[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.
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.
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