Ornature

[Fate] He frowned figuring she still had the phone upstairs in her room. So, lack of phone left him with either cooling his heels for the night or trying to sneak in to her room for the phone. Finally he decided he would wash up and head to bed to once more stick to JoEllen like glue the next day.

What puzzled him was, if Emma was the one in trouble, why would JoEllen mention the length of time as a few months, six at the most? Wouldn't Emma know that? Maybe it wasn't Emma she had talked to this time? Horse shit. Those thoughts followed him in to sleep.

[Twilight] Roman's home early enough that he awakens when he hears the first noises in the house. JoEllen brushing her teeth in the bathroom. It's early, not even light yet outside, but the flock of blackbirds in the mature (but still dormant) trees flanking the quiet street and bright with song.
There's no breakfast when he comes downstairs. JoEllen apologizes, tells him there's bread in the freezer if he wants toast. It's her morning at the Gathering House again, so she's out the door quickly, no make-up, her hair pulled back from her face, driving all the way back to the Sept to work on the morning meal. She offers him a ride, if he wants one.

At the Gathering House, she climbs the trail, heads to the kitchens, dons and apron and works until 9:00 a.m., back and forth. She has breakfast with her fellow volunteers, then heads back to town, stopping at Kroger's first, then dropping by the studio quickly, then heading home. She has a mid-morning nap before returning to the college to teach a studio art course that takes most of the afternoon.

And that is what JoEllen does on the third day of Roman's challenge.

[Fate] He asked to go with her when she went back to the Gathering House. He too spent his morning there and asked to be dropped back at the house when she left for her other errands. Though when JoEllen took off for the school this time. He went back to the studio for another look inside. He went right back to the room with the baby furniture to see if anything had changed. Only after he looked in on the little shop did he go back to following JoEllen.

[Twilight] One of the walls has a coat of fresh paint. There's a bottle of half-finished gatorade in the fridge, and several large cuts of tough meat in the freezer. Nothing else has changed.

[Fate] That seemed a lot more like this arrival was coming very soon. Meat in the freezer could last months though. So it was back to following JoEllen about, waiting for another call and a chance to get hold of the phone before he had to go tell Bob Marley's Ghost what little he knew.

[Twilight] He finds her at the college, teaching studio art. She's there until well after four in the afternoon, then goes downtown to a pub to share a beer with some other instructors. They stay at the pub for dinner, and Roman can see twilight fast approaching.

[Fate] Twilight was approaching and that meant he had to get his hind end moving. So it was back to the otherside and a shift to Lupus for the run to the Caern. Once there he announced himself and sought out Bob Marley's Ghost, not at all sure this was a big secret that the Fostern had not figured out.

[Twilight] Roman finds Bob Marley's Ghost in a wooded glen further into the mountains from the Gathering House. There's a small, wooden hut here, the scent of woodsmoke, and a clear pool of spring water bubbling up from some depth. The scent of marijuana hangs in the air, faint and herbaceous.

The dred-locked Gaian sits with his legs crossed on the cool ground, hands planted on his knees. He is wearing t-shirt with a picture of a whale on it, with a speech bubble that says Save the Humans. When Roman first arrives, it looks as if the other no-moon is meditating, but then he opens his eyes as soon as the other wolf steps into the glen, turns with that unerring instinct, finds Fate's eyes, and lifts his scraggly-bearded chin by way of greeting.

[Fate] He returned the greeting with his usual friendly air.

"Evenin Rhya. I would of liked to learn more about Miss JoEllen, but maybe the little I do know, ya don't know yet?"

His eyes never quite rested on the Fostern's, out of respect and that wolf-sense that demanded he acknowlege a wolf a little higher on the food chain.

[Twilight] The other garou looks him up and down; a flicker of awareness in the grass-green of his eyes. Watchfulness. Animal immediacy, there too. Sizing Roman up as Roman ambles forward.

"Go on." Bob Marley's Ghost returns, uncrossing his legs and stretching out dirty palms on the damp, compacted grass.

[Fate] "Were you aware that Miss JoEllen deeply loves her family. She hopes to have great grand children one day. She grieves over her daughter up and leavin as soon as Emma was taken by a Pack and began traveling. She hides that grief in gruffness and irritation. She has a studio out on Paint Lick road. And receives calls every day from Emma. There was an urgent message from Emma not so long ago, desperately needing funds. Which happens."

He paused for a breath, dragging his hands back through his hair as he wrestled with what he was going to say next.

"Miss JoEllen knows something that will affect many lives, her family's and this little community when it comes out."

He slowly looked up.

"She's got herself a baby crib and playpen. She's started paintin a room in that little studio and stocking the freezer with meat there. She's had steel security doors put in with key pads to get in. And them baby things? They are fashioned with steel cages over them to keep the baby from getting out."

His words came slower.

"Only reason I can figure to have a bed like that is cause it ain't gonna be a regular ole baby she is expecting."

[Twilight] Bob Marley's Ghost listens to Roman's story attentively, eyes on the younger Garou's face. There's little expression on his features except that attentiveness clear in his eyes. Roman slows down, Bob Marley's Ghost listens.

[Fate] "Miss JoEllen is settin up for a Metis child in her studio. She's a strong woman with strong family loyalties. She works mighty hard. I ain't positive who the mother is, I've been leaning towards Emma, but if ain't her, she's in on the secret. That's all I got, except Miss JoEllen has a doctor's appointment on the 15h of May and has to have fasting blood tests before hand."

He grinned sheepishly.

[Twilight] Bob Marley's Ghost stands up, then. Pushes himself up from the cold spring ground, dusts off his muddies palms on his muddy rear, then reaches up and pulls an elastic band up from around his neck over the crown of his head to contain his dredlocks. He's watching Roman the whole time, assessing, considering.

"I'll be truthful, Fate. When I sent you off with JoEllen I wasn't expecting much. I gave you the assignment and you - a no-moon - didn't ask me a single question. You didn't even ask me why I thought she was hiding something from the Sept. Would've been smart to ask. Could've given you direction in the early going. Could've lead you down the wrong path, too. A No-Moon's gotta be ready for that, you know?

"Not just the right path, but the wrong one. You have to trust your instincts and be able to follow the most important paths. You have to know when to stop, too. When you've got enough. When it's time to go back.

"You walked up here tonight, and you didn't act like a Fostern. Like a Garou worthy of being Fostern. You apologized straight off. I didn't get much. Right then, I was pretty certain you were going to fail.

"Then you started the story, man. And you told it with both compassion - detail, and - eventually - confidence, making clear both what you knew, and what you didn't know. And that's what I asked of you.

"I'll be fair. I've got my doubts. We're meant to question everyone, including ourselves. But not in a way that undermines the work we're meant to do.

"You've gotta grow up, man. You're not a kid anymore, you know? You're a fostern. Gotta buck up, -yuf."

[Fate] He listened and slowly the furrows between his brows smoothed out as it registered he had not failed.

"Thank you....yuf."

There were so many things he considered saying, but in the end he kept as simple as he had when his challenge had been given to him.

"Still waters run deep, ya know?"

He cleared his throat and sniffed at the air.

"I don't suppose ya'd share before I go back?"

[Twilight] "Naw," the other one returns, the scent faint in the air. "Not now, man. We're going down to JoEllen's studio. You wanna come?"

[Fate] God he didn't want to go there, not with ratting her out. But he knew in his heart he had to face what he had stirred up, even if the shit was so thick he might need a nose plug.

"I do."

[Twilight] Bob Marley's Ghost, Freedom Song and a philodox named Mourning Spring - a slender, African-American girl with big brown eyes and long dark braids - accompany Roman back to the studio. They cross the gauntlet to enter, and come back out, hunkering down for a few hours' wait. It's close to midnight when they hear two cars pull up outside, the rattle of keys in the locks, the flash of headlights across the papered over front windows.

JoEllen is the first to come in, and after her, a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. There's another figure shadowing behind her, but she becomes immediately alert, even before Bob Marley's Ghost hits the lights and reveals the small pack, waiting for her.

JoEllen has the grace to look startled. The girl looks - ghosting, startled, angry all at once. She's carrying a large pet carrier, which swings from her hand. A young man is right behind her, in the doorway.

"Fuck!" she exclaims, swinging a helpless look of outrage from JoEllen to Freedom Song to Bob Marley's Ghost. "Jesus fuck, Grams, I - "

JoEllen is watching Roman, in that moment, her soft eyes fixed on the young Garou, her mouth set, shoulders stiffened.

Bob Marley's Ghost walks forward, palms flat, open. "It wasn't your Grandmother, Skyworn. She didn't tell anyone. I figured it out on my own, and we knew you were coming in when Myrna said that Jay was coming through town for a flyby. That yours?" He asks her, gesturing toward the carrier.

"Yes." says EmmaJean, a recalcitrant set to her jaw.

"She's lying," the philodox says, quietly. "It's not hers."

"It's - " the other boy standing behind EmmaJean, clearly a packmate, starts to speak up. The girl swings about, her gaze flaring with a bright, fanatic heat. "Shut the fuck up. I gave my goddamned word."

The boy stares back, stubborn, bright. "I didn't." He tells her, lifting his chin toward the other Garou. "Skyworn found them. The parents were about to kill it. I don't know who they were, she didn't tell me. Wouldn't tell me, and only told me what she did so I'd help her. She got them to give up the kid to her, but they made her swear on her honor that she wouldn't ever reveal them, that she wouldn't - take it to a Sept where they'd investigate the parentage. You know? Track the parents down. Hang the crime around their necks. We didn't mean to saddle Mrs. Hazelett with it longterm, you know? We were thinking about taking him north in six months or so, come winter. Figured we could find someplace close to a Sept up there and send him in. Or - something. Find something else. Some other arrangement."

--

That's the story Roman hears.

It's enough. Freedom Song shakes his head, honors EmmaJean for her actions, but also castigates her for the position into which she put her grandmother. The subterfuge, the potential danger. The Sept itself will take the metis cub, no questions asked. "We are Children of Gaia, too, Skyworn," he tells EmmaJean. " - you need to remember to trust your tribe."

"I swore on my honor." She insists, stubborn, angry, fully of emotion. " - they would've killed him if I hadn't. I - "

But it's over, done. Somewhere in the midst of this, the philodox escorts JoEllen out, drives her home. Roman does not see her again.

The Garou go back to the Sept that night, take the young metis to the sept's DenMother to be raised in the safety of the bawn.

[Fate] It came out for the good and for that he was relieved. He'd not shown guilt, not lowered his gaze or shifted his weight under the stiff look from JoEllen. And he was not going to apologize. He knew JoEllen was smart, she'd also have to be relieved the child would be taken care of.

It was with a sense of relief that he returned to the Caern with the others and prepared for home. He had a lot to share with Kora and he also intended to get his Ma to make another of those baby blankets to send here for the child.

It was time to go home to his Pack.

[Twilight] get transcript!
to Twilight

[Twilight] srs! GET TRANSCRIPT
to Twilight

[Twilight] The afternoon has long since passed. It's late, twilight going down to dusk. The tree-lined streets of Berea itself are charming and quaint, sidewalks and 80 year old homes, front porches and mature trees. Paint Lick Road cuts beyond the city center, moves past several more recent subdivisions and housing developments, under I-75. Past a Kroger's and a Home Depot, through a weedy series of shopping centers, old and new, fast food restaurants and a pair of hotels, all right off the interstate. Trucks whiz by on the highway overhead, and the taxi's lights gleam against the darkness. The driver allows Roman out half-a-block from the address proper, in an overgrown lot between an Arby's and an empty fast-food restaurant, the neon sign for a Dollar General glowing in the middle distance.

No sidewalks out here, just a country road curving away from the interstate and its developments back into the Kentucky mountains - dun brown and gray at this time of year, except where the greening grace is clear through the wracks of bare limbs. There's a trailer park across the road.

The addresses are hard to read. Arby's and Wendy's, the Econolodge and AmeriSuites seem to have them as formalities rather than things of substance. Still, as he walks through knee deep brown sedge, the trash-strewn ditch at the side of the road, with the song of the interstate in the background - the constant hum of traffic, even here, in the middle-of-damn-nowhere - he sees ahead another freestanding store. This one's older than some of the others. Brickfronted, the asphalt parking lot old enough that it's crumbling. It was a tack store at one time, or so the cowboy-hat shaped neon sign (turned off and covered with a FOR RENT sign that has in turn been papered over) suggests.

JoEllen's truck is parked by itself in the front parking lot. The windows are covered in brown paper, then gleam in the dying light, reflecting the westering sun. Closer, there's a sign in the window that says, "Ring Bell for Deliveries."

[Fate] First thing he did was look for the back of the store to see if he could get a peek through a window somewhere along the sides or back. He also checked for a vantage point for the front door where he could see the door when it opened, but remain hidden himself. Then he rang the bell and ran like hell for cover to see if it was JoEllen that came to the door or not.

[Fate] dex+ath
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Twilight] None of the windows are uncovered. The only windows are in the front of the building, and these are all covered with brown paper. There's a service door in the back, metal, closed tight. An outdoor kiln is set on the asphalt.

The terrain is flat, open - like all roadside shopping developments. There's no place close enough that he could run to quickly enough, hide and have a full view of the front door, but he's pretty sure he could make it around the corner of the building before someone made it to the door.

Unless they were close to the door.

So he rings the doorbell; skedaddles around the corner. Watches the door swing open. He can hear the locks inside tumble as someone opens them, and then - barely - see JoEllen leaning out, looking right and left - at first just curious, her brows raised, and then - something slips over her face like alarm.

The door closes behind her.

[Fate] Now that was a curious reaction. Alarm. He hadn't expected alarm. Irritation, yes, alarm, no. From the looks of the Kiln out back, he guessed she just had a workshop here. Maybe she hoped to open the place to sell her pottery? Didn't seem like much of a secret worth hiding to him either. Nothing else to go on at the moment, unless he was to go to a pay phone and call that cell number for the granddaughter (something he was not ready to do yet. What would he say to her? "Hello, what is your granny hiding?") So, he decided to settle in a little further from the place, maybe even across the street in the ditch if he had to, to wait and watch. Watching to see if anyone came or for JoEllen to leave. Hadn't she said she was going to Studio? This must be it.

"Well Horse shit."

That rarely heard (around women) curse of his came as he settled in.

[Twilight] The location isn't ideal for surveillance. There are few trees and shrubs here, just the flat, open plain of asphalt and weedy lots. There's a deeper ditch between the once-western-wear store and Paint Lick Road proper, and a line of hedges further on, separating the old store from the pasture on the other side.

So he retreats, hunkers down. He doesn't have a perfect view of the storefront from here, and as twilight falls to full dark, the glare of lights from the fast food joints and other little shopping plazas, the hotels and Dollar stores scattered around the interstate sort of blast out the shadows around the older store. There's just one street light in its crumbling parking lot, which gives off faint white light. After a good two hours of waiting and watching, JoEllen comes out the front door again, her phone against her ear, takes a moment to lock the store behind her, and climbs into the truck. She sits in the cab for a moment, phone in her ear, then turns it off with a flick of her thumb and slides it into her handbag.

A moment later the truck's engine turns over. The brakelights flash, and JoEllen pulls out, heading back toward town.

[Fate] Well heck, he was going to have to figure out a better way of doing this. And he had a long time to think on it on his way back towards town and JoEllen's home. Though in the middle of the night, when he was sure she was sound asleep, he went hunting for JoEllen's cell phone to see if he could get his paws on it and check the calls made and received.

[Twilight] It is a long walk back to town. Not a comfortable one, either. No sidewalks out here, on the winding road, and friendly as Roman is, there's still something about rage that steers the locals away. Not many people give hitchhikers rides these days, not even in Berea, Kentucky.

It's ten-thirty p.m. when he makes it back. JoEllen's in the living room, crocheting a half-finished blanket in soft, pastel colors, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, the evening news on the television. She looks as he comes back in, gives him an appraising glance. Reads the teenaged boy hunger under his skin. "Want me to order you a pizza?" she asks him, fingers moving over the crochet work on autopilot. "Or there's left-over risotto in the fridge."

By 11:15 p.m., she packs up her handwork into a basket beside her favorite chair in the bright living room and goes upstairs to bed.

So Roman's left to snoop around the house looking for her cell phone. He finds the charger plugged into the wall on the kitchen counter, but no phone there. And instead is left to pause through her purse like a pickpocket in the dark shadows of the quiet living room. She didn't think to take it upstairs with her, to lock it away.

He finds her wallet, wrapped with a rubber band - the mechanism is broken - receipts sticking out. Kroger's, Complete PetMart, Delgrazzio's of Berea, Grandview Home Improvement Outlet - for an installed steel security door. A scribbled list comparing prices of mini-fridges with LOWE'S circled and underlined. A receipt from Seven States for an extra large dog crate, another from Jo-Anne's Fabric stores of cotton yarn and several yards of fabric, thread, and patterns.

Her cell phone shows several calls from and to Emma - each day for the past week. There are other calls to work, to Myrna. To the Gathering House. To Kid Country Toys and Baby's 'R Us. To a doctor's office, and Complete PetMart.

[Fate] He accepted the offer of leftovers and made small talk till she went to bed. Then came the snooping. The doctor's number was taken down because he was going to find out the name of the doctor and if it was a general practitioner or what he was starting to think, one that dealt in pregnant women. Steel door was likely for the new shop. Big ole extra large dog crate? Oh holy crap, it was sounding more and more like maybe the granddaughter might have a bun in the oven, or maybe she done had a kid and it was either lupus or metis born? Could that be it? How the heck was she going to hide that one around here? But how else to explain Kid Country Toys and Baby's R Us unless someone in this community was having a baby and she needed gifts? That settled it. He riffled the place till he found JoEllen's keys. Then though it was late and he would love some sleep. He took a nice long jog back to the little out of the way, papered up shop with the Kiln to take a look inside.

[Fate] No sign of keys meant, well he wasn't likely to get in through the door. After a little searching he did the next best thing. He went outside and used the sideview mirror on the old truck to cross over. Once there it was a four legged run as a wolf back to the little lonely shop on Paint Lick road. Or what he could find of it. It was time to take a little look through the waver y walls between worlds to see what he could spy in the shop.

[Fate] gnosis
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Twilight] Roman doesn't find JoEllen's keys that easily. Maybe she trusted him enough not to steal from her, but she doesn't trust a teenaged boy not to 'borrow' and wreck her truck. Maybe she just wasn't thinking, dropped them somewhere in her bedroom without thinking. He sits, waiting, considering sneaking into the older kinswoman's bedroom to find them, when he climbs the stairs back upstairs, each riser creaks under his weight, and he knows the door would do that, even more than the stairs.

---

So it's back to the papered over shop. He finds his way back there, sees the shape of it like a ghostly projection, so translucent he can just walk through. The lights from the nearby shopping centers, the gleaming perfection of the weaver's highway hugs the interstate, then spills out in calcifying spirals to encompass all those fast food restaurants and other buildings.

Having no idea of the interior layout, he peeks across. It is remarkably dark inside, but he stays absolutely still, watching across the gauntlet for signs of movement in the physical world. He finds none.

[Fate] Mentally he shook himself and then pushed through the gauntlet, or tried to push through to get inside the shop where if he made it, he listened for sounds of something finding him before moving around to start his spying. Spying which might include finding a light switch if he had to in order to see.

gnosis
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Twilight] The front room is rather as he expected it to be. A potter's studio. There's work tables and wheels, smaller kilns, clay, paints, curing racks - all the necessary items for not one but several people to sit and work. Racks - old but clean - in the storefront area have a handful of pieces on display, and there are other artists' things about. Painted canvases, the disjointed pieces of a large papier-mache dragon puppet and on and on and on.

But behind the studio area, a little corridor leads toward the restrooms and the stockroom. The stockroom has another new door, steel as well. With a security keypad. This one's open, though. Inside: fridge. A bassinet covered with a steel frame on top. A reclaimed dresser and a rocking chair, a fuzzy rug on the floor. A small fridge plugged into the wall. An extra-large dog crate.

[Fate] He slowly made his way through the shop and down the hall to that little stockroom door. In there he paused, head cocked as he listened for anything other than the sound of his own breathing and the fridge running. Then he approached the dog crate and bassinet for a careful look inside. Afraid he was going to see a Metis child, though surely JoEllen was still in preparatory stages and wouldn't leave a baby alone here? Then again, Metis were something he had little experience with as babies. Had Emma dropped her child off with JoEllen and moved on with her pack with daily check ins? The secret he think he might of figured out was making him a little ill feeling.

[Twilight] The room is entirely empty. There's nothing in the dog crate; no sound of breathing in the room. Nothing in the bassinet but a baby blanket.

[Fate] He let out a relieved sigh, that meant the child wasn't hear yet. It might not be born just yet. In the morning he was going to check out that doctor and pretty much make himself a pest sticking to JoEllen. But he had a very good idea that Emma as going to turn up some time in the near future and she was going to turn up with a not normal child. Infact, he had an idea where she was, he had a name and picture and phone number. He might have to take another Penumbra run to see if he could get a look at Miss Emma himself. Only if he couldn't put the pieces together without doing so. For tonight, he decided it was time to go back and sleep while he could.

[Twilight] transcript!
to Twilight

[Twilight] JoEllen's house is a bright, cheerful little bungalow on a treelined street in the small Kentucky town, shaded by mature oaks and maples that are still bare-limbed. There's a Bradford pear tree in the front yard already in full bloom, and thick rows of daffodils line the sidewalk leading up to the wide front porch.

The fifty-something kinswoman parks her compact pick-up truck underneath the car port and gives the young Garou a quick tour of the house, the bright, clean living and dining rooms, the compact kitchen, a narrow sunroom full of plants, wicker and an easel that runs the length of the house. Then she settles Roman into the narrow guest room upstairs. There's a twin bed covered with a well-worn quilt that smells of fabric softener and sunlight. The wood floors underneath his feet are well-worn but solid. A small three-shelf bookcase beside the bed serves as a nightstand as well, and an antique cabinet doubles as a luggage stand.

Of course, he's come with just the clothes on his back, and before she leaves, JoEllen gives him a brief once-over. Tells him that there are some clothes in the bottom drawer, pajamas that might fit him if he's a mind. He's welcome to anything in the kitchen or the house, and if he needs anything more, he should just make her a list.

Just as the tour is ending, she glances at her watch and flashes him a quick, soft smile by way of apology. "Now," she says, "if you'll excuse me, I need to get to the studio. I don't know if I'll be back in time for dinner, but I've left the number for the gathering house by the phone if you want to go back there for the evening meal. And of course town's just walking distance. With the college and all there are plenty of options."

[Fate] He remarked on her home, telling her is was a really nice place and looked mighty comfortable. He also asked about any pictures hanging on the walls or setting about. Asking who was who. And once she led him to the room he would use, he thanked her again for her kindness. He knew it had to make her uncomfortable having a strange Garou in her home.

"I'll be just fine Miss JoEllen. I can feed myself. Besides, I got to prepare for my challenge, so if I ain't here when ya get home, I'll try not to wake ya when I do turn up."

The smile he offered was polite while his mind went in to gear. First thing he was going to do was watch her leave, then he was going to carefully poke in to every corner of her home like a very rude nosy guest intent on finding out all he could about the woman and her family.

[Twilight] There are a few family pictures sitting out on the mantle. Her children, her grandchild. Mara at seventeen, a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl holding a twisting toddler (Emma Jean) firmly in her arms. Her brother (Jeff) and sister (Penny) beside her, fairer than she - a girl of eight with blonde-brown hair and hazel eyes, the boy - eleven or twelve - blonde and fair, looking right at the camera like it was a challenge to look away.

The walls are not full of family pictures, but of paintings - in a half-dozen different styles. Primitive landscapes, folk-art portraits, framed photographs of dramatic skies or close-ups of the inescapable art of the fronds of a fern. Blocky cubist imitations of Picasso, square eyeballs and stacked geometric forms, or impressionistic suggestions of some mediterranean seaside village or Kentucky vista, a rusting boxcar abandoned on a siding, surrounding by the encroaching woods.

JoEllen smiles faintly when the young garou makes all the appropriate noises about her house. But she doesn't preen, like some women would. Her worth isn't defined by it, and in truth as bright and cheerful as it is, there are cobwebs in some of the corners, piles of magazines in others. Someone needs to take the recycling out, and the tour does not include her office, the file cabinets overflowing with papers, or the craft room. Both those doors and closed up tight.

"Alright then," she finishes, leaving him to the room and turning to head downstairs again. "Good luck on your challenge, Roman."

Minutes later he will hear the engine turn over, see the truck back down the driveway into the treelined street, and away.

[Fate] A closed secured door was like a blinking neon sign to a Ragabash. As polite as he was, as well mannered as he seemed, Roman "Fate" Turner was a through and through Ragabash, despite jokes about how he fancied himself a shrink and everyone's caretaker. Or the jokes how he should of been born under a Full Moon with some of the insane antics he used during combat.

So it was to the office he went first as soon as he was sure that car was not turning around. If the room were locked, he'd try the gift of Open Seal to get inside.

[Fate] Or credit card or window. He was pretty curious and determined, even if he felt his best bet was the kin herself. Nosing around on your host was pretty low feeling if he let himself think about it and truth be told, there was a damned good chance he would not share what info he found if it turned out to be what he considered too personal and no threat to the Sept here. Which meant he would fail, but that was life sometimes. After all he did have his own set of morals.

[Twilight] The office isn't locked. The closed door opens easily when he tries the handle, and he finds himself standing in a somewhat more disordered guest room. There's another twin bed covered with an antique quilt, and sunlight cutting through the big, old-fashioned windows. There's a rolltop desk against one wall, beside a big four-drawer wooden filing cabinet. The top drawer is so overstuffed with papers that it bulges open. A flatscreen and a mouse-keyboard sit atop an another flat writing desk set beneath the window, with the tower tucked underneath on the floor.

A stack of bills sit ready to be paid, two March electric bills topmost in the stack, and another stack of documents (complete with crumpled receits and Schedule As and 1099s) beside them looks suspiciously like a half-completed tax return.

There's some clutter on the bed as well - packages that someone's purchased and not yet opened, a tightly wrapped wooden frame, a handful of nicknacks, toiletries, books and the like, still in reuseable bags in which she brought them home. Paintbrushes, paints. Modeling clay.

Above the rolltop desk, a bulletin board displays old post-cards from around the world. There's a snapshot of Penny someplace bright, sunny, desert like. African. Another shows the boy, Jeff, older, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of an African-American girl with modish hipster glasses and head full of glistening black curls. Maps of the United States and the world are framed on the wall. Both have thumbtacks in varying colors.

[Fate] It was the bulletin board he studied first with it's post cards. What he was looking for were ones from Emma Jean, since this seemed the most outstanding hurt in JoEllen. He'd be nosey and read them all of course before he was finished. Two electric bills also got his attention. He compared them to see if they were for the same residence or maybe JoEllen had another place she paid bills for? He'd look at the names on the packages that weren't opened, but he wouldn't break the seals on those.

[Twilight] Roman can match the post-cards to the blue pins in the map of the United States, trace the path the other garou - the full-moon, nameless to him now except with her human name - has taken around the country with her pack, week by week, month by month. Three months in Portland, then a flurry south, down over the California mountains into the southwest. The Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, Bryce canyon. And on and on and on. Most of the post-cards are ordinary. Grams, Still raining in Portland, all are fine. Missing you + all. No address yet but will have one next week. So green here! Great coffee. Love, Em.

Grams, Lost my phone, still on the move. Had some problems but am okay. Please tell Mrs. Jenkins that I'm really sorry about Ed. The storms here are spectacular, though. Never seen so much open sky.

- and so on. There are periods of blackouts. Three weeks here, four weeks there, sometimes several months. One post-card from Nashville after six-week silence, sent two and a half-months ago says, Grams, New number (506) xxx-xxxx. CALL ME. URGENT need $$.

The unopened packages are addressed to JoEllen. They are somewhat heavy, like they contain books or something else. As for the electric bills - there are two locations. Two separate addresses. One no more than $40, though the other is well over $100.

[Fate] First thing he checked on the bills were the addresses, figuring out which one was for this home. The other, he fully intended to use a gift to locate if it were in this town. Then he fired up the computer to see if he could find out where the area code 506 was for. And he started looking for recent bank records in all the stuff here.

[Fate] Int+invest
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Twilight] The smaller bill - 413 10th Street, Berea, Kentucky - seems to be for the kinswoman's home. The larger bill is for someplace else, 2765 Paint Lick Road, +7, Berea, Kentucky. He glances between them and sees below a stack of other bills. Gas, water, credit cards. Cable. The usual sort. Oh, look. There's a cable bill for 2765 Paint Lick Road, +7, too. And a gas bill.

Then he fires up the desktop computer to check out the location of the area code. The computer turns on quickly - it's a newer computer, one of those bills in the stack is for her Best Buy credit card, 18 months no-interest financing for a pair of computers, desktop and laptop. The screen glows, declare's itself to be Jo's Baby, and requests a password before it will boot up fully.

Bank records, gods. They aren't in the stack of bills that he filters through, and when he touches the other pile - well, he finds a W-2 and several 1099s from local banks. JoEllen works for Berea College, earns enough that she's likely to be an instructor or administrator of some sort rather than a clerical employee or cook. The rest of it, though - it's Greek to him. There are odd receipts and schedules, weird print-outs showing taxable and non-taxable, deductable and -

- well, he does not find bank records on the desk, and when he opens the top drawer of the filing cabinet to start looking for bank records, the first thing he pulls out is a twenty-page quarterly retirement account report, showing the % change in twenty different mutual funds, index funds and the like. Most ordinary humans cannot make hide nor hair of such things, and Roman is not an ordinary human, who needs to file taxes and save for retirement, pay health insurance co-payments and figure out when his deductable has been satisfied, whether he should put money into his non-taxable flexible spending account this year - more? less?

The bank records, he does not find.

[Fate] He frowned when the computer came up wanting a password and he let out one of them swear words he never used around polite company which included Miss Kora.

"Well horse shit!"

Jo's baby. About all he could do was try the names of her children. If that didn't work, he would try the grand daughter's name. If that didn't work, he was screwed. But he sure as heck was comparing the address on the Best Buy bill with those on the gas bills. After that, it was to the phone to call a cab company and play stupid. He'd flat out ask them where Paint Lick Road was and if need be, ask for a cab to get him there.

[Fate] Int+com
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Twilight] Aaaand, it's the daughter's name. Penelope, actually - Penny, he remembers her explaining - was just a nickname. So he types Penelope into the little window followed by a 1 and lo, the computer boots up quickly. He pulls up google and finds that the area code is somewhere in Tennessee. South of here, but not too far.

Most of the bills have the same address, 413 10th Street. Just the extra gas, electric and cable bills have the Paint Lick Road address.

And Roman's left standing in the study, bright spring sunshine gleaming in through the windows, dust motes dancing in the light. He phones the cab company, the local yellow cab, and the phone rings and rings and rings. When the dispatcher finally answers, he tells Roman in a gruff voice that he ain't the local tour guide. Does he want a cab or not?

[Fate] "Naw, not yet. Thanks."

He hangs up. Since he got the computer up and going, he turned to Google Earth to pin point the location of the Paint Lick Road address. Hoping it would also tell him if it was a business or what.

[Twilight] I-75 runs just outside Berea. The address on Paint Lick Road appears to be on the other side of the interstate. The area looks like its a complex of small businesses - maybe a shopping plaza, or near one - just off the interstate exit. There are a handful of business there, a few hotels, a grocery store, but the site is not specific enough for Roman to figure out what exactly is at the address from google earth.

[Fate] He started to think maybe it was the studio that JoEllen said she was headed off for. And really, if she were paying the bills for this place, he thought it was no big secret to keep from the Sept. Her goddaughter had urgently needed a call and funds. That could happen with any of them. She was with a Pack, Packs ran in to difficulties. He had three days to figure out what the Grandmother was hiding from the Sept and in his head, it had to be something big to worry over, not something like sending money to her Granddaughter.

"Roman, you're about as sharp as a cotton ball."

Before turning off the computer, he did one last check. He checked the browsing history, because he fully intended on deleting his own usage from there.

[Fate] int +comp
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Twilight] The browsing history includes google, g-mail, the Berea College intranet and exchange server, Amazon.com, wikipedia, clay-king kilns, the New York Times, youtube, I Can Haz Cheezeburger, ESPN.com, flickr, Expedia and Travelocity, several blogs, the Huffington Post, Comedy Central, hulu.com, the local paper and the college paper, google maps, Superpages.com, and on and on. While Roman's checking the browsing history, he realizes that a brief use of google and googlemaps is likely not going to stand out in the browsing history, while attempting to delete them would erase all her recently visited sites and make it clear that someone had been on the computer in her absence.

[Fate] He decided to try two things. First was go to the previous usage of google maps to see if it showed him where she looked before. Second was to follow the email link in the hopes she left her password in that part or he might take a peek. What a terrible guest he was turning out to be.

[Twilight] She's searched for addresses outside Nashville, and in the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. She's looked up the specific address of the Union Station museum in Cincinnati, and the Underground Railroad museum as well. She's looked up the quickest routes to Columbus, Ohio and a restaurant in Louisville, Kentucky over the past six months.

And did not leave the password to her gmail in the browser.

All he finds is her work e-mail. Students offering excuses for failing to show up for/turn in assignments for art history, colleagues forwarding links to NY Times articles. Department wide notices about leaving the coffee pot on, or assignments for the graduation party. There's an e-mail reporting that the studio opening will be delayed at least six months. Funding issues with the grant and permits, and another discussing advocacy against state funding cuts. A college-wide e-mail announces both hiring and salary freezes. Another announces the next meeting of the women's book club at Taylor Books next Thursday. JoEllen replied, Unfortunately, have to decline. Have a grant deadline! It's clear, though, that this isn't her personal e-mail.

[Fate] Well he was no closer to figuring out a big secret with JoEllen other than maybe something to do with the granddaughter or that girl's mother who up and left. So he poked around to see if he could find anything from the mother. While figuring he was going to have to take a trip to that Paint Lick road address just so he could settle his mind on what was there.

[Fate] int+invest.
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Twilight] Searching around for something from the daughter, he finds a post-card from Las Vegas, post-stamped August 10, 2010, mostly covered over by subsequent post-cards from the Emma Jean. There's a picture of the Bellagio on the cover, and the note simply says - Found a job! Working as a black-jack dealer. Still living with John, bank's holding off. Got the car fixed. I love the desert air. - Mara.

[Fate] Kin were hard, he was learning not all shared as they should and it almost seemed like this was the case with the daughter. He wondered who John was, that one wasn't mentioned so must be some lover or something. He went through the stacks of post cards from Emma Jean to make sure he didn't miss anything. Then the computer was turned off and he made sure everything seemed in the same place as before. Next the other closed room was checked.

[Twilight] It's late in the afternoon by now, sun slanting through the windows in long striations. The computer hums off and Roman puts the bills back, smooths the postcards back against the bulletin board. His boots echo on the wood floor as he walks back into the upstairs hall to the other closed door. The other front room. This one is messier, a bed in the corner covered by another quilt, though this one is half-way through the process of being repaired. He can see the patches on the fabric. There's a sewing machine in one corner, a wide work table underneath the window, fabrics, stones, paints, an easel, a dress-form, and all manner of craft and art supplies stored through the area. Wrapping paper in the closet, several bins full of clean, worn clothes that require repair, and framed photographs of places far and near on the soft yellow walls.

[Fate] This room didn't get much of a look. There was just too much stuff in there that seemed way too ordinary. So he started poking around, looking for JoEllen's room for a look. Then like all teens, he was going to poke his nose in the fridge.

[Twilight] JoEllen's room seems ordinary. The furniture is antique, the bedframe a swirl of old brass - somewhat tarnished, but that seems to be part of the charm. There's another quilt here, hand-done. The walls are a soft, mossy green, the dark wood furniture with art deco accents floats against the wall. A piece of hand-tatted lace serves as a scarf on the dressing table, and a small marble bowl holds a handful of pieces of jewelry. Yesterday's earrings, maybe, a long chain. There's a cat sleeping in the middle of the bed, and it looks up as Roman eases open the door and glances inside. Late afternoon sunlight comes in through the windows. The bed's made, maybe hastily, a pair of tennis shoes tossed on the floor, dried mud in the grooves.

Downstairs, he checks the fridge and finds: food. Orange juice, milk. A whole chicken still in its package, and a great big roast. Greens for salad and baby carrots, salad dressing and mustard, ketchup and half-and-half. A wedge of manchego cheese and a package of soy-based hotdogs. Iced tea in a pitcher, leftovers from a restaurant in a styrofoam container.

[Fate] He'd forgotten there was a cat in the place. So busy nosing around he'd completely forgotten about it. Quietly he closed that door and went down to check out the fridge. He'd not be invited to help himself to the food in the house, so after a look that made him hungry. he made another call to that taxi company. This time he asked to be picked up and taken to Paint Lick road. Asking to be let out a half a block before the address he sought.

[Twilight] (pause!)

[Twilight] [Last Post!]

[Twilight] [Roman Turner]
"I'll certainly do my best. Ya can count on that Rhya."

He was already puzzling over the woman, because she was one of those Grandmother types and those were always tough nuts to crack, at least to someone his age.

[Twilight] Bob Marley's Ghost gives Roman an appraising look. He has pale blue eyes in a long, tanned face, the whisp of a beard evident on his jaw and chin, and a crooked smile that cracks the surface of his long, otherwise mournful face just at the end.

"Well alright then," the other Garou returns, reaching out to clasp not hands but forearms with Roman. "Like I said, I'll give you three days. You need anything else from me, you let me know. Kosher?"

If Roman has no other questions for him, the other No-Moon leaves with a wink and a nod toward the gathering house. "Now, I'm gonna see if I can figure out where Myrna's hiding the left over biscuits. I'd say, if you can't find me, my Alpha's nearly always near the Caern's heart where you came in.

"But you're a no-moon," he continues. "If you can't find me when I'm not hiding, something's wrong."

With that, off he goes.

[Roman Turner] "Alrighty."

His own clasp was just as firm as his Gray-Blue eyes met Kevin's pale blue ones. Clean shaven himself, his hair far from long dreadlocks. Infact, he tried not to look at those locks because he always wondered if things were hiding in there. Pushing those thoughts away, he watched the Fostern leave before turning back for inside to locate his host or a way to her home.

He wasn't sure exactly what made Kevin believe the older woman was hiding something from the Sept. There were lots of things Kin didn't tell the those of the Sept. Heck, there were lots of things Kin tried to hide from their own families. He was going to have to pry in the woman's home and follow her around when he wasn't talking to her to try and crack this nut.

[Twilight] Roman finds JoEllen standing in the dining room with both Myrna and Doc Hauser. The air is sharp with the scent of pine cleaner and dish soap, the lingering scents from breakfast and the underlying - new - scent of a roast someone just slipped into the oven. Myrna sits at one of the tables, spilling over the arms of the chair, regaling JoEllen and Doc Hauser with some story funny enough to have the balding professor guffawing and openly wiping tears away from his eyes.

The group falls silent as Roman walks back in, though JoEllen looks up brightly and gives the young Garou a benevolent sort of smile, her round face bright with reflected good cheer, muted by that underlying mournfulness that seems to define her mien.

"Well," she says, straightening, dusting off her cardigan and reaching for her handbag. "Here's my houseguest, then. I'm going home, Roman. If you're staying in the Sept I can just draw you a little map and leave you my phone number for you to come after. Or if you need a rest you can come on now."

[Roman Turner] "Don't let me chase ya off from your friends. Though if ya are going home, I might as well come along so I don't got to bother no one else when I need to find the place. Bad enough I'm pushing in on your home as it is."

For a moment he wondered if the melancholy from the woman was the reason Kevin thought she was keeping something from them? Maybe she hadn't always had this air of loss laying under the bright smiles? He shifted from booted foot to booted foot while these thoughts went through his head.

"What I mean is, if ya want to stay and visit, I wouldn't mind sitting a spell."

[Twilight] "Oh no, I have got to get back home. Have all the chores to do, and like I told Myrna I'm hoping for a letter from my granddaughter. She does try to write home every week, even if it's just a postcard. She's a good girl." JoEllen reaches down to pick up her handbag. "Doc - you let me know if Howard an them need a break from Rosie. I have Sunday and Monday off work. And tell Gail I wanna see her at the Gallery opening. There's on of the student sculptors I know she'll like.

"Myrna, I'll see you Thursday. Y'all talk care."

While JoEllen is making her excuses to her fellow kin, Myrna smiles up at Roman, the gesture deepening her multitudinous chins. "Don't you worry about puttin' no one out, young man. S'what we're here for, you know? Does a body good to be of use. S'what community's all about."

"Now then, Roman, my truck is parked down at the bottom of the hill - " continues JoEllen, waving once to Myrna and the Doc, patting herself down for her keys as she continues, with a sort of brisk, efficient gait certain on-the-go grandmothers develop. All practicality. "You'll be scandalized that it's not a hybrid but I do need the room!"

[Roman Turner] "Thank ya ma'am."

He smiled down at Myrna. Then nodded to both the Doctor and Myrna before leaving with JoEllen.

"Your car don't bother me, ma'am. Compared to Chicago the air is so clean here I can feel it."

For a few moments he walked with her in silence before piping up again.

"Your Grand child that ya hope to hear from, is she the same one that ya said might challenge for rank soon? I take it she's not here at this Sept but at another?"

[Twilight] "Well," JoEllen says, shaking her head. "I don't know about that. I read that we have pretty bad air around here because all them coal-fired power plants. Course, the coals a bit to the east of here, but it gets into the air anyway." They're out the door, climbing down the steps to that chalk-green pond. JoEllen's dressed in practical clothing - jeans, tennis shoes and a soft blue cardigan that mirrors the color of her eyes. Her hair is gray, shot through with strands of brown, cut short but pulled back from her face with a headband.

"Oh, yes. Emma Jean. She's a full-moon. She and her pack, they travel all around the country. Come back sometimes but they don't never stay long. Always on the trail of something. 'Course I figure you know all about that don't you?"

[Roman Turner] "Honest ma'am? I stick close to my new home. I mean we don't travel around much, not like you're talking about. We got ourselves an old church where we live and where some of our Kin stay. We got us another home we're fixing up for them kin that don't want to stay with us. And well, most folks stop in and stay awhile, visiting now and then. But I ain't been back to my birth family since Christmas."

When they reached the car he climbed in the passenger seat and belted himself in. It wasn't till they were on their way that he casually continued.

"When I first met ya, ya said ya hoped to live long enough to see Great Grandchildren. That mean Emma Jean got herself a fella?"

He frowned slightly.

"Am I gonna make your mate or children nervous with turning up at your home like this?"

It was his way of prying about her situation.

[Twilight] "Naw," JoEllen says, shifting the old Chevy into gear with a familiar gesture, easing the compact pick-up onto the curving asphalt road. The valley opens up in front of them - a sudden vista, the curve of a looping creek hugging the sides of a sloping bottom land. He can see the small cluster of houses where the kinfolk live, a small sign announcing SIDEBOTTOM, UNINCORPORATED as they drive past and through.

- a sideflash of a look at Roman here, as she's glancing over her shoulder at the turnoff from Sidebottom Road onto Route 313, looking both ways before getting onto the main road. There's no view of the little settlement from the road, concealed as it is by the ridge of land. "She doesn't. I'm not expecting great-grandchildren from her. I have another boy and a girl. My son's in graduate school at UVA and my other daughter's in the Peace Corps right now. Hope she'll be home soon, maybe settle down here.

"Do me good to have family around again. My husband, he died near about ten years ago, now. So the only one you'll make nervous is my cat Millie, and she's an ornery thing."

[Roman Turner] "Okay help me here. Ya have a son in graduate school and a daughter in the Peace Corps, so I'm assuming both of them are Kin, though it would not be impossible for either to be where they are and True. So, where's the momma of the grand daughter full moon? Ya must have some spread in the ages of your children for ya to have a grand child old enough to have gone through first change."

He alternated between looking at her and watching where they were going.

"Me, I got cousins out the tail end, but no living siblings."

[Twilight] "Not so spread out as all that," the kinswoman says companionably. "Mara's my oldest. Mara had Emma Jean real young. She was hardly more than a baby herself. Fifteen, you know? Had herself a true-born like Emma, a full moon, who died too soon like you all seem to do. Wouldn't have no other, just stayed there in Sidebottom raising up Emma Jean. 'Course, I made sure she got through school eventually, though she couldn't keep up with the college here. It's a real good one, you know?

"Then Emma Jean up and changed when she was real young, and soon's the Sept came for her, seemed like, Mara lit up and outta here like there wasn't nothing holding her back. I guess she figured on having herself a whole 'nother life afore she turned thirty. Sometimes I get a call from her now and then, too. Last I heard she was in Vegas, working for a real estate agent."

[Roman Turner] "That happens a good deal. Unfortunately our lives are sort of on speed dial compared to normal lives. I mean, we flash forward from childhood to having to grow up in a flash once the change hits. Ya go from crayons to claws and defending the world almost as soon as we learn to tie our shoes. And worse of all, our family, our Kin have to endure what no one should have to endure. They have to watch us take that flash and fall in what has to feel like a helpless flash when ya think on it."

[Twilight] It's quiet in the cab; just the sound of the highway underneath the tires. Two-lane highway, meandering through the rolling hills, descending somewhat from the heights to the bucolic little college town spread out against the dun brown hills, speckled here and there with unexpected flashes of green, yellow, white. JoEllen has not turned on the radio, so there's nothing in the space between them but their voices.

For the first time, there's a certain - give - to her round face, some loosening of the softness that shows the steel beneath. The woman takes her eyes off the road for a handspan of a moment, and shoots Roman a glint-eyed look. It's mid-morning, but the angle of the hills keep hollows in deep shadow until week after noon so the flash of sunlight through which the pick-up hurtles is unexpected, brilliant.

"You think we don't know that?"

[Roman Turner] "Oh I am very aware of it. I got folks. I know the pain they try to hide behind pride that's just for my benefit. I've seen it in their faces from my first change. I hear it in their voices. I seen them looks they share when they thought I weren't paying no attention."

His voice was soft in the cab of the truck as he spoke.

"I'm just saying, it ain't no easier for us to leave that shelter and become the shield cause we are always aware of the price too. Your daughter, Emma's ma? Like as not she needed to go when her child did because it would help ease some of that same guarded hurt I see peeking through from yourself now and then."

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, I ain't meant to poke and prod where it ain't wanted, so I hope ya don't get your dander up and decide to hold my pillow over my face when I go to sleep tonight."

Trying to ease the matter a little.

[Twilight] JoEllen's eyes are already back on the road. She keeps her hands at ten and two o'clock, drives with a familiarity that is tattooed into the back of her mind. All muscle memory, now, the trip from her home to the Sept and back again. The last comment has her sweeping a glance back at the young Garou, blue eyes touching his face.

"You don't know my Mara, Roman. Not from a hole in the ground. You don't know why she left and never come back, and if you don't mind hearing it from someone old enough to be your grandma, it's wrong of you to make excuses for her. To make assumptions and excuses for her." JoEllen's voice is quiet here, low and firm. There's a levelness to it, a teacher's evenness.

"Even if you're doing it because you think I need to hear it. I never was fragile, and I'm old enough for the truth. Which ain't a part of the story you just told, like as not." This is still quietly spoken, almost gently, and not unkindly - but there's that firm undercurrent to her tone. No give, whatsoever.

JoEllen's turning onto a sidestreet, then, and another. Just like that they're in town, and she's pulling up in front of a two-story brick house. As she puts the truck back into park and pulls the parking lot, she straightens up and announces - with better cheer. "Now then, here we are!"

[Roman Turner] For a moment he forgot to look contrite when the steel shown through in the older woman. Instead there came a flash of a smile and the words.

"Eww weee, I was right, I done got your dander stirrin. I'm lookin forward to ya puttin me in my place with the truth as ya see it. I'm always willing to learn at the feet of experiance."

Then he was looking out the window at the brick house before climbing out of the truck and replacing his hat.

"Don't beat me if I come around and open the door for ya?"

Because that is where he was headed.

[Twilight] Bleeding Heart recommended the Sept of the Two Trees to Roman as a likely place for him to challenge both a tribesmate and an auspicemate for Fostern. The trip is short enough via moonbridge from the heart of one Caern to another, though there's something disorienting about leaving the concrete jungle of inner city Chicago and emerging after some hours of dreamlike running later into a quiet glade in the thickly forested rolling hills of east-central Kentucky.

It's spring here. The air is fresh and clear, cool but not winter-cool, spring cool, the cool of dark shadows beneath quiet, just waking trees, water in the air from a spring or a swift moving spring. Here and there, dotted through the understory in the middle distance he can see hints of pink in thick deciduous woods - magnolias are in bloom, and bartlet pears dot the clearings, already flush with white flowers. Though the trees remain mostly bare of leaves, the grasses are greening, wild roses are unfurling leaves, onions sprout everywhere, and cress is thick on the banks of the streams, the peppery scent sharp in the cool morning air.

He's met at the Caern's heart by an older man, African American, a big, barrel-chested fellow standing arms-crossed, watching in the umbra as Roman steps off the moonpath.

"Fate." The stranger says, intones really, in his deep basso. "Welcome to the Sept of the Two Trees. I'm Freedom-Song, Adren Theurge of the Children of Gaia, gate keeper and rite master of the Sept." There's a good humored twist to his mouth there, though for the first time Roman can see that half the man's face does not really work.

"Jenny here," and now a smaller young woman steps forward, plain-faced, Roman's age or younger, " - is a cub of the Sept. She'll show you to the gathering house. I'll pass on word that you've arrived. There's one fostern no-moon Child of Gaia in the Sept. My packmate, in fact. There's also a fostern no-moon Fianna, if you prefer to challenge him."

"Hi! - " says Jenny, brightly. She's tanned as tan can be, nevermind that it's just spring and the sun cuts into the deepest hollows here between 10 and 3 p.m. on the best days. " - it's just this way! I bet you're starving, you know. I think there's still some left overs from breakfast and I know Mama Jane wouldn't mind feeding you even if there isn't. Where did you come from? I've never been on one of those things. Were you scared you'd fall off? Whycome you couldn't challenge in your own Sept?" Babbling question after question like a waterfall as they walk.

[Roman Turner] The first thing to hit him was the lack of cement and asphalt when he stepped off the bridge. For a moment he was afraid he would fall off the bridge to face plant at the feet of the welcoming committee. The buff colored Stetson was immediately swept from his head when he was greeted by an Adren. A Theurge no less; that thought sparked thoughts of Linus and his unexpected departure. There was still an empty place inside him where his Packmate had resided.

"I'm honored ta meet ya, Freedom Song. And right grateful y'all have accepted my petition. If ya don't mind, I think I would like to meet your Packmate. Ain't got nothing against Fianna, mind ya, got one in my Pack. But where I been living, I've become a rare Tribe. You and your's are welcome to come calling on me and mine any time ya get the hankering."

Spring sang to him, it was in the hints of color from wild onions and garlic to red buds starting to turn that purple/red. He knew not far behind would be dogwood. Jenny was introduced and greeted with a wide grin, even if he was nervous enough he thought he might puke.

"Howdy Miss Jenny. Ya can call me Roman. A drink of water might be nice, or maybe some sweet tea if ya have it. It's been an interesting trip from Chicago and I won't kid ya, them bridges make travel quick but a might dizzy when ya go alone."

He was answering questions as fast as he could as he started off with Jenny.

"Been living in Chicago. I swear there's more concrete and cars than ya'd ever believe. Couldn't challenge one of my own Tribe there cause well, there's mostly me and my Kin."

[Twilight] "ChiCAgo?!" Jenny exclaims, giving a low-whistle of appreciation at the end. "God, I never could leave this place, I don't think. My folks've been here for a good forty years. My granddaddy come to teach at the college in town - Berea? - but we been here ever since. 'Course, the real locals don't think we're much more than carpetbaggers, but my granddaddy said you go where your heart is, you know?"

The setting is peaceful, bucolic. The woods are deep here, the hills steep but rolling, somehow. Roman can feel the peace at the heart of the rural caern, but perhaps more remarkable than that is the sense of stillness here. Of silence. Of space that isn't defined by the constant background roar of traffic.

" - but I don't know, I don't think I could do well with them other tribes. I mean," she continues, hastily, like he might be ready to offer correction for such a remark. "I mean, I like 'em just fine, I don't want you thinking I'm saying one's better or worse, s'just different. Though last moon we done had a Wendigo come through and I swear he was nearly about ready to bite my fool head off if I so much breathed the wrong way. I mean, I ain't saying he don't have a REASON to - "

They have a long hike through the spring woods, but they're young and it's spring. And Jenny talks and talks and talks and talks, so that the miles pass rather more quickly than the time. Soon enough a large, two story house appears nestled near the edge of a small pond glittering in the morning sunlight. Both stories of the house are wrapped around with decking and balconies, with slender trunks of trees going right through, accommodated by clever craftsmanship. Indeed, the central portion of the house appears designed around the huge trunk of a giant oak tree whose spreading limbs open up over the roof and give the whole place the curious appearance of a treehouse marooned somehow on the ground.

The scent of the morning's breakfast is still rich in the air, and Roman can see an older kinswoman cleaning up at the steam table. Jenny escorts him in and settles him at one of several round tables in a big open dining room, then disappears into the kitchen.

There's a sign on the bulletin board with the day's schedule.

FRIDAY: MARCH 25, 2011
5:30pm: Welcome
6:00pm: Potluck (vegetarian, no peanuts due to allergies)
7:00pm: Sustainability session with Resilience Network
8:00pm: Funshop on The Power of Yeast

[Roman Turner] Gate Keeper He'd done good so far, managing not to say he was the Key Holder, or bust up laughing. Of course the butterflies in his belly were another reason he hadn't busted up. His chatter back to Jenny was easy going as he told her how he had come from a ranch outside a small town in Kansas with his cousin. How she left but he remained behind because he had promised Miss Kora, his Alpha, that she would never have to be alone again as long as he was alive. He spoke of the coming child and the way everyone seemed to turn up at their Packhouse around feeding time. Then he told Jenny about his Pack and how he looked at things.

"It ain't hard to becoming part of Pack with other Tribes. I was worried too when I first headed for Chicago, but me and Miss Kora, we just fit. Course Miss Kora is Fenrir and we had her brother and now sister in the Pack, but we got a Fianna too and likely will add others as they fit the puzzle. I call us Stone Soup, cause we began as nothing and we're a mixture, but together we become some thing more."

He talked with the girl all the way to the house that had him pausing for a good long look that began on a long, low whistle.

"Now ain't that something else? They ain't gonna believe this one back home."

By now his hat had returned to his head, so he lifted it by the brim, nodding a greeting to the Kinswoman cleaning up. And he removed the hat when he entered the place and took a seat. Of course the sign caught his attention, though the 7:00pm line was a little confusing to him.

[Twilight] Roman's left waiting at the table for a few minutes - more than five, less than ten - before Jenny re-emerges from the kitchen area carrying a plateful of breakfast foods - country sausage, biscuits, gravy, hashbrowns - and a tall glass of sweetened iced tea, just as he had ordered. She puts both down in front of him, then wipes her hands on her thighs and gestures with her hands, both index fingers out like she was just starting to learn how to conduct a choir but had only learned the downbeat.

"Okay, uhm! I'm gonna go, alright? Myrna's going to take care of you here, and uhn, Freedom Song's gonna send his no-moon up to see you soon as he gets back from town. His name's Bob Marley's Ghost. I mean, that's his DEED name, his real name's Kevin. Uhm, so! if you have everything you need I'm gonna go - "

Jenny continues, flashing the edge of a bright, sure smile near the end, turning around to leave Roman to his breakfast. Before she has gone ten steps, though, she turns around with a EUREKA sort of look, "OH! I knew I forgot something. While you're here you can stay with JoEllen Wallance, I told her you're out here, she's working on lunch. She lives down closer to town, you know, but it ain't so far and if you need a lift you can ask anyone down in the neighborhood. Everyone in Sidebottom's kin - okay! I gotta go!"

And so saying, the cub turns and flees, dun brown hair bobbing over her shoulders as she jogs out of the gathering house.

[Roman Turner] "Sidebottom? Er, thank ya kindly for your help and the meal."

Was what he got out as she turned to rush out of the place. He made short work of the food while considering the name of the No-Moon that he would have to challenge for rank. That and well, an entire neighborhood full of kin. Back home it was set up similar, but he'd grown accustomed to the odd way Chicago ran things. This place was something like going home, but with more trees and hills and a totally different accent from either Kansas or Chicago.

Once finished with the meal he rose with his dishes and went in search of Myrna to thank her and rinse his plate while he waited and tried not to be nervous.

[Twilight] Roman finds three women and one man of varying ages hard at work in the kitchen, cleaning up from the morning's breakfast. Or rather: not completely hard at work. There's a radio playing a certain joking camaraderie between the group, that lull that comes after a hard morning's work.

"Lunch is on your own!" - the man is the first to spot him when Roman walks into the kitchen. He is elbow deep in dishwater, sixty something, maybe seventy, with a gray furrow of wild hair around his head in wild disarray, pate entirely bald. His kitchen apron has a bust of Shakespeare on the front with a whole series of quotes in big thick lettering.

Then he glances down at the dishes in Roman's hands, and squints more closely at the young Garou just as a large, florid blond woman with a body shape so ample a boy like Roman could easily disappear into it, hooking an arm around the old man's shoulder and beaming pleasantly at Roman over her many chins. "That ain't one'a ours, Doc. S'the new boy, ain't you? Come to challenge for rank, and here we are to make you right at home. Now, I'm Myrna, this is Doctor Frank Hauser - " she continues, indicating the bald man just now pulling his hands from the soapy dishwater to reach for Roman's dishes. "And he'd've known you was who you was if he'd've had his glasses on."

Indeed, Roman can see the man's glasses sitting folded on the frame of the sink. "JoEllen, come on over and meet your new houseguest!"

[Roman Turner] "I er. Howdy Miss Myrna, Miss JoEllen."

Each got a polite nod and smile. Doctor got just as polite a smile even if he might not see him so good.

"Pleased ta meet ya Mister Doctor Hauser, Sir."

He offered out his dishes to the reaching hands.

"I'm Roman Turner, and yessum, I came from Chicago to challenge for rank here. It's mighty nice of y'all to allow me to stay like this, but here, let me help with them dishes. Idle hands and all that stuff."

[Twilight] "Young man," the Doctor takes Roman's dishes and slips them into the suds, waving the Garou off with a shake of his head even as he reaches for his own glasses. They're really half-glasses, bifocals, the second lens evident embedded it in the first. "You remind me of the Germans, don't you. Herr Professor Doktor Doktor. It's just Dr. Hauser, or Frank if you want. One title replaces the other. It's not like Royalty; we're just men here. Now then - "

While the professor goes on talking, a rather soft looking, pleasant woman with a round, sunny face - fifty or so - bevys up to the small trio and bestows on Roman a benevolent little smile.

" - ah, Chicago! City of broad shoulders. Hog butcher to the world! Excellent symphony. Top notch opera company, too. I don't suppose you - "

"Professor," Myrna interrupts here, firmly. " - here's JoEllen. JoEllen Wallace, this here is Roman Turner, he's the young man you'll be hosting. I know Stanley mentioned it at the steering committee meeting last week."

"Oh yes," the soft-faced woman returns, inching forward now that the professor has stopped talking. "Hello, Roman." JoEllen continues, holding out a soft, pudgy hand to shake the young Garou's hand.

"JoEllen," Myrna continues, almost as if the introduction had not happened. "Why don't you take Mr. Turner on out and entertain him until Kevin comes by. I know he was told to stop by when he gets back from town." Back to Roman, the Garou, whose offer to assist with dishes had somehow offended Myrna's ample womanly dignity. "We're nearly done here. Don't imagine a true-born's hands are ever idle, not really. Need all the rest and comfort you can get."

"Oh, oh yes - " JoEllen returns, stepping forward to Roman's side, steering him out of the kitchen with Myrna's encouragement. "How exciting that you're challenging!" JoEllen continues as they walk, her voice quiet, a certain built-in sweetness, light enough to call to mind her long-vanished girlishness. "My granddaughter is a full moon. I think she hopes to challenge soon. We must seem terribly backward here, after Chicago, I expect."

[Roman Turner] First he started with a reply for the Doctor. "Well no sir, I ain't meant to be too formal, but I been spending a lot of time with a different sort of Doctor who prefers to be called Miss Doctor Ma'am. Funny thing now that ya mention it." Here his smile grew. "She was born to the Fianna, but I reckon she spent so much time with the Fenrir she's a mite bit formal like that. I got a feeling if she ever lowered her guard she might be some thing else entirely."

Then he was answering Myrna. "Didn't mean to offend ya ma'am what with offering to lend a hand. Back home my ma would of boxed my ears if I didn't show proper manners like that."

And fortunately for him he was being lead off again by JoEllen. "Ya don't look old enough to be a granny Miss JoEllen. And Chicago is my home now, but no ma'am, ya don't seem backwards at all to me. I come from a small ranch in Kansas. I take to this setting like a duck to water. It's a little like coming home after being away. Familiar but like returning to your old room after going away and growing some."

[Twilight] "Oh," the older woman chuffs, " - young man you do not have to flatter me. I am most certainly old enough to be a grandmother. Hope to be a great-grandmother someday, too." There's no coyness in her tone, that deep, abiding pleasantness, the sort that lingers after prettiness and pettiness have long since passed.

It's back out into the dining room, though JoEllen, reading some of the restlessness - the nervous energy - under the young man's skin, or perhaps just knowing Garou as well as she does, ushes him through the now-quiet dining room, past the trunk of that great tree around which the house is built, past a massive stone hearth open to both dining and living rooms beside it, out onto the decking surrounding the house.

"Yes," says JoEllen as they walk, " - that's familiar," she agrees, breathing in the cool morning air, the deep forest scent when they go outside. " - but it never feels right, does it? Something's always changed. You don't fit in the space anymore. You're something else. Wasn't there some famous author who said You can never go home again? I think that's what he meant."

The deck is solid underfoot, well-made, hand-hewn, hand-planed timbers. Roman can read that much in the boards underneath his feet. They are on the first floor, a bit elevated - a half-flight from the edge of the pond. There's a muddy sort of beach sloping down to the chalk-green waters, the rustle of birds in the trees, and a view of the path wending up toward the gathering house from the bottom land here.

"Oh," says JoEllen, nodding toward the path, " - there's Kevin."

There he is indeed, a tall, rangy young man trudging with quiet steps up the hill, blond dredlocks falling to just the level of his shoulders, held back from his face by an elastic band. He has bony shoulders and the sort of wiry physique that seems all reach and no strength. He's still out of earshot, but glances up with the unerring precision of a hunting predator, lifts a hand by way of salute for the pair.

[Roman Turner] "I gotta say, I ain't never been in a house built around a tree. Reminds me of something from the Hobbit, only ain't in the tree, but around and sort of part of, ain't it?"

He'd replaced his hat when they went outside. Like her, he drew in a deep breath. "Air without fumes, that's something I miss. And ya know, someone wrote ya can't go home, but someone also wrote. Home is where the Heart is."

It was about then his attention was caught by movement and the sight of the Garou coming their way. JoEllen identified him and Roman kind of figured the dredlocks went with the deed name. He reached up, lifting the hat by the crown in a polite salute even as he nodded and the nervous tension inside him notched up. This wasn't like battle, somehow it was more nerve wracking. Maybe because he always knew he might die with each battle and he sort of went in to that mode that said...So? This was different.

[Twilight] "Oh, I heard that that tree is the oldest in the forest, and so when they decided to build the house they just had to build it around rather than over, you know?" There's that subtle, sweet sort of melancholy - a spring-like melancholy, this - steeling over her features when she casts a glance back at the young Garou. "Though maybe they had the idea from Frank Lloyd Wright. Didn't he build that Falling Waters house around a whole stream?" JoEllen lightly touches the back of Roman's shoulder, then - a moment of reassurance, steeling him for whatever was to come.

"Hon," she quietly corrects him. "I am pretty sure they just put that on an embroidery sample. World's full of as much sorrow as joy, and if you can't go home but leave your heart there, no wonder there's so many broken-hearted people in the world."

All this is quietly offered. Then, "Well," JoEllen continues, straightening. "I'll leave you to it. He'll be up here in two shakes." The kinswoman leaves, heads back inside the gathering house.

--

And he is up in two shakes. The lanky Fostern reaches the deck and takes the half-flight of stairs two at a time, his weight more solid than it seems. When he reaches deck he walks straight over to Roman, blue eyes fixed on the younger man. "You Fate? I'm Kevin, Bob Marley's Ghost, Fostern and Coggie, running under Freedom Song. Hear you have something to say to me."

[Roman Turner] He was puzzling over what the woman said, and he even replied at first.

"No, no, it means home is never the same when you go there, yet I consider it like a kissing cousin still. And home is where the heart is, means well, for me, I have my home where my heart is as far as my folk are, but my home now is where my heart resides and that's with Miss Kora. She fills a place in here."

He brushed his chest. Then before he could get too mushy, JoEllen was making her exit and all of his attention was on the Fostern coming up the stairs so fast.

His hat was removed and his shoulders were straight as could be as he spoke up.

"Pleased ya meet ya. I'm Roman Turner, Fate and I'm a Claith and a Coggie born on the New Moon. And yessir Rhya, I'm here to challenge for rank of Fostern."

[Twilight] The other young man's t-shirt hangs loose on his body shoulders. It's white; or rather: it was white, but it has been worn for some time, and could use a wash. In small letters near the top of the shirt, it says: SAVE DARFUR. Arms crossed loosely over his chest, Bob Marley's Ghost considers the other Garou - seriously, a soft frown on his long, narrow face.

At last, Bob Marley's Ghost nods. "Alright. You're staying with JoEllen Wallace, right?" He pauses just long enough for confirmation from Roman, then continues. "Okay. Listen, this one's pretty simple, I think. JoEllen, she's been hiding something from the Sept. I don't know what it is. It's your job to find out and tell me. I'll give you three days. Come find me at the Caern when you've figured it out."

[Roman Turner] "I'll certainly do my best. Ya can count on that Rhya."

He was already puzzling over the woman, because she was one of those Grandmother types and those were always tough nuts to crack, at least to someone his age.

[Kora] It's early afternoon, a clear, cold afternoon. Hard to believe that it is spring. The grass is greening, bulbs are poking through the earth, but the temperature hovers in the low to mid thirties, and each new front brings with it the threat of snow. Mickey's phone rings with a stranger's number. A stranger's number, unless she has programmed the number Jackson passed on as the Fenrir's own into her phone.

There are background sounds of traffic, but they aren't immediate. Kora's sitting on the front steps of the old church her pack calls home, soaking in what sunlight can be had through the frigid temperatures.

[Mickey] The phone nearly goes to voicemail, before she manages to grab the piece of paper Jackson gave her and compare numbers. When the phone picks up, there is a bit of fumbling before it's a woman's voice. "Hello?"

She'd only just woken up, so used working late and sleeping late. But her voice is at least clear on the phone, if a little questioning.

[Kora] "Mickey? This is Kora. Jackson gave me your number. He said you had some issues with your living situation. You wanna talk over the phone? Or we could meet somewhere for lunch." The other woman's voice is low and clear; there's no regional accent. Just the general American English of suburban enclaves everywhere, made distinct only by the careful clarity with which she forms words.

[Mickey] There is some shuffling as she apparently resettles where she is, or maybe checking around to see if anyone else is around. "Meeting is a little hard right now, so over the phone is fine. Thanks... for calling me, I really appreciate it."

She sounds young, mid-twenties. And similiar to Kora, her accent is the nowhere everywhere of the Midwest. The average American to a T.

[Kora] "Alright," the creature returns, voice thinned by the cell connection. There's open sky above her, blue, clear, cold. The church itself is surrounded by a thicket of overgrown trees. The limbs are still bare, but here and there in the tangle are slender whips of forsythia, covered in bright yellow blossoms.

"You're somewhere where you can talk, yeah?" There's a slight lacuna there, enough for Mickey to make a noise of assent before the other woman continues, "So, you wanna tell me what's up?"

[Mickey] A sharp inhale and then a tired exhale. "It's a very long story, but the very short version of it is I caught the unwanted attention of some tainted folks. Until that gets resolved, I'm tryin' to stay with Trueborn, for safety. I'm with my Guardian now, but I'm not totally... comfortable here."

A shift, as the kin pulls blankets around her, closing her eyes. "I just don't know who I should be contacting. I was told Glass Walkers don't have a Tribal Elder. Can I just... go and stay with another True from another tribe? Does that need to be okayed? I'm.. still learning all this, sorry."

[Kora] There's a brief pause on the other end of the line. A moment of rustling as the Fenrir woman shifts the phone from one ear to the next, pulls the strands of her long hair out from around her neck, over the other shoulder. "I'm Fenrir. I don't know many of the Glass Walkers in the city, Mickey."

Her voice thins with speculation, there. There's a hint of distance before it resolves itself again, comes into focus against the mouthpiece. "I don't know much about what your tribe expects of its kin. Can you tell me who your Guardian is? And what the problem is - the more I know, the more I'm likely to be able to help, yeah?"

[Mickey] "Leon, Leon Davenport." She answers, tugging her knees to her. "He's... he's a really good Guardian, he is, and he's kept me safe, we just... "

A shift, the kin's voice... uncomfortable? Uneasy? "The thing we discussed was resolved by all parties involved, but it just... left me feeling like I needed space from him. It was something with another kin, and some things that happened that I didn't think he should have shared with me."

Details, it seems, she can't give. It was a promise to Leon that she wouldn't spread it since it had been resolved, which... makes it hard to explain to Kora.

[Kora] "Listen, Mickey. It sounds like you need to talk to your guardian. If you're uncomfortable living with him, you can always move into the Brotherhood. You've been there, yeah?" There's another pause here for Mickey to insert an assent or a disavowel. Kora - the distant stranger - breathes in, an audible breath over the line. "It's open to everyone. My pack - we're in Cabrini - and there's loads of space here, but I couldn't offer you a place in circumstances like these unless your Guardian was okay with you living with us.

"We're wolves, and we get pretty territorial over things like our kin. Do you know any of your tribesmates? Can you talk to him about why you're uncomfortable there? Is he hurting you somehow?"

[Mickey] There is a soft noise is assent- she does know the Brotherhood. "I'm afraid to go to the Brotherhood because if I am still being followed, I don't want these people knowing where it is. I'm still worried about that, even if I'm pretty sure these crazy fucks are in Tennessee."

An almost audible lick of her lips, hand running back through her hair as she speaks again. "No, no, he's not hurting me at all. Not mentally, not physically, nothing like that. He... might have hurt another kin on accident, but it was all resolved, like I said. He's okay with me leaving here, he told me if was okay if I felt I had to go somewhere else, and he'd still remain my Guardian. The only other Tribemates I know are Delilah, and she's kin and I think... I think Sinclair?

"I mean, if he's okay with me leaving- and he said so- am I allowed to stay with other tribes? I just don't know if that's okay."

[Kora] "Those boundaries, yeah?" Kora returns, her voice still low. Just audible over the connection. The insistent BEEP BEEP BEEP of a truck backing up backgrounds her voice then. She makes a low noise of irritation, and can be heard standing. It's not easy for her anymore - she's not fluid as she was, her frame is unbalanced, center of gravity wholly changed. " - you've got to ask him that. You need his approval, especially if you want to live with a Garou of another tribe.

"Can you speak to him about it? Do you want me to?"

[Mickey] "No, no," the kin answers softly, even though she wants to groan. "This is my problem, and I promised him honesty, so I shouldn't foist it upon someone else."

There is quiet on the other end, maybe a sniffle, but it's really hard to tell as she seems to shuffle, pulling sheets tighter around herself. "Okay. Okay. Uhm... thank you Kora, for calling and for speaking to me. For listening to me. I know I haven't... made a ton of sense this whole time. I just didn't know who to speak to, and I trust Jackson."

[Kora] "That's the right choice, Mickey." There's a brief, warmer note in the other woman's voice when Mickey pledges to both face her guardian and ask him the questions she has about her boundaries more directly. "You said yourself that he's been good to you, and if you trust his honor that fair, you'll need to trust him in this, too. These things mean more when they're difficult, you know." A brief, narrow pause there is followed by a soft, quiet snort against the phone. "Doing the right thing's pretty straightforward when it's easy.

"But easy doesn't define us, yeah?" The last is offered with a brief, wry note at the end. "Do you have a place to go after you talk to him?"

[Mickey] "He has been good to me," quiet, from the kin. "And I trust him to protect me, I just... don't know if he can keep my secrets. Not that I have any, I just..."

A long sigh, and an almost smile in her voice. "No, easy doesn't define us. If... my first place to go stay doesn't pan out, I can at least stay with Jackson for a little awhile, while I figure out a safe place. I'd prefer not to because, again, crazy tainted people who have a file on me, but... I've got places, mostly."

[Kora] "Mickey, have you told Leon about the tainted people following you? If they are really tracking you, you need to make sure we have as much information about them as possible, so that someone can track them down and end them." A faint, darkling pause. There's no way that the feeling of rage - the goosebump certainty of it - can translate across the phone lines. Just a voice, reproduced; sound waves, without physical immediacy. Still: it's there, underneath. "Someone needs to hear this story, you know?"

[Mickey] "Leon is aware, as are other people initially involved in the mess," she assures, much more confidant about this. "There was a laptop, and we're currently trying to fix some corrupted files on it to get more information and try and figure out what these guys are up to. I was the only one with a file, but from what I can ascertain between news, an' internet stuff, and relay from a True involved, that they're likely closer to Tennessee and or Kentucky right now. "

There is a pause, and then one can almost hear the smile in her voice. "I made sure people knew right away, as soon as I found it in that laptop. Hence the staying with True, and avoiding the Brotherhood. I'm keeping an eye on the news and relaying information as best I can."

[Kora] "Alright, Mickey. You need to go find Leon and clear this up. Make sure he knows where you want to go; make sure he checks out the Garou. If you can deal with the uncertainties you're dealing with right now," there's a half-smile on her generous mouth, which informs her voice. Shapes it, gives it a different resonance. " - you can talk to Leon. If you need a place to stay, you can give me a call. Cool?"

[Mickey] "... cool." A pause, and then a release of breath, like tension is leaving. "Thank you Kora. I guess I just needed some sense talked at me. I really... really do appreciate this. If you ever need an extra body or someone who knows the streets, lemme know, please?"

A way to pay back the kindness. Kora didn't have to call her, or talk to her, or advise her- but she did. And to Mickey, that deserves repayment.

[Kora] "Got it," quiet in return, the suggestion of a smile lingering there in her voice. "Will do. Good luck with Leon Mickey, yeah? And good night."

[Mickey] "Thanks. Later Kora." And a soft click, as the phone is hung up.

[Kora] transcript!
to Kora

[Starla] "Can't see why ya jus' don't hustle up some money from like the tribe or some of yar richer kin. Don't they have money here in the city?"

August mentions the heat's out, it perks the ears of the dusky-skinned girl that was fussing with an air mattress. She seems to get it up on two church benches that she's slung together for a makeshift bed, her blanket falling off her shoulders with a colorful swear of words.

"Whole gaggle of people live here, Miss." her nose crinkles at the sight of the carrier, "Izzat a baby?"

[Roman Turner] His ears turned red first and heat rushed up from his neck turning the mottled burn scars there a deep purple with Starla's question. Immediately his attention went back to August and the baby carrier.

"Mother of God, it's a wonder y'all didn't freeze. Ya should of called me. I'm pretty sure I made sure to give ya my number on a napkin that one night in that cafe with Miss Rain. And yessum, Miss Kora is my Alpha, she lives here most of the time."

He ushered August and child closer to the fire and Starla.

"Miss August, this is Miss Starla, she's a cousin. Miss Starla, this here is Miss August and her baby girl. She's family."

He gathered a couple of blankets with every intention of wrapping mother and child up like mummies.

"Come warm up. Ya can stay here. It ain't fancy, but it's warmer than no heat."

[Miss August] "I didn't know where else to go.. " She muttered as she wandered closer to the fire and eventually set the baby carrier down.

"I don't believe I got your number that night Mr. Turner.. all I recall getting was a strong tongue lashing about how I was an ugly person inside." A beat as she began to unwrap. Her gaze for sure didn't meet his. "I do want to apologize for that evening.. and for everything else that I've done which has caused my family to distrust or dislike me. I want all that nastiness behind us and I hope you can forgive me."

[Miss August] Hazel eyes flicked over to Starla. She smiled a greeting as well as nodded in response to the question about the baby.

[Starla] She plucks at the braid hanging over her shoulder, pale green eyes set in the round features of her bronze face dart between Roman and then back to August, slipping down to stare at the bundle in the carrier. She scrunches up her nose again, her expression growing confused.

"Ya lugged a baby all the way in this snow? Why ain'tcha leave'em wit' ya man?"

[Roman Turner] For a moment his face went completely blank and then he was turning away to tend the fire, hiding his expression. When he spoke it was as neutrally gentle as he could make it.

"Give me your phone and I will put the number in. You are more than welcome to stay, you and the child. Going out in this is sure to cause all your deaths. As for the rest. We live and learn, or so they say. So let's live and learn."

Starla asked her question and he just wished the ground would open and and swallow him whole. Holy Mary Mother of God, the proverbial can was opened and the worms were rushing to come out.

"Her power is out. And the rest is, well I'll let Miss August tell those tales."

[Miss August] "I don't have one, Miss Starla. Bringing the baby with to the heat was the best plan I could come up with for the evening." August carefully began to pull the layers of blankets off of the baby until the light skinned, red haired and hazel eyed infant was staring back up at her, sucking on a fist.

The blonde kin was NOT about to open up that can of worms any further than to simply state there wasn't one. No one ever needed to hear her story again as far as she was concerned. They could make it up for all it really mattered. Maybe their versions would be better.

"The fire feels wonderful, thank you." She offered a soft smile to Roman (back turned or no), cheeks still rosy from the cold.

[Kora] The steps leading up to the church are lumpen with snow, poorly defined except by the patterns of footsteps in the rising mound. Someone's made an effort at shoveling out a path. Someone else went sledding down the unshoveled steps. That's where Kora walks, firmly bundled against the arctic chill, the collar of her wool coat pulled up, her hood over her hair, scarf wrapped around her mouth and chin, hands firmly in her pockets. Snowcoats her boots and higher; her jeans are damp to the thigh from it. The door swings open behind August and there is another abominable snowperson, stamping snow from her boots into the puddle of snowmelt just inside the front door.

Kora does not start shivering until the subtle gradation of temperature hits her. It's too cold outside to shiver, but now that she's thawing out, she allows herself one long shudder, a sharp exhale before she masters herself and starts taking off her winter things. "Roman, Starla, August - " her cold-thinned voice, quiet greetings as she unwraps the scarf. "everything okay?"

[Roman Turner] "Miss August's power went out. She and the baby have come for shelter and I offered hospitality."

He was never so glad to see anyone in his life. Though he couldn't resist asking with the snow covering most of Kora.

"That Yeti snow Ninja didn't get hold of ya, did he?"

[Starla] "Pfft. I done heard ya twice, I git it."

She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, flashing Roman a cheeky grin, "Always was the nice one."

She bends down to sweep up the fallen blanket, tucking it back around her before moving off to gather up the bedding she and Roman scrounged up earlier, and tosses it on the air mattress.

[Miss August] "Hello Miss Kora.. " August sat down on the pew and scooped the baby up. "I hope it's alright that Mr. Turner offered me a place to stay... I don't have any heat.. and I'd caught rumors that you were staying here.."

[Kora] "Just one of those snow blower's the city's been running to clear the main streets," Kora says, a faint twist of her mouth for Roman. "You're welcome here, August." A brief glance up, at the roof, the broken rafters, then back down at the baby. "Though it might not be too comfortable for long for your babe, with Garou in and out. If your power doesn't come back on soon, we'll put you up with Drew, I think." A brief glance at Roman, then August, "This is Roman's home, too, yeah? It's fine. The kitchen's through the door by the chancel, that's where the rest of the rooms are. There's food there, milk and cold stew, a few other things.

"Roman, make sure to give August a room away from the Garou's dens. And put a heater in her room. If we don't have extra mattresses, she can have mine, yeah?"

[Roman Turner] "I got a couple extra air mattresses today. And if ya don't mind Miss August, I am sure Miss Rain would share her room with ya. Or ya can have mine. I been staying out here anyway. I'll make sure ya have heat and show ya where the bathroom is. We're a little primitive but we make up for it with hospitality."

[Miss August] "Oh.. no.. I couldn't do that. You keep your mattress.. you need it, Kora. I'll be fine. I have a few blankets," namely the ones she had over the baby carrier and then whatever was stuffed into her bag. "I'll be fine. A heater is more than sufficent if you have one to spare.."

She patted the babes back as it cooed. "She doesn't mind the rage all that much - just gets this fussy pants look. I live with a Garou - but he's out of town for a bit.. so she's pretty used to it.. at least in small doses.."

"Please don't fuss over us. We're fine. Just a corner to stay in is more than a enough. We'll try to keep out of ya'lls hair as much as possible."

[Starla] By the looks of the makeshift bed Starla was making out of pews and the air mattress, she seems to prefer this area as well. She shuffles her feet, winter boots that she hasn't taken off since she got there stamping down the ground. She listens to them talk, arching an eyebrow every now and then.

[Roman Turner] "Ya get a room to yourself and some privacy for when ya need it. Ya don't want someone ogling ya when ya feed the baby or nothing. Besides, it will be warmer when ya sleep. Though I'm not saying ya have to go hide in the room or nothing."

He was quick to add that last part.

"We got blankets, Mr. Trent brought more lastnight. And we got some sleeping bags. No need to do without in this Pack."

[Starla] "Ah don't think ah'e ever seen anyone look a gift horse in the mouth and reject it."

Starla shakes her head, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth again, watching Roman do his best to provide and fuss over August and her baby. She sits down on the pews, pulling her legs up underneath the blanket and settles it around herself, pulling it up over her head like a robe.

[Kora] Make sure she has what she needs. Kora tells Roman, low-voiced. If she needs a long-term place, we'll put her up with Drew.

"There's plenty of room, August." A supple twist of her mouth, lifting her chin toward the old social hall attached to the church. "More rooms than I can count back there; it's not a fuss. We take hospitality seriously among the Fenrir. It's the old way; northern climates demand that sort of give and take." For the second time in two nights, Kora quotes a passage from the Eddas.

"Fire is needed by the newcomer
Whose knees are frozen numb;
Meat and clean linen a man needs
Who has fared across the fells,

Water, too, that he may wash before eating,
Handclothes and a hearty welcome,
Courteous words, then courteous silence
That he may tell his tale."

"Beer's in the coolers if you want it, milk and soda in the kitchen. What's here is yours. Now," a brief pause, as she unbuttons her coat, strips off the outer garments down to her dedicated things. "I need to go see if Linus got that murder of Hrafn flying." One she's stripped off her coat, gloves, hoodie and scarf, Kora fishes a small mirror from her pocket.

One minute she's there; then next she's gone, stepping across the barrier between worlds.

[Kora] (aaand, must sleep! thanks for the scene. :) )

[Kora] get your transcript!
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