Ornature

[Izzy Montoya] Speaking of cussing...

Her car is not exactly her car. No, it's police issue, unmarked, and only 'hers' as long as she is on the force. It's a 'perk' of the job, though today? It seems anything but...

It's already been a week of upheavals, and it seems her run of 'luck' is not gonna ease anytime soon, because as she rounds the corner, on her way home after a long ass day at a precinct not her own, through the storm of the ages... the car sputters.

stutters.
stops.

"MotherFUCKER." She yanks the wheel to the side, too quick, too sharp, and ends up too close to a pile of snow and... stuck. She leans forward and rests her head against the steering wheel, and mutters words that would make a sailor blush bright red and pray for forgiveness. She reaches down and tries to turn the engine over again... "start you bastard or I'll turn you in for fuckin scrap metal, you piece of shit..."

...unsurprisingly, it doesn't work. And then, in her irritation, and intense desire for it to STARTALREADYOHMYFUCKINGGOD - she kills the battery, too. She bangs her head against the steering wheel a couple more times, before she leans back and digs for her phone. She dials, waits, and then cusses again. "goddammit Dabney, where the fuck are you? Call me." She stuffs her phone back in her pocket, makes sure she has her weapons, her keys, and steps from the car, locking it up behind her. A glance around, and with another curse, she starts toward the church.

Twice in one week. There is no justice.

[Linus] "....Heyyyy. Fuckers are worth more than a shot and a fuck, afterall..."

He climbs to his feet and shakes off some snow, grunting absently. Linus' gaze drifts off briefly. Very briefly, into other worlds, a static unfocus leaping across his eyesight before it's blinked away a moment later. His gaze is narrowed and his teeth barred with the return, hands emerging from his blankets to rub infront of him furiously, seeking heat.

"Fuckin' Hrafn's off his fuckin' rocker. Entire god damn Murder is hunkered in the Fuckin' Belfry, scared shitless. Thunder's clapping their wings 'fore they can take off and the snows too heavy to fly." A grunt of displeasure, errant fluctuations of odd energy and tension riding the Totemlink of the Last Watch.

"We're pretty much blind at the moment, both sides."

His agitation refuses to let him sit still. He's pacing to keep warm, eyes on the Bonfire as it begins to trickle into life and being.

[Roman Turner] "They ain't the only ones."

Muttered in reply to Linus' comment on Hrafn off his fucking rocker. Clearing his throat as he turned to go drag a pew closer to where the fire was starting.

"Y'all take a seat, relax. I'll get some blankets. And I'll be sure to make contact with home Miss Kora about a lawyer. I bet whoever owns this place is sick of paying taxes on something that's falling down. It might also be up for a tax sale, never know. City will be happy to have someone clean it up."

[Sofie Janssen] It's very rare that Sofie has felt unwelcome at the Church. Even when she had Remy coming into her face that time, she still felt as though this place was okay. But as she sits there and listens to Linus mouth off, and assuming that he's talking about Kinfolk like he does - which isn't the first time he's referenced Kinfolk with such derogatory inflictions - , Sofie finds herself watching the Get of Fenris and debating how satisfying it might be to drive him through with a spear.

That, and, well, what the fuck she is doing out here on a night like this.

"Jarl," the Kinfolk lifts her voice, turning fierce eyes in her direction, "I came by to let you know I'm staying at the Brotherhood." Ironically, where she felt more welcome then by the mouthy Get of Fenris.

[Kora] Heya Banx. Our characters are in an abandoned church? it might make sense for Seth to see it as a .... squat? in which to crash mid-snowstorm, if you need an entrance to the scene. :)
to Bridget, Fire Claws, Izzy Montoya, Linus, Patrick Llewelyn, Roman Turner, Seth Cohen, Sofie Janssen

[Izzy Montoya] Sometimes, she wonders why she left Florida to come back home. It's cold, it's wet, it's snowing, it's...

jesuschristonacandlestick - THUNDER?

....crazy. She definitely misses the sunshiney streets of Miami about now, though she makes her way toward the packhouse of the Last watch, checking her phone to see if Dabney has called back yet, and sighing to see he hasn't. Leatherwrapped fists knocks at the door, as she hunches her shoulders against the cold.

[Bridget] "We live to please," the sarcasm is thick between bites of maple glazed yum and a mouthful of hot coffee.

She has a smidge of knowledge of Garou doings that she knows enough that Linus is talking Business. Bridget decides not to speak to the ungrateful, insane one any longer. She is perfectly happy to be out of the vicious weather with a hot cup of coffee and something to eat. She's been losing weight lately, and this is probably the first thing she's had all day.

What Sofie says reminds her of something, so she looks to Patrick.

"So... Uh... I guess I should tell someone I'm thinking about moving out of the Roost. That Owen guy's looking for a roommate, so..."

She's not asking permission, she doesn't report to anyone. But Owen expressed interest in Not Getting His Face Pummelled by a Meat-Fisted Fianna. A cop knocks on the church door and draws her attention towards the sound.

[Linus] "Enter and Be Known!"

[Seth Cohen] Hey thanks! Good lookin' out. (g)
to Kora

[Roman Turner] The door was whipped open quick as could be, one hand went out and snagged Izzy's arm, gently pulling her inside.

"Howdy Miss Detective Montoya, Ma'am. Come in quick before the heat gets out."

He promptly closed the door after her and went about tugging another pew closer to the fire. He heard what Sofie said and kept his mouth quiet. Linus was Kora's brother and Sofie was her Tribe.

[Izzy Montoya] Linus tells her to enter, and Roman opens the door and scoops her into the church. She pauses there to kick the snow off her boots, and arches a brow at Roman. "...what heat?"

But she moves inside toward the rest of the group, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

[Seth Cohen] "Heyheyhey hold that door!"

But it's slammed shut before he could be heard. How the hell he allowed himself to be caught in this brutal weather is beyond Seth. Typically he knows better, but his cousin was entertaining and apparently Seth passed out on the couch was a turn-off. So now he's looking for a warm place to hole up. The church is in sight, and a perfect option...Christians love helping out. He picks up the pace just a hair, slips twice, and immediately returns to a quick shuffle. In moments he's pounding on the door much the way Izzy just had. "Hey open up!"

[Patrick Llewelyn] Patrick has taken up residence on the edge of a pew, resting a foot on the seat and sitting balanced on the back. There's a steaming cup of coffee beside him, and a piece of half eaten pie in hand. When Bridget addresses to him she's moving out, he's trying to dig a packet of cigarettes from a pocket.

Cuts a glance at Kora; and lets the notion go. "Well, I mean I'm not the Fianna Elder," he says reasonably, then adds, "But I can pass it on to Buried Hatchet." Another sip of coffee, Izzy arrives, and another refugee from the storms.

[Roman Turner] He blinked when someone started banging on the door he just slammed shut. In an instant the door was whipped open again, one arm shot out and snagged Seth to tug him inside before the door slammed shut once more. Seth found himself facing Roman who was giving Seth a puzzled look.

"Who are you? Don't matter, it's too cold out to be strangers. I'm Roman. Welcome to the Church of Wandering Souls."

[Kora] "If the murder's grounded by it - " Kora remarks, low-voiced to her brother, stepping back as the bonfire begins to catch flame.

"Then so's the enemy, I imagine." She isn't sanguine, though, a sharp glance up at Linus, then back at Roman, Patrick. "We don't usually worry about setting watches, but if we don't have eyes out in storm to warn us about what's coming down, well," there's that spark, hiss in the flames among the detritus piled in the chancel, and snow drifting down from the rafters. "Let's make sure nothing takes us by surprise, yeah?"

"Detective - " Kora says, craning to look back as Izzy comes inside, her voice rising, echoing through the vast sanctuary. Then, she looks back at Sofie, buried in her layers of winter things.

"The Brotherhood?" Pale brows rise over her dark eyes; her breath is a cloud, nostrils narrowed with whatever she's holding back. The tip of her nose and her cheeks are reddened from the cold, but there's enough - relief from the wind here, thanks to the solid walls, enough lingering heat from the electric heaters that she can stand still, without shivering, fingers twisting into her blanket. "I thought you were staying with other kin."

Then Kora shoots a dark-eyed look back over her shoulder at Roman, when someone else comes pounding on the door. And Roman, Coggie that he is, opens the door and invites the stranger in.

It isn't a working church. There are holes in the ceiling, snow drifting down from the rafters, the strangest assortment of people, torches on the walls and a bonfire built on the alter. An assortment of couches and tables, an apple pie in a box from a diner, old beer bottles and pizza boxes are scattered over the tables there. The place looks - well, lived in, beneath the ruin of it. The high vaulted ceiling with holes in the roof. The old stained glass windows, half-intact, half broken.

[Linus] "Hey Roman! When was the last time you did a Circuit 'round the Turf? You notice any Transformers down or power lines 'n shit?"

He continues pacing, watching the bonfire grow, already shedding two of the flannel blankets and shucking them onto one of the nearby pews for others to pick up at their leisure. The last is a pale blue thing, slightly ratted at the edges. He keeps it at his shoulders, dressed in his cargo pants and jacket still. The hood on his sweater is drawn back while he stares at the Ragabash.

Cause if shit's down here and the neighbourhood to, might be a while before we can actually get back power A pause along the totemlink, vibrating with vague anxious energy, the Godi pointing an index finger at Patrick, while staring off at Kora and Roman with a frown of...scrutiny?

And who the hell?

[Sofie Janssen] "I was. Until they decided to throw a party this passing weekend and some jackass went through my things, tried to feel me up, and then I got a mouth full after I broke his nose." The Kinfolk stats back to Kora, not with anger but a little flatness to it. Clearly she wasn't impressed with how the weekend turned out for her and her plans in Chicago.

"I checked with the Brotherhood. I know it's seen as some Frat thing, but the way I look at it, it's got some Garou there that so it's protected ground, and it won't cost me much," she tells Kora, giving a small lift of one shoulder. "The food there's meant to be good. I've yet to ask about the whole hormonal free meat and all that shit, but it's got to be better than any meager supplies my savings can account for."

"So is it alright if I stay there awhile? I can look for somewhere else to stay soon as I get myself a job."

[Bridget] Detective Montoya and a stranger enter the church. Bridget realizes looking down that she has practically inhaled her maple covered pastry. She swallows it down with the coffee and blinks a frown. The Canadian goes to pick up one of the flannel blankets shed by the crazy Godi.

Her eyes go back to Patrick. "Yeah, well. I didn't think it mattered, but he was askin' questions about guardians and shit because," she bundles the flannel over her shoulders, raising her gloved fingers in quotes, " 'I don't want to have some meat-fisted Fianna bust the door down getting the wrong idea'."

"Besides," she adds. "If I stay at the Brotherhood, I'm just going to drink and get into trouble."

[Seth Cohen] He grins broadly at Roman as he's dragged in, taking a quick glance around with sharp eyes. "Sounds like my kind of place. Name's Seth, and holy fuckballs it's cold out there. You guys squatters?"

The young man wanders around the derelict church casually, as if he'd been here a thousand times before. He is careful to avoid passing too closely by the other occupants. All the while his gaze moves across the room, the litter and those wandering souls who have taken shelter within. Anyone with a nose for it can see he is casing the room. Judging people on sight and looking for quick ways out. Typically two kinds of people do that; cops and criminals.

[Izzy Montoya] "Kora." She returns the greeting, before settling to sit on a pew close to the bonfire in the making. She crosses her legs, and does her best not to seem like she's freezing her ass off. Not much in the way of insulation, of padding on Izzy.

She watches Sofie ask permission to stay at the Brotherhood, and the muscle at her jaw flexes briefly. She doesn't add anything to the conversation though, simply watches. Listening. Finding her gaze following Seth as he explores, and checks for exits. Only two kinds of people do that, after all...

[Kora] Kora's attention sharpens when she senses the stranger's pure breeding. Knows him to be a strider. Takes him, for the moment, to be a Garou. She's not particularly remarkable, is closer to the bonfire, farther from the entrance than most of the rest - Izzy and Sofie, Patrick, Bridget, Roman - but when she turns around there's a certain sharpness to the look.

She's backlit by the fire; looks absurd in her winter coat, with a blanket over it, hood still half-up, her scarf unwound and a mug of coffee in her hand. And animal, too: a sharpness. A moment's alarm evident in her eyes, in the way she (for the moment) leaves behind the conversation with Sofie about the Brotherhood and her blind as a bat brother about the Fianna and - and - and -

Crosses the church in long, sweeping steps. "You're a Strider." She tells Seth, a sharp glance. "We're Last Watch. I'm Sorrow. What's happened?" That alarm - that alacrity, heightens the woman's intensity. She's tall, pale-skinned; her body beneath the bulk of the coat - which hides the fact that she's six months pregnant - seems bulkier than her limbs. There's that animal alertness, though, trained on his face.

Who died.
Who fell.
Who's coming after.



Prayers to Broken Stone

[Sofie Janssen] As Kora goes off to question Seth, Sofie notes the presence of Izzy with a small nod of her head, glances across to Bridget and Patrick to tune in to their conversation and generally falls into silence herself. She's a little less animated than times before. Her mood is sour.

When there's a space in conversation, she asked Patrick in a lower voice: "Are you joining Last Watch?"

[Roman Turner] "Seth, ain't seen ya in these parts before. And no, ain't squatting. Why, we own this fine establishment."

He waves an arm at the big room and people within.

"We were once lost, but now we are found. And I'm the reverend Roman, also known as Doctor Night. That there is the Reverend Miss Kora, also known as Doctor Knock Heads Together. Over there is the Reverend Linus. Also known as Doctor Foul Mouth. And there's Reverend Patrick. Also known as Doctor Who's Buisness is it anyway?"

He pointed to each in turn.

"The others are Reverends in training. Also known as, don't touch em."

He then closed his mouth and stepped away to address Linus while Kora spoke to the newcomer.

[Roman Turner] "I didn't see any transformers down. I saw a murder scene up the road, power worked there. I felt the charge in the air too. Maybe it's a combination crappy old wiring and the stuff on the otherside that's got things messed up? I can go scout around if ya want me to make sure."

[Seth Cohen] He freezes, momentarily a deer in headlights when Kora says "Strider". Dark eyes are wide enough to blow any facade of calm he might try to sell.

"How the fuck do you know that? What's a 'Last Watch'?"

The female cop in the room was bad enough. Said cop being friends with a group of what he hopes are werewolves was just the last thing he needed in this world. Actually, the last thing he needed was to be trapped with that aforementioned group in an abandoned church during a blizzard. Though his posture remains tense, he begins edging his way almost imperceptibly towards his chosen exit.

[Izzy Montoya] She watches Seth, and watches his reactions. He starts to inch toward a chosen exit and she arches a brow, slightly. The tension in her jaw shifts to quirk her lips in something leaning more towards amusement, now, though she doesn't let it come completely to light.

[Patrick Llewelyn] The Galliard called Prayers to Broken Stone -- because of his manner, because of his often realistic view of War, and fighting and their Nation as a whole doesn't change his stance much as Linus points a finger in his general direction -- he just raises his eyebrows in silent retort and turns his attention on the newest arrival.

Listening in, then letting his gaze shift to Izzy, there's something there, a softening around his mouth for an instant; it's in his voice, too as he calls to her: "Free pie in the box, help yourself to coffee if you want it." Then, blue eyes flick to meet blue and he says quietly: "Thinking about it, depends on -- " Kora. Linus. Roman.

Himself.
" -- you know."

[Linus] "No no, I wouldn't recommend that."

He's shaking his head. Roman's not the only one feeling...tense. The Godi's connection and inherent interest in the flipside is evident in a moment like this. The Mirror was a bit of a mess with the Storm's efforts, the elementals gleeful and the snows thick enough to obscure the Hunters only a moment before the lunge. His head rocks back and forth, trying to be rid of some of that tension riding his spine.

"I'm just restless. I don't like this..." He continues pacing around the fire, which has grown to near full blaze, though the dampness and freeze of some of the wood keeps it lower than expected. His gaze keeps with the flames and their lick and tongue, pulling the blanket further around his shoulders.

"Kora's right though. If we're shut down, enemy's gonna be the same. Ain't like they're used to this anymore than we are..." And his gaze flicks off toward Kora, a brow perking in brief confusion.

"What the fu..." He settles on Seth a moment, eyes narrowing a second later.

"Strider? Here?" Confusion blooms once more. "Hey Kor'? That a Harbinger?!"

[Izzy Montoya] She hasn't taken notice of Patrick. Not overtly, though she is certainly aware of his presence on the other side of the church pew she sits on. There's a softening in his voice, and she turns to look at him. She arches a brow, just a bit, and then her lips curve briefly into the briefest of smiles - hidden from the rest with a well timed lift of her hand to brush her hair back from her face.

"Softening me up for a rematch?"

Her expression clears, though there's amusement in her gaze, before she reaches for a cup of coffee. Her attention returns to the retreating and clearly nervous Seth.

[Sofie Janssen] Nodding once to Patrick, curiousity sated, Sofie falls quiet again. She goes to watching Kora and Seth, taking in the way the latter is looking to pack up. Can't blame him really. Kora's a pregnant Garou and this is her territory, that's some serious pressure to stand against when she's walking around and talking cut like that, in demands.

[Bridget] Bridget is forgotten in the business of things, and she seems happy with it. The Canadian retreats towards the comfort of the flames. She coaxes them to stay going despite the dampness. Note that unlike most urban folk, Bridget doesn't try to get the flames to climb higher, brighter. Nimble fingers and attentive care coax them to burn hotter, slower.

"Not to disagree at all, and not that I'd know anything about shit, but they seemed eager and ready enough to start an ambush on the Solstice."

[Roman Turner] "Ok, but ya need to relax some son, cause you're making me nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

He stared to pace with Linus. Snagging pizza boxes and chicken buckets to toss in the fire as fuel, though he was sure as heck paying attention when Linus asked about Seth. All the needed at the moment was something else to set everyone's nerves on edge.

[Fire Claws] Cold. Windy. Snowy. Horrible. It was no wonder that the monkeys were always so annoyed, this freezing cold only made him hate this city and this skin even more. The heavy wool coat was barely able to keep out the chill and snow that seemed to hammer away at the very will of the city. Hunting always made the lupus a little warmer, fueling the blood with rage and purpose. That and using more covered forms in the Umbral helped kill the chill. However while chasing down one of the fleeing wyrmlings, he felt oddly out of place. Dangerously close to passing through the Jarl's territory. Possibly even coming into their domain.

When he was finally able to return to the physical world, the wind and snow has not abated in the slightest. Coming down in blankets of whiteness, blinding those around. Finding the church would be difficult, but not impossible. Slowly moving to the steps of the run down old church were the pack now takes up residence.

Knocking hard, the lupus with some black blood stained hands, waits. Snow already covering his coat and hat in a white blanket.

[Linus] "Ten bucks says it's a Jehovah's Witness! Persistent little Twats aren't you?!"

[Roman Turner] "Holy Moley, I'm starting to feel like a cross between a doorman and the Welcome Wagon. I'll take ya up on that bet."

He started towards the door again.

"I got it, I got it."

Fire Claws was treated to the same welcome as the ones before him tonight. The door was tugged open, a hand shot out to take hold and tug the newcomer inside before the same door slammed shut with a thud.

"Too cold to stand out there, hurry up and get in here!"

[Patrick Llewelyn] "Well, unless the Wyrm has learned manners." Patrick calls, idly amused.

[Kora] "Your blood." Kora explains, giving Seth a sharp look for the ghost of alarm written across his features. "A cub, blind deaf and dumb, could smell it from a mile away in a storm like this one." Her own features are relaxing, her mouth opening from the tight, narrow line into which it formed when he walked in the door. "You're not a Garou, are you? Kin, yeah?"

Her features are lost in sharp, moving shadows cast by the torches, the bonfire. Kora turns around, finds Linus in the distance, and shakes her head when he asks if Seth is a Harbinger. She shakes her head once, no, and her packmates can feel the instant rush of relief that unfolds itself across the shared link.

When Seth begins to edge toward the exit, she shakes her head once. "You're not walking in here and then leaving like that, though. Not in the middle of a blizzard." Not when he might be - something other than his blood. Fallen. Broken. Something. She lifts her chin toward the rest of the group. "Last Watch is my pack. These are Garou, and kin. I'll introduce you. Seth, yeah?"

Li, you got some way of checking him out?

[Kora] (gah! it stopped refreshing on me!)

[Breeze] His hands were buried deep in his pockets, the only part of his coat that didn't seem to get covered in snow. Intent with waiting, he stood there only a few moments when Roman opened the door with that coggie energy and politeness.

He doesn't say anything when invited in, just stepping passed the doorway letting Roman close the door behind him, as if that was the source of the cold inside the church and not the holes in the roof or the stone walls as insulation. His voice coming out, guteral and butchered.

"Is Kora 'ere? I need ta speak wit 'er."

It came out as southern, if understood at all.

[Linus] "...Dude, this one time, I met this guy who used to eat molars right out of the backs of mortal mouths. Just the molars. Was this traveling dental hygienist selling some product or other...Fucker would knock and say 'How do!' every time..."

He snorts half a barking laugh at the flames, kicking another plank of wood into it's mix, before turning to regard Bridget, the humour draining out of his features briefly.

"Solstice marks a particular time. Lots of ugly can be cooked up on the season turn. This ain't theirs, though. Wyrm shit'll get licked just as easy as any of us out there..." And then back at the fire, with another snort.

"Only thing out there s'probably a bunch of Wendigo, wankin' themselves and singing Winter Wonderland at the top of their racist lungs..."

The totemlink buzzes gently, murmuring. Not immediately. Not with shit on the otherside, south stepping us. Best I got right now is a sharp eye.

[Roman Turner] "Ya owe me ten bucks!"

He called across the room to Linus, then he turned to point out Kora in the flickering light.

"Yessiree, she's right over yonder sizing up our last visitor before ya came to call. Maybe ya could give him a looksee too?"

Talk about inviting trouble.

[Patrick Llewelyn] His attention shifts to Izzy, then, as she answers him with the suggestion of a re-match. There's something briefly brighter; like the hot flare of a newly lit candle in the way Patrick watches the Kinswoman for a beat as she crosses to claim a coffee. Humor curls in his throat; warms it.

"Maybe, Detective. Maybe."

He leans forward, framing his elbows on his knees; the wooden bench beneath him creaking in dismay. He finds Sofie's eyes, nods toward the Fenrir Detective. "Kicked my ass at Lego Indiana Jones, not sure my manliness will recover."

[Seth Cohen] ((Ah man, I didn't refresh! I was sitting here like "Why the hell isn't anyone posting?" Sorry guys))
to Breeze, Bridget, Fire Claws, Izzy Montoya, Kora, Linus, Patrick Llewelyn, Roman Turner, snowstorm, Sofie Janssen

[Bridget] "I guess," she replies against her own intentions to not speak to the crazy dude. "I guess you people don't get weather like this a lot around here. I guess I'm used to the racist Wendigo country, then."

Finally, Bridget notes the drifter who seems uncomfortable in his own skin. She waves him over to the fire with a warm smile.

"Hey, come have a seat. I'm Bridget."

[Sofie Janssen] Turning her attention away from the constant newcomers to the door and the Seth saga, she finds herself looking back at Patrick as he draws her into conversation. Flicking her gaze to Izzy and back again, she looks between the two of them.

"How'd she kick your ass building blocks?" she asks the two of them, confused.

[Izzy Montoya] She lifts the cup of coffee to her lips, hiding the brief flash of an amused smile behind it before she takes a sip. Then, her expression schooled, she arches a brow.

"A ten year old could have beaten you." Then, to Sofie. "It's an xBox game. He might have had more luck with actual building blocks..."

Somewhere, somehow, that bemused little smirk has returned, and taken a turn toward warmth. Someday, somewhere, it might actually become a smile. [...but not likely...]

[Linus] "Probably..."

Is his distracted reply to Bridget, turning to scowl at Roman and belt out a "Bullshit! I want a Do over!" Before the seriousness claims his features again at the appearance of Fire~Claws. That guttural tongue and speech are recognizable if only because of Gwen's descriptions. She was fond of talking about her Mentor. Enough that the Godi can pick up the specifics without much trouble.

"...Not exactly what I'd expect."

and he sheds the last blanket, this one on a pew not so close to the fire and separate from the Crowd. The Bonfire continues to burn and crackle, smoke drifting up and out the various holes and windows in the Church's designs even as the wind and rumble of falling snow and gale continue unabated outside.

[Seth Cohen] He pauses his escape, watching Kora carefully and forcing himself to remain calm. After all, if they were going to kill him they probably would have gotten to it already. Still, he's not ready to be best friends. "Yeah. Seth. Look, I don't mean to be rude, but whatever you guys have going on in here I'm not interested."

[Roman Turner] He vanished, making several trips out of the main room to return with blankets, air mattresses and sleeping bags, obviously setting up for one big ole slumber party. The last trip back he had a couple bags of chips and lo and behold, was dressed for bed. Red long johns complete with a back flap and a pair of fuzzy slippers that looked like bear's feet.

"I got munchies. We might as well make the best of this."

He plopped down near Patrick, Sofie, Izzy and Bridget.

"Chips?"

[Breeze] He leans over to the side, passed Roman as he points out the image or Kora against the firelight. Black stained hands move up to his rub at his nose as he takes a couple of sniffs of the air around him. Those who don't know him would think he was catching a cold, however he was already taking account of those around the room. Some he knew, many he didn't.

But duty needed to be taken care of first. He moves towards the fire first and foremost. His attention solely on Kora. Moving directly to her. His eyes focused just south of her own when he speaks.

"May aye speak wit ya.." his eyes cast over those he didn't know yet; Izzy, Sofie and Patrick "...kora?"

[Bridget] "We're all just folk, Seth. I don't think anyone's gonna make you stay but Kora. We're just having coffee, staying warm. I'm from a part of Canada where even the wolves stay in the den."

She sighs, looking to Roman, then back to Seth. "Nice slippers. Look, I know that's not really anyone's scene. We've all got better things to do than sit on our collective duffs, but it is what it is."

The brunette scoots closer to Roman, who has food to share, and she takes out her harmonica, the one belonging to her father. She polishes it with the corner of her jacket, smirking. The lupus she's met before stalks towards Kora while Bridget raises her eyes to watch him. Last they met, he literally ran away from her because she played so well. Which is odd because that's usually the opposite effect.

[Bridget] [in the den in this weather*]

[Kora] "I don't care." They're standing inside the front vestibule, underneath the choir loft. Close enough that Kora can hear Fire Claws ask for her, and lifts her chin in acknowledgment of the Forseti's request. Her expression says: one minute, two. She's let go of the blanket, now, deeming it beneath her dignity in this moment. Her expression's still, her eyes dark. "You're a stranger; you wanted into my pack's home in the middle of a terrible storm. I'd fail in my duty of hospitality to you to send you back out there. And I'd fail in my duty to protect them - " a tip of her head toward the motley group gathered at the edge of the fire. " - if I just take you at your word, and let you go. I'm Kora. Roman - there, and Linus, there are my packmates. Patrick's Garou, looking to join us. The rest are kin, mine and others. Go sit. Have a piece of pie. Give us a chance to check you out and make sure you are what you seem to be."

There's no edge to that anymore, just a clear, quiet direction and a sort of dismissal.

Keep an eye on him. Find out if he has any local references. If he checks out, we'll let him go. A moment later.

If he doesn't.
That part's wordless.

"Fire Claws," Kora greets her tribesmate, then, turning her attention back to him, her generous mouth twisting, faintly - without showing teeth. He can see his breath here. "Of course. Let's talk." Wisely, she refrains - at the last moment - from using the idiom I'm all ears with the feral-born Forseti.

[Sofie Janssen] Izzy explains that Lego Indiana Jones is an xbox game, and Sofie has heard of that, at least. She nods once and gives a brief lift to her mouth at the jaunt directed at the Fianna Garou. "I've never played the xbox." Just to keep the conversation going, really. She's not terribly interested in computer games.

When Roman makes a reappearance he's ready for bed, has out mattresses and blankets, and is offering her chips. Her nose wrinkles distastefully. "No thanks. You know how much artificial shit is in those? Potato laced with chemicals and no nutritional value whatsoever."

[Kora] Also: Roman better not be eating Kora's Bacon Double Cheeseburger Pringles again.

She shoots him a look across the sanctuary, from a distance, hearing that distinctive crunch.

[Roman Turner] He just grinned at Sofie and as if saying the weather was wonderful asked.

"Ya know how long I am likely to live? It won't be the artificial and chemicals that kills me first."

Soon as Seth got close he held out the Pringles to him.

"Pringles?"

Offering hospitality with Kora's favorite treat.

[Seth Cohen] Wonderful. A guy named "Fire Claws". That should do a lot to put Seth at ease.

Kora walks away from him dismissively and he sighs. He begins to pace again, discomfort evident on his face. Constantly his eyes move from face to face, exit to exit. He is calculating odds and angles with every moment that passes. Seth stays close to the fire with his pacing. No sense in freezing.

And he will take the offered Pringles, because there's no sense is starving either. "Thanks. Bacon Double Cheeseburger Cheeseburger, huh? Nice."

[Sofie Janssen] "That's why you can have them all to yourself," Sofie tells Roman with a brief flicker of humour in her features. She understood why the Garou ate whatever they want. They weren't likely to get sick. It still didn't stand to reason, really, but whatever. "You know, buying that shit just encourages the company's to make them."

[Fire Claws] His eyes turn to look in the direction that Kora turns her own, looking back at the ragabash a few moments before returning his attention on her. It seemed he was trying to find the proper words for whatever he was trying to say, especially considering he was somewhat unsure of some of those around him. Even if they wore the mystical cloak of breeding about many of them.

"Jarl... I.. am 'ere cuz' I wanded onta ya land while 'untin'. Killed wat shuld'a been yas. I am 'ere ta make... right."

[Linus] He's a Strider, Kor', what sort of local ref you expecting?

But he's moving already, shaking out the thickness of his dress and attire, stuffing gloved hands into the hoodie front pocket as a slow pace and saunter is made toward Seth. The features are vaguely grim and the eyes, scrutinizing. He sticks his jaw out slightly and flicks a brief glance at Kora. He'd keep an eye, easy enough.

His stare turns to Seth, narrowing fractionally. It isn't angry. More dissecting then anything. As if he could cut to the Wyrm heart possibly beneath with that stare. That stare remains until Seth takes up a pringle. It has him nodding briefly, like that one little gesture was enough of a sense wyrm for him. Or at least a sign of normalcy. (Who the fuck doesn't like Pringles?)

He follows after Fire~Claws and Kora. A distance yet, but in the Church you didn't need to be close to hear a conversation. He remains somewhere off to one side, quiet in the thick shadow and dark of the Church's outer realms, beyond the bonfire.

"

[Roman Turner] For the first time Roman sighed.

"You are right Miss Sofie. Infact, I think ya should tell Seth here all about them chemicals and encouraging companys and all that stuff."

He was already handing off the chips to Seth and slipping off towards the kitchen again to get more eats that might send Sofie off the chemical deep end.

[Bridget] A smirk comes from the Canadian after she digs her paws into the pringles and takes some. Seth says nothing at her little encouragement, but he comes over to share some food. Bridget takes a few and moves back to a spot by the fire with her harmonica.

Before she stuffs some into her mouth, however, she decides to play a scale or two, just practicing. Patrick might know by now she has to do something to express those instincts when surrounded by all this latent Rage. Her behavior is not surprising, but her relative silence is.

[Sofie Janssen] Looking from Roman to Seth, she glances the man over from head to toe and then eyes the Pringles like it's a box full of maggots before turning away. She reaches up and finally takes off her knit cap, brushing her other hand through her hair. A blue scarf still winds its way around her throat, the blonde strands caught in it at the back. Small tugs get it all out, and toss hair down her back.

"Are you staying here tonight?" She asked Patrick, who was as quiet as she was, it seemed. Then it occurs to her she's only assuming other details and decides to get that clarified while she's at it. "Or do you live at the Brotherhood?" Where they had met last night.

[Kora] "The only good hunting in the city is Wyrm, Fire Claws. Otherwise it's just vermin," there's a brief twist of her mouth, wry. The heat of the fire is starting to permeate the structure. Up close, it's warm enough to sleep. Here, well - Kora starts unbuttoning her winter coat. " - hardly worth the time you take to run them down."

A pause, then; she looks back at her brother in the shadows at the edge of the fire he's constructed. Curves her shoulders in a brief, helpless sort of gesture when he asks her what sort of local reference she might expect a strider to have, then looks back to Fire Claws. "Are you still hunting alone?"

[Izzy Montoya] She watches the banter between Roman and Sophie, and then lets her gaze rest heavy on Seth once more as he dares close the distance, if only in search of pringles. She waits, and then times her reach for some chips so that it brings her hand to bump against his. When he looks up - because of course he does - she's arched a brow, amusement resting across her lips.

She takes her chip, and sits back. It was very much a 'i know why you're nervous' encounter. Even if she doesn't, exactly. She's just mean.

For the most part, though, she remains silent. Watchful.

[Roman Turner] It wasn't too awful long before he reappeared, this time fully dressed once more as if he might be planning on going out. More chips were handed out and then the Coggie made himself at home on the pew, pulling his hat down over his eyes as if he were going to sleep. Quietly across the link was whispered.

I'll follow him if he suddenly ups and leaves.

Meaning Seth. In a few moments his breathing was nice and easy.

((And I must sleep. Thanks for the play!))

[Fire Claws] He listens intently to Kora when she speaks about what is good hunting, his body starting to shake a little to shuffle off any of the rest of the snow that sits on his heavy jacket and hat, familiar acts and such. His hands soon burying themselves deep within the pits of his arms, trying to warm up the tips. His attention turns once when she pauses, eyes turn back to the pair of untamed kin women sitting around the mattresses, eating at what food is offered. Distracted.

When Kora asks him if he is still hunting alone, his eyes snap back to her.

"Ya. Still 'lone."

His mind retracing her previous mention of good hunts.

"I kill'd da wyrmlin' on ya territory. Ya right. Ya 'onor, not mine."

[Patrick Llewelyn] [Sorry all, phonecalls about Cyclone Yasi! Eesh.]

[Bridget] Bridget's head snaps to attention when she feels the press of someone staring, but she's not sure at first where it's coming from. She shakes it off, then curls over her harmonica. Unlike the usual wail, the kinfolk keeps things relatively calm. The kinfolk is soon lost in her playing, making unusual coaxing noises from the metal shard rather than the blues wail.

It doesn't really matter that everyone's lost in their own thing. Bridget finds a way to get lost as well, with much more consistent company.

[Linus] Takes this shit seriously, doesn't he?

Is Linus offer over the totemlink to Kora, his own attention shifting to the small group of huddled Kinfolk and Trueborn. He allows himself a brief moment to relax, take in the sight. Family through and through, despite the baggage that came with it. A nice neat little package. He pushed his jaw forward and breathed through his nose, trying to dull the tension riding his spine.

"...Bunch of lay abouts..." Quietly and to no one, the Godi remains where he is in the dark, off to one side, returning his attention to the pair of Fenrir in Jarl and Forseti. Arms cross over chest and he begins to teeter back and forth from one foot to another, notes from a harmonica creeping into the air to lend cadence to the wind howl and snow drop outside.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Prayers to Broken Stone had not vanished, had not ceased to exist. Well, at least not physically. What the Galliard had in fact been doing was focusing on some spot on the ground; frowning. The coffee beside him was forgotten, stone cold by the time he seems to stir again, and tune back in to his surroundings.

Kora is speaking to an unknown figure, the Kinfolk are still present -- Bridget playing the blues on a harmonica -- and even Linus appears to have calmed down.

Straightening, Patrick slides from his perch wordlessly, and starts to venture around the premises; finding some shadowy nook, the Galliard takes up residence in it, and hunches his back against the wall. In his pocket, fingers worry a lighter.

[Remy] "...it's not even that cold." The door of the church creaks open on Remy's grumbling. "Just a little windy is all. Button up over your nose and mouth and you'll be fine. Don't know why you insist on stopping off here. Not like it's that much farther to the El station."

And WHUMPF goes the big ironwood doors of the Church, shutting out -- if not quite the chill -- the wind and the snow, at least. The muscleheaded Godi and the slighter, recently-widowed kin stand in the nave of the church, the former peeling outerwear down from his head.

"VISITING IN YOUR TERRITORY!" Remy bellows. It echoes off the buttresses, reflects back from the arched ceiling. "There, that ought to be polite enough for them."

[Izzy Montoya] Patrick gets up to move, and it catches her attention. Very little misses her attention, actually, his movement simply gets her to glance his direction. She tracks his movement across the room, then marks each of the other occupants once more. Roman is snoozing. Linus is rocking. Bridget is playing. Kora and Fireclaws are talking and..

Remy is bellowing. Subtle.

She lifts the coffee cup to her lips, and remains quiet, for now. She digs her phone out of her pocket, and thumbs through her messages, tension tightening along her jaw as she sees nothing from Dabney, or anyone who can come get the car. And her.

[Kora] Kora half turns, following Fire Claws' line of sight toward the kinswomen gathered around the fire. When she looks back to the feral Forseti, her eyes are bright with reflected light. "Wolves weren't meant to hunt alone." It's a truism. A cliché. And a truth. Kora's eyes are trained on his rough features, which never seem wholly human to her, as if she could see the wolf in him pushing through his skin, opening his human mouth with its blunt teeth, unbending his human posture - the straight spine, the well-set shoulders. "Who will tell your stories around the fires. Who'll bring you back to yourself when you claw you way back from death. Who'll howl for you when you die."

Her mouth twists again; some part of her knows that he cannot read it as a human would. Look, she's smiling, not showing teeth. The coat swings open and it is clear that she's pregnant, even if he does not know precisely how pregnancy looks on human women. Her one lean, narrow frame looks - not feminine, but instead: distinctively female, though she's a few months off from delivery yet.

Kora crosses her arms beneath her breasts, glances back at Linus, her features in profile, illuminated. Then, back to Fire Claws. "Well, here's the payment I want from you. Linus' Hrafn flock is grounded by the storm. We need eyes and ears in the territory, this side and the other. You'll run with us; take your turn standing watch when you haven't got duty at the Caern."

Remy and Drew walk in, the former bellowing his presence. Kora's off in the shadows beneath the choir loft, arms crossed, her head tucked, intent on her conversation with the feral. Still, she glances up when they walk on, dark eyes touching on the pair. Remy, Drew.

"Don't eat my Bacon Double Cheeseburger Pringles." Her voice carries; she needn't bellow. Call it a welcome, of sorts.

[Sofie Janssen] Getting up from the pew, she makes her way towards Izzy. It's only a few steps away, and then she sits herself down again. She doesn't know the Kinswoman, they hadn't really spoken, but Sofie strikes up a conversation quietly. It's a question, really, followed on after she watched the other woman check her phone. "Think cabs will come out tonight?" The words are low.

[Drew Roscoe] The door opens, snow and wind cuts into the building when it does so, and in through the havoc of white step a pair of Fenrir together, chattering, mid-conversation with one another. The tall, muscled, oh-so-handsome Godi is grumbling down to the Kinfolk that came along with him, a girl with her hair twisted back into a ponytail so the wind wouldn't blow it into her face, decked out as much as possible for the cold with a winter hat, gloves, scarf, coat, boots... the whole nine yards. She's got her chin lifted so her mouth is free from the scarf, so what she says can be heard over the whistle of the wind: "Just wanna check and see if he's here or not, I told'ja that. I know he's a big kid and he'll be fine, but it's been three nights." The last time she didn't go searching for someone she found out a month after that they'd been dead the whole time and no one had bothered to come tell her.

The door slaps closed behind them, with some effort on Remy's part to force it back against the wind. Then Remy's hollering into the church, acoustics bouncing the sound all about the place. Drew cringes some against the sound, then shakes her head when he muses about how polite the announcement had to be, that Last Watch of course would be content with it.

"You know they've got an open-door policy to Tribe, right?" And Drew's unwrapping her scarf from about her chin, knotting it more loosely about her neck so it wasn't strangling her, and glancing about the worship-room that they had stepped into. The sound of music was replacing the echo of Remy's voice and the ringing it left in her ear, the crackle and snap of flames as well. She's not asking right away, searching verbally for the Rotagar. Rather, she's hunting with her eyes. If he'd be anywhere, it'd likely be with the group.

[Izzy Montoya] Sofie settles next to Izzy, and she takes another drink, before looking over at the other kin. She returns her gaze to her phone, as she lifts a shoulder into a shrug. "Slowly, if at all."

There's a beat, and then. "If my car decides to start, I can get you to the Brotherhood."

[Sofie Janssen] Considering the offer, she looks back to where Patrick had disappeared to, then back around to Izzy. "Patrick, the Fianna, he's a mechanic. Maybe we can get him to have a look at it. I don't think he wants to be here either," she says what they all seem to be thinking. Nobody likes being trapped, even if it's by nature Herself.

[Linus] Linus remains off to one side of the church, bowed to his haunches whilst inspecting something along the foundation line. Carvings in the stonework done by crude claws and time. Kora and Fire~Claws conversation is left to the wayside for the moment, Linus attention picking out his name and the description of the Hrafn. His silence was approval, if not outright comfort at knowing there would be someone there to keep watch while he wasn't. The tension in his spine ebbed slightly...

...And Remy and Drew's arrival brings him around from his inspection of the glyph-work along the foundation. His gaze narrows and his jaw juts out, off to the left and in the dark of the large Church doors. The Bonfire just infront of the Dais where the altar use to be is a hotbed of Kin and True all settled in a relaxed. Several of the pews have been dragged over to act as seating.

"Got more bodies tonight than a fuckin' Brothel on 2 for 1 Tuesdays..."

[Remy] "Whatever, they want polite, this is my idea of polite. You announce yourself when you're on another wolf's turf." And then he draws in a deep breath to yell back, "NOT LOOKING FOR FOOD, JUST HERE TO LET TWINKLE TOES WARM UP."

Which isn't really the truth, but. Remy stuffs his wool cap in his pocket, then unzips the front of his jacket from top to bottom. Underneath that he's got a microfleece inner jacket; under that, a thermal longsleeve tee. All of it pads out a frame that's already -- well. Impressive is putting it nicely. Standard-dumb-jock might be putting it more accurately.

"Who're we here to check on again?"

[Linus] "Shut the fuck up already and go get warm then!"

[Bridget] "Hey, Izzy. I'd like to come with ya if you'll take me. I'll buy you a beer or something."

She stops playing long enough for that.

[Remy] Remy's head snaps around. He squints through the murk. He doesn't really dial it down very far: "Did it look or sound like I was talking to you, squirt?"

[Linus] "Did it sound like I give a fuck 'bout your Preferences, Roadkill?" From the dark, Linus pulling up to his feet and dusting his fingers down over his jacket.

[Izzy Montoya] Patrick there, is a mechanic. Something in that statement seems to amuse Izzy, for all that she comments "I know." She hasn't asked him though, has not imposed on his knowledge. After this, though, she might. Bridget asks to join, and she lifts dark eyes to the Fianna kin, then back to her phone. Perhaps it's agreement.

"Depends on the car star..."

And then Remy snaps his head around. His focus is on Linus, who stands to face the other Fenrir, but that doesn't stop the twist of tension along her spine. She refuses to show it, other then a slight clench of her jaw.

[Sofie Janssen] It has to be telling, that there's Kinfolk that would rather go out and brave it in a storm then to stay in the Church with the Last Watch. Sofie looks from where Remy is bellowing and entering with Drew, over to Bridget as she asks to get a ride out too.

Her gaze cuts across the figures at various places in the Church. The bonfire is warm, crackling over to the side and the smell of smoke drowns out that of the damp snow beyond. It could have been the slumber party Roman had seemed to want, but it's far from that ideal right now.

If the tension wasn't enough before. Now there's Get of Fenris yelling at each other in a place where sound seems to carry just fine. "Fuck it," she murmurs low to Izzy. "I'm slipping out the back door." The cap in her jacket pocket is pulled out and held in a hand as she rises off the pew.

"Comin'?" To Izzy and Bridget.

[Drew Roscoe] He bellows that they don't want food, just shelter long enough for Drew to get some circulation back into her 'twinkle-toes'. Him calling her that had her peering up at him, then grinning ironically. She shook her head a little, and looked toward the huddle of Kin grouped together, from them to the direction from where Linus's voice was ringing out, the vague shape of him, the statuesque and curved figure of Kora, and a stout, not-immediately-recognized person along with them, mostly hidden in the shadows.

Remy and Linus are calling back and forth, and Drew grunts and nudges her elbow into Remy's side, which felt an awful lot like digging her elbow into a section of beef slab, only slightly cushioned by the layers of clothing on top.

"Here for Erek. And could you not? He's Last Watch, this's their land. Why you gotta be picking fights all the time?"

[Fire Claws] He turns his attention to the Godi who seemed to be hanging around the conversation between himself and their Jarl. He watched the godi and his inspection of the foundation and the glyohs carved around the room. Turning back to the alpha of the pack, he furrows his brow.

"Oka'.

It was a pack, even if he was not dedicated to it. It was a start, something to call himself apart of. But within a few moments, his head quickly snaps back to the door, a scent he had learned of and a faint one he had found at the Sept a few days ago. Eyes turning on Drew and her guide, but the smell not the same.

Focused on the new arrivals now.

[Remy] Drew can feel Remy's rage flaring. The solid young Godi jerks his head to the left, giving his neck a quick, sharp crack. "It sound like I started this fight?" he mutters back at Drew. "Who told me to shut the fuck up first? Anyway, his territory or not, he better get ready to defend it --

"HEY FUCKFACE. Wanna come over here and say that again?"

[Patrick Llewelyn] Remy enters; in the darkness, the Fianna's eyes gleam as he lifts his face. He's taken the lighter out of his pocket and flicks it open, ignites the flame and then flicks it shut again. The slow, steady repetition might give the Kinfolk pause about checking with him about anything.

Especially considering the way his Rage seems to have swarmed.
Especially considering the grim set to his jaw abruptly.

Remy's remark to Linus draws a snort from his corner. If Remy paid attention, he'd see the outline of Patrick, there. He can certainly smell Fianna.

[Bridget] Bridget shucks off the blanket, grabs her bag, and stuffs her father's harmonica into it, popping the chips into her mouth at last. Doubtful Kora wanted it after they've been pawed at, which happened before the warning was confirmed.

"Been out hunting in worse," she says, wiping her hands off onto her jeans. Her eyes cast towards Patrick, then the Lupus-born before she looks back to Izzy.

[Linus] ...And Linus peels out of the darkness with a narrowed eye and a flicker of something like a smile, faint and off.

"I think I know about you." A beat, eyes flicking off Remy toward Drew, finger pointing at the other Godi, his lanky frame draped in the thick Trappings of winter. "This how you have fun now?" And the smile vanishes with a flash of something distasteful.

[Izzy Montoya] Bridget and Sophie make as if to dash out the back, the sudden tension too much, to sudden too soon. Izzy doesn't move, because... well. She's a stubborn bitch, and she refuses to allow any Trueborn to think they've gotten to her. Even if said True has zero attention spared in her direction. She needs to check on the car, and ensure it starts.

"Patrick, think you could take a look?" That, first, and then to the kin.. "I'll call a cab for you guys. It might take a bit." Especially if there is a brawl, first.

[Drew Roscoe] "Choice of words aside, I don't think he was looking to pick a fight."

The Kinfolk's scowling, the bridge of her nose wrinkled up, and tugging her gloves off her hands to stick them in her coat pockets, but leaving the hat on her head anyways. How a Godi, who was supposed to be lost in Spirits and Other Worlds, calm and focused, got more riled up and strutted more than a rooster did was beyond her. Hell, Joe was friendlier and far more reasonable.

Linus comes out from where he'd been standing with Kora and Fire Claws, into more ready view, and answers to the challenge like any Fenrir would. Drew's exasperated already, and sighing heavily, but, oddly, not peeling away from Remy's side. Not just yet at least. She's just muttering to him under her breath.

"I swear I'm never going places with you anymore."

[Sofie Janssen] "It's alright," Sofie gives Izzy a nod of her head, "I've got a phone. I can call a cab."

Looking to Bridget, she nudges her head towards the door. Despite saying that she was going to slip out the back door, Sofie's going to walk right out the way she came. Quite content to walk with an unknown woman, safety in numbers and all that, Sofie begins towards the door.

As she's putting her hat back on, passing by Drew and Remy, she offered: "Hey Remy," as she's heading out.

Kora gets a small lift of her hand as she reaches the door to open it.

[Remy] Remy comes forward as Linus does. They meet amidst toppled pews and dusty, torn bibles. Hymnbooks. In this silent arena, pervaded through and through by some immaterial sense of the holy, or at least what mortals hope to be holy, Remy is a blunt weapon, a burning brand, irreverent and -- by all appearances -- stone-deaf to the secret life around him.

He puts a gloved hand to his ear, exaggeratedly mimicking a listening gesture. "What's that? Oh, that's right. I didn't hear you calling me Roadkill again, did I now."

A second later the mockery flashes dark. He takes a step forward and sideways, in front of Drew. "Hey, bitch. If you're too afraid to sling insults at the Trueborn, don't take it out on the kin."

-- his eyes flick toward Sofie. "Hey, Sofe. Where you going?" They come back to Linus, hard and dark.

[Kora] Kora's arms are crossed; the agreement's set with Fire Claws, requiring no further words. Instead, her attention narrows on Linus and Remy, nostrils flaring with a sharp sort of distaste.

"Bone-Writer," there's caution in her voice; which is to say: warning. "No." She knows the church as well as anyone; better than anyone living, and she's crossing the distance in long, moving strides. The edges of her winter coat flare out around her frame as she advances on Remy like she's going to run him down.

"Drew, shut the fuck up."

"Remy, shut the fuck up. You are going to hold your tongue or walk out that fucking door. You want to throw down; you'll do it after this fucking storm."

[Sofie Janssen] "Anywhere that's not here." Sofie shoots back and then steps out into the blizzard and the storm that's raining down on the city.

[Kora] (guys, I really, really, really need to sleep since it's 2 a.m. If this is going further than sniping, we have to pause. )
to Bridget, Drew Roscoe, Erek Skulason, Fire Claws, Izzy Montoya, Linus, Patrick Llewelyn, Remy, Sofie Janssen

[Bridget] "Bonsoir," she blinks at Remy on her way out with the other kinswoman of significant breeding. She seems to know enough of the same people, so she must be alright.

Bridget usually isn't bothered by all the tension, moreso than usual. She just isn't feeling in the mood to deal with drama, and she's got more of her own personal drama in spades.

Sofie suddenly leaves and the other lanky, wolfish girl follows into the blizzard.

"This is nothing. You been into the mountains before?" she asks the blonde.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Izzy wants him to take a look at the car.

Shk.

The flame is snuffed out again, and Patrick shifts; feet scraping against floor debris as he moves back out of the shadows, coming up alongside Linus. "Yeah," his eyes are on Remy, flick to Drew, then shift to Izzy. "I can take a look. Let's go."

He heads toward the door Sofie had just scuttled out of to escape them all.

[Remy] A clench of his teeth, muscles drawing taut from temple to jaw. Remy jerks a thumb at Linus.

"He started it."

[Izzy Montoya] Something Kora says gets a reaction from Izzy - though it's hidden as she continues to thumb through her phone. She takes an extra moment, checking another message, before she looks up again, and tucks the phone away.

Patrick agrees to take a look, and only then does she stand. She nods toward Kora, though her attention is elsewhere, and turns to follow Patrick to the door. "It's not far."

[Linus] "...And When I deem you important enough to insult a second time you'll know-"

Kora speaks. It doesn't still Linus' tongue as much as it does get his attention. Hermodr was good like that. Especially in the Jarl's hands. His head tilts away from catching Remy's gaze with that grin like suggestions and Name calling to die when he meets Kora's gaze and mention of a single, adamant word. His response is a grunt and a cluck of the tongue.

"Yeah."

And then around on Remy again. He leans slightly, regarding Drew again with that same weird smile and narrowed gaze.

"Pick 'em sweet 'n tender." A jab there. Something suggestive. "Good on ya." Before the Godi's pulling off without another word or eye at Remy, glancing at Patrick as the large Fianna goes wandering past and for the door. The party was dying as quick as it started, arrivals turning to departures without much effort.

"I'm gonna see if I can convince Hrafn to settle in. At least keep eyes on the Church outskirts." And around toward Fire~claws, a serious tone creeping into a small phrase.

"You comin' with?"

[Fire Claws] His attention is pulled in several different ways as he continues to watch the ongoing of the pair of Godi as they snipe back and forth. Watching and waiting for one or the other to go beyond words.

Back to Bridget, Sofie, Izzy and Patrick as they talk about leaving into the blizzard, about cars and other issues he had no understanding about. He just stands and watches the interaction of monkeys as they go about their situations.

Just curious.

[Sofie Janssen] "Mountains? Well, depends what you call mountains." Sofie answers Bridget, pulling the scarf up around the bottom half of her face and working on her gloves as they step out into the cold. The street is far from friendly today, but the other Kinfolk is right - there's been worse. "Most of the hiking I've done is not in the winter."

"Where you from anyway? Your accent, it sounds familiar." Because Sofie has ventured into Canada a few times, just not enough to immediately place her there. The town and Sept she was with wasn't too far from the borders edge.

[Fire Claws] He nods when Linus directs his attention back to him. Back to something he actually knew about. Spirits and hunting.

"Ya."

[Kora] "Squirt.

"Roadkill."

Trust a Skald to remember the precise series of insults tossed out. "I don't care who started it. I'm ending it tonight. You want to take it up again, when the storm's passed and we're not fucking blind, you do that. Tonight: no fucking way."

Then, another frisson of anger sparks in Kora's eyes and she rounds in an arc of motion, leaving Remy at her back, scowling at her brother. "Bone-Writer, that was un fucking called for. Apologize to Drew, you owe her a debt of honor. And you're not to say a cross-word to kin - not a stray fuck - for a week, or I will take it out of your hide. Hear me?"

[Bridget] "Red Deer Sept, some podunk place in the mountains of Alberta. We're a good two or three hours from the nearest anything. We have a cabin out there, it can get pretty rough in the winter."

Her accent isn't the form of Canadian familiar to most people in Fargo. She's got a good deal of the Quebecois in the way she speaks, more apparent when she's drunk or angry and swearing.

"What about you?"

[Erek Skulason] *There's friction afoot, the no moon can feel it in his gut as he waded through the blizzard towards what he considered sanctuary. A tall, figured covered in head to boot in heavy winter clothes, a scarf wrapped several times around his throat, jaw and nose to protect it from the cold, a knit cap slammed down tight on his skull to cover his ears. Blue eyes peer out the slit that was made for his vision, sniffling a red-chapped nose*

[Remy] Remy's eyes narrow a beat on Kora. But then Linus is moving, and Remy's pivoting in place to watch him go. When their relative positions have changed enough that Linus is closer to Drew than to Remy, the latter puts his big hand on Drew's shoulder and brushes her almost effortlessly behind him again. His free hand -- since he's decided not to keep running his mouth for now -- flaps open and shut in a distinct yappety-yap gesture. And when Kora dresses her packmate down, Remy's smirk is positively shit-eating.

He nudges Drew, "This yapper's the one you're here to check up on? We've checked on him, you wanna go now?"

[Drew Roscoe] Linus and Remy are all but at one another's throats. Remy's shifted so he's standing in front of her, spitting venom at the other Godi for insulting Drew-- though she seems to have missed how she was insulted. She's muttering, and Kora's interjecting, her voice all brass and authority.

Drew, shut the fuck up.

This was far from the first time she's heard those words, there's nearly a quip of humor at the corners of her mouth at the familiar cadence of the order. She presses her lips together, wrings her hands for warmth, and cups them up to her mouth to breathe on them, bringing circulation back to her fingertips and stepping out to the side so she's part behind Remy, part to his side now instead.

Linus's eyes fall on her, sarcasm and bitterness in them as he compliments Remy on his choice of 'sweet and tender'. The Kin frowns, hard. She doesn't look taken aback, shocked or upset like delicate girls tend to when they've been had like that. Rather, she just looks annoyed. Really now? her eyes said into his. Unnecessary.

And Kora's stomping on the fight, firm that it will not happen, not here and not tonight. She's demanding that Linus apologize to the Kin, affirming what Drew felt in her chest when the insult was made. She doesn't look haughty, though, or satisfied that Kora took her side. She just sniffs against the effects cold will have on a healthy nose and breathes further into her hands.

The doors open from behind, Erek's working his way in, and Remy's nudging her with his elbow, talking toward her ear. She glanced back toward Erek, and an expression of partial relief softened her features away from the irritation that was set there prior.

"Yeah. On both counts."

[Patrick Llewelyn] [Can I repair da car? Dex + Crafts (Car Repair)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Fire Claws] He moves over to Linus as he goes on about being blind, while he was being reprimanded by his alpha. Moving up along side of dressed down true he was suppose to help with this 'blind problem.'

His eyes moving over Drew a few moments as he takes in the scent on her. Looking her up and down a little more as he realizes what he can smell now, smirking. The grin widening even more when the scent comes walking through the door.

Then back to Linus.

"Why ya blind?"

[Sofie Janssen] "Never been to Alberta." The conversation they are having is low. Sofie walks with her hands down by her sides instead of in her pockets. Her balance is better that way. The ground is unforgiving, blanketed with snow. The hem of pants will be wet by the time they get wherever it is they are going, walking up the street.

A glance is given to the stranger, who she knows as Bridget because she had been listening earlier. "Small place, over by Montana." Top end of Idaho. Doesn't really matter where. She's not there now, but she's starting to feel a little pang of homesickness.

"You heading to the Brotherhood?"

[Linus] Linus freezes in place at that all too familiar tone in Kora's voice. Shoulders hunch and his face screws up in something like grim displeasure. Fingers curl with arms straight to either side and then he's turning with a large exhale to regard Kora. Something of a dead pan;

"Yeah, Renders~rhya. I hear you." And then he turns narrowed eyes at Drew, mouth working around something...displeased and displeasing. "When I find something, you'll be the first to hear about it. Trust in that if nothing else." A promise of something. An apology now would be rife with...well, worse than any further insults. The Debt and the Apology would come as one.

Fenrir didn't do Sorry. At least, not well.

He turns back toward the Lupus, last vestige of something human drifting away to leave behind the possibility of what was to come: Duty. Spirits and Hunting. A much needed release.

"Let's do this, Claws~Yuf." Because the Lupus was a forseti and because Gwen had said he had jaws for tradition. The Godi seems to collect himself for a moment, then Fire~Claws asks. He turns and his face splits into a grin.

"Cause of all the monkey two legs running around, I talk the most. Rarely listen."

The air collides with a Pop and he vanishes into the Umbra.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Izzy leads him to her car -- which, according to her -- was not that far. The Galliard is mostly silent as he follows her; roughly tugging the zip up his jacket outside. The storm has not lessened with the passing hours, if anything, it has worsened and before long his face is all but numb despite his hood and gloves.

He signals the Fenrir to get inside her car; and opens the front; his upper body vanishing under the hood. After several moments; a palm smacks the side of the vehicle twice through the snowy windshield she can see Patrick winding his finger. Translation: Start her up.

[Kora] "Drew." Kora's arms are crossed underneath her breasts, over her stomach. "When the storm lets up, you are going to come here and find me. We need to have a talk." A sharp look over the kin's shoulder, at Remy. "Alone."

Then she's finished, Kora. And wanders off someplace while her player collapses into a coma.

[Erek Skulason] *Erek hovers outside near the door, watching the traffic of people exiting the church, he isn't privy to what's going on inside. His head turning, tilting to the side to track his vision over Izzy as she and Patrick are getting into her car. Further away, to barely see the tail end of Sofie heading down the sidewalk, and then finally Drew with Remy, when he's swung his vision back to the doors. Shoulders rolling back in faint shrug under clothing*