wool cloak with no buttons, but trimmed with white and silver and red embroidery. Under this, he is wearing black woolen trousers, a fine white linen shirt with the ties hanging loose around his throat, and a black wool-felt vest with silver buttons.
He wears a simple silver band ring with a dark blue stone-- his only jewelry-- on the middle finger of his right hand.
He is a youth verging upon manhood and his lean frame is just filling out with muscle. A shining ebony mane trails in a loose ponytail down the smooth line of his spine and a lock of it drops into one dark eye. His skin is as flawless as the bronze it resembles and shows not the least inclination toward hirsuteness. Leather leggings provide the base for ancient armor plates to protect his lower body: black plastic thigh and shinguards, and a black plastic and metal codpiece. His upper body is clothed in a thick chamois shirt and an ancient, battered black leather jacket.
His prized possession, worn either across his back or at his right hip: a shining sword with golden hilt clad in a tooled leather scabbard.
There is nothing subtle in this young woman's equinity, it sets there skittish beneath brown skin, behind dark eyes. It draws her limbs out long and slender, curls her legs to the horse's tread. Her hooves are shod in steel shoes, silver-bright like the broad bands at her wrists, her coarse black hair frames her long, determined face, spills down between her shoulders like the loose-curled mane it is. She's wrapped in a woven poncho, thick about as a blanket, a long tail holds denim pants up, cut short at the knees. Tall and lanky, quick as the turn of pointed ears, twisted scars and a rough-edged whicker: That's Ruth right now.
This man is very large, nearing seven feet. There's quite a bulk of muscle on his frame now that wasn't there before. His normally fine features have a very harsh, primal cast to them, with his brow more pronounced and his teeth slightly longer and definitely pointier. His blue eyes are clear and hard and his expression has gone from its normal grim look to one that is positively fell. His hair is long and unkempt, falling in wild waves to his waist. Its color has shifted from deep blue-black to a somewhat spooky shade of light grey, like it paused on the way to becoming totally white. Usually it's tied into a ponytail with a length of scalloped black ribbon, but a few strands are always loose about his face. What skin shows around the edges of his clothing is very, very pale and has grown fuzzy with grey-white hair. His much-scarred hands are long and powerful, with hard claw-like nails, and the band of white gold still gleams on his left hand. When he moves, it's with a purpose, and despite his larger frame, he has lost none of his natural grace.
His black opera coat has grown with him and is quite voluminous now, and his white poet shirt and snug black pants have similarly adjusted themselves. Gone, however, is his rapier. Perhaps he deemed such a weapon too delicate for this form, because it's been replaced with a sword of truly heroic proportions. The blade itself is straight and is nearly five feet long. The practiced eye, should it come close enough to examine the sword in detail, would notice the telltale ripples of Damascus steel in the blade. The weapon is obviously a masterwork, but for all that it is largely undecorated. The handle is wrapped in plain brown leather and the pommel is simply a round hunk of steel, set there for balance. The hilt is broad and curved into the shape of a crescent moon, with a smaller second hilt in the same shape about a foot down the blade. He wears this weapon in a back harness that goes over his coat. It looks a little awkward, but then, this form is not worn for its comfort.
The evening finds Danny seated at one end of the large communal table, surrounded by dinner and a project. A muffin, a bowl of potato gratin, and a bowl of tomato-goat cheese salad are all at various levels of consumption, and a half-empty bottle of juice sits the furthest away from him. He's humming tunelessly under his breath and carving a modest-sized piece of wood, with the occasional pause to attend to his food.
Justin, who's been uncharacteristically cranky all day, sits across from Danny, one knee propped against the table and a book resting open on his thigh. He's drawing and scowling at the same time.
Layla is sitting with a long-limbered elegance at a table on the far edge of the room. Her chair is pushed against the far end of the wall to give herself a clear view of the rest of the room. Before her on the table is a battered teapot and a steaming mug of tea.
Rex stomps snow off his boots noisily out on the porch and then enters the Diner with an air of exaggerated casual swagger. "Hey, all," he drawls, then carefully surveys the room before crossing to examine the muffins and breads.
For several minutes, there have been noticeable but not unusual noises in the kitchen. They resolve themselves into Serendipity, emerging into the main room with a steaming cup of something and a plate of various others, and looking mildly startled to see so many people about. "Heya, handsome," he replies to Rex, with a flash of a grin. "...Place's lookin' like someone's scheduled to tell us the secret of life t'night, or something."
Without looking up, Danny says casually to Justin, "You know, if you keep that look on your face much longer, it's going to get stuck like that, and then you'll *really* be a cranky old wizard." He half-turns and waves hello to Rex and Ren, and then it's back to his project. He gently brushes away some sanded wood, then turns the entire piece and starts in on another corner.
"Evening, lads," Justin says to Ren and Rex without looking up from his drawing. He does look up at Danny to give Danny a dirty look, the kind that proceeds a really scathing remark, but the scathing remark doesn't come. He settles for sticking his tongue out at the Perunka.
The sound of the back door opening and closing rings faintly but clearly through the room, then someone pauses in the kitchen before crossing to open the kitchen door into the Diner. Miki pushes the door all the way open and walks through it, and only then does he stop and look around to see who is there, his face still as something carved. His hair is windblown and there are a few leaves caught on his new black cloak, handsomely trimmed in silver and red. He stands in the doorway for a moment, looking, then smiles a little at the sight of Justin and Rex, and steps into the room.
Sandro steps in through the main door, bundled up in a ratty woolen coat with wide fleece cuffs. He must be under there somewhere. The patch of black hair sticking out from the turned up fleecy collar is a dead giveaway, as is the grumbling as he stomps his feet and shuffles toward the counter. "... 'damned son uvva... why I oughtta..."
"Wouldn't want you lookin' permanently sour, Justin," Rex purrs with a wink at Ren, raking the fingers of a bandaged hand through his long hair. "That'd be a loss to every man and woman inclined toward you in the town, and that'd be a lot of folks." At Miki's arrival, he brightens. "Miki!"
Serendipity nods solemnly to Justin, seconding the Bastet-kin. "Rex's gotta point, there. Thinka the wailing and lamentations this town'd suffer if you spoilt that pretty punim of yours," he remarks gravely, managing to grope Rex's rear end one-handed on the way past, meanwhile. He sets the dish and cup on the table by an empty seat, but is distracted from sitting by further entrances. "Hiya, gorgeous," he greets Miki, with a somewhat sideways smile, and brightens as the little bundle of Corax cheer arrives behind. A couple of steps, and he's swooped Sandro up in a hug, kissing his forehead with a resounding smack, and then dropped him again, heading back toward his food. "...evening, cutie."
Danny glances up at Justin and sets aside his woodworking tools. "I've got bragging rights when it comes to slobbering on people. Don't stick that thing out unless you're ready to use it." He takes a few quick bites from the tomato-cheese salad and chases them with a long drink of juice, his face a study in casual arrogance.
Layla sits quietly and sips her tea.
Justin glances to the heavens in a silent request for strength, but gives in with a wry grin as he looks back down at his drawing. "I suppose the vote is against me."
Miki gives Rex a somewhat wider smile, one side of his mouth curling up, and then crosses the room towards the cloak-hooks by the door, carefully picking his way among all the people. He pauses by Justin, touching his shoulder lightly and looking down at his notebook. "Hello," he says softly.
From the bathroom comes a sudden and deafening commotion--thuds, clashes, snarls. A Garou's voice thunders, in a weird and archaic mode of the Mother's Tongue, ~Back! Back to thy haunt, these waters are too shallow for thee!~ There's a very loud hiss, and a clang of steel.
Sandro flails as he's swooped up, and his response to the hug and kiss is to let out a muffled cry of pure hostility while wriggling as though attempting to escape the fires of Hell itself. "Quiddit!" he yowls once enough of his face has been freed from the coat and Ren's chest to form coherent words. By then, the assailant is already on his way back to his food, so he gets a glare instead of swiped at. "Jackass," he mutters by way of greeting, trailing along sullenly toward prospects of food.
Rex levitates. And, perhaps, he makes a small, short "ffft!" noise. Perhaps. But, at least, one moment he's facing Miki and Ren and others, smiling, and the next moment, he's in a battle-ready crouch, one hand on his swordhilt, facing the bathroom, about three feet to one side. "What the fuck?"
Justin has only just glanced up at Miki with a smile for him when the bathroom commotion erupts, and he too bolts to his feet, his book landing upside-down, pages bent, on the floor. He whistles sharply and his staff slides from where it leaned against the wall into his hand.
Justin's abrupt reaction, not to mention the fuss in the bathroom, results in Miki somehow being two feet away from Justin and a little behind where he was standing. He looks at the door, wide-eyed, and says, "That is Garou-speech, is it not?" After a moment, he adds, confidently, "That is not Rowan."
Serendipity had started looking Layla over with curiosity -- possibly among other things -- but the eruption from the bathroom is enough to distract him. "...a'ight, that was strange and loud..." He starts strolling toward the door, weaponless and not looking nearly as concerned for his own skin as he probably ought.
Danny is out of his chair and away from the table in a heartbeat, nearly knocking his woodwork and food to the floor in the process. He stares at the bathroom, wide-eyed and trembling from the adrenaline. "There's--something big in there," he says in a low voice.
Layla looks sharply at the door. Her knuckles whiten around her mug.
Sandro almost makes it to the counter, then the commotion arises, and he freezes, then starts to backstep quickly, muttering, "I ain't that hungry..." He's not so freaked out that he doesn't have enough sensibility to give Ren a dirty look in passing, however.
Miki does *not* approach the bathroom door. In fact, he looks behind him to check on the main door of the Diner, just in case. Then he moves towards Justin, near enough to touch although not touching him, and says quietly, "Have any Garou come to visit in the town, in the past few days?"
As the Coyote kin approaches the door, something inside the bathroom slams against it, causing the wood to splinter and buckle. Half a moment later, the door crashes open and a pure white crinos Garou flies out, barely managing to keep his feet against the assault. Odder than this, though, is the thing that is attacking him: A gigantic black lion's paw, nearly as big as the Garou himself, is coming out of the bathroom mirror and swatting at him. Desperately he parries the claws with a great sword. ~Get BACK!~ he roars, his voice snapping with command.
Rex very nearly leaps into action against the thing in the mirror, but something about the shape of it arrests his forward bound. "... Lion?" he mutters wonderingly. He wavers in his crouch, although his sword is in his hand now.
This is, of course, when the bell at the front door jingles and someone steps inside with the scent of snow and the clop of hooves. A woman, tall and lanky and equine. Curly hair, red and black, a snow-sodden tail. Her eyes go right to the giant wolf. "---Whr-- Right."
Justin, predictably, is already crackling with static electricity, and he uses it by striding forward and aiming a swing of his staff at the flailing paw. The claws only daunt him a little.
Layla rises from her chair in one fluid movement. She carefully moves away from the action, with her back against the wall as much as possible. Her eye flickers over to the door when it opens, and she smiles a tight-lipped smile in greeting.
"Justin! No!" exclaims Miki, reaching for him. "It is a spirit-thing, a not-ghost!" He starts, incongruously, to sing, directly after saying this. The words are in Hungarian, but the music is urgent.
Sandro turns and makes for the door, stopping short of plundering right into Ruth. The Corax currently looks like a ratty woolen coat that has been animated and given legs and a mop of black hair. It's hard to tell his expression under all that cover, but the stream of muttered obscenities might lend a clue that he's not having a good time.
Serendipity takes a quick double-step back as the door nigh-explodes, and sidesteps out of the way of the men who seem more than willing to get down to fisticuffs. He manages to end up near enough to his food to pick it up and have a few bites. Hey, dinner and a show!
Ruth snorts, nostrils wide, draws back at the fellow running towards her, then surges right up, her poncho fluttering, tattering away as she draws up taller and taller, her hooves setting heavy on the ground, her neck arching as her face draws out into a long muzzle. Her ears pin back as she looks towards the wolf, the giant paw.
Danny follows behind Justin but keeps clear of the flailing staff and the electricity coming off his kumimate. He looks around, distressed at the absolute lack of room available to him for shifting, and his hands clench into fists.
Justin's staff only glances off the mighty paw, but it's enough to discharge a bolt of static with a loud *CRACK*. There's a snarl and the paw flinches. The white Garou presses the attack, taking quick controlled swipes, and the gigantic paw pulls back. The Garou takes a final slash, encouraging the paw to withdraw entirely, although it seems well on its way already. Through the mirror there's an unworldly glimpse of a large luminous green slitted eye, a woman's lips drawn back from pointy teeth, a flash of a breast and a furred flank. The Garou, on the backswing, reverses his sword and drives the pommel into the mirror, smashing it into thousands of glittering shards.
Sandro's eyes widen, and he stumbles back from the growing horse-type. He whirls around in a flurry of old wool and ratty fleece in time to see the bolt of static. As glass shatters, he ducks down to dive under a table, tipping over a chair in the process, with a loud wooden clatter.
Eshu's Daughter tosses her mane, takes a solid, ringing step forward, then snorts as hands become hooves, as arms twist and lengthen into legs, as she grows taller still, and then with a thump, the skittering snap of a table, a horse is looking under the table at Sandro. She snorts, shakes her head.
Serendipity continues to eat, and washes it down with some of his coffee, while he's at it. The situation seems pretty well covered, after all. As the mirror shatters, he winces slightly, and shakes his head, setting down the plate and mug and disappearing into the kitchen again.
Rex blinks at the eye and other glimpses in the mirror just before it smashes. Under the sound of settling glass, he says, "Okay. Not Lion." Then he glances around the room to see the lay of things, and begins to watch the Garou for signs of... well, you know, Frenzy, evil, that sort of thing.
Danny breathes a sigh of relief, and looks at the shattered mirror. "She was pissed," he observes.
Justin only now seems to realize what he did, and goes pale and shaky-kneed and otherwise post-adrenaline-rushed. He backs hastily away from the white Crinos.
Miki stares at the crinos Garou with wide eyes, but continues to sing. Apparently, he's not interested in entertaining the company, for the song is unresolved, discordant, and entirely... well, the words "eerie" and "unpleasant" both come to mind. He also backs up, but more to stay at Justin's side than for any other reason, apparently.
Sandro watches the mare suspiciously, then reaches out a hand from under the table hesitantly. It might be his way of making an introduction, like one might offer a hand to an animal to smell, nice and slow so as not to show aggression. Like a small bundle of coat cowering under a table is in any danger of coming off threatening.
Serendipity emerges from the kitchen again, bearing the somewhat worn but serviceable broom, and approaches the Garou, offering the broom and accompanying metal dustpan. "'s seven years, y'know," he comments. "Maybe you'll get time off for good behaviour or somethin'."
The mare steps about amidst tables and chairs, nudges one aside with a scrape, then snorts and turns towards it, ears pinned back, frustration evident in stance and scent. What is going on? Then a hoof thumps down and another chair goes skittering along the floor. She looks at Sandro, dark-eyed, though her ears are towards the unfamiliar Garou.
Layla lets her eyes unfocus as she scans the room. She refocuses on the newcomer, then lets her gaze drop back to the mirror.
Panting with exertion, the white Garou turns and steps out of the bathroom to face the Diner at large. He is not the largest crinos by any means, but by the scars that cover him he's certainly seen his share of battle. Fresh wounds slowly close up on their own, but there are a series of wandering scars across his chest and sides, like someone tried to make a jigsaw puzzle out of him with a silver saw. He looks at first as though he's ready to keep fighting if he has to, but as he takes stock of the situation and sees no new aggressors, he lowers his sword and shifts down to glabro. "Seven years of bad luck," he says to Ren as he smoothly returns the sword to its scabbard on his back. "Is a small thing, compared to guessing wrongly the answer to the Sphinx's riddle, and living to tell of it."
Miki lets his awful song end-- one can't really say it closes-- and says confidentially to Justin, "It went away. I think." He continues to eye the newcomer with some trepidation, however.
"Oh good," Justin replies unsteadily.
"Sphinx? You're kidding!" Danny's adrenaline rush leads to giddiness, and he grins happily at the new arrival. "She's out there in the Shadow Place? But, I guess not really interested in talking to people. Wow, Sphinx, Justin! Right there in the bathroom mirror."
Eshu's Daughter lifts her long head and looks towards Danny, cants her ears towards him. Her tail lashes about, a sharp-edged nicker burrs out between thick lips. She wheels about, slow, caught up amidst mismatched furniture, thumps another chair with a hind leg, then stops and cranes her neck about to look at it.
Sandro watches the mare intently right up til she wheels about, then he takes a peek toward the unfamiliar garou and the wreckage in his wake. For the moment, Sandro seems just fine with staying right where he is. It's a nice, comfy floor. The table overhead will be his friend.
Rex watches the Garou sheathe his sword, and reluctantly returns El Cid to its scabbard as well. He straightens up slowly, then looks down at his hands. "Aw, fuck," he mutters as he observes that his claws have reappeared and have re-perforated his right hand, while holding his sword with his left hand apparently kept the same thing from happening there. He steps backward until he's leaning against the counter, and then looks around behind the counter for a cloth or towel or something while trying to keep an eye on the Garou and other proceedings.
"Good thing they didn't start any earlier then," Serendipity remarks cheerfully. "...there's a trashpile out back you can put the shards in, just don't put it in the compost by mistake, yeah? We'll end up eatin' potatoes au glass-shard..." He trails off, distracted by Rex's mutter, and hands the broom and pan to the Garou -- whether it's accepted or not -- and heads over to check his hand. "...welcome t' Haven, by the way," he adds, before turning his attention to the Bastet-kin's hand. "...happened there? You a'ight?"
Miki pats Justin's arm comfortingly, gives the strange Garou another unnerved stare, and then looks over at Rex. "Rex, what happened to your hand?" He moves towards Rex, pushing his hair back impatiently.
Tobin accepts the pan and broom with a nod and a grave expression as he shifts further down to homid. He transfers both to his left hand and then scans the crowd again, his eyes stopping on Justin. He starts to bow, but stops at something. His eyes focus on the space above and behind Justin's head and widen a bit. His bow becomes very deep indeed as he bends one knee to the mage, muttering something about "My lady," as he does so. "My thanks for your assistance," he says when he straightens up, looking Justin in the eye now.
A hoof thumps solid on tile, and then Eshu's Daughter is snuffing at one of Danny's shoulders. There's more than a little bit of a mutter in her rough-edged whicker.
Rex waves his clawed hand at Miki and Ren and shrugs. "Tell ya later. I'm fine." He gestures urgently with his chin at the weird Garou guy who just crashed the Diner.
Justin looks above his head at where Tobin's looking. There is, of course, nothing there. He looks back, eyes wide, at the Garou. "Uhm. Most welcome," he says, backing up again. "What...happened?"
Danny starts and reaches behind himself to rub Ruth's nose and ears. "Hey you. How you doing?" His attention is more solidly focused on Justin and Tobin, however.
Weird Garou apparently are of less concern to Miki than Rex is. "But Rex, your hands... you have claws! What happened!?" He reaches out, then pauses and looks around for something to staunch the bleeding with.
The fact that there's a horse in the building just now seems to register with Tobin. He gives Ruth a narrow-eyed, somewhat suspicious look, as if a horse indoors could only be up to no good, but soon returns his attention to Justin. "I sought the Oracle," he says flatly. "The Sphinx guarded the path. She asked me her riddle, and I guessed wrongly. But my need was great, so I defied her wrath and took the path anyway. And here I am." He throws a glance over his shoulder at the complete ruin he made of the Diner's bathroom. "My apologies for the mess," he says, sounding less than grim for the first time. "I shall make amends."
Serendipity catches Rex's hand by the wrist, fairly gently, and looks it over, brow furrowed, then to Rex's face, and then nods, just once. "...but you better, an' by later we're talkin' as soon as this stuff's settled," he replies quietly and pulls a bit of cloth from his pocket, suitably clean-looking, which he tucks into the afflicted hand. That done, he lets go and heads around the new Garou to the bathroom, leaning down to snag one of the less-sharp portions of broken mirror from the ground. "What'd she ask you?" he inquires, straightening up. Because, really, that's the most pressing of the available questions, isn't it?
Eshu's Daughter lifts her head, draws her muzzle away from Danny's hand. A hoof thumps, her tail lashes about, then she's looking at Tobin again, her chin held high, dark eyes set upon him. Her ears turn towrds him.
Layla pads into the bathroom apparently for closer look at the shattered mirror.
From under one of the tables, there's a mutter of, "Damn right yer gonna." Let Tobin be warned -- the sentient coat will demand a reckoning. Meanwhile, the little Corax shrugs out of the thing, sitting cross-legged on the floor and looking uninclined to change matters any time soon.
Rex grins at Ren and clamps his hand shut around the cloth. "Tell ya later," he says to Miki. "I promise." The claws are slowly retracting into his fingertips, a weird and vaguely uncomfortable sight. He watches the strange Garou from the corner of his eye.
Miki nods at Rex, looking down at his hand for a long moment, then turns back to the strange Garou, fixing him again with that perhaps unnerving (and certainly a little unnerved) stare.
Well now I guess we know why she was so pissed, Danny whickers lowly to Ruth.
Justin blinks. "Impressive," he says to Tobin, without irony. "Even though you guessed wrong. Who are you? Why were you seeking out a sphinx in the first place?"
The mare snorts, twists her head to turn a dark eye towards Danny. A foreleg curls up, then settles down again, her coarse tail whisks, once. Another muttered nicker, then she lowers her long head to touch her nose to a fetlock.
Tobin starts to answer Ren, then quirks a wry half-grin. "I have been running for my life for four days, seeking a level of the umbra where a creature such as she would feel...uncomfortably restrained by the reality of it, and do you know? Her riddle seems to have slipped my mind." He shrugs apologetically, then draws himself up at Justin's questions, and takes a deep breath. "I am Tobin, rite-named Calls-the-Spirits-To-Battle for my part in the retaking of the caern of the Hidden Walk, Fostern Theurge of the First Tribe. I am the grandson of Frederick the Truth of Falcon, Adren Philodox who negotiated the peace between the Sept of the High Falls and Sept of the Seven Swords. He is the direct descendant of Robert the Silver, also called Falcon's-Silver-Claws, who stood with Cuchalain in the battle to claim Irie for Gaia."
I am a history lesson, the mare says, her ears turning forward.
Danny listens to Tobin's impressive list of credentials, then apologetically asks, "First Tribe? Which...Tribe is that? And where's Hidden Walk?" He snorts and turns his head to give Ruth a wry grin.
Miki listens to all this with the fixed expression of one who is determined to not let it be known that he does not understand a word.
Layla leans against the frame of the bathroom door. She's following the conversation with intense interest but offers no comment at this time.
Sandro remains comfortably nested under the table, the coat becoming a makeshift blanket as he rearranges it, then crawls atop it for the warmth. He's being awfully quiet, possibly listening attentively.
Rex listens carefully to the introduction, glances around, and says, in a voice noticeably less drawly than usual, "I am Ambrosius Rex, Oroszlan Kin and son of Lightning-Strikes-Six, Alpha of the Pride of Mississippi. You're in the town of Haven, near the caern of the Mountain's Heart. And, uh," he adds, sliding out of the formality, "call me Rex."
Serendipity takes a moment to sweep a not-quite-as-flamboyant-as-usual bow to Tobin -- he's a little distracted -- and add to the introductions, "Serendipity Jones, Childa Coyote. Pleased t'meetcha." He flashes Tobin a quick, bright grin, and then heads toward the table, grabbing his plate and mug and making as if to join Sandro beneath the thing.
Tobin looks between Danny and Justin, a sort of reserved confusion in his eyes now. "The First Tribe. Sons and Daughters of Falcon? The Silver Fangs?" he says slowly. Rex's introduction gets a startled look. "Oroszlan? Oroszlan...I know that word. I knew it, who knew it? Volst knew it. He spoke...Hungarian, and was a mystic. What was that word," he says, half-talking to himself for a moment. "Pride of Mississippi? What sept is that?" He blinks slowly at Ren, then. "A child of Coyote?" he says with a slow grin. "Ah, it all fits. Pleased to make your acquaintance, all of you."
Justin looks faintly embarrassed as Rex and Ren show better manners than he does. Tobin's rambling doesn't seem to faze him at all, though. "My name is Justin. I have no deed-name, but it's not the custom of my folk. And I am not entirely certain what a Silver Fang is, but I'm glad to meet one nonetheless."
Miki raises his eyebrows at the mention of Hungarian, and says, "I am Majlath de Holtsapadtbolyh Miklos, my brother and I, we are varaszlo from the Duchies, the Little Lands."
"Danny Wentworth. Thundersnow to Epona's Get in Sunset Crater." He bobs his head to Tobin in greeting. "The only child of Falcon I know is Shalako Mana, but she's wuya, not a Garou."
The tall woman steps away from her door frame and walk into full view before delicately clearing her throat. She speaks for the first time this evening, "I am Layla of the Striders. Pleased to make your acquaintance." At this she bobs a faint bow and perches on the edge of a table.
Sandro's hand reaches out as Ren approaches, reaching for the mug. "Gimme that," he says, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the introductions. "Go find me some willowbark, while yer at it. I'm dyin'."
Eshu's Daughter, in equine guise, simply lowers her long head in a longer nod. Her coarse tail whisks once.
Rex's mouth forms an 'o' as he hears the tribe name. "Oh, uh, Silver Fangs. They're part of the Sentinels now. Julen's tribe. They're, like, from Kelsey's time, guys. I remember that Kelsey worked with them some. And wasn't Derrick one of those too?"
Serendipity lets Sandro take the handle of the mug, but keeps his hand over the top as he slides in crosslegged beside the raven and sets down his plate. "Wait," he instructs, lifting a finger, and rummages in his coat a moment, coming up with a small flask he opens, sniffs, and then dumps a generous dollop into the mug. The flask is returned from whence it came, replaced by a small jar that does indeed appear to contain some kind of bark. He hands it over without ceremony, and then finishes getting comfortable on Sandro's coat.
Tobin gives everyone in the room a searching look, one by one, as though he's trying to decide if he's being decieved or not. He even leans down to stare at Sandro for a moment. He nods once at him before straightening up. "You speak many strange words," he says, eyes lingering on Miki for a moment, looking like he's trying to remember something. "Except for you," he says, turning to Layla and bowing. "My mentor was Sepdet Swims-Through-Silver, a Strider of great renown. It is always an honor to meet Owl's children." He shakes his head slowly, looking around the Diner again. "I have wandered into a strange realm indeed, but if it is Gaia's will..." He trails off, leaving the thought unfinished.
Sandro sniffs at the mug, then the bark, then nods a little. He tucks some of the bark in his cheek, like one might chewing tobacco, then takes a sip from the mug, swishes the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it. He then sucks noisily on the bark, pausing to stare at Tobin with a deer-in-headlights look when the fellow leans over to look at him. "Hi," he says, somewhat garbled what with his mouth being somewhat full.
"Kelsey?" asks Miki of Rex, curiously, then makes the obvious connection. "Does this mean that our visitor is from the past too?" Then he reaches out and grips Rex's wrist strongly, for no apparent reason, turning pale. "Then we are..."
The mare hasn't been looking at anyone in particular, her eyes set on the ground, her long tail whisking. Then she snorts, turns her head to toss her mane and turns a dark eye towards Miklos. We're---?
Layla shifts her balance on the table regards Tobin solemnly.
Danny laughs softly. "That's okay, we think it's pretty strange too." He raises his eyebrows at Miki, humor fading into concern. "We're what?"
Justin doesn't seem quite as disturbed as Miki by this news, but he does eye Tobin cautiously. "Well. That is interesting. The Mountain likes to play these little jokes on us, though."
Serendipity turns a little to peer at Miki from beneath the table, swallowing the bit of meat he was chewing. "Then we're what? Him bein' from the past doesn't exactly sound like somethin' that's got much to do with us, frankly. I mean, hey, if you look at it right, we're =all= from the past..." He pauses, noting the hedge wizard's expression. "Oh, wait, don't tell me. Doom."
Rex lays a hand on Miki's in a comforting sort of way. "I... think so," he says. "At least, it sounds like it." He looks at the Garou. "Some parta the past, anyway. He could be from the Long Night, I guess, too. But... what's wrong?"
Tobin pins Miki with another of his searching looks. "The past? Who is Kelsey? The Long Night? And..." he pauses and takes a deep breath. "What year is it?" he asks cautiously.
Miki raises his chin and swallows uncomfortably. "It is, um, twenty-two and fifty two, year fifty of the Sun's Return," he says, looking Tobin directly in the face. He adds, after a moment, "I... I went to a future with R-- a friend, last fall, I know it is very strange."
Sandro leans a little against Ren's shoulder. His hair has come loose in his coat-related struggles, and it hangs limply around his face, forming a curtain parted only by the tip of his nose. "S'always doom," he opines quietly before helping himself to another nip of bark and another drink from the mug. A glance is darted toward Tobin, and he adds in a low tone, "Poor bastard."
Justin watches Tobin to see how he takes this revelation.
"And where--I mean, when are you from?" Danny asks, glancing uncertainly at Justin.
Eshu's Daughter snorts and shakes her head, then with a sharp-edged whicker draws down in twisting shade and shadow, long limbs and hands and then she's standing up, slow, wrapping her poncho about her middle. This woman is not even slightly human, her face long, her ears pointed, her legs end in hooves. She looks down, her wide mouth sets in a frown. Behind her, her coarse tail lashes once. "Mf."
"Kelsey's a... Garou from, uh, before the Long Night," Rex says, cocking his head to one side. "Part of the caern here. The Long Night bein' when the vampires took the Sun. But, um, if you don't know about that, then you're obviously from before. Like Kelsey."
Tobin's eyes close at the telling of the year and he takes several deep breaths, muttering the number under his breath. "Then it was two-hundred forty-six years ago that I bid my love farewell and entered the umbra, praying and seeking for a...vision." When he opens his eyes they fall on Ruth, and he stares, dumbstruck, completely at a loss for words.
Serendipity steals the mug back, takes a healthy drink, and then returns it to Sandro, curling an arm about the slight youth's shoulders, the better to be leaned upon, as he goes back to eating his food. "...yeah," he agrees, also quietly. "Two hundred forty six years... 's longer'n Tristan's been around, even." He sounds mildly impressed by this.
Sandro cradles the mug in one hand while the other sneaks toward Ren's plate. He doesn't seem to mind being tucked close to the Coyote kin's side, at least not as long as the prospect of stealable goodies is an option. "I can't imagine," he says quietly, and he sounds a bit maudlin as he says it. "To lose everyone you ever knew, your whole world..."
Ruth cants a long ear as she draws a bare arm out from under her poncho, looks at it with dark, critical eyes as she splays her fingers. Dark skin, knotted, barbed wire scars twined from wrist to elbow. She looks down again at her legs, the odd equine curve of knee and ankle, sturdy, steel-shod hooves. "Right," she murmurs, her voice thick with a rusty whicker. Then she glances up, turns a dark eye to Tobin. "Hey," she says, amiably enough.
Danny turns to look at Ruth, and he smiles. "Oh, it looks good on you! Can you control them yet? I keep shifting at the worst times. I almost gave the Head Librarian a heart attack earlier today."
Miki takes a step closer to the strange Garou, now that he seems a little more... human. "I came back here," he says, perhaps meaning to be comforting. "If you were sent here for a purpose, then there will be a road back to your own place."
Justin nods in agreement with Miki. "Katahdin, it seems, never does anything without a purpose." He also takes this opportunity to put his arm around Miki's shoulders.
Ruth lashes her coarse tail, once, sets her mouth in a firm line as she looks from Tobin to Danny. "No," she says. "Not yet." Her voice trails off to a rough-edged whicker, dark and low.
Rex appears to be doing calculations on his fingers. "Um. What month did you leave?" he inquires hesitantly.
"Gotta suck," Ren agrees to the Raven, "...though hey, he got here, he can prolly get back. Y'know, eventually, somehow. Could be worse. Though, y'know, he might hafta wait out that seven years..." He allows the theft from his plate, making no move to prevent it, though he does shift position slightly. "Which, speaking of," he adds, pulling the mirror-shard from his pocket and handing it over to Sandro.
Sandro pauses, a bit of ill-gotten meat poised at his lips as his dark eyes hone in on the glittery shard immediately. "What, you think all we birdies go ga ga over shiny things?" he complains before popping the morsel in his mouth. Then he takes the shard all the same and turns slightly to give Ren a shoulder, if not a cold one, while he inspects the shard covetously.
Miklos leans slightly towards Justin, glad of the contact.
"I passed through the deep umbra to get here," Tobin says confidently. "I was not seeking for two-hundred years. There is a path back, and I shall find it, else my quest has been in vain. As well, I promised my love I would return and I /am/ a man of my word," he says, looking just a little haughty and prideful. He stares unblinking at Rex, then. "January, why?" he asks, an expression of dark premonition coming over his face.
"It'll probably just take time, like when we're young," Danny assures Ruth before turning back to the conversation with Tobin. "January? Is that--that's Wint, now, right? And the Sun was taken...at the end of Budsed?"
Serendipity shrugs slightly, the feathers he hasn't got unruffled. "Well, =I= thought it was pretty," he replies casually enough. "..Tell you what, I mean, you don't =want= it, I could always just keep it myself I s'pose." He pops a bit of bread into his mouth, and leans to get a better view at Tobin and Rex, though he glances back sidelong toward Sandro.
"Um," Rex says again, glancing over at Miki and Justin, something like dread in his eyes. "It was June. I got all sortsa history lessons from Mama, and it was June. The Sun went and the vampires came out." He looks at Tobin earnestly. "But... but... you gotta remember, no matters what happens, okay? We're on the other side of it."
Ruth reaches up to rub the bridge of her broad nose, snorts low and dark. "That's not comforting, Danny."
"June?" asks Miki, suddenly focusing on Rex, then flicking his gaze to Tobin as the implications of that sink into him like ice-cold water. "You mean he comes from the Year of the Sun's Loss!?"
Sandro clutches the shard to his chest. Thankfully, Ren was thoughtful enough to select the least sharp of them. "It's mine," he says hurriedly, shooting Ren a Look. He scoots away a little, as if half-worried Ren has designs on taking it by force. Plus, the scooting gives him a better angle to study Tobin and, with his shard carefully held out of reach of treacherous Coyote kin, he turns his attention to a long, careful regard of the newcomer.
Layla takes up her tea things and glides towards the kitchen. She pauses at the threshold before sweeping inside.
Justin looks from Rex back to Tobin, going a bit pale. His arm gathers Miki a little closer.
Tobin would pale, if he weren't already pale. Again he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Clearly, there is a good deal of history I need to catch up on. But first," he says, then turns towards the bathroom and starts sweeping up the shattered glass and wood. His movements are slow, deliberate, almost meditative. "Gaia must have had a reason..." he says to himself.
Serendipity grins broad and just a touch smug at Sandro, and stretches out his legs. "Well, if you're sure," he replies easily enough. The grin fades a little as he catches the theory of just when Tobin's from, and his eyebrows raise very slightly. =That's= interesting.
Derrick heads in the front door, somehow managing to whistle "Bridge Over Troubled Water" cheerfully. He gives the room a slightly startled glance, mutters, "Well, just like normal, then," and grabs some tea from the fridge.
Danny ducks his head and bites at his lip. "Maybe you'll help some more people survive who wouldn't otherwise, or leave knowledge for the Resistance." He gives Rex and Miki a hopeful look, as if asking for some help.
"The history... well, Miss Eos could prob'ly fix you up with a short version," Rex says, and then looks oddly relieved to see Derrick come in. "Uhm, Derrick? I think this gentleman is someone who should meet you maybe?"
Miki sneaks an arm around Justin's waist and gives Tobin a deeply... sad look. For surely he could not dare to pity a strong Garou warrior of Gaia. "He has come to us from the Year of the Loss of the Sun. I think it must be to learn of a future."
Sandro frowns faintly, glancing back at Ren, then to the shard, then to Tobin, his expression torn, what can be seen of it through the veil of his hair. He looks more sheepdog than raven, truth be told. "Go fix another plate?" is directed toward Ren, for once in a tone of request rather than demand. Then he slips out from under the table, pocketing the precious shiny shard as he gets to his feet. Then, squaring his shoulders, he makes his way toward Tobin. "Go get yerself some food in ya," says the Corax Slayer of English, to the man who easily looms over him by about a foot and a half. Reaching for the broom, he adds gruffly, "I can pick up. Go on, now."
All this talk of the Loss of the Sun and the Long Dark and whatnot must be troubling for the time-travelling Tobin, but he gives no outward sign of it. When Sandro comes over, he considers the young man's request carefully, as though it were a matter of great import. "Thank you," he says at last, handing the broom and dustpan to Sandro as though he were in a ceremony of some sort.
Derrick breaks off his whistling, and blinks at Rex. "Um?" he asks, coherently. "Why so?"
Serendipity half-smiles at Sandro, and unfolds from under the table himself, taking the plate and mug along with him, but leaving them on the table (after another swallow of the drink) as he passes by it on the way to the kitchen.
The door to the diner opens again in what may seem like a rather short time after Derrick's entrance. Hauling her way-oversized cloak along with her, Rahne steps inside and gently pulls the door shut behind her. Hauling the deep hood down so she can see, she blinks at the congregation in the diner and ruffles her wet hair loosely. "My, thick as thistles in here t'night, it is." she murmurs, vaguely, taking in all the faces one at a time and letting the folds of her cloak slide to the floor.
Rex opens his mouth, then closes it with a snap, and finally says to Derrick, "He's a Silver Fang."
Danny nods his head at Tobin and adds, "He's from the past. The year the Sun was taken."
Slowly, Derrick blinks, then turns to look at Tobin. "Is he." He regards him for a moment, then, in all his linen-pantsed finery, wanders over towards him. "Hey," he says, affably.
Miki looks up at Justin and apparently sees something in the Mage's expression that worries him. He starts to steer Justin towards the other end of the Diner, murmuring, "I think we must go." He adds, "But there are other people who know more to tell our visitor. I am honored to meet you," he says finally, looking up and bowing to the strange Garou, looking up and meeting his eyes once more. Yes, that is a look of compassion, and it's far too painful to be anything but sincere. But then he turns, gently, inexorably, and gracefully getting the Mage to the door.
Sandro nods to Tobin solemnly, then sets to work sweeping up the wreckage of the mirror. He too has an air of ceremony about him, and though his accent still does things to the language that would make Mother Nature cry, his tone is all business as he says, "Ren'll fix ya somethin' to eat. I'm Sandro, don't mind me none. You'll want somewhere to sleep, and I can think of a few places. If ya take tea, we can put on a kettle."
Rahne scoots out of the way and helpfully holds the door for Miki and Justin, nudging her wayward garment out of their way and smiling somewhat in both greeting and farewell. It at least gives her something to do while she sorts out all the hubbub.
In support of Sandro's assertion, there are noises in the kitchen -- clinking of china and silver, the sounds of cupboards and drawers and the fridge opening and closing.
Tobin half-bows to the departing Miki and Justin, then turns to see this Derrick person who has come in. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of the other Silver Fang. "Another of Falcon's children has found their way here?" he says, his voice an intense whisper. "But how?"
Miki and Justin leave quietly, their footsteps departing down the street towards Katahdin Road.
Ruth turns a dark-eyed glance towards Justin and Miklos, furrows her brow. She takes a step forward, a hoof rings lightly on tile, then she stops and sets there, very still. She snorts, then takes a long breath. There's a moment where her limbs and face seem longer, where her breath barrels her chest out far more than a human frame could muster. Then she coughs, and nothing's happened at all. She lashes her dark tail.
Derrick, in both expression and speech, is determindly casual, apparently in deliberate contrast to Tobin. "Yeah, that'd be me. It's... Kinda a long story. First of all, who the heck're /you/, and how the hell did you /get/ here?"
Rex watches Miki and Justin go with a small sigh, then turns to watch the Silver Fang Reunion.
"Night guys," Danny calls after Justin and Miki. "See you back at the house." He watches Ruth's shifting with sympathy, keeping half an ear to Derrick and Tobin's conversation.
Rahne pulls the door shut again and resumes taking stock of the diner. Leaning against the nearest chair, she lets a held breath out and curls a finger in her hair. The formal mannerisms of the newest face garner an inquisitive look, and she pulls the cloak tighter around her for a bit.
Sandro works with a vengeance, sweeping up the shards (perhaps pocketing one or two) into the dustpan and delivering them to the trash before coming back to repeat the process until the glass is picked up. He's efficient and silent, sneaking the occasional glance toward the Silver Fangs as he eavesdrops shamelessly.
"I...I do not know the exact path I took to come here," Tobin says, looking unsure of himself now. "It was many days on paths through the deep umbra, with my foe close at my heels, before I found my way to shallower waters and made my stand in...the washroom." He looks apologetic at that, gesturing to the broken bathroom. "But my name is Tobin, and I left on my quest in the beginning of the year two-thousand six. I'm given to believe that this is the year twenty-two fifty-two. I was not on the dark paths for that long, so I must have come through a gate. I am certain that Gaia lead me here, as I was seeking a vision."
Ruth draws her poncho about her shoulders, sets her mouth in a wide line as she takes even steps, hooves ringing against tile as she walks to the counter. Dark hands gather a few apples, some odd care shown in the way she curls her fingers around them, quirks a corner of her mouth up in the faintest smile. Then she turns and walks back, gives Danny a dark-eyed look.
Derrick's expression darkens slightly. "Gates. You had an easier time of it than some of us." He offers his hand. "Briefly, I'm Derrick. I left my time... two years before you, actually. I can and certainly will tell you all of the history I know, given as I've kind of taken the time to stuff my head with as much knowlege of the intervening years as I possibly can. Maybe you can be of help. I certainly wish /I/ could have been, back then. Now. A Silver Fang," he adds, with a slight smile and a sudden layer of formality in both expression and tone of voice, "Has far more to tell of who and what he is, does he not?"
Serendipity emerges from the kitchen bearing a pair of well-laden plates, complete with silverware; he sets both down on the table with all due pomp, and then pull sout the chair beside his own, waiting plate, and flips it around to straddle it backward. "...Hey!" he exclaims, startled, as his eye then manages to fall on Rahne. "Evenin', lovely. Nice seein' =you= again," he greets her, "'s plennya food in the kitchen." That said, he takes another sip of his drink, listening to the Fangs.
Tobin grasps Derrick's hand with an answering smile. "Indeed, my lord!" he says with a sudden English accent. "It has been long since together we stood on that green field, all the hosts of the enemy arrayed before us--" he breaks off and blinks, looking confused. "No, no, I am /Tobin/ and you and I have never faced battle together. I stood with /Ouroboros/ and /Salmon's Leap/. It was Henry who fought alongside Emerald Flame." The smile he offers now is somewhat wan. "Forgive me, the ancestors are strong in me."
Rahne blinks out of her momentary reverie and grins brightly at Ren, a hand appearing to wiggle fingers in greeting. Her cheeks go faintly pink for a moment as she calls back, "Good to see you, too! You musta read my mind to know why I came in, that or heard my gut from miles away. I'll go help m'self in a smidge...." Her ear is caught by the exchange between this Tobin and Derrick, and she tries to divide her attention somewhat.
Derrick doesn't bat an eyelash. "Indeed." His handshake is firm. "Pardon me, but did you say Ouroboros?"
Danny drifts back to the communal table, giving Rahne a grin along the way. He descends upon his mostly-ignored dinner, and takes up the apple-oatmeal muffin. He watches Derrick and Tobin closely as he works through the muffin and moves on to the salad.
Sandro glances up from sweeping, pausing to give Rahne a once-over, then again to look at Ren and roll his eyes, shaking his head. Then it's back to sweeping, with frequent trips to the trash and, once the worst of it is dealt with, he tidies up the washroom to the best of his meager abilities.
Rex startles suddenly. "Oh, hell," he mutters. "I gotta go. I promised Miss Anita some of the Diner's muffins for dessert." He sketches a bow in Tobin's direction. "I hope to meet up with you again, sir," he says to the distracted Fang. And he winks at Ren. "Come by later an' I'll explain," he tells the Coyote Kin, wiggling his fingers. Then he snatches up a trio of muffins, wraps them in a napkin, and bolts out the door, running up the street to the little cottage in the distance.
Ruth stands there, still for some time, then steps slow and certain towards the big table. Hooves clatter, the chair slips as she folds herself down onto it, folds her arms about her midlde, frowns. Her ears quirk towards the Fangs.
Serendipity focuses on Rex's fingers a moment as they wriggle, and then grins at the other kin, with a nod. "You're on," he replies, watching the scurrying for muffins, and hums very faintly -- but cheerfully -- to himself as he goes back to what remains of his now surely cold meal.
Tobin nods slowly at Derrick, sparing another wary, curious glance at Ruth. "I did. And I think it's time we gave our introductions. I think some things might become more clear, afterwards." Looking grave and formal, he gestures for Derrick to go first.
Rahne takes a few slow breaths and eventually extracts herself from her cloak. The pack she had on underneath it goes on a chair and the cloak gets draped over it. That done, she tugs on her shirts and heads for the kitchen, going as quietly as possible so as not to interrupt the Fangs.
Sandro finishes putting the washroom into what order he can, and then he returns the broom and dust pan to its place. Not a word from the short one. After cleaning up, he putters about in the kitchen, putting on a kettle for tea and picking at edibles. He seems to have a knack for fading into the background.
The salad, gratin, and muffin all disappear quickly. Danny gathers up his dishes and ferries them into the kitchen, returning with a knife, a jar of apple-rosehip butter, and a loaf of potato bread. He slices up several pieces of the bread and spreads the dark red-brown butter over them liberally, and offers one to Ruth.
"Yo, Sandrissimo," Ren calls over his shoulder into the kitchen, "your plate's gettin' cold. Yours too," he adds toward Tobin, "Once you guys get through your names and all..."
Ruth draws an apple to her mouth, then pauses and cants her head, catches Tobin in a sidelong glance. She sets the apple down, then furrows her brow. "Hey, right," she says, so thick with an equine whicker that the words barely make sense. Then she clears her throat. "Hey. I'm Ruth, Eshu's Daughter. They call me Foe Hammer here, in Haven." She glances at Danny, holds a hand out for the bread. "Thanks, she murmurs. She draws a leg up, a hoof clonks on wood, somewhere.
Derrick's small smile fails to fade; his formality deepens. In fact, this /is/ a Silver Fang. "As you say. I am Frederick Nichols Herr, myself, known to most as Derrick. I am Ragabash and, obviously, of the Tribe of Falcon. Indeed, I am known as Falcon's Wing Leads by Example, and occasionally called, among other things--" his smile fights not to rise further-- "Liar Elder, Returns Home Again, and M'Sieur Vieux. I am the son of Elizabeth and Frederick, who was himself son of Darren Silver Wings of Victory, who was of the lines of England and of the Hapsburgs. I was born of the Protectorate of New England, and later adopted into the Protectorate of Silver and Gold. I am-- was, rather-- a member of the House of the Unbreakable Hearth, and most definitely devoted to the Renewal of the Silver Fangs themselves. I was Rited at the Sept of the Hidden Walk when it was still the Wheel Renewed, and helped in its reforging -- twice. I and my pack defeated a Nephandus, served as Guardians, and more. I was a member and Alpha of the packs Usual Suspects, Dreamrunners, and, later, at the Sept of the Western Eye, alpha of Water's Depths. I am-- was-- husband to Kylikki Heikkenen Herr, and father of Elaine, Elizabeth, Samantha, and Darren, though him, I never knew." He pauses, and then purely grins, the formality falling away as if it had never been. "Welcome t'th' new world, man, hope you enjoy the experience."
Sandro emerges from the kitchen with a pot of tea in one hand and a mug in the other. He's spit out the bark on one of his trips to the trash, garbling his speech less. "Hey Rendumbass," he greets in turn, all about the formality. "I was doin' stuff." In deference to the Fangs, he does keep his voice down. Turning one of the chairs backwards, he straddles it and puts down the teapot and mug, pouring from one to the other.
Rahne clinks things about in the kitchen as delicately as possible, a faint humming coming from that vicinity as she gets herself something to eat. After a minute or two, she comes out with a plate of food in her hands and a pleased expression on her face. Wandering back over to where her stuff is, she takes the next chair over and curls up on it to gnosh. Her eyes do a quick once-around to see if anything's changed in her absence, and she looks relieved when nothing new has cropped up.
Ruth sits there, an ear quirked, poised to take a bite from the bread. She looks at Derrick, sidelong, then shakes her head slight and settles down to eat. There is something strange about the way her jaw works, the chair beneath her creaks. She says something low and quiet, Spanish, then straightens up in her seat, whisks her tail out of the way so it doesn't get caught under her rump.
Tobin's breath catches in his throat midway through Derrick's introduction and again he nods slowly. "Well met, Falcon's Wing Leads by Example," he says, voice shaking just slightly. He takes a deep breath and draws himself up, pride and history in his demeanor as he proceeds with his own introduction. "I am Tobin, Edward Tobin son of James and Mary Tobin, who were kinfolk, I was rite-named Calls-the-Spirits-To-Battle for my part in the retaking of the caern of the Hidden Walk, and am a Fostern Theurge of, as you know, the First Tribe. I am the grandson of Frederick the Truth of Falcon, Adren Philodox who negotiated the peace between the Sept of the High Falls and Sept of the Seven Swords. He is the direct descendant of Robert the Silver, also called Falcon's-Silver-Claws, who stood with Cuchalain in the battle to claim Irie for Gaia. I was once a son of Merlin and alpha of the pack Crescent Wing. Now I wander, packless and septless, because my Renewalist ideas were not popular in High Falls," he adds, sadness touching his voice now.
Serendipity glances sidelong at the bird matching the style of seating he's taken for the time being, and hides a smirk behind his mug of whatever-it-is. "Beggin' yer highness's pardon," he replies with light amusement. "Tea, yeah?" The mug moves over toward the teapot, "Pour me some?" A glance over his shoulder at the Garou, looking a bit sympathetic at that sound in Tobin's voice.
Danny starts in on a slice of well-laden bread, and gestures at the the butter while nodding at Rahne, Ren, and Sandro in the universal manner that indicates, 'Get it while there's still some to be gotten'.
The formality is, in fact, gone completely. "You /what/?" He stops. "Wow." The realigning of his brain is almost visible. "I think... I'd actually /heard/ of you, back aways. You hung out with an Australian guy, didn't you?" He adds, almost apologetically, "Sepdet says hi." He studies Tobin for a moment, eyes gentle. "I... had pack, with me, when I got to that stage. We... helped each other. It wasn't easy, but it was better than nothin'. But I know what it's like, bein' a stranger in your own tribe, bein' someone who /knows/ what the tribe /should/ be, but /isn't/..." He trails off, and shakes his head. "Tea. Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Also, who /are/ you people?" He asks this mostly of Sandro and Ren.
Sandro tells Ren, in a manner reminiscent of ruffled feathers, "I'll let it go this time." He even pours some tea into Ren's mug, then gestures about the table in the universal symbol of 'who else wants some?' Danny gets a nod, then a lightning-quick grin. Then he glances up to Derrick and replies mildly, "Name's Sandro. I'm one'a Raven's kids. Y'all want somethin' to eat? It's gettin' cold."
Serendipity leans across to take advantage of Danny's offer, and arches a brow at Derrick slightly, leaning on the back of the chair -- in front of him, in this position -- comfortably. A sip from the recently added-to mug, and he shrugs, "...I'm just this guy, y'know?" He grins then, suddenly, and inclines his head in something vaguely resembling a bow, if one's imaginative. "Serendipity Jones, Childa Coyote. Folks mostly call me Ren. Niceta meetcha." He studies both of the Fangs for a couple moments, almost measuringly.
Tobin blinks in surprise. "Sepdet spoke of me? She was my mentor." His face darkens visibly with an old anger and he clenches one fist. "Yes, 'that Australian guy'. Cameron. I should have killed him when I had the chance, for his impudence, his betrayal." He forces himself to relax, then, and takes a calming breath. "But his blood is not worthy to stain my blade, now. I have more important things to worry about." He grins suddenly. "I may no longer have my pack, but I am not alone," he says, holding his left hand to show his ring. "And tea sounds good, thank you," he says to Ren and Sandro.
Rahne curls her knees up to her chest and rests her plate on them to eat from. She listens intently to things and waits on introducing herself, taking care of her rumbling tummy before it does the introducing -for- her. She just smiles for the time being and looks pleasant.
Danny holds up the juice bottle that he's still working on as his answer for Sandro, and sips from it.
Derrick tells Sandro, "Derrick. Or, um, was that obvious. Anyways, I mostly patrol up on the mountain, when I'm not wanderin' around explorin' the countryside. I'd /love/ a muffin. It's what I came in for, really, before I got into a Silver Fang contest, here. An'," he adds, to Ren, "Me too, when I ain't gettin' into My Breeding Is Better Than Your Breeding contests. Good choice've authors to quote, I gotta say." He's in the process of fetching his own muffin, when Tobin's news makes him pause. "Mentor, huh? No wonder she mentioned you. She wasn't doin' much talkin' by the time she stopped by the last time." He just looks at the ring, and swallows. "Congratulations," he says, with evident sincerity, even if there's the trace of sadness, there, too. "Who's the lucky woman?"
Sandro pours mugs of tea all around, for those who want them anyway. "Most people actually call him 'hey you bastard get yer whorin' ass outta my wife's dressin' room' but Ren's shorter." He sets the teapot aside, then reaches for a slice of bread and some of the rosehip apple butter. "Well, it's nice to meet ya, Derrick. I just come into town a few days back, myself." After slathering some of the butter on his bread, he hops up and makes his way toward the kitchen to snag a muffin or three for Derrick, happily playing waiter/host.
Ruth doesn't appear to hear Sandro at all. She's set what's left of her bread down, is looking with some intent at her dark hands. A scar runs down from her wrist on one, over the back towards a finger. There's some tension along her limbs, it's still there when she curls her arms around her middle. Quiet there, save for the scrape of a hoof along tile.
"Tia is her name," Tobin answers, half a dreamy smile coming to his face. "She is Strider kin of Chinese descent, and she has stayed by my side through it all, even when the madness and the memories took me and I could not tell past from present. She even took me back after I was kidnapped and missing for a year." He sighs and lowers his hand while taking a seat at the table. He glances from Sandro to Ren to Derrick, a twinkle in his eye. "We must be careful, the children of /two/ trickster-gods are with us tonight." Another glance at Ruth and Danny, then. "And the children of Epona. I was not aware that there /were/ horse-shifters."
Danny chokes loudly on a piece of the bread he was trying to merely swallow, and pounds on his chest numerous times. He takes a long drink from the juice to wash down the bread, and wipes his watering eyes. "Gaia's Tits, Sandro, warn someone before you're going to do that," he coughs out. He recovers some of his dignity, and nods at Tobin. "We're kind of recent. There were horse-shifters in the really old days, but then they all died out, and didn't come back until during the Long Dark."
Serendipity gives Sandro a wounded look. "That's not true. Only a =few= people've ever called me =that=," he defends his, er, innocence. "There's a lotta things I've been called more'n that. Like just 'you bastard,' and 'stop thief'. And 'God'." He gives Sandro an exceedingly toothy grin along with the last one, and pops the buttered bread into his mouth.
Derrick says, enthusiasm evident, "They're new." His shorter explanation eclipsed, he adds, "Well, hell, I been the child of a few trickster totems myself, I have no problem with a few more of 'em. Anyways, thanks, Sandro, you're savin' my life." He salutes the man with his muffin, and then takes a seat. /Not/ backwards. "Congratulations, Tobin. I'm very glad that you've got such a strong relationship. I don' have to tell /you/ how hard it can be..."
Rahne snorts quietly around a mouthful of food and smiles merrily, swallowing her mouthful before speaking up. "Well, I'm not from so nearly an august line as either of you, two," she says, looking between Derrick and Tobin, "but it is fine enough for me. Rahne MacIntyre at your service, and I'll spill the rest of the spiel if you're inclined to hear it. Though, there's enough history floating in the air to drawn down a month's worth of songs." That said, she settles back into her food and makes a happy noise.
Derrick immediately says, "/I'm/ inclined, yeah."
Sandro flashes Derrick a smile that is all sunshine and cheer, then turns to give Ren a Look. "Well, I do hear that folks find religion in their bleakest hours." He reclaims his chair. straddling it as he reaches for his mug of tea. Danny gets an innocent half-smile as he says solemnly, "There ain't no warnin' for the truth." Rahne gets a mildly curious look, but any reply is stalled by the necessity of stuffing his face with more bread.
Ruth draws a dark brow up as she looks over at Danny. "Old as the hills, young as the day, that's us," she murmurs. Her eyes are dark and wide, she stretches her legs out under the table, then curls them up again. Hooves clonk against wood, rap against tile, she makes a face.
"Please," Tobin says to Rahne, leaning back in his chair and managing to look relaxed and regal at the same time. He sneaks another curious look at satyr-Ruth, then nods his thanks at Derrick's well-wishing.
Rahne raises both eyebrows in a 'Well, now!' sort of gesture and sets down her plate so she can unfold her legs. Standing, she swallows a mouthful and covers her mouth to clear her throat. That done, she executes a floridly overdone bow that is entirely on purpose and introduces herself on the way back up. "Rahne Enola Aiyana MacIntyre, named Harp's-Song-Slays-The-Dead, Fostern Galliard of the Spiral Dancers, humbly at thy service." she rambles in tones that border a fine line between reverence and utter wise-assedness. Straightening, she brushes one hand against the blade bound to her side and promptly sits back down with a pleasant smile on her impish face.
Derrick can't help but grin. "Entirely pleased to meet you, m'lady. I'm thinking about hooking up with your crew, actually..."
Serendipity grins at Sandro, setting his mug down and crossing his arms on the chairback. "Well, if those were their bleakest hours, 's amazing they didn't die of ecstasy the resta the time," he retorts cheerfully. "Only wish =I= could have it so tough." He turns the grin on Rahne, noting the bow with approving amusement, and then gets around to starting in on a couple of the vegetables that have been languishing on his plate.
At the first mention of the Spiral Dancers, Tobin has an arrested panic attack. His hands go to the edge of the table and he sits up straight, like he's about ready to upend the furniture and start fighting. Nobody else seems to be freaking out, though, and he manages to throw a 'please explain this to me' glance at Derrick instead of drawing steel.
"Ouch," Danny says to Sandro, "you don't play very nice." He's about to start in on a second slice of liberally buttered bread, but Tobin's strange reaction gives him pause. "Is something wrong?" he asks, frowning.
Sandro's gaze lifts ceilingwards at Ren's reply, and he shakes his head with a sigh. Then he gives Danny a morose 'what can you do' shrug and starts to say something, but Tobin's response captures his attention, and he tilts his head to regard him, because there's nothing like a blank stare to make a newcomer feel right at home.
The aforementioned Derrick has the grace to look thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he says. "It hadn't even occurred to me. Which oughta tell you how long I've /been/ here. Anyways, back a few hundred years, the Children of Gaia, and the Black Furies merged, see. They became the Spiral Dancers, reclaiming the sacred symbol of the spiral dance from what the Wyrm had done with it." After a pause, he adds, "The Silver Fangs merged with the Get of Fenris and the Fianna to become the Gaian Sentinels."
Well, as soon as Tobin sits up, straight, Ruth snorts and sits up as well. Her limbs lengthen, her long face, her hair tangles along about the nape of her neck, straightens into a mane. Her poncho whirls and tatters around her, fades away as the chair beneath her creaks, thumps, and then she's there on her rump on the floor. Don't make noises, she says. Blocky hands set flat on the floor, then she reaches up to rub her brow with one.
"We're also irreverant smart-asses, to boot." Rahne says with great amusement, reaching for her half-finished plate. She looks over at Ruth and blinks a moment before understanding washes over her face, soon replaced by quiet sympathy.
Tobin calms himself with an effort and nods slowly. "I see," he says after some careful breathing. He stands slowly and bows to Rahne. "My apologies, my lady. A bard such as yourself surely knows what bitter enemies were those who walked the Black Spiral to us before...before your tribe reclaimed the spiral." He bows apologetically to Ruth, as well, before sitting back down again and giving Derrick a curious, excited look. "The Gaian Sentinels? Would you tell me of this tribe?"
Danny jumps at Ruth's sudden shifting into the large two-legged horse form, and scoots back, hopping out of his chair. No sooner is he on his feet then his own form blurs and reforms into a satyr-shape similar to the one she was wearing moments before. He sighs with resignation, and offers a hand to help her up.
Rahne tears her attention from Ruth to smile understandingly at Tobin and nod, "I do, and so I tender an apology of my own. Sometimes, my mouth gets ahead of my noggin. We have grown beyond that image, though those of us with the gifts do not forget it." She apparently doesn't hold anything against anyone, here. That or she's a nonstop good cheer factory.
Sandro stares at Ruth, then Danny, blinking in mild surprise. Then he says, with all due social grace and politeness, "What the hell? Are you okay?" His attention flits between Danny and Ruth, making the target of the question debatable.
Derrick gives Ruth a brief, concerned look. (He doesn't seem to know enough that her new forms are, in fact, odd.) He is, though, eminently familiar with people on edge, so after a moment, he leaves them to what he assumes to be their Rage. At Tobin's question, he looks out the window, and sighs. "I would, but I should be getting on patrol. I stopped in for dinner first, but... I can't really stay. We've our own enemies to watch for, in this time. But look for me, soon, or come find me, up on the ridge of Katahdin."
Eshu's Daughter tosses her mane, snorts low and dark, then takes a long breath, another. She draws down to the swiftfooted shape, her dark coat fading for brown skin, her muzzle drawing short, but the hooves and tail remain as she catches Danny's hand, gathers her hooves beneath her and stands. Her mouth's set in a firm line as she gathers her poncho about herself, glances at Danny. "Thanks," she murmurs. A pause, then she looks at Sandro. A corner of her mouth quirks up. "Yeah," she says.
Tobin nods once at Derrick. "I will find you, if I can," he says, then glances between the people present, looking hesitant. "If I may, I wonder if there is anyplace nearby, out of doors that one may meditate in? Your company has all been good, but I have learned much tonight and needs must think it over."
"We're alright in the sense that we have to figure out how to use these shapes. It's like puberty, without the boundless source of energy," Danny replies dryly. Once he's gotten Ruth on her feet, he helpfully tells Tobin, "Mrs. Foerester wouldn't have a problem with a border, and there may be a spare cot in the back room here. Oh, the Wyrm's been rebalanced. It's not evil anymore. The evil is the last remains of the tainted bit, we call that the Corruptor. So Wyrm spirits aren't bad."
Rahne licks her fingers a moment and considers that question, then shrugs. "I'd say go out by the Oak...but he can be a bit petulant sometimes if you catch him at the wrong time." she quips, nibbling slowly on the rest of her dinner.
Derrick waves out toward the lake. "There's always the lake, there..." He's gone before Danny says his piece, out the back door.
Ruth reaches up to tug her fingers through her red and black hair, whisks her tail once. "It's like firsting," she says, after some time. "Again."
Tobin stands up, still looking a little hesitant. "Would...someone care to show me the lake, or the oak?"
Sandro glances between the two some more, frowning faintly. "Well, okay," he grudgingly relents. "Just... you know. It's kinda freaky." He pauses, then adds thoughtfully, "Not in a bad way. I'm just sayin'. I mean, it ain't no thing. First time I changed, I landed beak-first in the dirt." He smiles a little, flipping his hair from his eyes with a flick of his hand as he tells Tobin, "I could show you how to get there."
Rahne eyes the remaining food on her plate and pulls it a little closer. "I'll just stay here and finish feeding my face. The belly and me have been disagreeing for hours, need to finish the argument. Pleasure to meet you, Tobin, and may you walk easy on your path here."
"It's like Firsting," Danny agrees. "Repeatedly." He looks down at his horse-legs and takes up one last slice of bread, saying, "I can go with you. I live out by the Lake with Justin and Bryce, and I need to get used to these." After wolfing down the bread he takes the remains of the loaf, along with the butter and the knife, back into the kitchen, and returns to scoop up his woodworking project into his satchel and shrug into his cloak.
Ruth straightens up, her hooves brushing the tile beneath her. She curls her poncho about her, tighter, then turns her head to look at Danny, sidelong. "I'll go along with you."
Tobin looks doubtfully at Danny and Ruth's horse legs, but nods at them and Sandro. "Please, lead the way."
Sandro nods slowly, commenting to Danny, "Just don't step on my foot, man." Then he gets to his feet, snagging another bit of bread to munch on the way. "It's right this way," he tells Tobin solemnly. "You can't miss it. It looks just like a big puddle of water." And with that, he heads toward the door.
Serendipity polishes off the last bit on his plate, and stands, stretching. "Well, I'd help y'all troop off t' show Tobin to the mystic pointa meditation, but I think I'm gonna go get that explanation Rex owes me, 'n' all, instead," he decides, and flashes a quick grin at Sandro, adding as he strolls doorward, "G'night, folks... don't wait up."