Sprawled atop the Boulder, today, is a slightly worn old blue blanket, and sprawled atop that is Bernie, lying on her stomach, a book open on the ground in front of her and taking the greater part of her attention. Her left hand holds the book's pages down, fighting the wind idly, while the other lazily switches between turning pages, taking notes, fiddling with the key that hangs on the chain around her neck, and wielding her bottle of Guinness. A couple more books and a well-filled backpack lie beside her, and if one is close enough, or it carries on the wind, one might hear some humming, as well.

Karin crunches through the woods with no effort at stealth at all, only occasionally getting her skirt snagged on dangling branches and the like. She's got three books tucked under her right arm, two of them rather thick hardbacks. The girl pulls up short as she spies someone already out here, though, and she releases an audible sigh of disappointment.

Bernie glances up at the crunchings, though it takes a couple of them before she surfaces and tears herself away from the book. Expressions flit over her features quickly, a sort of hopefullness shading into mild disappointment and then general friendly interest. "Hey," she greets the arriving girl, "'d you wanna read here, too? 'cause, I figure there's room if y'don't mind sharin'."

Karin considers that a moment. She looks as if her first instinct is to refuse, but it doesn't appear to be the one that wins out. Meet people, have to meet people. Part of what Galliards do. "I...I guess so. Um, what are you reading?"

Bernie scoots over a little, moving her stuff to make some more room, though she leaves the blanket alone. "Psychology: Themes and Variations," she replies, with a needless glance to the open book, and then to the small stack beside her, "...Les Miserables, Good Omens, and Intro to Programming. You?"

Karin climbs up onto the rock, setting her books carefully atop it first. "The Iliad and the Odyssey, both in Greek, and my Greek dictionary, because there are still some of the words that I don't know."

Bernie arches a brow slightly, glancing toward the other girl's books, and grins. "Cool," she decides, "...prolly I oughta learn that, someday. That 'n' Latin. Be cool t' be able t' read allat shit in th' 'riginal, an' all." She sips her beer, and takes a glance at her pad of notes. It appears to be covered in almost exclusively greek letters, oddly enough, though there definitely don't seem to be any greek =words= there, and a few characters are... something other.

Karin nods. "That's why I started teaching myself. But it got much easier once I had Tecmessa and some of the others to teach me. A native speaker is as much better for a language than, well, a good acting troupe for a play. As much as I love reading, some stories are meant to be performed. So much of a story is in the telling, after all."

Bernie nods a bit, pushing a hand against the rock to sit up a bit more, the better to converse. "Yeah... I'm kina randomly workin' on learnin' Welsh at th' moment, tryin' t' make Matt teach me, 'cause it's freakin' =weird= an' I'm pretty sure jus' doin' it outta books isn't gonna work so well..." She pauses, and blinks, a thought hitting her, and adds, "Incident'ly, hi, I'm Bernie."

Karin laughs softly. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. I'm Karin. Welsh might be neat to learn, but are there enough Welsh stories? There probably are, but I guess I don't know them. German is one that I was thinking of learning, or possibly Arabic. I haven't decided yet." She glances down at the pad. "It looks like you're already one step toward Greek, though."

Bernie glances at the pad as well, and laughs, pinkening a touch. "Well, yeah, I guess I kina got th' alphabet," she grants, "...niceta meetcha, Karin." The topic of stories, Welsh or otherwise, gets forgotten for a moment, as something else occurs to her. "So," she asks casually, "you were learnin' stuff from Tecmessa, huh? Di'n' she head off somewhere? Someone else teachin' ya now? Like," she pauses, brow furrowing a little, "Agatha maybe? Somehow I have this impression she speaks it, might be wrong."

Karin sighs faintly. "Yes, she left. She and Leda both. I didn't even get to say goodbye, because I wasn't here." Fighting off that bit of sadness, she nods at Bernie. "Agatha does, yes. So I've still got someone to practice with."

Bernie nods, looking the other girl over appraisingly. "'s good... that you still got someone, I mean, not that you missed th' others leaving. Met alla 'em 'round th' Farmhouse," she remarks, pausing a fraction, before going on. "Tec, she was cool, but, no 'ffense, I wasn't so big on Leda. She said she was gonna deal with this big problem, an' then sat on it for like three months. So then =I= hadda fix it up, an' it was way worse for th' waitin'." She shakes her head at the memory, though she continues to watch the other girl.

Karin says, "I'm sure she had a good reason." It's not something she knows anything about, though, so it's more faith than fact. "I'm not around the farmhouse very much. I probably _should_ be, since I really ought to get to know more people."

"Uh huh," Bernie replies dryly, with an obvious utter absence of faith in any decent reason. Still, it all seems to confirm her suspicions. "Anyway," she suggests, back to a more friendly tone, "maybe we oughta expand on th' introductions, y'think?"

Karin nods. "You've probably figured most of it out by now. The rest is that I'm a Galliard cub, and answer to Watches-Lunes, too. I'll give you the whole formal introduction if you'd like it."

Bernie shakes her head, grinning again. "Nah, that'll do. Bernie Rosenberg, Stomps-th'-Wyrm-With-Steeltoed-Boots... formerly Reads-in-Darkness, back when I was cubly... Cliath 'Gnawer Raggie. Niceta meetcha. Feel free t' pull up parta th' blanket, y'know."

Karin says "Good, it always feels silly telling people things they already know." She laughs, once again again a quiet sound. "That's a...long name. Though I suppose not nearly so unwieldy as some. There was a Garou that I knew -- heard about," she corrects herself, looking momentarily uncomfortable, "who insisted on having everyone call him by his full name, and it translated to, let me see, Binds Forces of Darkness Beneath the Earth Until the Stars Have All Fallen from the Heavens and the Seas Rise Up to Flood the Sands. It was almost that long in the original language. Perhaps you could tell me the story of how you got yours?""

Bernie blinks at the name, and shakes her head, grinning again, as she takes a sip of her beer. "Daaaamn. Bet people weren't in a hurry t' call =him= t' dinner. I gen'rally get called Stomps for short, or Stomper. I'm not all =that= picky, long's I know you mean me an' it's not too insulting. An', hmm, yeah, I could, 'f y'want, though I warn ya it may be less impressive'n it sounds."

Karin shrugs, then lays down on the blanket to listen. "It doesn't matter. I collect stories. I always have, even before I knew I was Garou or a Galliard."

Bernie laughs, and pushes up the rest of the way to sitting, pulling her legs in indian style. "A'ight," she agrees, "story." She takes another drink, and gives the bottle an accusing look. How dare it be empty? She leans over and rummages in her bag a moment, finding another, but doesn't open it yet. "So, it was my Rite of Passage, 'kay? Elan took me inta th' Umbra in th' Church, an' gave me this gum, and said, chew that. So, I did; it tasted kina funny, and then, suddenly, I was a rat, in a barrel on a ship, with a lotta other rats. Then I was a rat somewhere else, an' somewhere else, an'... well, I was several rats in diff'rent places an' times, an' then, I was wakin' up, an' it was dark, an' I di'n' know where I was, but =who= an' =what= I was was me, at least..."

Karin bites her lip and nods, as if understanding completely what that must have felt like. "Elan is your elder, I assume, and not a spirit that you know or something like that?" Probably, but if there's one thing that she's learned in her time, it's that people can take amazing things completely for granted.

Bernie nods. "Yeah. Elan's our tribal elder. At th' moment. Fostern Theurge, see. So, I wake up in th' dark an' cold, but then I realise I'm in a bed, at least. So I start tryin' t' get up, take a look 'round, an' this lady comes in, bein' all nice an' sorta nurse-y, an' I find out they found me all hurt up on th' street, an' she was worried I might not wake up. I was underground, turns out, with these people who all for one reason or another hadda go inta hidin'."

Karin props herself up on one elbow, that she can more easily watch Bernie continue the story. Her attention is focused completely on the Ragabash; listening to a story is something she takes very seriously.

"So I talk to her a while, an' I find out these folks had a leader, this guy they called Father, only he suddenly got sick an' fell inta this coma a while back, an' nonea 'em could find what was wrong with him, even though a lotta 'em were nurses an' Father's right hand guy was a doctor, called Gideon. An' Katriona, that's th' lady, she was sayin' how he was makin' things too structured, it was gettin' bad. So, me bein' suspicious, I start thinkin', maybe this Gideon's poisonin' father, or somethin', so he c'n run things his way, yeah?" Bernie continues, gesturing with the still-closed bottle.

Karin says "What did you do?"

"Well," Bernie continues, leaning back a tad, "she left me there a bit, so I got up an' did a li'l explorin'. Figured, hell, c'n always claim I needed t' find a bathroom. Which, act'ly, I did, but. So I go paddin' through th' corridor, an' I do find a bathroom, an' jus' past it, a room, bigger'n th' others, with nice furniture, yeah? So I go in an' snoop about, an' it seems t' be this Gideon's room. Desk's got notes all over it, an' this cubbyhole that won't open. So I... convince it to, an' inside, there's this scrap of paper. But jus' then, I c'n hear someone comin', scrapea metal on th' walls, so I palm th' paper, shut th' li'l drawer, an' duck back out inta that bathroom, so he doesn' see me. An' when I'm in there an' he's passed, I look at that paper, an' it's all torn an' bloody an' tear-stained, but th' same writin', an' what I c'n make out is, like, "Father" an' "forced" an' "damned =thing=" an' shit. So, I sneak back to my room, an' sit with a book, an' soon, I hear that scrapin' noise of th' same guy approachin'.

Karin listens intently, but stays quiet, preferring not to interrupt when a story is being told.

Bernie shifts a little, flipping her curls back over her shoulder. "So he comes in, all friendly-greetin', an' we talk a li'l, an' he tells me he's Gideon. NOw, see, that scrapin' metal noise I mentioned? That was his fake arm, 'cause he only had one. An' he seemed nice 'nough, but a li'l paranoid, an' not willin' t' tell me stuff, but somethin' was buggin' him, bigtime. So I tried t' get it outta him, an' I =almost= had it, when he clams up, an' the fake arm, it starts risin' like, well, like he isn't doin' it. So I grab th' wrist, 'case it's truyin' t' hit me, an' get this thought. So, I do like on th' cubbyhole to th' fake arm, an' it detaches like it should, only... from his shoulder, where th' arm isn't? There's this =foul= smell, an' these... long, wrigglin' green things. Like tentacles, goin' from his shoulder to th' false arm." Her nose wrinkles at the memory.

Karin's brow furrows. "The arm was a curse, then? Because as I understand it, the magic you're probably speaking of wouldn't work on something akin to a surgical prosthetic, especially not a magical one."

"The arm," Bernie replies, "was Wyrmy. The tentacles came out of the arm, and then... wriggled out, started fallin' on th' floor. Like... big green snake-size worms. No eyes, no head, just nasty long wriggly things, an' while he's passed out an' fallin' on th' floor, they're somehow orienting on me an' comin' at me with malice aforethought. So, first thing I do, while I'm shiftin' up 'cause I dunno how tough they'll be t' kill, I pick up my foot an' I just =stomp= down on 'em, hard as I can, an' I get three of 'em. They crunch, an' squish, an' give these quiet li'l screams..." She trails off a second. "But that leaves three more. One hasn't found me yet, but th' other two, they have, an' they start crawlin' up my leg, an' then... borin' inta it." She winces slightly in retrospect.

Karin winces in sympathy, controlling her urge to reach down and slap at her leg. Vivid imagination, most definitely. She practically lives the stories herself.

Bernie absently does reach down and rub at her calf a little with the hand not still holding the unopened beer. "Fuckin' hurt like hell, too," she remarks, "An' I couldn' scream, 'cause someone might come t' see what's goin' on, right? So I clench my teeth and stomp my foot on th' ground again t' kina displace th' need t' scream, gettin' that last one that di'n' find me yet inta th' bargain. Only, 'course, now my feet are bare, so it goes all squishy right against my furr an' skin an' 'tween my toes..." From her expression, it was just as disgusting as it sounds.

Karin makes a face, but saves her comments for afterward. Can't interrupt the climax of a story for anything less than a dire emergency.

Bernie gives a tiny, somewhat wry chuckle, thinking back on it. "So, then I hadda act fast... before I got too grossed out by it or somethin'." She grins, briefly, and continues. "Anyhow I put all my weight on th' leg they were eatin'... an' th' holes, they were turnin' black around 'em... an' stomped th' bitsa them still on th' ground with my other foot. Smush. I never heard anythin' so nasty in my life. Not t' mention how worm-guts feel between your toes. An' beyond that? They, like, panicked or somethin', an' just as I was gettin' 'em... they put on this burst of speed, drilling alla way through my leg. An' so they're dead... but these big chunksa 'em are stickin' clear through my calf, an' twitchin' in death throes. So... I hadda reach down an' yank 'em out, an' if I thought they hurt goin' =in=...."

Karin says "One of those times when it would be nice to be a half-moon."

Bernie laughs, and nods a little. "Yeah. 's gotta be a nice gift, that. Anyhow... that was alla 'em, all dead. So I shifted down again, an' collapsed onta th' bed t' recuperate a li'l, wiping off somea th' worm goop on th' covers, an' Gideon, he started wakin' up. An' I ask if he's okay, an' he sees th' arm, an' picks it up, an', like, =hurls= th' sucker across th' room, an' goes fetal. So I go over t' comfort him... like, draggin' my wounded self 'cross th' floor... an' there's this commotion outside, an' then this big old guy comes in, an' it's that Father guy, an' he tells Gideon he knows what happened, an' that he knew Gideon hadn't wanted t' be doin' what he did... an' that he forgave him, 'cause he knew he'd never forgive himself. An' then... if was black again. An' I came to in th' Church umbra again. An' that... was pretty much that."

Karin says "And I can definitely understand your new name." She smiles. "You certainly earned it. Though I'd certainly have wanted the boots the entire time."

"Well, 'f I hadda do it =over=, yeah, I wouldn't shift. 'least not past glabro. Because.... =EW=." Bernie shakes her head, and finally notices her drink is as yet unopened. She fixes this with a quick glare at the cap, which obediently leaps off. Sipping it, she adds, "Elan, he called me Wears-Th'-Rat, first, but Yi came up with this one an' I like it better. Kina... fits th' important bitsa th' Rite better. I mean... not that th' first bit wasn't important, but it wasn't... what I hadda do, y'know? It just was."

Karin nods. "I think it fits better, also. I know Rat is your totem, but that part could have happened to anyone. How you dealt with it, that's what made it _your_ Rite."

Bernie grins, and sips her beer. "Thanks. An' yeah, tha's pretty much how I was seein' it, too. So how'd you end up bein' Watches-Lunes? I mean, Reads-In-Darkness," she gestures to their rapidly dimming surroundings, and the books, "...not a real tough one t' figure out, but..."

Karin says "Not too much of a story behind it, I'm afraid. A Lune was the first spirit I saw on my one of my first trips to the Umbra. I tried to talk to it, but couldn't, so all I could do was watch. But I like it. It reminds me of that time, how exhilarating it was, how _alive_."

Bernie grins, nodding. "First spirits I saw, too. First time I got taken inta th' Umbra, at th' Caern... pretty things." She glances toward the darkening sky, and sighs, leaning over to check the broken-banded watch tied to one of her backpack's straps. "Damn. I gotta get back inta town," she remarks reluctantly, "gotta be at work way sooner'n I'm likely t' make it, already. 'less I catch a ride with someone." She makes a face, sets the beer carefully aside, and starts packing things up.

Karin, too, gathers up her books and prepares to depart. "Well, I didn't get my reading in, as I'd expected, but I think a story more than makes up for that. It was good meeting you."

Bernie slings the bag onto her shoulder, folds the blanket over her arm, and reclaims the beer before starting down. "Nice meetin' you, too. Maybe we'll end up readin' here same time again, someday, yeah?" And with that, she half-hops down the last bits of the incline, and heads off, humming again.