This old and spacious building was once a fairly large carriage barn, but has been converted first as garage, and then into something else entirely. It once had massive two-story front doors, but they've been permanently closed, and a smaller door built into them. The walls appear to have been reinforced in some way, making them stronger and somewhat soundproof. The size of about two large rooms, the first floor is undivided. It's got wooden plank flooring, and has exercise equipment dotting its expanse, with free weights in one area, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor, which is carpeted, but has unfinished walls, a few dangling light bulbs, and is apparently serving as a somewhat informal bunk area. The lighting is, understandably, somewhat inadequate. The floor mostly consists of mattresses, innumerable throw pillows and bed pillows, warm bedding, and the occasional glimpse of carpet. There are a few shoes resting against the wall near the ladder; clearly, people are expected to take their footwear off once they get up here. A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house.
No more than 13 or 14 years old, maybe five and a half feet tall and all skinny-wiry in that decidedly not-filled-out-yet way. Wavy coffee-coloured hair's been somewhat haphazardly cut, or perhaps allowed to grow out; it's barely above the collar in the back, and in the front a floppy fringe half-hides dark, solid eyebrows and constantly threatens to fall into a pair of wide hazel eyes. The kid's tawny complected, with a smattering of noticable freckles across the cheeks and the strong, straight nose, and seems thus far to be mostly winning the battle against teenage acne. A wide, somewhat full-lipped mouth contains clean but slightly crooked teeth, untamed by braces. One might also notice a certain alert balance to the stance -- not aggressive, but more like a coiled spring of potential energy restrained just beneath a placid surface.
Today's clothing consists of a light blue button-down shirt tucked loosely into old but presentable jeans, accessorized with aged black high-top converse, navy suspenders, and a navy bow tie with little silver polkadots. There's an unbuttoned cardigan over top, dark grey and oversized enough to need pushing up at the wrists, and when it's cold enough an ankle-length tan wool coat is added to the outfit, along with a multi-coloured striped knit scarf of truly remarkable length. An old brown leather satchel hanging off one shoulder completes the ensemble.
Djehuti is a man in his late 30s, though given his weatherbeaten face and tired posture, he might well seem older. He's about 6'2" tall, and his face -- all of him, really -- is long and thin. The face is relatively dark-skinned and weathered, carved with lines and yet frequently mobile and engaging. His eyes are brown, and often warm; sometimes, they are cooler, further away. But he is always, always observing what goes on around him. His brown hair, which is not long, curls and waves and kinks around his head; the longest stray strand does not quite reach his shoulders. On closer inspection, his posture may not be lazy; it may instead be coiled, poised, resting before more action. Something in that posture hints at grace, or perhaps even nobility.
His clothes are a hodge-podge. He wears battered jeans, a gray muslin shirt, and, over that, a keffiyehesque scarf, white cotton lined with what is apparently (and somewhat incongruously) polarfleece, serving mostly as a neck-covering, the folds extending over his shoulders, as well. (Though his head is uncovered.) He's currently barefoot. His backpack, dull green army vintage, is generally nearby. The only curious thing is that he wears brown gloves in all weather, fingerless save for the pinkies; these gloves wrap their leather up to about his elbows.
The girl can't be more than eighteen years old and stands tall at five foot seven. She is built like an athlete with a body that will always be more fleshy than lanky while maintaining agility and strength. Her skin is naturally pale and creates a striking contrast against her black hair. Usually cut in long layers with bangs that hang low over her almond-shaped brown eyes, her hair has since outgrown the cut. Now it brushes well past her shoulder blades and her bangs easily drape half way down her nose when not pushed away. Her face is heart-shaped with sharp cheekbones and a straight button nose set above her expressive lips. Overall her feature have a bit of a Baltic touch.
She is wearing a very old black tanktop that barely reaches her mangy grey, baggy cargo pants. The pockets of her pants appear to be full and heavy, weighing them down. Black, clomping and heavily scuffed labor boots adorn her feet. Her only accessory is are silver ear cuffs on both her ears, similar to the one Riot used to wear.
She has a scar on the curve of her left shoulder. It looks like an animal bite that's a few years old by now.
A woman in her late twenties to early thirties, Val is whip-thin, with a an angular face, prominent nose, pale skin, and jet black hair is cropped rather short. The woman stands just under five feet tall, which accentuates how thin she is. Val smiles a lot, a cheerfulness that is hard to ignore and is almost contagious in nature.
Currently, the small woman is wearing a pair of black jeans and a white long sleeved shirt, with the image of a tree on it. The tree lacks leaves and a number of stylized bird silhouettes sit amongst the bare branches. A miniature leather backpack sits in the middle of her back, held in place by straps across her shoulders. Around her neck she wears a thick silver torc, and continuing with the silver theme, several rings adorn the fingers of her her hands.
As protection against the chill weather, she currently wears a heavy black leather jacket. Her head and fingers are protected from the cold by bright, rainbow colored woolens.
Djehuti sets, or you?
Izzy ponders. I'm okay either way. Time of day preference?
Djehuti is good with earlier, if you want. I wasn't on earlier.
Izzy: Earlier sounds good. midnight-30 seems a bit late.
Izzy: Shoot, one sec
Djehuti grins. Yes. *then waits*
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (39% full).
The sounds in the garage are a bit odd, at present, if not particularly loud. Paddity-paddity-paddity-THUMP. Pause. Paddity-paddity-paddity-paddity-paddity... more paddities. THUMP. Since the place is somewhat soundproof, it's not obvious until one's really close, or perhaps even opening a door, and in the latter case the source is fairly clear as well. There's a large jackal running around the place, and periodically leaping at the punching bag or a large pile of pillows and blankets that have been piled in another corner. Thump.
Djehuti peers in the window, and then disappears; soon enough, a door opens up upstairs, and another jackal goes clamber-falling down the ladder, and lights off after Izzy -- He himself clearly is doing it far more in the spirit of play than in anything else, though whether that suits Izzy's mood is another matter entirely.
Izzy's entire demeanour says, approximately, "!" at suddenly being pursued, and the path gets windier -- which is to say, curvier, not breezier. The cub's pretty fast, and has clearly been practising, no longer tripping over the extra legs while running.
Long-Path is not as fast, at least not anymore; instead, ears splaying happily, he tries to time it so he lunges for her just as she zigs. Or zags. This may well just result in his thudding into the punching bag, of course.
It occurs to the cub that in a small spot, creating a circle could reverse the matter of who's chasing whom... but the idea is thwarted by the elder Strider's wily zag-lunging strategy kicking in just as she tries to implement it, and the pair of them go tumbling. Into the punching bag, so, hey, two for one there.
Long-Path pins the cub just briefly, and gnaws on Izzy's ear. Then he's getting off, nipping at that same ear challengingly, and taking off -- zooming up the ladder and strewing pillows about upstairs.
Izzy gives a tiny yelp at being nipped, and attempts to hop to her feet -- that's been practiced slightly less than the running, and there's a tiny stumble before she can take off after Long-Path. But then, zoom! Mostly zoom. The ladder turns out to be a bit hard to sort out, with the wolf body conflicting with 'how to climb a ladder' in the cub's brain.
A pillow lands on her face as Djehuti frolics. Then he peers down the ladder, now in homid, and says, "Don't think about it, just do it. Or better yet, try it in crinos. More opposable thumbs, but quicker."
Okay. The cub backs up slightly, eyeing the ladder as though considering another go in this form, but the 'better yet' is taken into account, and she goes for shifting up. The balance here's a lot better that it was last time Djehuti saw it, too, and the more bipedal body (plus thumbs) makes ladder climbing far faster and easier. And reaching the top, Izzy makes an attempt to LEAP right off it and tackle Djehuti.
Aaaa! Crinos in the faaace! Djehuti blurs in the space of a moment, melting from homid and into crinos, himself; he rolls with her leap, ending up a number of rolls away, bumping into the wall, underneath the cub. "Ow," he says, English word forced out, gutterally, from crinos throat.
Izzy rolls off, sitting up and looking about as sheepish as a crinos face is able to. The ears and tail seem to have connected with the instinctive wolf bits fairly well, since they're saying the same thing. "Um. Sorry," the cub tries to say, though if it's intelligible at all it's probably only from the cadence.
"S'aright," Djehuti manages in English, and melts (slowly) into glabro. "I invited it." He adds demonstratively, ~Sorry,~ in the Mother Tongue, the words matching with a briefly lupine-apologetic body language.
~S'rry~, Izzy tries to echo, mirroring the body language more accurately, and then tries again, ~...Sorry~. And then there's a pause, the lupine portions of the crinos's body language suggesting that the cub is trying to work something out.
Long-Path grins. "No big deal, honest, I just let my own momentum mash me, more than anything." At her pause, he pauses, and then asks, curiously, "Mm?"
More pause, and then Izzy gets up and moves back somewhat, picking up one of the blankets and wrapping it around like a large, fairly-all-encompassing shawl. And then shifts down far enough to reply, with a very faint blush, "I can't talk that way yet and also all my clothes are in the corner."
Djehuti politely looks away. "I will, therefore, ask you things when they are /not/ in the corner?"
"Um... yeah. That seems like a good plan. Or, um, if you don't mind hanging out down there while I change then you could probably ask me things at the same time, I think?" At least the blanket is more than all-encompassing enough while the cub's in homid. You could probably fit three Izzys under there.
Djehuti admits, "That could work," and spiders over to the ladder. He slides down it, practically, and ends up near the punching bag. He lowers himself down on a pillow and says, "Honestly, I mostly was just wondering what you were thinking."
"...about what?" Izzy asks, disappearing toward the back of the loft area amid various noises of moving about. "I mean, in particular, or just in general? Like, about the Garou stuff, earlier I was thinking I better get good at having four legs, so that's why I was in here. And in general, I was thinking it's been. A really long time since anyone saw my mom, now. And when my birthday comes it'll be more than half a year."
"Well, mostly, when you got that look after you tried apologizing while still in crinos," Djehuti says, finding another pillow as a backrest.
Izzy gives a very small laugh. "Oh. Um. I was thinking, 'oh man that's the only thing I know how to say in this form, but if I go back to normal all my clothes are over there,' and trying to figure out what to do about it. 'cause I couldn't even explain the problem that way, you know."
Djehuti laughs, a rather longer laugh than his normal brief gout of it. "Ah. OK. Sorry, I just--" He stops. "Anyway." Then something visibly occurs to him. "Oh." He gets her phone out. "No voice mails as far as I know, but I came over because it may need charging?"
"What did you just?" the cub asks, still not yet visible. "Oh! Yes please. It only takes a couple hours, and I don't want it to run out of juice. ...I don't know what I'm supposed to do now though. I mean, when I do get a call. I kinda just assumed I'd follow the trail until I found her, or my cash ran out, except I was basically figuring I'd find her first. Only, I don't think you guys are going to let me just run off." A small pause, and slightly quieter but still audible, "...and also if she's a werewolf too, then I kind of have to wonder. What kinda thing would stop her from checking in with anyone."
"That, I will admit, has been my concern since I heard she had not checked in," Djehuti (redundantly) admits. "But the email chain runs slow, so I won't get worried on my end for a few weeks. For all I know, she was required urgently in the Umbra, where time can often do odd things." He puts the phone to the side, and repositions his back pillow. "The process to learning enough to go on a Rite of Passage -- that is, your passage to adulthood -- takes some months. It can be as little as one, and as many as... However long it takes. I advocate, and suspect my elders will require, your passing it before you are able to go in search of her. So what you are supposed to do is to learn, I suppose." And then, after a brief quizzical look at his feet, he says, "Oh. Yes. I had just been assuming you had a specific question for me, up there, since you are very good at specific questions. That's all."
Silence for a couple seconds, and then, "...so sometimes going in the Umbra, you get accidental time travel? Like you aim to go for five minutes and it's twelve years later when you make it back? And I do have a whole bunch of specific questions for you, just... I wasn't thinking about any of them right that minute. But I think I have about," another pause, in which Izzy is presumably counting or at least estimating, since the sentence finishes, "twenty-ish? Or maybe twenty-five?"
From afar, Djehuti snerks.
Long distance to Djehuti: Izzy grins.
"Yep," Djehuti says. "I have never heard of someone coming out before they left. But just because I have not heard of it, does not mean it does not exist. But I doubt it, basically. The Umbra that we initially go to, that is just," he gestures, somewhat uselessly since she's still upstairs, "Around here, that does not usually do that. It's the further away realms, generally, that do." At her estimate, he gets a very careful smile on his face. "Ah," he says, a great good humor in his voice. "Care to ask a few of them?"
Izzy is probably at least a little disappointed about the never-before-you-left part, but it's hard to tell from down there. "Yes, please. There was a whole bunch of stuff last night that I didn't know what was going on and I prolly should ask about it before I forget, for starters. So, um. Okay, the lady last night, who said her name was April Rains. She had a weird thing with her, it was like... dog ears on a string? Do you know what that was?"
"I have no idea," Djehuti says freely. "I'm assuming from what she was saying when we got out there that she's making them into talens for some reason, but it's possible it's a fetish. Which are," he adds, glancing upwards with a grin even though he can't see her, "A one time magical item that has specific powers, and a permanent magical item that has specific powers, respectively."
"So like... the Doctor's sonic screwdriver and psychic paper would be fetishes? And... um... I can't really think of things that'd be talens. Oh, no wait, like the mushroom from Alice in Wonderland. Okay." A slight pause. "...and we can make them? Does that mean I could =have= a sonic screwdriver? Because that would be really amazingly awesome." Izzy seems satisfied with that answer as far as the ear-thing goes, at least, moving on to, "Okay, and she said she was of the Black Furies, and then you pretty much all said you were children of things, and I got the rank and auspice parts of those introductions, but most of the other parts were confusing."
"It takes some years of effort to make a fetish, and most of those who make them are theurges, but that does not mean it could not be one of the foci of your life, if you decided to turn it in that direction," Djehuti says. "And I expect that you could, at least in its essential use. Were you to do that. And there are fetishes that can be rediscovered in the hands of the Wyrm, and in other places. Inherited. So it is not /only/ a matter of making them." He sluffs his pack off, and rummages in it as he speaks. "Hm. The Black Furies are, obviously, one of the thirteen tribes. They are primarily women -- feminists -- and primarily of Greek origin. The Amazons." Then he stops to think. "I said I was a child of Owl, as Owl is one of our Tribal Totems, and I tend to use that in introductions, at times, when I want to be oblique yet relevant. He -- Sergei -- followed my lead. Grandfather Thunder is the patron of the Shadow Lords. They are primarily of Eastern European origin. I could not tell you all of what Owen's introduction portends, but suffice to say, his lineage is important to him, as are his deeds. But I suspect you have more specific questions along those lines?"
Izzy actually makes a slightly disappointed noise about the 'years of effort' part. "Well, that mostly covers the ones about who Grandfather Thunder is and... and some of the stuff you translated for me for Mr. Owen's. But yeah, I was wondering about the Grandmother Tree thing and if she's related to Grandfather Thunder, and... well I think I worked out the pack things, there's one called Heartwood that Miss Rains is in and one called Equinox that has Mr. Balic's relative on their territory. Which he can't go to without their permission because of the third law. Oh, okay, that reminds me, what did Mr. Owen mean about a name being dead?"
"Ah!" Djehuti snaps his finger. "Sorry. Packs, I believe I mentioned, gather under the auspices of a Totem. I did not mention that these Totems lend powers to the Garou who pack under them, and give them a... philosophy of their own. A pack that works under the Totem of Raccoon is very different from one that packs under Grandmother Tree, who is wise, slow, and has provenance over forests, unsurprisingly. April is, indeed, in Heartwood, with four other people. I think four. Some number. Grandmother Tree is not the patron of a Garou tribe, however, as Grandfather Thunder is." He stops to think. (He's downstairs, sitting against the wall near the punching bag. Izzy is upstairs, doing other things.) "Equinox is the pack Tim is part of. It works under Dragonfly. As for Andrei's old name being dead -- he underwent a Rite that is called Break With The Past, to change his name of the heart; he did this in part to try and hide from our tracking methods, and in part to signify that he wished to change his old life, and become a new and better person."
Val: So, Izzy was saying it's eveningish IC?
Djehuti forgot that part. Yes! We started as, not quite sunset, I think.
After a quick scan of Edgewood grounds, Val alights near the woods and shifts up in to the form of her birth. She walks around the building, peeking in windows, before heading up to the front door and letting herself inside. She pokes about, finds no-one, then goes back outside to check out the garage. Opening the door to the adjoining building and poking her head inside. "Hello?"
Izzy is indeed up in the loft, currently being Not Visible to anyone below! Anyone above, however, would note that the cub appears to be finishing off getting dressed. "Does everyone join a pack? Are you in one?" The questioning breaks off at the sound of the door, though, and the cub comes over to the edge of the loft to peer down.
"Not everyone, though it's considered mildly peculiar not to, since we are, in general, a sociable ra--" And then Val pokes in. "Hello, ma'am," Djehuti says, rising to his feet smoothly. "Can I help you?" Quite polite.
Val pages: The braid is gone. Used to go down past her butt. The way the hat is sitting, it looks like she doesn't have much in the way of hair left.
You paged Val with 'Ooh.'.
Another figure begins to make her way towards the garage, this time coming in from the wooded area. A hoodie is pulled down on Quiet's features as she hugs it to herself, trying her best to fight off the cold. Sounds from the garage snags her interest and the Ahroun begins to make her way towards it curiously and suspiciously.
Val smiles at Djehuti, but her body language radiates a rather high strung nervousness. "Hi," she repeats. "My name is Val. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm just trying to make the rounds and talk to people about some things, particularly with recent events and..." And that is when the woman catches sight of Izzy and her jaw hangs open for a moment. "What are /you/ doing out here?" She asks Izzy. "Does Nick know you're out here? Oh. Gah. Where did you say he'd tracked your mom too again?"
Izzy's brow furrows at the new arrival. "...Detective, um, Konstantopilous? I. Um. Hello again. And no, I haven't heard from him again since he had to go away. Is he back yet? He said, Montana. Last time I heard." The kid climbs fairly swiftly down the ladder, and pauses there. "...did you cut your hair?" Because that is clearly of import at this time!
Djehuti blinks, once or twice. Though he casts a wary -- and possibly offended -- look at Val's silver, he does unbend enough to admit, "Andrei did in fact mention your existence," before he stops to watch Val and Izzy interact, eyebrows bobbing up in confusion. His main question seems to be, "Nick... Dalton?" in a vaguely skeptical voice.
Quiet: Is the garage door open?
Izzy doesn't think so -- well, the one Val poked her head through might be? It's cold in here if they're left open, though. :)
Quiet: Good point XD
Djehuti re-reads the desc. The bigger garage doors don't work as doors anymore. I don't think Val specified if she closed the smaller door again or not.
Leaning against the garage door, Quiet confirms the sounds of voices within. With a grunt she makes her way to the front door, through the living room and towards the garage. Slowly and quietly she approaches Val's back, looming over her like something that looms very well.
"Yea, that's him!" Val says cheerfully. "And no, the hair was an accident, I..." And then the looming happens. One moment there is a woman and the next, there is a raven and it's not sticking anywhere close to the ground. Memory flies straight up, while voicing a slightly panicked kek kek kek sound.
Izzy 's jaw drops open at the sudden change, gaze following the raven's flight and then looking over to Djehuti, as though expecting him to have all the answers to this latest turn of events.
Djehuti rubs the bridge of his nose. "There are, in addition to the wolves, raven, cat, bear, spider, rat, fox, coyote, and other shifters," he says pre-emptively, in the direction of Izzy's open mouthed astonishment. "She is, obviously, a raven shifter." Then he says plaintively to Quiet, "Ma'am, could you stop being scary? Despite the silver, ravens -- Corax -- are all about information, and I think probably it would be useful to find out what she wanted to tell us. Also," he adds, after a moment, "Have you a name?"
As Val shifts to raven form, Quiet is just as surprised as Izzy. While she doesn't look as confused she just seems astonished that a Corax is in the midst. At Djehuti's words Quiet snaps her eyes away from the keking raven back to Silent Strider Fostern. "Quiet, 'The Cold Wrath of Thunder'. Shadow Lord Ahroun Fostern. Yours?" she returns gruffly before glancing up towards Izzy, showing she is quite aware that there is someone else up there.
Izzy is actually not up anymore -- came down the ladder, is standing by the base of it. :)
Quiet: Osnap! Ahrm. towards the 'descending Izzy'. There XD
Memory finds a perch somewhere in the upper part of the building, turns around and starts squawking out what can only be assumed are obscenities. Or, at the very least, she doesn't sound all that happy.
Izzy watches the Corax a bit more, giving her a rather apologetic look since the raven seems... well... annoyed. Let's go with annoyed. The introduction gets some of the cub's attention, however, and a quiet question toward Djehuti: "...so, the same as Mr. Balic was? Except one rank more. Right?"
Djehuti nods to Izzy. "Correct. One rank more and," he adds, deadpan save for the glint of humor in his eyes, "Female. And now you will introduce yourself?" To Quiet, he inclines his head. "Djehuti Mesu-Ma'at, or Derek Ramsey if the pronunciation is difficult. Among the Garou, I am known as Wisdom's Long And Twisting Path, or the Son of the Ibis. I am Silent Strider, and Philodox, and Gaia and I have a mild disagreement over whether I am cliath, or Fostern. Well met." He glances up at Val, then down at Quiet. "D'you promise not to eat her?" he asks, a touch of amusement showing in his eyes, though well buried in his voice.
Memory seems to have gotten over her initial fright and she eyeballs the Garou beneath her, before hading back down to the ground. She keeps well away from the Garou, even as she shifts back in to her birth form. "Don't bloody do /that/ to me," she complains, taking off her hat and rubbing at her head. The woman is sporting a haircut that comes rather close to a full shave. "I've had enough surprises lately."
"I already ate," is Quiet's deadpan answer as she eyes the Corax briefly before quirking her eyebrows at Izzy's question and Djehuti's answer. It is rather obvious she isn't sure who Mr. Balic is, but the mention of her feminity causes the Ahroun to narrow her eyes grouchily at Djehuti. "Well met," she offers gruffly. As Memory comes down and shifts back to human, Quiet's gruff exterior melts into one of amusement. "Introduce yourself then, Corax. And you cub."
"Oh! Yes. Um." The cub looks to Quiet, takes a breath, and tries, "...Um. Hi. I'm Izzy Sparks, and I don't have any other names, but I'm, I'm a Silent Strider and a Philodox. And a cub, only you worked that part out already. Hello. Nice to meet you."
"Well, it matters. In that Sergei -- Mr. Balic -- is in many ways not like you, but he is ahroun and Shadow Lord." Djehuti shrugs, and doesn't seem to have meant it in a 'girls are silly' kind of way. "In any case. Sorry about that, Val. What was it you wanted to mention?"
Val runs her hand to where her braid used to be, pulls a face, then lets her hand drop. "Val. Just Val is fine for me. Look, I really just swung by to make certain that everyone has heard about the Evil Wolves in the area and that the Plasticorp Fomor is on the move. I did try warning people about that damn thing awhile back," Val says, sounding more than a little flustered. "It's running around pretending to be other people and it can mind-fuck you in highly unpleasant ways."
"Not many Cliaths don't know about the Fera and they know to introduce themselves." Quiet returns towards Izzy before pressing her lips into a thin line. She snaps to attention at Val's mention of bad wolves and fomor. "What?" she growls, stiffening already. "Is anyone looking into this?"
"The evil wolves -- that is, Izzy, Black Spiral Dancers, of which ask me later -- are part of the trouble in your tribe, actually, Quiet. We've recently killed bane connected to the issue, and I believe there will be a scouting party to seek for Gerik-ikthya, the source of the trouble. Ky is his nephew and he wants him back, you see. However, Val--" He looks at her with sudden intense interest-- "Do you know how to /find/ these other Dancers? We seem not to be having luck on that front. As for the other--" He looks back to Quiet. "I do not know, with regards the other. It may have to do with the fox shifter who is in the area?"
The flustered thing is apparently going around somewhat. "I didn't... I wasn't saying you SHOULDN'T have figured it out or anything. Just that you already knew that..." Izzy moves further toward where Djehuti's ended up standing, and after a breath adds, "...and I didn't want to introduce myself until I knew for sure it was okay to, because what if I introduced myself to someone I shouldn't? Or even just when I shouldn't." The elder Strider's aside gets a silent nod.
Val rubs at the top of her head again, then crams her hat on. "Damn. I miss having hair," she complains. "I'm not certain how to find Gerik, or Dancers, but I might be able to draw them out with a show. I can mimic voices very well and I could pretend to be one of the two that they are hunting, or something. That combined with some sort of scent trail for them to follow might work? The fox-shifter, Rajani, is gone. She's probably dead, unless the Fomor has her stashed somewhere to try and pump her for more information. The Fomor has been running around and pretending to be her. It seemed injured when I found out what it was... But it got away. I've been trying to warn people."
A grunt escapes from Quiet at the mention of her tribe being associated with the Black Spiral Dancers. "I have heard of that. I will need to speak to Andrei and Ky soon once I have permission to enter Equinox's land." Izzy's flustered words gets a look from Quiet, a narrowed look that just screams 'calm the fuck down and get over it'. Her glance doesn't last long however as Val easily distracts her with more information. "Mimic voices? Yes, a trap would be ideal. Ambush them and take them down, one by one..." She trails off, musing at the thought. The mention of a dead Kitsune doesn't seem to garner much sympathy from the Shadow Lord, she just tilts her head curiously in thought. "And now it knows that we know what it is?"
Djehuti makes a connection he had evidently not made before. "Oh. I'm-- Sorry to hear that. I didn't know her well, but..." He trails off, as he listens further. "That," he says, "Would be a /marvelous/ thing, yes. To help the hunt for those aiding Gerik."
Izzy's jaw and shoulders tighten at that look, and for just a fleeting moment it gets returned -- and then the cub's chin lifts slightly, gaze redirecting a couple feet to Quiet's right, expression going rather deliberately blank.
Val sighs. "It's known that it was poked at awhile back... I was digging around the place and it noticed me. It likes to get in to your head." The woman trails off, scowling. "I tried asking a stormcrow I knew to hunt down Gerik for me awhile back. It went badly. Gerik captured the spirit and gave it to the Hunter Bane as a chew toy. They squeezed the spirit for info, then started playing games with me. Leaving me little happy-fun surprises in the place where I was staying and at my work. I was able to figure out what was going on eventually and I pulled a fast-one on the Hunter Bane and rescued the Stormcrow from it. Not that the fellow is going to be himself again, any time soon."
At Izzy's returned look, Quiet fixes her eyes back on the cub and tenses in a warning look - however when Izzy blanks her stare and lifts her chin, the Ahroun seems to accept that well enough as she returns her focus on what is being discussed. She scowls at the mention of what Gerik did to the stormcrow. Quiet digs into her pocket to pull out a very beaten up pack of cigarettes, pulling one out before offering the pack to all, including Izzy. "And Stormcrow of course has no recollection of where it was held, or if it was held somewhere of importance. You say he wants Ky? The nephew?"
Djehuti watches Izzy and Quiet carefully, until Izzy looks away, at which point he smiles minutely -- perhaps a bit wryly -- and looks back to Val, listening to her. "No thank you," he murmurs to Quiet's offer. "And yes, he seems to. We already used him once as bait, for the hunter-bane."
Izzy relaxes faintly after a few more sentences passed among the grown-ups, and settles into just listening to the discussion, apparently paying fairly close attention. The offer of cigarettes gets a soft, "No thank you, ma'am," but the cub is otherwise silent.
Val grins. "Well, the one upswing in the whole business, is that good Ol' Thunder seems to be mightily pissed about the whole thing. Judging by the big Umbral storm that showed up when some folks had a chat with some of his Stormcrows. Not that I can blame him, really. He has one of his turn to the Wyrm and cause and entire Caern to fall. Then Gerik goes and sends this massive Bane after the few Shadow Lords that survive the slaughter and then, to cap it all off, the guy grabs one of Thunder's crows and tortures the guy for shits and giggles. I'd be pissed off as well. Anyway. Have someone call me, if you want me to play at being the kid. I can get away easier than he can."
The mention of a pissed Grandfather Thunder forces Quiet to tense up considerably. "He also walked out of a Caern in Philadelphia a few years ago." Nope, not a happy spirit at all. "It would explain things..." Quiet murmurs, more to herself than anyone. She pulls out a cigarette and places it between her lips, tapping her pockets to find a lighter. "I will, Val. Your help is noted." And appreciated, though that bit is more implied rather than said. Her eyes then flick to Djehuti and Izzy, watching them both curiously. "The bait did not work then..."
Djehuti narrows his eyes, as if trying to remember something. "...Iron Well?" he hazards, at Quiet. Then he shakes his head, grimly. "Oh. It did work. It is how we killed the hunter and his hounds, and removed its spirit from Gaia's lands."
Izzy continues listening quietly, and shifts position just slightly -- hands clasped behind the back, stance well-balanced as if suspecting the standing might be going on for rather a while, at this point.
"But there are still some Evil wolves out there, that Gerik sent for the kid," Val elaborates. "Anyway, I should get going. It's late and I want to get home before the big owls make an appearance. I tend to look like a snack to them, when I'm on the wing."
Quiet bobs her head to show that she is listening rather intently. "But we still have Gerik to deal with. I will speak to Andrei and Ky soon." As Val announces her departure, the Garou lets out a grunt as she peers at the garage door, as if expecting to see the time on it. "Understood. I will be leaving soon as well." She then shakes her head at Djehuti, "Thunderous Creek. The Gaians have taken over and Salmon is their current totem." Her left eye twitches at that but thankfully the Ahroun keeps her mouth shut about her thoughts on that matter.
Djehuti inclines his head to Val. "Farewell. I suspect I'll see you around." Then he raises an eyebrow. "I see. ...Curious change," he eventually says, a little as if he doesn't actually want to comment on it but it would be impolite not to. (Since he brought it up in the first place.)
"It was nice seeing you again, ma'am," Izzy tells Val, adding with notable sympathy, "and I'm sorry about your hair. I mean, it looks nice this way too, but. Since it was an accident and all." The woman gets a small smile, and that would seem to be it -- except that the cub suddenly adds, "Oh! And um. If Mr. Dalton is back would you please tell him hello, and I haven't got any other leads in the meantime?"
Val grins rather mischievously and nods. "Oh, I'll talk with him for you and let you know if anything comes up," she promises. "Bye." That said, the smallish woman lets herself out of the building and in to the cold night air. The door closes behind her, allowing some of the warmth to stay inside.
Slowly Quiet pushes away from the wall as well, placing the unlit cigarette between her lips. "I will leave you two to finish your tribal business. I must seek out Equinox." With that she gives both of them a curt nod before making her way as well, following the raven girl towards the door.
Djehuti inclines his head to Quiet. "Walk well with Gaia."
"Good night," Izzy adds to that, nodding back -- albeit probably less curtly.
Djehuti sighs, as he watches the door. Eventually, he asks Izzy, "Dinner?"
Izzy considers that, and then nods. "Yes, please. I can still ask you more stuff while we eat, right? Or do you need a break?"
"You may ask me stuff while I am exploring the Marianas Trench," Djehuti says. "Dinner is no problem, I assure you."