Ornature

[Kora] "You grew up on a farm, Roman - " Kora, a glance to Imogen, brief, then back to Roman. "You seriously don't know what cress is? I don't think I'd know what it looked like if I saw it growing," she continues, with a faint shrug. " - but I've never even been able to tell poison ivy apart from ordinary vines."

[Roman Turner] "Oh....green plant in streams. Heck, back home green plants in water means moss. Poison Ivy, I know, like say, Virginia Creeper. Dandelions and collard greens make good eating. But ain't never seen nothing no one in Kansas called watercress."

[Imogen] "Perhaps it's mainly in Europe," Imogen says, absently, picking up her beer bottle and draining it. "I'd never 'eard o' poison ivy 'till I came t'the US."

Her mouth twists slightly as she quotes: "'Leaves o' three, leave it be'. Beyond tha', I doubt I could recognize it either. Fortunately, however," the poised kinswoman smirks, "I'm not much o' an outdoorsman, a fact that I am sure will shock you all."

[Kora] "I'm pretty sure they have watercress in Kansas, Roman. I think it's everywhere. One of the first greens that greens up in the spring." Kora returns, with a subtle twist of her narrow shoulders beneath the weight of her sweatshirt. The ghost of a smile curves her generous mouth.

"I know about it more from history and - " a faint, dismissive wave of her hand, indicating narrowly some other form of literature. Faery tales, maybe. Ancestor dreams. Eddas, poetic or otherwise. " - stuff. Came in before any crops did, yeah? So if you were starving in spring you could eat that."

Then, a faint snort for Imogen. "For someone who's not really an outdoorsman, Doc, you show up in some strange places."

[Roman Turner] "I'll have to ask Pa about it next call home. Though something ya should know about poison ivy. If one of us runs through it in our furry forms, we can infect ya with the oil that collects on our coats from the leaves. Also, if ya get it on your clothes, it can remain potent for up to five years, so ya want to wash any clothes right away that ya tromped around the woods in, careful not to touch them as much as possible till ya get them washed."

[Kora] They are outside at a picnic table so pretty visible when Izzy walks up. :)
to Imogen, Izzy Montoya, Roman Turner

[Imogen] She smirks at Kora - "Sadly, the wyrm does not seem to respect my preference."

Imogen regards Roman in silence for several seconds. "I do not imagine tha' I will be petting either o' you any time soon," she says blandly. "And I frequently wash my clothes.

"However, I appreciate the botany lesson." The edge of her mouth twists up.

[Izzy Montoya] It's an odd occasion when Izzy stops by the pack house without really having any reason why... but this is one of those times. If asked, she wouldn't be able to articulate a reason why. Maybe she's lonely. Maybe she isn't. Maybe she just had a surplus of beer and was in the neighborhood... which is the most likely scenario, as she's carrying a brown paper bag, with bottles clinking inside.

She hadn't parked far, so the walk isn't long, especially as they are sitting outside. Convenient, that. A lift of her chin serves as greeting, as does her setting the beer on the table. "Thought you might need a refill."

Also inside, and pulled out first? An starbucks iced mocha, which she offers to Kora, instead of a beer.

[Roman Turner] He grinned to Izzy when she turned up like she did. Going so far as to lift his hat a bare inch of his head with a nod to her in greeting.

"Howdy Miss Izzy."

[Kora] Imogen's bland remark earns a twist of Skald's expressive mouth. Kora cuts a sideglance at the kinswoman, making another wry noise deep in the back of her throat. Petting indeed.

"It'd be nice," she says, a glance at the doctor, then Roman, the humor lingering in the frame of her mouth. "If we could schedule these things, you know? Like pistols at dawn. Then let everyone get back to their ordinary lives. And you could stay outta the damn woods."

Roman lifts his hat to Izzy, and Kora, Kora lifts her chin, dark eyes dropping to the bag with the beer. "Cheers," says the Skald, before Izzy has revealed the mocha. " - thanks." Then Izzy pulls out the mocha and ice accepts it, fingers sliding through the condensation frozen on the surface of the cup. "Everyone brings me frozen drinks, these days. Milkshakes and shit." That said, she lifts the cup in a gesture like a toast to Izzy before taking a drink.

"You working on that development stuff down by the docks too, Detective?"

[Roman Turner] "Now if they were really thinkin, they would bring ya chocolates and cookies too. Or better yet, baby gifts. I was thinking we need to hold a baby party thing for ya. Patrick and I could bake a cake and think of games for everyone to play."

[Imogen] Imogen makes a brief sound of amusement, picking up her cigarette case again as Detective Montoya enters. "Perhaps we can raise it at the next negotiation."

She lights up, as the detective sets down the beers, taking out the iced mocha for the Fenrir Jarl first. Imogen inhales her first sweet drag of her cigarette. She smokes something European with a rather distinctive filter. It must be said, though, she never leaves the butts on their property. On the streets, sure, but here, each are pocketed and taken away.

She glances at Roman, her gaze moving briefly to Kora.

"If you and Patrick want t'play house," she observes mildly, "I don't see why Kora needs t'be dragged into it."

[Izzy Montoya] She opens her mouth to correct Roman, again, but stops, remembering what a mouthful he came up with the last time she did so. Instead, what comes out is "Roman." And a nod. Ahhh. Diplomacy. Or self-preservation. Either way, she puts up with the 'Miss Izzy' from him, where she likely wouldn't from anyone else. Someone might suggest a fondness there. That someone might then be glared at, and possibly shot. Izzy Montoya is fond of no one. Well, almost no one.

Which is neither here nor there. She pulls the six pack of bottles - good beer, too, not the cheap shit - and puts it on the table so they could help themselves, before she settles to take a seat on the bench. She takes one for herself, opens it, and drinks deeply.

She looks tired, still. She's not sleeping well, she's working too hard, she's putting too much effort into things that don't equal her taking decent care of herself - decent by other peoples standards anyway. She doesn't know how to be any other way. All or nothing -- she is Fenrir.

As for the frozen drink - "To be honest, it's all I could fuckin' think of while I was standing there with the beer. If you prefer something else, I'll try to accommodate." A gesture, there. Perhaps there is something to the rumors Izzy's developed a respect for the Last Watch after all.

To answer the question, though, she nods. "Put out some feelers - should get some information back from them soon."

She doesn't comment on the idea of playing games at a baby shower, though there's a faint arch of a brow, that falls into a huff of amusement at Imogen's reply.

[Kora] "Listen to the doc, Roman," Kora advises, with a brief, flickering look back at her young packmate. The look steadies, a moment later, is pulled into something strong, more immediate, more direct. Then, a cut away as she holds up her frozen mocha and takes a drink. Something close to relenting, though the ground given is small. " - if you're that eager to go shopping for kid's stuff, I'll tell Trent to let you know if he needs anything we don't have, yeah?" A shrug, narrowly formed, quiet. "After, I mean. Though if anyone finds a kid's toboggan with Viking horns - "

Back to Izzy, then. Kora shakes her pale head - shadowed by the confines of her sweatshirt's hood - just once, in the negative when she asks if Kora prefers something else. "This is brilliant," she says quietly, dark eyes steady on Izzy's face. "I appreciate it, Detective. I'm just looking forward to being able to indulge in more adult beverages when this is all over."

Then she nods again, steady to Izzy's mention of feelers, glances back to Imogen, her voice more quiet here. "You guys get a good response from the kin? At the meeting?"

[Imogen] "Better than I expected," Imogen answers, absently. "We'll see about results. S'all tha' really matters."

[Izzy Montoya] Kora will be looking forward to more adult beverages. Izzy nods, once, meeting Kora's gaze evenly as she lifts her bottle, slightly. "I'll buy a round, when ya can."

She let's Imogen answer the question about the meeting. Izzy's presence there was mostly silent, until she'd done the unthinkable and defended the Doc, and called the Silver Fang an asshole in the process. Now that? Was fun. But she knows the first was unappreciated, the second likely will get her ass kicked sooner or later, and she doesn't rightly care in either instance. The fact she kept her mouth shut as long as she did that night was a minor miracle.

[Kora] "I'll hold you to that," Kora to Izzy, wry, direct. Then, a glance back to Imogen, accompanied by a brief gesture with the frozen mocha. "Doc, you mind giving me a ride?"

[Imogen] Imogen shakes her head slightly, pinching out her cigarette as she gets to her feet, stepping off the picnic table. "I should 'ead home, anyway," she says, an oblique references to the late hour.

"Goodnight," she says to the other two as she picks up her jacket from the picnic table, sliding into it.

[Roman Turner] He had called them together, requesting Starla turn up at the Church also. Even going so far to escort her there if need be, so they could have a long overdue sit down and talk. So far he'd gotten things all from one side and needed both for his own peace of mind. A few things needed ironing out so the kin in the Pack weren't scared and because all the recent drama was sucking his very soul dry.

"First, thanks y'all for showing up. Second, I don't reckon this is going to be entirely pleasant, but it's got to be done."

He'd settled on the back of one of the pews, booted feet resting in the seat. A bottle of water was held dangling between his open knees.

[Starla] She was quiet during the walk to the Church, bottom lip tucked inward as she chews on it absently. A hand lifted to catch and control the stray tendrils of black hair that curls along the line of her jaw. She keeps her head down, eyes on ahead of her on the ground. In the Church, Starla finds a pew to sit down in, drawing her legs up to tuck and fold her feet under her thighs, cross-legged.

She looks up at the others when Roman speaks.

[Fire Claws] There were times that he had missed the Sept he was born at. The discomfort of what happened when drama occurred was one such event. He had already forgotten what had transpired between him and Starla several nights ago. What had been done seem immaterial to wolf born already. A war needed to be fought and he did not waste his time with anything that did not involve ensuring the garou their glory.

However pack issues did arise and he would not negate such an issue. When asked, he would come to the gathering to discuss whatever it was that needed to be discussed. The wolf holding his skin as he paced around the large stone den when the no moon speaks, he finally plants his hind on the cold ground, his tail slowly wiping away at the ground behind him. Ear perked as he listens.

[Sorrow] Fire Claws and Sorrow both heard the request from Roman; Kora reinforced it - firmly, quietly. Beyond the reinforcement, her mind closed, solid as the heavy wooden doors that protect the sanctuary of the long-abandoned church. Roman's sitting on the back of a wooden pew; Kora's standing a few feet away, quiet for now. Heavily pregnant - they must imagine it will be any time now - with her usual dark gray sweatshirt and jeans on to chase away the chill in the sanctuary. This business is not conducted in amongst the comfort of the old ratty couches scattered under the choir loft, but closer to the transept, the altar. There's a certain ruined majesty up here; the ribs of the ceiling evident in the fast-failing light, the clouds beyond have that late evening glow from the dying sun. Half the stained glass windows are enshadowed, dark. The rest are caught between gray and brilliant. The light gleams on the surface, but is too murky to make more than incidental, watery impressions on the marble floor.

There is the scent of storms on the horizon, somewhere close. The Fenrir can feel winter's touch in the air; snow to the north, the gray ache as it reasserts itself against the coming spring.

The Skald's dark eyes flicker between Starla and Fire Claws, attention lingering first on one, then the other before it returns to Roman. Otherwise, her body language is as closed as her mindvoice. "What's this about?"

[Roman Turner] "I've got three things I want to bring out here. The first two involve Starla and Fire Claws. I am first going to say what I have been told, nothing more. Then once this can of worms has been dumped out on the table, we can hash through the mess."

His gray-blue gaze, so much like old faded denim, went from Starla to Fire Claws before he spoke again with a pointed look at Fire Claws.

"I need human ears and words for this. Oblige me by shifting to two legs, please."

Then his gaze included Sorrow.

"Starla tells me first one night Fire Claws came in covered in blood. She decided he needed help that he apparently did not need. He then proceeded to get drunk and she says he used a power as she put it, to make her want him sexually. She says she resisted because he fell asleep. That the next day they spoke of it and he said it is not so. I need both sides of that in the open. That's the first item."

[Starla]

[Sorrow] Kora's standing with her legs shoulder-width apart, hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, pulling the waistband down below the apex of her abdomen, stretching out the warm cotton. Her hair is pale, gleaming with shifting colors reflecting from the flickering of the braziers on the marble columns, smooth against her scalp, pulled back into a heavy twist at the nape of her neck, some complex internal knot, imprecise, disordered. She cuts a glance from Roman to Starla when he is finished; her ears are bare, and the movement sends the old iron charm dangling from the inner cartilage of her right ear swinging with the movement.

Otherwise, she is still. Dark eyed and steady. "I'd like to hear what happened from you, Starla," says Kora, low-voiced. "In your own words. Then I will have Fire Claws' response."

[Fire Claws] He nodded his head when Roman asked him to take on the monkey skin and he does so to oblige the Fostern coggie. It was a slow transformation through the forms, his fur giving way as he shifts and changes. His body enlarging at first to the massive war form, muscles and sinew given way and explode to part that no creature should be able to have. And soon after the apex of his form, shift and shrink down, muscle no longer massive but contained. Skin exposed to the elements, only hidden by now by the dedicated clothes of faded and worn black jeans, ripped and tattered shirt and boots that have seen better days.

He stands there before the rest of his pack mates, leaning again a pew now as he listens to what has be said. He does not attempt to interrupt Fate~rhya as he listens. Trying to recall an event that seem years ago to the lupus born. His face contorted now as he struggles to recall the event.

[Starla] Starla draws in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs while Roman spoke; it's released slowly, rushing out of her mouth and nose in a small hiss of air. She flicks her eyes to the wolf-born, arching an eyebrow at him, she stares at him hard for several seconds, and then pulls her eyes to Roman - listening.

"Fire Claws wanted to know what it felt like to git drunk. It came out of conversation he had wit' Amy and Rain at the Broho one night, when they's drinking. I found Fire Claws injured and fetched the first aid kit wit' the intentions of cleaning up his wounds, there was a bottle of vodka sitting the table in front of him."

She flicks her gaze up, looking first to Kora and then to Roman, and finally Fire Claws, "He ain't likely gonna remember this; though, he started in on the bottle, I tried to control how much liquor he consumed. I don't what provoked it after that, maybe it was my breeding, me being too close, or the end of mating season for wolves. Next thing I know I was crawling in his lap after meeting his gaze, he did something to try and git me to mate wit' him. I come to my senses and managed to resist before he past out. I confronted him the next day, and he says I lied."

[Roman Turner] Watching Starla as she spoke, his gaze then shifted to Fire Claws with a lifted brow.

"I can tell ya, this first item troubled me and I would of let it lay for a quiet word alone, if not for other things taking place. Now, it's your turn Fire Claws. What do you recall?"

[Sorrow] Kora listens intently, dark eyes fixed on Starla. Her brow is furrowed as she contemplates the kinswoman, her attention keen and direct. When Starla finishes her story, the Skald cuts a moving glance back toward her feral packmate, the Forseti. Briefly, she searches his blunt human features. Then echoes Roman. "Everything you remember of it, beginning to end."

[Sorrow] Per + Empathy [Truthiness + FEELINGS)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Starla

[Sorrow] HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
to Starla

[Fire Claws] He scrunches his nose at the memory of it. It was hard to recall what had happened, his mind a fuzzy maze of thoughts that didn't seem to flow in chronological order like it does for humans. Thoughts come and go as she begins to speak, his smell of vodka coming to his mind. The sensation revisited when he recalls what he remembers. He shakes out his head. His words come across a mutilated as he speaks.

"Aye ramemba dat night... somewat. Afta' 'unting aye came to den. Sum banes on pack edge. Kill'd em. Cam back wit sum cuts. Starla saw me... sad needed help. Aye needed no help, wounds heal gud. Fine. But smellvodka.. recall da words of kin and..." he tried to think about what the word Rain used when she called it something else, but it seemed lost to the lupus at the moment. "... monkey fire water. Curious."

He looks down, trying harder to push pass the haze of murky memory and what was said. Trying to recall everything. "Drank da fire water. Taste bad, buh made warm. Nice feelin, but kin said musta drink slowa. Sat on me, 'eld bottle away."

He continued to try, closing his eyes tight as he forces himself to remember, to recall. To just put the pieces together.

"Smell da kin... close, smell of vodka, smell of breedin'. Head turnin'. Aye did use attraction on 'er."

[Roman Turner] His nod was curt, a simple single motion.

"It don't matter to me if ya were born with fur and four legs, or as bare as a baby bird with two legs. What matters here is, we are not Wolf, we are not Man. We are Garou. We are the protectors. We walk a fine line between two worlds. I will not take a lack of knowledge and a smell of breeding as excuses. The two of you are at fault here. Learn from this and don't repeat it."

He looked back and forth between them and continued.

"This next part I don't have full knowledge of either. I got a call from Milo telling me Starla was hurt. When I get hold of her she's less than pleasant and tells me that once more it involved Fire Claws. Now Starla, give us that entire story."

[Sorrow] Roman appears ready to move on. Kora gives him a single look; flat and challenging. She is clearly not ready to move on. "I'm not finished," she interrupts, before he invites Starla to tell the next story.

"Starla," Kora cuts a glance back to the kinswoman, her own voice is low, still and quiet. " - you said, the next thing you knew you were crawling in his lap. Did you sit on him to take the bottle away? Or were you drawn in?"

"Fire Claws, you are a Forseti. Tell me what you did wrong that night."

[Starla] Starla takes in another deep breath, her eyebrows furrow inward, nearly touching at its corners. She gathers her hands in her lap, fingers intertwining to wring them together. She scrunches up her nose, dropping her gaze down to watch her hands, tongue running out across her bottom lip.

She flinches under Sorrow's question, lifting her head up to look at her. "Sat on him to git the bottle away and then jus' sort got drawn in from there."

[Roman Turner] His brows worse then furrowed with Starla's admission.

[Roman Turner] ((Ut oh, brain going. Worse=Rose. Don't ask how it came out that way.))

[Fire Claws] His discomfort with the English language was starting to show now as he was struggling to find the correct words to answer his Jarl. He seems to resign himself for the moment and connects to his pack mates if allowed. His words clearer, his accent not coming across within the mind.

~Totemlink~
Weakness. I allowed myself to lose control. I showed weakness over what I wanted at the moment for what was proper. Jarl.

[Sorrow] "That detail," the Skald says, low and direct to Starla, " - is an important one, Starla."

Kora allows Fire Claws to make the mind to mind connection. There is a faint - thinning of her attention in that moment, a drawing-back. She half-closes her eyes, listening to his response, then translates it aloud for Starla a moment later.

"Fire Claws says his failure was weakness. In his weakness, he lost control and allowed his momentary desire to overwhelm his knowledge of what was right and proper, Starla."

Kora glances back to the lupus, then. "Have you been drunk before, Fire Claws?" A brief, foreshortened sort of pause. He can answer through their spiritual connection, but Kora questions him aloud for the benefit of the kinswoman. "Do you intend to drink again?"

[Starla] If the wolf-born intends to drink again, it won't be in the presence of the kin. She tilts her head to the side, watching the interaction between Kora and Fire Claws. She is quiet, no verbal response given to Kora's statement, just a raising of a dark eyebrow.

[Roman Turner] He spoke in response to Starla's brow rising.

"It was not necessary for ya go climb on top of him to control his drinking Starla. You are not responsible for Fire Claws' drinking if he wants. But by climbing on him ya put both of you in a situation. You too are at fault."

[Fire Claws] He watches how Sorrow reacts to his words, how she repeats what he says and his eyes are given to look at the ever-increasing stomach that has formed over their Jarl. His eyes no meeting with the coggie at one moment or another during the situation. Just speaking when addressed from those of rank.

"No" and "No" are the only response given, or needed for that matter. Not like a child answering his mother out of habit, but one who understands that he does not like what happened because of what he did.

[Starla] Being at fault, she understood, Starla was shouldering that guilt along with the one that had come from last Monday. If it hadn't been for Milo, they wouldn't be here having this conversation. Starla would have just buried it and never mentioned it to anyone, hoping that Fire Claws would have forgotten or not broached the subject.

She has no verbal response to Roman's words, her head bowing again to drop her eyes to her hands.

[Sorrow] "Roman's right," Kora echoes, glancing at Starla. "I'm sorry that he tempted you, and glad that you were able to resist him. I will not blame you for his actions; in the end, he is the Garou and bears the burden himself. But, Starla, you were unwise. To remain in the room with a Garou who was drunk; with a lupus Garou who had never before been drunk. Foolish to sit on his lap when his inhibitions are lowered. You know that he is wolf-born, that he is Garou. If you wanted to stop him from getting drunk, you should have found one of his packmates," a tight glance.

--

Then she looks back to Fire Claws, speaking aloud for Starla, reinforcing it across their spiritual bond. "Fire Claws, we do not take our human-born kin as mates through compulsion. They are not wolves, they are not ruled by instinct. The matter of respect for those beneath us is written into the litany, but there's a practical side to it as well. If you violate the trust of your kin, they will desert you one by one.

"And we cannot live without kin, not in these cities. We will never win the war against the Wyrm without them.

"You also violated another's territory. Starla is kin to the Children of Gaia. She is Fate's kin, his territory, and by tempting her to mate with you, broke the law in spirit if not in fact.

"This is your punishment from me: you will not drink spirits of any sort for one moon. Thereafter, if you wish to drink you must do so in the presence of your packmates for another moon. I will not deny a warrior of Fenris mead, but you must show that you are strong enough to stand up to its effects.

"Second, you will not be permitted to court or mate any kin for the space of the same moon."

[Sorrow] "Now," a lifting glance, back to Roman, her voice taut, her countenance stark, strained. "What is the next matter?"

[Roman Turner] "Now, the other issue. Milo contacted me in concern over Starla, she was injured. She implied it was Fire Claws and due to some thing she said to him."

He looked at Starla as he spoke.

"Your side first Starla. The entire story, including what ya said."

[Starla] This is where she grows irritated, a little scowl playing across her features at the mention of Milo. She keeps her voice low, fingers clenched together as Starla works the tension out that forms in the line of her jaw, teeth grinding. She clears her throat a little, "Fire Claws and I went to Chinatown for food, since he ain't ever had Chinese, I didn't think it would go bad. I wasn't paying attention to the moon. He was grouchy and hungry, we finally got to this small park and I set the food down. He was terse wit' his words, jus' wanted to eat. I set the food down in front of him, and asked him to sit. He shot back wit' some comment that he wasn't a dog..."

She wets her tongue with her lips, rubs her hands together, "To which I asked if I needed to start bringing a leash and collar, meaning for it to be a joke, and he went and flipped out on me. Next thing I knew, Fire Claws was on me, he grabbed me, picked me up and threw me down in the grass yelling at me to leave. I landed funny on my shoulder and injured it. He looked like he was about to frenzy, but managed to control himself."

Starla shakes her head, lowering her gaze, "I was scared, scared out of my fucking mind... I couldn't move even if I wanted to leave I was stiff, frozen in place. Fire Claws yelled at me to leave again or he'd kill me. Next thing he had his hands around my throat and was choking me..." she makes the impression of cupping her hands over her throat. "He didn't do it, something happened wit' him and he walked away... some woman came over to help me after he left..."

She shakes her head again, "This I know was my fault. I goaded him when I shouldn't have, was too stupid to not pay attention to what time of the moon it was. I ain't blaming him for what he done, that's all mine. I would've never told anybody about this if it weren't for Milo."

[Sorrow] Kora listens silently, dark eyes steady on the kinswoman as she speaks. When Starla is finished, she glances over at Fire Claws. "Now it's your turn, Fire Claws. Beginning to end."

[Fire Claws] Again the murk of memory seems to haze over what Fire Claws must search out to remember. Even though this even was much more recent and would most likely be recalled easier to many, it is just another part of the miasma of events that floats within the lupus mind. Much more difficult this is as scent is not so apparent to him, smells not like the other. He closes his eyes, hard and tight as he tries to recover the events that led to him bruising the kin. His eyes still closed he speaks.

"Dis 'appen unda Luna' half- face. Ma moon. Tension strong. Went ta eat wit Starla, sum place with strange smellin' food." He could not recall the exact name of the food anymore, it was all the same, this monkey food cooked and prepared with strange combinations of herbs and sauces and other foods. "Sat away from two-legs. Wanted food... she called mah dog. Wolf is no dog... not weak dog. Moon strong. Ever'tin red. Held back urge to kill. Barked. Warned 'er ta leave. Pushed 'er away. Hard. Starla fell... did not leave. Want'ed ta kill. 'eld back. Warn kin again, grabbed her neck to... in...inti..in... errr scare 'er ta go. Still dere. Sought Jarl' 'elp over link. Sorrow~Rhya council mah ta walk away... did so. Barely."

Unlike the first time however, this event seems to have shaken Fire-claws a little more. AS he spoke his fists tightened as he recalled the night, nearly drawing blood from his own palm each time he said the word 'warning.' His teeth grated down on themselves, nearly snarling even though his eyes did not open the whole time.

[Starla] Starla's head snaps up to pin her gaze on Fire Claws, she immediately unfurls her legs to drop her feet onto the ground, hands dropping to curl around the edges of the pew's bench, leaning forward to push off of it. She stands slowly, feet braced for a second, and then Starla is moving away from them.

She gives her back to the group, her arms drawn tightly to fold over her chest, a hand lifted to cover her mouth. She paces to put distance between herself and the Garou; a line of tension burns in the muscles of her back, making her shoulders hunch forward with stiffness and her spine rigid.

[Roman Turner] Starla moved and Roman spoke softly.

"Ya have something to add to that? I can seen the tension in your body. Or is it something else?"

[Sorrow] Roman inquires whether Starla has something to add; Kora listens, quietly to Fire Claws, then turns settles her dark eyes in the kinswoman. Quietly echoing Roman's question, wordlessly.

[Starla] Starla stops; she shakes her head at Roman's question, "Naw," she says back to him, "Ain't got nothing to add."

[Roman Turner] "Ok."

His gaze went to Sorrow, letting her have first words.

[Sorrow] "Starla, I would like to know why you took Fire Claws to eat Chinese food after your experience with him when he was drinking. Second, you said you would never have brought this forward but for Milo. Why is that?"

--

Then, the heavily pregnant Skald - still standing, though by now she has pulled her hands from the pockets of her sweatshirt and slipped them into the front pockets of her jeans. The straight line of her long arms frames the swell of her beach-ball stomach, elbows locked as the too-long, too-wide sleeves slide down her forearms.

"That's twice you've lost control, Fire Claws. How would you judge yourself?"

[Starla] She turns around to look at Kora, pulling her hand from her mouth, "This ain't the first time or the second time, or even the third time me and Fire Claws butt heads. He's snarled at me before on different occasions, the last time was the first time he got too close to losing control."

Starla shrugs, "Roman said not to coddle the Fenrir, I was jus' dumb enough to think maybe I could halp him to understand what humans were like, to halp him socialize better. I thought I had a better understanding of animals than I do people, but maybe him being a Garou tends to misconstrue my way of thinking. Hard to remember the wolf within when ya used to seeing the outer shell of a man. I can't understand why Fire Claws is here in the city if he hates humans so much, if'n he's gonna continue to carry such hate and anger, then why does he stay in the habit of the very thing that destroyed his life before coming here."

[Starla] (appends!!) "I would've jus' buried it and looked the other way."

[Starla] (habit = habitat)

[Sorrow] "It is not my place to judge you, Starla, as you are not my kin. But you would have done no one any favors by burying the incident and pretending it did not happen. Roman has the responsibility and the right to know what happens to you; and Fire Claws is my packmate and my tribe; a Forseti. I have the same responsibility for him. By ignoring the incident, burying it, you allow such weakness to fester.

"That is not the way of the Fenrir, nor is it what our totem expects of us. I know you are a kin. Perhaps you meant it as a kindness. It was no such thing."

[Roman Turner] He wasn't so thrilled with the animal understanding comment, but for the moment let that rest.

"So, trouble between the two of you has been more than the two times we are aware of?"

He sighed, continuing.

"You are not to be alone with Fire Claws. The two of you need to learn from this. I am not forbidding sharing time together, but with another present, preferably a Garou."

[Fire Claws] He does not look up when Starla stands to walk off, he does not need to know what the kin is doing. He looks at Sorrow and ponders what she asks of him. His words now triggered across the link, even as Starla is speaking. His link connects them and he answers his Jarl. There were two possible choices for such actions. Some more demading them others.

~Totemlink~
I have heard of two ways to punish someone. I have heard of those forced into a spiritual quest... to find the land of Unicorn's children and seek the skills of spirits of tranquility and calm for those that are beyond control. Some do not return from such a quest.... there is another punish I have seen.

He pauses as the thought crosses his mind, a punishment he has seen done at his home sept to embarrass another. But it was still a punishment done for the same reason.

~TL~
...I have seen a rite... known to rip the wolf from a true born. Make them without wolf. While without wolf, they are tested... omega to another. If they can learn to control themselves they are given the wolf back. If not they must endure the punishment until they have learned... or die gloriously and without honor.

[Starla] "Ya're right, I'm not a Get of Fenris, I never will be, nor will I ever hold up to their ideas or opinions as I will never understand them or what'cha determine is a weakness."

Starla looks to Roman, narrowing on him for a fraction of a second, she shakes her head at him, "This'll be the last time I will step into Fire Claws' presence, wit' or wit'out Garou. It's better I avoid him all together."

[Sorrow] There's the diminution of Kora's attention, again - that thinning glance as he delivers his recommendations very their shared spiritual connection. Once, her pale brows lift in twin arches over her dark, steady eyes. "When you lost control, Fire Claws, did you shift?"

[Roman Turner] "Never say never Starla. Fate has a way of making fools out of pledges like that."

He stepped towards her his words low.

"With that thought in mind, hear me now. If ya want Simon, if he wants ya, then he can man up and come show he values ya as much as your Tribe does, as much as I do. Until that time, you are not to see him."

[Fire Claws] His answer is quick. Simple

"No."

[Starla] "Bullshit."

She levels her gaze on Roman now, narrowing her eyes as she turns around, arms dropping from her chest to set her hands on her hips, "We're jus' sleeping together - we ain't involved in no relationship. I fuck him the same way I fucked Hunter. The same way I'll fuck any other man: Garou, kin or human. Ya're jus' pissed off because I am sleeping wit' him."

[Roman Turner] "This is my call Starla. Don't demean yourself this way. You can talk to him on the phone, tell him if he is interested, if he wants to challenge for ya, then do so. But the gravy train has stopped. Ya know our issue with him. Have some honor in this matter. Unless ya want to pay a visit back home?"

[Sorrow] "In this, I disagree with you, Fire Claws. Though you lost control, you had the presence of mind to stave off frenzy. As close as you came, you did not give in to the red wave. You will not lose your wolf.

"But you need to learn what it means to be kinfolk; to be two-legged; to live in the city. To that end, you will live for the next half-moon in your homid form. You will not shift. You will eat as a man, live as a man, and face threats as a man. As a kin.

"You will learn how vulnerable our kin are in the face of rage and tooth and claw, because you will live it. And at the end of the fortnight, you will travel to the Battleground realm, and you will find the battle you yourself created there - Fire Claws against Starla - and you will stand in her place; feel both her vulnerability and the paralyzing immediacy of her fear.

"In doing so, you yourself will learn to be strong. You will have to learn the control you require; not from unicorn's children, but from Fenris' own."

[Roman Turner] ((Ok,I have to be up in 5 hrs for work. If you want to continue Starla, let's schedule for it.))

[Starla] She snorts loudly, keeping a narrowed gaze on Roman, "Goodnight, Roman." The kin was done, she steps away from them, moves around the Garou to leave the Church.

[Fire Claws] He looks at Sorrow for a moment, wanting to say something. But holds his tongue on the matter. It was a compromise between the embarrassment that he has seen visited upon one at his home sept and what could have been. He did not like the idea of not having his fur to warm him, nor the claws and fangs to defend or kill as needed. It would not be an easy turn of Luna.

"Yeah Sorrow~ryha."

However it seemed fair. Would he feel fear at such an event? It is unlikely. He still had his rage, his ability to fight. He was not merely claw and teeth.

[Roman Turner] He called after her, following her out. "I"ll take that as ya want me to call home and make arrangements."

And they were gone.

[Roman Turner] ((Thanks guys, I have to sleep))

[Sorrow] There's a lacuna; a pause. The disagreement between Roman and Starla pulls them away from the center of the church, near the transept where the small group had gathered. Kora is still standing, though by now her back has begun to ache. The subtle throbbing that would never have settled into her muscles when she herself was able to shift forms; to allow her body to renew itself.

She glances up once, as Starla flounces out of the church, angry at her cousin's declaration about the limits of her autonomy. Then drops her gaze back to Fire Claws, finds the feral Garou's gaze on her, reads something of his desire to speak in the blunt expression on his feral features. Kora lifts her chin in a subtle upward sweep that settles into a faintly angled cant - the wolf inside her human skin evident in just that moment.

The corners of her generous mouth twist upward, not quiet a smile. Her teeth remind hidden behind her lips. Fire Claws will have to rely on the cues of his eyes as much as his nose in the coming nights. This is just the beginning.

"You look like you have something to say, Fire Claws." - she says, low-voiced, quiet. "What is it?"

[Fire Claws] He paused a moment more, wondering. His eyes turn back on his Jarl. Curious of what was said.

"Aye shal bare da burdin of dis punishment. Bu' mahbe Starla is rite... aye ave no love for da two-legged. Aye handl' wat aye ave too. But aye will not go out mah way to 'elp dem. Save dem. Kill wyrm yeah. But two-legs... dey brough dis on demselves. Nah kin no. But da rest. Aye cam ta kill wyrm... not ta be two-leg kind. Spent mah youth hatin' monkey, wary of two-leg 'fore change... afta change not much different."

[Sorrow] "Have you been up in the belltower?" Kora asks Fire Claws, a slicing, dark-eyed look follows as she lifts her chin toward the doors in the south western corner of the church. Linus barred the rest of the pack from the belltowers, preferring to tend to the ravens that were Hrafn's counterparts on this side himself.

He's gone now.
Kora misses him; an ache behind her breastbone.

His presence little more than peripheral, at the edges of the pack's consciousness these nights.

She pauses long enough for Fire Claws to say: yea or nay, then tells him to "C'mon," and starts off toward the belltower, that awkward human waddle defining her gait, her center of gravity offkilter, her weight too far forward; awkward for it, ungainly as any human woman in late pregnancy would be.

The stairs are worn from years of use, and there's a musty scent in the tower. Bird shit and feathers scattered about here and there. When they get close to the top, a handful of brooding birds take flight - an impression of black wings against the night sky. But just as she knew, there is a view here of the territory; squat and industrial, the city spread out beyond, the weaver's towers gleaming in the south, the office buildings, brilliant, reflective, glowering where they erupt against the horizon, the El tracks and elevated highways looped around the interior like veins and arteries, carrying the lightwaves of late night commuters into or away from nameless destinations. There is the lake to the east, flat and dark, water and sky merging together almost seamlessly at the horizon; and to the west, the city continues unbounded in its outward sprawl.

She's quiet for long minutes, encouraging him to look, to take in the view. At some point, she says, "Big fucking place, isn't it?" A supple twist of her mouth, lost in the shadows.

[Fire Claws] When Kora asks about the belltower it was obvious that he was never up there. Raven's own were tended there, kept by Bone~Writer for the time to ensure that Hrafan's children were tended in the physical as well as the spiritual. He did not venture onto the turf that the spirit talkers took as their own, not lightly. The spiritual ones of the true born tended to bend in strange manners that defied even the most abnormal of two-leg.

He furrowed his brow as she ascends, beckoning him to follow.

It was odd to watch a Jarl of the Get seem to waddle like a penguin in any manner. Even if they held the future of the tribe within their womb it was still something to see. A strange feeling to follow the demands of a leader who could not fight. But then again alpha wolves were central to a pack when they were with cub. Even if the territory was threatened bu another pack.

He does not say a word when offered to look out on the city from such a height. The city spread out further and further than one could image. Much farther than one could see from this level in the air. It was filled with buildings, cement and glass, steel and concrete, blacktop and iron. Where she saw a large city building to life he saw only one thing.

"Da scab seem neva endin'"

[Sorrow] "Pretty much," she says, low-voiced, looking out over the expanse as her attention swings back to the lupus. "And it's teeming with humans, yeah? Every little point of light is another one. Sometimes the Wyrm hides inside them. Sometimes it preys on them. Sometimes it strikes through them, and sometimes - " a supple curve of her mouth, mostly hidden in the shadows.

The reflection of the lights downtown casts a crawling band of light across her cheeks, highlighting the smooth line of her cheekbones, the plain of her temples sweeping up to a high, clear forehead. A half dozen refracted lights gleam across the surface of her eyes when she looks back to him. " - rarely, they fight back against it. If they, collectively, are the authors of anything, I think it's the Weaver's dominance, not the Wyrm's, yeah? But I think that they are the instruments rather than the authors, even then.

"If you were, say, hunting cougars in a forest full of deer and elk, though. Would you ignore the elk and deer? Or would you want to know their ways? How the herds move; how they startle. The noise the bucks make when they sense danger near. The way they stampede when the cougar strikes. All that?"

[Fire Claws] (Are you really that thick not to get the analogy?)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 1 (Botch x 2 at target 6)

[Fire Claws] He looks at her for a second with utter confusion over his face. He couldn't seem to match the words with the meaning by any possible way. He could only think of the situation as it was laid out.

"Wh'ja 'untin cougars?"

[Sorrow] "It's an analogy," she returns, with a quiet huff of an exhalation and a twist of her mouth. "One thing stands for another. In this case: cougars are the Wyrm, the forest is the city, and the deer and elk are humans. You see? If you want to hunt the Wyrm in this habitat - if you want to successfully hunt the wyrm, systematically.

"To track down the big threats to the Caern and the territory on this side and the other - you have to know how the animals in the forest move. How they react. How they look when they are sick, how they look when well. When they will stampede; when they will charge; when they will die."

[Fire Claws] He looked at his Jarl for a moment and then looked out on the city once more. His mind still running with the idea of hunting. His mind trying to put together what was being said. He didn't understand it, how could he.

"In da woods... ya 'unt da elk and da deer. Whe' ya com across dat cougars... yeah deal wit dem. But ya still hunt da elk and deer."

[Sorrow] "I didn't say it was a perfect analogy. Yeah?" She says, shaking her head. "Pretend the cougars are tainted; you aren't hunting for meat and food; you're hunting them as if you would wyrm. Do you understand now?"

[Fire Claws] The wolf born seem intend on just watching the city for the moment, watching the cars move down the streets and avenues that dictate each pathway through the maze of the scab, he watches as lights go out here and there as the city is becoming more and more sleepy. He watches and ponders what he would do if he were hunting wyrm. These humans were instruments of the wyrm.

"Aye see"

He watched the city as the two-legs slept and he pondered what new horrors the wyrm would use them for. What torments Gaia would suffer due to these instruments.

"Ya watch the prey to betta undastand da otha predators."

[Sorrow] "Exactly," Kora returns, a quiet, sweeping look back out to the city. A supple note of approval in her eyes and voice. "You have to take the time to understand them if you want to hunt effectively among them.

"If you just want to through yourself forward into glory," a twist of her shoulders, narrow for her tall frame, swallowed by the fabric of her sweatshirt. " - well, there are a half-hundred deadly battles within reach, yeah? But you want more than that, I think. You don't just want to kill Wyrm, you want to do so effectively. It's what Hermodr expects of us, too.

"You can't kill all of them; and underneath, some of them are more on our side than the Unmaker's. Not enough, to be sure. But some." Then she cuts a glance away from the horizon, dark eyes settling on Fire Claws. "I'm not suggesting that you go out of your way to protect them, mind you. On some level, it they need protection - if they've seen some manifestation of the Wyrm, or a Garou in warform, they are already compromised. Broken. Bleeding, and you have to root them out for their own good, or kill them to protect the veil."

Pitiless in this, the Skald.

"But your hate is wasted on them; this is their habitat, and to hunt here, you have to know how they move."

[Jackson Montgomery] "Jesus." He chews on his lower lip. "You okay?"

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "It could have been much worse for me. Father...." She glances up, then back down. He knows as well as she does what kind of influence the man has.

[Jackson Montgomery] "...was pretty pissed, I imagine." He reaches out and settles his hand over hers.

"I'm sorry."

[Roman Turner] Overcast with the feel of possible rain in the air, warm enough to go without a jacket today. Chestnut hair blew back from a youthful face, settling in a ruffled mess as he shouldered open the door of the little cafe to enter a world of smells. He didn't seem to notice anyone or thing as he headed for the counter, finger combing hair out of his eyes. Except for the stiff new jeans, he looked like any other kid in the city. Those jeans and blue tee that stretched across his shoulders. The only odd thing was the click of boot heels as he walked up to place an order while reaching to a back pocket for his wallet.

"I'd like one of them iced coffee things."

[Bronwyn Montgomery] She snorts quietly. "What are you sorry for? I'm the one that made the choice."

[Rain McKellar] It's a little cafe in the middle of Lake View, which is not the usual sort of place that the Family rounded up by chance, by accident, happenstance -- call it what you will -- but there's a young man with a pleasant accent at the counter, and a pair of siblings at a window table, and a songbird rocking down the street. They're converging, the Unicorns, and not for a war council or a dressing down.

Jackson catches Rain's attention as she passes the window. It's warm enough that her taupe raincoat hangs open, and the shirt beneath is a dark, alligator-green. Jeans. Shoes that keep out the puddle-wet. No scarf. No annoyingly cheerful hat. A messenger bag that's still becoming familiar rather than seeming old hat. The smile she's sporting, though, is pleasantly cheerful. She taps on the glass, waves to the siblings, and then heads down a bit to push in through the front door, bringing the smell of rain-wet pavement and the city sounds in with her.

Rain sidles up beside Roman, bumps him with her shoulder, glances over out of the corner of her eye and grins a "Hey, there." Like everything was right in the world and the last time they'd spoken hadn't been quarreling at all.

"Can I get a mocha, please?" she asks, when it's her turn to order.

[Jackson Montgomery] He looks chastised by Bronwyn and pulls his hand back, looking away. That allows him to see Roman and Rain, and his back straightens. "Family, six o' clock," he says quietly to his sister as he puts on a friendly smile for the two, waving.

[Roman Turner] It was a glance over to Rain and a pleasant enough smile that shown for the moment as he replied in a voice most here called an accent. To him, he didn't hear the twang, didn't here the drawn out syllables.

"Howdy Rain. Nice day, ain't it? I think Spring done decided to come 'round."

Somewhere in the back of his head he noticed he'd outgrown the woman in the past year.

"I've got her's too."

Given to the server as he counted out a few more bills before taking his drink and turning towards the room in general.

"Well lookie here. There's Jackson with......someone."

A gaze the shade of faded denim fixed on Brownyn like sighting down a barrel before firing.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] The change is nearly unnerving in it's speed and completeness. The Prom Queen makes her appearance as easily as a switch going off, and the woman's posture changes to something regal, and any trace of worry is snuffed from her eyes.

Her gaze follows where Jackson indicated, and she recognizes his small friend from the other day. It's Roman that gets her attention though, and he seems to be taken in and sized up in one quick glance.

So this is the child that she'll be answering to. Roman is given one of her camera ready smiles that means nothing but certainly seems friendly to anyone looking on. She's able to speak through it from years of practice, low enough so that her words can't reach beyond Jackson.

"Father's sense of cruelty runs deeper than I'd realized."

[Rain McKellar] "I think so," she agrees, still smiling broadly. Warmly. "And thank you," she adds, when he picks up her coffee. It's not quite warm enough yet for Rain to ask for hers iced, so when it comes she wraps her fingers around the mug to let the warmth seep in.

She casts her attention toward the table of Montgomeries, and then back to Roman. "Mmm, that's Bronwyn. His sister, very good at the whole watching and judging thing. I take you've not met yet, right? Y'wanna go say hi?" she asks, giving him the option to beg out of formal introductions in a sleepy cafe but still tipping her head in that direction, making it obvious that she was perfectly happy with heading on over.

[Jackson Montgomery] "That's Roman. Tribe Elder."

He keeps the words quiet too. Family trait. "What'd he do?"

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "Do you think for a second that he didn't know who our elder was before he agreed to let me come here?"

[Roman Turner] "How long she been here?"

No one had mentioned another Goggie in town, there'd been no word of introduction at the Caern. Maybe it was a casual visit without the formalities of letting the Sept know she was passing through? As soon as he asked Rain the question, he grunted.

"Yep, sure do."

He stepped towards the sibling's table like a large cat stalking through the grass. Roman moved with a natural grace despite those boots of his and those stiff Wranglers that belonged in a Rodeo.

"Well howdy Jackson. Rain her tells me this here is your sister."

[Bronwyn Montgomery] This is her hell.

The smile is turned up, hair tossed just so. She is, at least outwardly, completely composed. A hand is offered, palm down as if there is a clear expectation of social deference.

"Roman, is it? What a pleasure to meet you. Bronwyn Montgomery."

[Jackson Montgomery] He opens his mouth to say hi, and then Bronwyn speaks up and Jackson just gives a smile in greeting to the Ragabash.

[Rain McKellar] How long she been here?

"Couple days," Rain says; she's not exactly sure, but she makes it sound very nonchalant and easy. There's a roll of her shoulder, too, to emphasize that it wasn't really the crux of her conversation with the siblings earlier in the week.

Then they're walking toward the table. Or Rain is. She saunters. She's happy. Roman stalks. Rain notices this and curls her mouth into a patiently amused smirk. She approaches Jackson's side of the table. Rests a hand on the blade of his shoulder to say hello when she gets there. Offers him a warm and effusive smile and then glances at a free seat at their table, as if asking for permission.

[Roman Turner] At 17, his carriage was one of Rank. Posture said sit up and take notice at the moment despite the face he'd taken to dressing somewhat like the locals today. Something had changed with Roman since the last time Jackson had seen him. He looked the same, perhaps a little taller, a little fuller. There were the same mottled finger-like scars reaching up from the neck of his shirt along his neck towards his jaw. Same blue-gray eyes as before. The change was something more profound, an added depth to the look he gave.

He took the offered hand, turning it to a straight out arm pumping shake.

"Howdy Bronwyn. Ya doing a short visit or ya planning on joining the party and staying a spell? I ain't heard tell ya arrived."

[Roman Turner] ((Please excuse typos, typing with a splinted hand))

[Jackson Montgomery] "She just arrived a couple days ago," he says, looking to Roman. He gives a little smile. "Gotta give her a little bit of a grace period, right?"

[Bronwyn Montgomery] Something about how he says her name grates on her, almost as much as the manhandling of her hand into some kind of cowboy handshake. This is her Elder though, so she resists the urge to wipe her hand with a napkin when it's released.

"I hadn't decided yet. Though I'd certainly be open to discussing why it may be beneficial to stay." Beneficial for who isn't quite implied.

[Rain McKellar] Her glance toward the chair had not been followed by a nod from her kinsman, or anyone pushing it out with their foot, no outward indication that Rain was welcome to intrude on the family tete-a-tete, so she stays a bit to the side and just a hair behind Jackson's chair, sips at her mocha, and waits out the introductions with as easy a posture as she can maintain.

Maybe to passersby or other patrons, they're just one pair of friends happening upon another, bunching up for a moment to catch up and destined to separate soon and head out on their own paths.

[Roman Turner] "I ain't here to play recruited. Either ya know your manners or ya don't. Or ya know them and prefer to ignore your upbringing. Ain't my cause. If ya plan to stick around, best make yourself known. I reckon ya staying with your brother? If not and ya need a place to stay, I can offer a few."

His smile was as pleasant as they came, coating the firm undertones. He wasn't missing the Fang-like attitude.

[Jackson Montgomery] He blinks, frowning. Roman's tone is a complete 180 from what Jackson's seen from him before, and it clearly catches him off-guard. He straightens a little bit, going quiet.

[Rain McKellar] Jackson straightens a little bit, and Rain glances to him, then down. She adjusts her stance so she'd be in the other kin's line of sight, easily within distance to incidentally reach over and make contact, but doesn't assume he needs that either. Both kin are quiet; Rain's infectious grin is absent, tamped down to a respectfully hesitant smile that lifts only the corners of her mouth.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "I am well aware of my obligations" There's the patient tone that she took with Jackson before, designed to make the recipient feel as if a line has been crossed.

"It seems as if perhaps you were not made privy to my arrival, for whatever reason." A shortcoming, perhaps. Certainly not hers.

She stands, as if what she's saying now is only a formality to a course of action already decided on. "Perhaps we should step outside for a moment, where we can speak privately"

[Roman Turner] He waved towards the door, indicating she should lead the way. Then turned a smile on Jackson and Rain that was a little more heart-felt.

"Y'all welcome to step outside if ya want with us."

To Bronwyn he said.

"Lead on. I imagine when ya checked in somewhere it weren't with them that would pass word. Happens all the times, I'm right sure."

[Roman Turner] (howdy)
to Kora

[Bronwyn Montgomery] And lead she does, striding to the door with another flip of her hair. It pushes open and she moves into the sunshine of early spring which contrasts with her darkening expression.

[Jackson Montgomery] He takes a breath and then looks at Rain. A little nod is given, as if in confirmation of something, and he rises to go follow them.

[Kora] (hey! :) )
to Roman Turner

[Rain McKellar] Rain cuts a quick look from Roman to Jackson at that invitation. If the other kin shows any indication of rising, she'll set her mocha down on the table and head out with them. She makes sure to catch a server's attention before they all wander out, though.

"We'll be right back," she says. "Please don't clear the table."

Then the songbird heads out, hands in pockets, to stand beside Jackson and witness the formalities.

[Kora] dude, when did Roman get so RUDE. o.o heh.
to Rain McKellar

[Rain McKellar] I know, right?
Rain wasn't fibbing! He's been insufferable lately.
to Kora

[Roman Turner] The sun came and went today. Extreme thunderstorms were in the forecast for tonight and tomorrow with scattered showers throughout the day today. For a moment the sun came out to touch Bronwyn, even as Roman went towards the shadows, stepping between buildings before turning to face her.

"Now, I reckon ya checked in with the Sept since ya say ya aware of your obligations. I reckon someone done told ya they'd let me know and told ya about me. In case that was missed. I'm Roman Turner. Fate to the Nation. Fostern of your Tribe and ironic as it seems. " Here there was a wry little twist of his lips. "Tribal Elder here in this city. I know for some of greater years it might be hard to believe, but sure enough, I done earned my rank the hard way like everyone else. In case ya didn't hear, I'm also a New Moon. Now..."

The grin returned, crinkling his eyes at the corners.

"...your turn."

[Bronwyn Montgomery] Her fiery, fiery hell.

The girls on the Miss America stage have nothing on how she stands just so, smiles just so, answers just so...

"Bronwyn Montgomery, known as Sees the Soul by deed, daughter of Fist of Stone, sister to Dove's Wrath. And Jackson, of course." Her eyes flicker to her brother, then back to Roman. "Half moon."

[Kora] There's a bookstore across the street. Small, the windows cramped full of old volumes. It's warmer today, and though there's no sun on this side of the street - not precisely, not at the moment, just a watery spring light - the windows gleam with that light, murky, reflected back toward the street.

The front door swings open, a tinny note from the bell hanging from the frame merges with the ambient street noise, and a quite pregnant young woman walks out. That's the most prominent thing about her from a distance. She pauses on the stoop, holding the door open for a stranger heading in who is no longer sure he wants that leather-bound volume of Byron he saw in the window.

These things just are.
He's not sure why.

A small bag dangles from her index finger, the contents slap against her thigh as she slides her hands into the front pockets of worn jeans. the waistband below the swell of her stomach. Pale hair gleams against the shadows of this side of the street as she steps down from the stoop, watching the Children of Gaia exit coffee shop in a line.

She thinks, absurdly, of ducklings.

[Roman Turner] "Ah, well then, and your rank I can guess at, even though ya done seemed ta forget it. As a Judge, ya should be able to tell what I say is truth. Right? Well, maybe."

He was after all a Ragabash with could muddy the lines of truth and misdirection. Kora he felt, on the edge of his mind he felt her nearness and knew she'd either join them or not. Lately she'd been crankier than two cats tied together ta the tail.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "I have not forgotten it." It's just a sore point. A raw wound, ripped open twice this afternoon.

[Rain McKellar] The last little duckling in the row is the shortest. She is the only one without blood that sings. From a distance, she is the least likely to grown up into an elegant swan -- unless the book Kora has purchased is a child's tale, a parable about the Ugliest things and the Beauty they hold.

But Rain is also the one least invested in the goings on. She's the one freed to look up and around, to subtly take in their surroundings, to be watchful of how their presence pushes the tides of pedestrians astray. On one side of the street was this caucus of Rage. On the other, the Skald.

It's a subtle thing, slight enough to not interfere with the proceedings at hand. Rain's chin lifts in greeting, her attention is momentarily closer to the bookstore than here. It holds, longer than is just coincidental, and then she turns back to the duck pond, and the Ragabashery, and the tension.

[Roman Turner] "No? Hmm, just must of forgotten to mention it in your introduction there. No problem."

He touched the base he wanted to with those words and moved on as if it mattered not.

"I guess ya know Rain. And I gotta tell ya, Jackson your brother is a fine fella. I'd do near anything for him. If ya not staying with him, I'd welcome ya to stay a bit with myself and my Pack if ya need a place to sleep. Ain't much and we're a mixed bunch. Got us a Fenrir Jarl as our Alpha and we even got a Fianna in the mix. Offer stands."

[Jackson Montgomery] He stands nearby, frowning as he crosses his arms over his chest. He has a touch more of that same demeanor that Bronwyn's carrying about him now that he normally does...touches of Silver Fang-esque in the otherwise Gaian attitude.

He looks about to speak up at one point, when Roman lays out what should have happened, but the conversation moves quickly along and he stays quiet.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] The irritation over the reprimand is tempered by a flood of relief. Her secret, it would seem, is safe within the elders of the tribe.

"I am indeed staying with Jackson, yes. Thank you though. I appreciate the offer, and will certainly keep it in mind should circumstances change."

[Rain McKellar] Rain fidgets with her phone in her pocket, and makes sure not to elevate her line of sight to be dangerously close to making eye contact with either True. Her stance looks casual enough to the casual observer, but the lines of her shoulders, mouth and eyes are tight.

[Roman Turner] "Fine and dandy. Ya should know things are dangerous in the city here. The Sept is at war and lately things done gotten a bit more active. Find someone what can tolerate ya, someone ya fit with and consider packing up with them. There's none of us meant to be lone wolf."

Now he looked towards Jackson and Rain again.

"Bring her by the church some day and we'll grill out some thing."

Formalities were over it seemed and he was finished here.

"Y'all take care."

[Kora] Certainly out of earshot, there across the street. More to the point, there's nothing to mark her as Fenrir or Garou to Bronwyn from such a distance. No breeding, no fine blood. No obvious war axes. No battle braids. Nothing except for the steadiness of her regard from a distance. The way crowds shift to move around her.

When the last little duckling in the row lifts her chin by way of greeting, the pregnant blonde returns it just as subtly; a canting sweep of her head, wolf life, enough to shift the weight of pale blond hair coiled at the nape of her neck. Then she takes a long step between the cars, enough to clear the current of runoff running gleaming through the stormsewer, floating with all manner of detritus.

She glances both ways, and starts across the street. No matter how long her legs, there's still that pregnant woman waddle to her gait.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] Done and done. She doesn't volunteer this though, of course.

"It was so nice to meet you." She can't force her tongue to add the Rhya at the end. It will take some time for her to swallow the bitter pill, and accept the boy as who he is.

[Kora] mind you, he wasn't that bad in the end. hah.
to Rain McKellar

[Rain McKellar] Rain glances up when their Elder's attention is brought to bear on his kinfolk again, her chin tips up most of the way but she's still glancing at least partly through her eyelashes at him. It's one part submission, and another part being unused to his newfound height.

Rain's thinner smile flexes, warms a little, and she nods in assent to his request. They'll get together. They'll grill something. (Hopefully not something the Fenrir just killed and dragged in.) The way her mouth bends indicates she thinks this is a good, or at least passingly positive, idea.

But the tension doesn't recant, not yet. And it takes a moment for her to find her voice and chime out a mostly-pleasant, nowhere near as sunny, "Bye, Roman" before he leaves.

[Jackson Montgomery] He puts on a polite smile for Roman and nods. It's polite, but perhaps not quite as warm as it has been previously. It could be that there's something about those in charge acting like it that hits his past and creates distance, or the fact that their association has simply been more informal. Maybe it's just because of the tension that immediately sprung up between Roman and his sister. For whatever reason, he is absolutely polite and even a little friendly, but somethings just a bit faded.

"Have a good Saturday, Rhya. I'll talk to you later."

[Janis Ian] The Rotagar appears in the doorway, exiting the cafe that the Gaians circle around. Her hips nudges the door open, hand on the bar as she pushes it halfway, sidestepping with the preternatural grace of a predator. Her head angling slightly to sniff at the wind, she blinks, brown eyes cutting across the faces that born recognition. The door shuts quietly behind her, she raises a hand to touch her temple, tilting a two-fingered salute to Rain in greeting as she passes the Coggie kin.

A small bag rustles in her other hand, some bakery goodies inside wrapped in wax paper. She doesn't stay to linger and make conversation, leaving Roman's kin to themselves. Janis slipping off to chase Roman's shadow, and to move off towards the blond Skald she defers to as Alpha.

[Roman Turner] He chuckled with a glance back at Bronwyn just before stepping out of the alley to go meet Kora.

"Chaffs a bit, don't it?"

A full smile was given to both Rain and Jackson, adding to Jackson.

"I'm still Roman, Jackson, though your politeness was appreciated. Y'all take care."

He slowed when he became aware of Janis, waiting for her to fall in step with him as they went to intercept Kora.

"Howdy Janis."

[Bronwyn Montgomery] He has no idea.

She can and will challenge though, the very moment she gets her rank back. For now though, she turns her attention back to her brother, who no doubt understands the situation far better than he would have an hour ago.

"Shall we go back inside and eat? Rain, will you be joining us dear?"

[Janis Ian] "Afternoon, Roman." the rumble of her brogue carries a vague cheerfulness that is often lost on Janis, the corners of her lips twitching into a half-grin that reflects a grinning moon. She slides her head to the side, looks back once again at the Gaians that they are leaving behind, and says nothing about them.

She easily keeps a pace or two behind and to the side of Roman, following the Gaian as his shadow would. She swings her eyes back to Kora, gaze scrutinizing, red furrowing inward slightly to crease the smooth skin of her forehead.

[Rain McKellar] Janis, too, gets a lift of her chin in greeting as the Rotagar passes. It seems to be the safest show of comraderie with the non-Gaian packmates and the Fenrir that inhabit the church. Except Melody. One should always run, at the soonest opportunity, from Melody.

"I asked them to hold your table," Rain says, to Bronwyn, with a smile that is still just a little constrained. The kinswoman understands the tension of the last few minutes, if not the whole of its underpinning reasons. "So they shouldn't have cleared it."

Isn't she just the most helpful little thing?

Rain's glance slides past Bronwyn for a moment, as if verifying that the Ragabash did indeed head away from the cafe and not mysteriously sneak back into it.

"I'd like that," she answers, to the invitation. "If you two don't mind, that is. I'm sure you've got plenty to catch up on." Incrementally that warmth is coming back. It's effusive, infectious, and unlike the Prom Queen Grin, it's wholly genuine.

[Jackson Montgomery] Roman tells Jackson that it's okay to still call him Roman. Whether that ship has sailed or not though, time will tell. He nods to the man as he departs, then looks back to Bronwyn and leans against her a bit.

"Yeah, let's go in." He looks at Rain and smiles. It's an easier smile now. "C'mon. You know I don't mind."

[Kora] Once she gains the sidewalk, Kora starts walking in the direction her packmates are taking. She's a good ten feet ahead, but her pace is slower than that taken by the pair of no-moons. In odd moments, she catches a glimpse of herself reflected in the glass of some shop window - as now, when she cuts a glance back over her shoulder, not to gauge their presence (Roman she can feel), but simply to place them in context of the street, or perhaps to watch the strange Garou with that enduring steadiness that characterizes her. Dark eyes in a pale face, a levelness in the daylight few can match.

Soon enough, her direct line of sight is interrupted not by strangers, but by the no-moons. Strangers would never come that close to her, even when she is bathed in bright sun, the clean, sharp lines of her features softened by the weight of pregnancy, her generous mouth neutral - which means, still somehow curved: the Mona Lisa's subtle smile, that.

"New blood?" quietly, to Roman as he and Janis gain her side. The look drops away from the Children of Gaia, then. She turns and continues walking past the coffee shop.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "Of course not, Rain." She likely doesn't mean it to sound as condescending as it comes out, and she gestures for Jackson to open the door.

[Rain McKellar] Bronwyn probably doesn't mean it as condescendingly as it comes out, and if she can hear the note in her own voice it may surprise her that the kinfolk has little to no reaction to it.

She waits until the siblings have headed in to follow behind them, unless Jackson insists on holding the door for her. She waits until they've reclaimed their seats, shrugging out of her coat and slinging the messenger bag across the back of a free chair before settling in and drawing her coffee toward her, almost like a talisman against the tension.

"Um, so that's Roman..." she says, into the awkwardness at the table. It makes no apologies, excuses or judgments. Just a and that's our Cousin. Rain sips at her mocha; it's a more tolerable temperature now.

[Roman Turner] "Yep, one that ain't been to the Caern or made herself known to the Sept I reckon. Ain't heard word through channels about her and that's her duty, though she seems to think everyone should know about her for some reason."

He shrugged, a faint lifting of one tee shirt covered shoulder and changed the subject.

"How ya feeling today?"

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "He seems lovely." She is a society girl, and things that are displeasing are always lovely.

She sips at her plain iced tea, watching Jackson more than Rain now.

[Janis Ian] Janis tips her head down in a slight dip to Kora, her long gait slowing down instantly, shifting to move away from Roman and more towards Kora, flanking the other side that Roman does not stand on. She shifts the small bakery back in her hand, fingers now curling around the thin paper handle.

She still bears no connection to their totem, a prospective member, so she takes her queues visually; her eyes watching Kora and Roman as they speak.

[Janis Ian] (back = bag)

[Roman Turner] "Her name was Bronwyn and seems she's Jackson's older sister. Well..."

He frowned slightly.

"...Maybe older? Looked and acted older. Hard to tell with the bitterness seeping from her. Bless her heart."

A term used to cover anything from Damn that is one ugly baby. to You smell like you bathe in skunk piss. It was used to cancel out anything that might be taken negative.

[Jackson Montgomery] "He seems like he's been replaced with a pod person." He frowns, taking a seat again. "I don't remember him having laid out any ways of making it public how he wanted introductions handled. Hell, when I was looking into other places, some of our family in other cities didn't even care if you stopped by to say hello to them for a couple weeks. He should lay that stuff out in an official capacity so things like this don't happen more. I don't think people know what to expect in the transition from his predecessor to him."

He sighs and picks up his coffee and takes a sip. "Sorry. I'm...in a mood, I guess. Ignore me."

[Kora] Roman asks how a Fenrir is feeling; that earns him a look - dark eyed, direct, accompanied by a wry twist of her mouth. It is a look that says: really, you are asking how a Fenrir is feeling. and is accompanied by an expressive lift of pale brows above her steady gaze. She flickers that look briefly toward Janis. Solidarity, maybe. Or this is what packing with Coggies gets you. There's a quiet affection touching the wryness.

At least he hadn't tried to hug her.
This, as they say, is progress.

"I think that's par for the course," says Kora quietly, hands still in her pockets, walking. "Maybe it's an urrah thing. Those Walkers would probably only get pissed if she was using their wifi without permission." She neatly sidesteps the question about how she's feeling, then. "Talked to Lukas last night, though. About the work on the docks, yeah? I think the doc's going to get the kin together. Until they have a plan, though, he wants you to hold off on any further monkeywrenching."

[Rain McKellar] She glances between the siblings, rolling her fingertips against the side of her mug in a steady tapping cadence. This a moment of consideration, thinking, and then Rain shrugs and keeps her comments noncomittal.

"Well, at least you can find him. I never did meet Lila before she went..."

There's nothing defensive in the words; Rain isn't overly pleased about the show of politics or dominion. She sips at her mocha again and leans over to nudge Jackson a bit with her elbow.

"An' I don't mind your moods. We're artists, remember?" she says, lilting the word, infusing it with a wry self-aware humor as if it would absolve them of their highs and lows and render them merely mortal somehow. "We're supposed to be moody."

She quirks a grin to Bronwyn, too, to let the Philodox know this much is in jest.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "I had assumed that when Father made the arrangements, he had alerted all parties, not simply Mr, Haynes' contemporary in the city."

She had assumed that a lot of information would be passed on, though this seems to not be the case.

"It is my fault for waiting to be sought out when they were ready for me."

[Roman Turner] He was Ragabash. It was like breathing for him to stir shit, to test folks by needling any way he could. It was also in his nature to lie like there was no tomorrow. Like when he said someone looked good in something he thought was ugly as something the dog barfed up. Kora mentions monkeywrenching and he just fell in with.

"Don't mention it. Done."

With a vague wave of his hand. He was still thinking about how he'd tested Jackson's sister and the interaction that had brought. Interesting enough to keep that vague look on his face.

[Janis Ian] "No monkey wrenching, hmm..." it seems she had missed out on whatever fun Roman was having with the construction site. She shares a brief glance with Kora, arching a red eyebrow at the pregnant Skald, and then frowns gently. Her gaze dropping to the other's belly with a hidden expression of concern. She may have wanted to ask the same question as Roman, but she doesn't, less Kora school her the same way as she did him.

"Since we can't really do any retaliation against them fer the moment, did ye 'ave a mind to watch'em, keep an eye on'em?"

[the fuzz] [*looks forlorn* ]

[Jackson Montgomery] He frowns when Bronwyn takes the blame, but lets it go. Rain's comment draws a grin from him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I can be moody if I damn well want to. Thanks for the license to do so." He winks at her, his good humor returning a fair amount. Easy to frustrate, easy to relax. That's the way of the Gaian film student.

[Rain McKellar] Things seem to be coming back to an equilibrium fairly quickly. Jackson is relaxing, which puts Rain a bit more at ease. Bronwyn isn't carrying her frustrations forward -- whether that's because she's over it, or because she's plotting someone's inevitable undoing remains to be seen -- so Rain's happy to let whatever misgivings she has go, too.

"So, ah, what were you two up to before we dropped in on you?" she asks, trying to gently right the conversation to something lighter, she hoped. And Rain quietly takes responsibility for Roman wandering over, in that statement, subtly and indirectly, in case Bronwyn needed a target for her remaining ire.

A ready scapegoat; Rain could be that.

[Nash] Don't ask what he's doing in this part of town. It's a nice day for a drive, or a walk, or a bike ride, and tens of thousands of people are out doing just that today, taking advantage of the warm weather despite the fact that there isn't much in the way of brilliant sunlight. It isn't stopping people from wearing shorts and sandals, the youth from allowing their jeans to hang down around the backs of their thighs as gravity combines with lack of common sense.

Nash comes walking out of the distance, his long hair and wiry build identifying him to those who know him already, his breeding to those who don't; to both groups, his drawling admonition to one skateboarding kid who nearly bowls into him is more than audible.

"Learn how to drive, Short Round!" he hollers, goodnatured despite the decibel level of his advice, and waits for a break in traffic before he scoots across the street. It's well into the sixties and he's still wearing boots and dark jeans and a button-down shirt with long sleeves.

He's from Alabama. This still qualifies as Fucking Cold.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "Just getting lunch." She reaches across the table to rest her fingers on Jackson's hand for a moment before giving Rain her full attention.

Attention that is without any malice, despite the irritation that's clear in her eyes. "I'm glad that you dropped in. We can get to know each other better.

[Rain McKellar] "Uhoh, Miss Bronwyn," Rain says, leaning back a bit in her chair and holding her hands up playfully with mock concern. "With a smile like that, them's fightin' words," she teases, trying to help lighten the mood at the table a bit.

The songbird's smile shifts to something sideways canted, amused and unafraid despite her apparent protests. It only takes a moment before her hands come down again, and Rain settles a bit more.

"What is it you want to know?" she asks, either baiting the Philodox or falling right in step with her plans.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Mental note: When you work from home, turn your work-related messengers to invisible. It makes your off-time much more off.]]

He smiles at the touch from Bronwyn, moreso when she's talking with Rain. He's staying quiet for the moment, sipping his coffee and letting the two get to know each other a bit.

[Kora] Janis glances at Kora's stomach; the Skald either fails to notice or deliberately ignores the hidden concern. The solicitousness makes her shoulders stiffen, though mostly she swallows back the underlying defensiveness such questions flare in her; the spark of instinct. Of lupine dominance and submission. Her generous mouth pulls briefly flat across her teeth but she makes no show of them, and the expression soon settles back into a natural curve.

"Hard not to keep an eye on them, since they're on our doorstep." Kora's voice is low; but there's a subdued anger beneath it. The first touch of passion. How many has she buried, there, in the sandy, sodden soil under the flat, bare sky at the lake's edge.

It's nearly a year.
She never forgets.

"Right now," she returns, glancing across at the pair of them. "We're letting the kin take the lead. See if there's some pull they can bring to bear, some pressure that'll get this resolved. I'd like you to go to whatever meeting the doc gets organized, though," this to Roman first, a touch of her dark eyes on the no-moon's face. "Could be there are ways that you could give the kin a hand, I'm not sure. Seems a natural pairing, though."

Kora sees Nash from a distance. Raises her hand by way of greeting. The sun glazes her pale hair with light and there's no mistaking her. Not pregnant like that. Not by a long shot.

Then she looks back to Janis. They're walking, more slowly than most. "That's a good point, though," thoughtful. Musing, the irritation pulled out of her by the thoughtfulness. "Would be wise at this point to have an organized watch on them, day and night. Hidden, yeah? but 24-7. Log their comings and goings, their suppliers. See who comes at three a.m. and who comes at broad daylight. Get to know the rhythm of the shifts, all that.

"You two should get the other no-moons together, look into setting up that sort of hidden surveillance. Get volunteers, take shifts. Keep a log that you can give to the kin. The more we know, the better off we are."

[Bronwyn Montgomery] "What made you decide to become a musician?" It's a loaded question, and she well knows it.

[Rain McKellar] It's a loaded question, but certainly not an unfamiliar one. Rain sits back in her chair, rests her fingertips on the edge of the table. She isn't afraid to look up at the Philodox, but she certainly doesn't make eye contact. Someone has trained this kinswoman to be cautious. Very careful.

"It's one of the first things I was good at," Rain explains, her voice slipping into the easy, low cadence of storytelling. Had Gaia marked her differently, it's possible the girl would have made a striking Galliard. As it is, her voice is unaided by Breeding; it's naked, its strength is clear on its own. "And it gave me a good way out of a bad place.

"I started playing as a kid. My brother and I learned guitar together, shared the same six-string, but he didn't really have the heart for it or the ear. After a while that guitar was just mine. A little while longer and I left home with it."

She smiles.

"I just never stopped playing, or singing, or making what I could from it, y'know?"

[Jackson Montgomery] He smiles and nods at Rain's words. It's probably easy for Bronwyn to see where the friendship between her brother and the songbird grew...they got into their arts in somewhat similar ways, and they're of similar temperaments. Rain may come from a deeply different background than the Montgomeries, and he's certainly more casual and a bit less stuck-up than he was at home as a result, but at their core, they're very similar.

[Roman Turner] "I'll get in touch with the doctor."

His attention had drifted towards the on coming Nash when Kora lifted her hand towards him. For just a second Roman stepped in close enough to ask low voiced of Kora. "Ya know him?" Then the space between them was back. She'd been so damned cranky lately she might as well have a force field around her. Every night he prayed the child would be healthy and he prayed just is hard that it would soon be over with, the sooner the better. Calls home had told him that it wasn't going to get better till after the child came and sometimes it even got worse then. Like a blessing and cursed mixed, talk about unfair jokes.

"Between Janis and I, we should be able to reach some of the other New Moons and see what we can do."

[Janis Ian] "I don't mind speaking to the other no moons whilst Roman tends the meetings, we can keep in touch as we go, there isn't I'm doing at the moment 'sides patrols."

It was a good point, to keep track of the comings and goings. They could figure out watch the workers to see what they did and how close to the caern they were treading. She wrinkles up her nose, pulls the little bag of bakery goods up, opening it as she peers down into the bag, a hand dipping inside to part the wax paper and peers down at the donut holes inside.

"There needs to be a new No Moon Elder. Joey is gone bye-bye." she extends the bag out to Kora first to see if she wanted any, and then to Roman.

[Bronwyn Montgomery] That friendship is what saves the girl. Normally, she would have torn into her by now, questioning the decision, asking if there isn't something more useful that she could be doing with her time.

None of this comes forward though. Instead she just nods, and sips at her tea. "That's nice for you."

[Roman Turner] He slipped a hand in to the offered bag, snagging a doughnut hole which he popped in his mouth to talk around as he chewed.

"Folk seem to come and go like the weather around here."

[Nash] [GOD DAMN IT IS REALLY HARD TO TYPE WITH A STARBUCKS EMPLOYEE STANDING RIGHT BEHIND YOU AND BLATANTLY STARING AT YOUR SCREEN BITCH I CAN SEE YOUR REFLECTION IN MY SCREEN]

Well, he'd better stop and say 'Hi.'

Nash trots up onto the sidewalk, his eyes drifting between the three Garou before he jerks his head in a nod. He has a toothpick in one side of his mouth, which seems to be a bit of foresight on his part; Kora won't suffer any adverse effects from inhaling cigarette smoke, and it's unlikely her unborn child would, either, but he'll be damned if he'll be the person to test out that theory.

"Afternoon," he says, dispensing the greeting between Kora and Janis and Roman just about equally though he's never seen Roman before in his life. If he's comfortable standing with Kora, he has to be at the very least Kinfolk. He doesn't stop to ask, nor does he just invite himself into the congregation; he's heading in the opposite direction as the three of them and looks like he's just going to keep right on moving if he isn't halted.

His right arm is still bandaged, the pattern and padding of it visible beneath his shirt though the sleeve is cuffed down. He is still protectively holding it against his midsection; the damn thing is healing faster than it would if he were human, but as anyone who saw him the night of the meeting at the Brotherhood can attest, he was royally messed up to start out. He still has a ways to go.

[Kristen Burke] ((Where is everyone/is this open?))

[Rain McKellar] It's a mixed blessing that Bronwyn does not air her inner thoughts with Rain. On one hand, it's always nice to have one's life choices go unquestioned. On the other, it gives them no opportunity to better understand each other.

"It's nice enough," she says, offering Bronwyn a less nuanced smile that the Philodox casts her way. Maybe that invites further questions; it certainly doesn't seem to turn them away. She sips at her mocha and admits: "I'm trying to turn it into something more stable, here, but you mostly need schoolin' for that, so it isn't easy."

They are from very different worlds, Bronwyn and Rain. The assumptions they make about one another may not be sound. And it isn't even just the pretty mean girl and the sweet naive girl clashing across a lunch table at high school. They're so different it's hard to even find common ground, besides that they both care about Jackson. That they're family, by Tribe.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Jackson, Bronwyn, Rain in a cafe near the window. The rest of them are out on the street somewhere-ish.]]

[Janis Ian] Janis hadn't considered that the tall, leggy blond kinfolk never met Roman, she was certain Nash had come to the Church enough to know everyone under Last Watch. The bag rustles in her hand as Roman takes one of the donut holes, she kept it held out for Kora, simply waiting as they walked to see if she'd accept one. Only then, does the bag pull back to her midsection, her own hand diving inside to separate the wax paper to pull one out and pop the little ball of glazed cake into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Brown eyes sweep across Nash, she regards his injured arm and wrinkles her nose, Janis offers him a smile as he greeted them, "Hey, Marlboro Man, how's the wrangling up anymore lost girls lately?"

[Jackson Montgomery] "You have the talent," he quips, speaking up now. His admiration for Rain's musical skills is genuine, that much is simple to see. He turns his attention to his sister, touching her hand.

"Seriously, she really is good."

[Kora] Kora makes a low noise in the back of her throat when Janis says there should be a new no-moon elder. "You don't need a Shadow Lord to enshrine a leader to know when to lead and when to follow. You just do it." There's a brief, supple touch of aspersion there. "In the time I've been here, I've seen them do - nothing. Just change hats and give themselves titles, yeah?" Otherwise, her opinion regarding the auspice counsel goes largely unspoken.

A glance at Roman when he leans close and asks her if she knows him. The direct look and brief nod is answer enough. Quiet, she supplies, " - kin," dropping the word between then like a stone in clear, cool water.

"Just show up at the meeting. Mostly to listen, you know? Let them take the lead, brainstorm. I'm thinking you could be helpful in their plans though. Planting evidence or - " a narrow-shouldered shrug. "Slipping in and out of someplace, yeah?"

Nash comes up, and doesn't linger, but Kora detains him briefly with a glance. "Doc's gonna be working on the stuff by the docks, yeah? She's going to have a meeting, soon. I'd like you to attend."

AND THEN: "Shit, I gotta pee." - she makes her exit. (Sorry, guys, gotta go!)

[Kora] Mid-afternoon, a bright, warm day. Not just warm - hot, with a haze of clouds on the horizon that makes it feel like June, not April. Kora has a cold bottle of water from one of the coolers in the sanctuary and a packaged fruit salad - chunks of watermelon, grapes, strawberries - all the flavors of summer. "Hey," she says, when Roman comes in through the front door, the heat of the day pushing into the deep shadows of the interior. "Grab yourself a drink and come join me - " she's in motion, heading to the portico. "Let's talk, yeah?"

[Roman Turner] "Howdy."

He smelled of roofing tar and there was more than a little evidence of a lot of sun on his face and arms. The mottled scaring that reached out from beneath the neck of his tee shirt seemed all the brighter for it.

It wasn't very long before he joined her outside, sitting down with a tired sigh. Recently he'd stopped wearing his hat. Recently it seemed he was making an attempt to look just like everyone else in the city. Though he'd not give up his nice crisp jeans, today it seemed he had. Today it was a dirty pair of faded carpenter jeans he wore. A hammer still hung in the strap on the outside of his right thigh.

"Got hot fast."

[Kora] "You look like you've been working hard," Kora says quietly when she joins her. She is sitting along the side, rather than on the steps, her long legs hanging down the stonework. Some of the weeds have been cleared away here. The fruit salad - in a tupperware container - she would leave on her lap if she had a lap. She doesn't, and so it sits on the marble beside her. Her bottle of water is covered with condensation that leaves her long fingers damp.

She waits until he's sitting beside her, the corner of her mouth twisting upward, dark eyes touching on the younger Garou's face. She's calm today; calmer. Some of her rage has been spent somehow, which leaves her quieter, more centered. Easy inside the soft skin she wears.

"I heard about Starla," she begins, looking away, back out toward the fence ringing the property.

[Roman Turner] He'd brought two bottles of water with him, one he downed in two long gulps before replying. He'd withdrawn some, keeping his easy friendly ways to himself. So now he was seated on the other side of the porch, across from the pregnant Fenrir. She mentioned Starla and he grimaced.

"I handled it not so great. I was still hurt with her over not contacting me when she found herself in trouble. I tried to explain how it felt to be her none choice for aid. How it felt that she ran to another pack and never, ever called. If Hunter hadn't called you, well we'd be in the dark till it was thrown out there at the Moot. She said her phone was tapped and I said, well I guess none of the public phones worked either. I tried to explain how it felt to be made to feel like less. Eventually we settled in with an easy truce."
" Then she tells me about Fire Claws coming home, getting drunk and making her want him. That she managed to resist at the last moment. That she confronted him about it the next morning and he said she lied, but how she knew he had to know better cause of his moon."

He sighed, shaking his head.

"It was about then that Rain turned up and out comes how not only did my cousin run to others, she slept with both of them too. I reckon I should of got up and walked off rather than saying anything when she said. That, when she said what about the free love and peace and shit our Tribe is suppose to be about. Like we're all made out of a cookie cutter mold or something. Instead I shot back with. We're Children of Gaia, not the whores of the Nation. That's where I ended up in hot water with both women. A few more heated words between Starla and I later, I apologized to both and left."

[Kora] So Roman does not come close. Stays on the other side of the porch, pulled back into himself. Kora watches him as he walks, with dark, sharp eyes. Noting the distance, but saying nothing. All the human discomforts are hers, these nights. She's chained to this form, restless, feral. Sleeping no more than 2-3 hours at a time with -

Roman begins to speak, tells her his version of the whole thing, all at once. Kora listens with patience that is native to her, but which feels superficial these nights. Her legs swing, heels impacting the foundation of the porch.

When he's finished, she looks back to him, a keen, quiet, steady gaze. Her features are still, her generous mouth quiet. "Rain's been thinking about moving out. Says she thinks she makes you angry, and told me that you called Starla a whore." She watches Roman steadily the whole time, no judgment in her gaze, just that underlying calm. "You can't make enemies of your kin like this, Roman."

[Roman Turner] "I said we are not the whores of the nation. She threw "what about free love and all that shit we preach?" at me."

He frowned, rubbing a hand across his face.

"After what came before that, I had a short fuse. We are cousins she and I, but I barely know her. She doesn't know me. Apparently we were raised completely different."

He sucked in a deep breath and continued.

"Spent the day working on the Kin House so they have somewhere to go where we aren't pushed together, Kin and True. Not in each other's face. I'm doing my best to pull back, not be so..so open. Trying to distance myself from what they do. I guess my job is suppose to be dealing with what goes wrong after they do what they do, not try and stave it off."

[Kora] "What Rain heard is more important than what you said, yeah?" Kora corrects him; her tone is oddly gentle. "What she remembers is even more important. I don't think she remembers your apology, just the name calling. Even if it wasn't name calling, your anger stains it." Patient, still. Quiet. Oh, she has put aside her fruit salad, the fork sinks slowly into the muddle of watermelon juice and discarded seeds at the bottom of the container.

"And that's what she thinks you think of them: that they're pointless, that they're - " a quiet, subtle pause here. A twist of her mouth. "I'm not going to say the word. Leading a tribe's not easy, and trust me, I get your anger at Starla. Especially the Shadow Lord, Simon. She was here when he stormed away and vowed up and down that he would stay away from our territory. He was an ass, disrespectful to me, to you, to the pack, to our hospitality. And she turned around - "

Here she closes her mouth; breathes out sharply, expels all that negative energy with a deep breath. "The problem isn't that you've been too open, Roman. You need to set expectations, yeah? Boundaries. I wouldn't - " a brief, subtle twist of her mouth, " - turn myself into the sex police. People have to be able to make their own decisions, but they have to know what you expect from them, and what you offer them. On both sides."

A glance back at him, unflinching. "You gotta make this right, Roman. With both your kin."

[Roman Turner] "I'll try but I got to tell ya. Nothing I do is right with Rain. That is how it comes across to me. She completely disapproves of me. Starla, I don't understand her at all. It's like a knife in the back the way she turned to Simon first. Not only running to him, but sleeping with him and then Hunter and then saying it meant nothing, but I should know she was untouched when she came here. What does that mean? What am I suppose to do with that?"

[Kora] "You're catastrophizing," Kora returns, gently. "It's simply not true that nothing you do is right with Rain. If that were the case, she'd leave. She doesn't have breeding. She doesn't have to stay - either with us or the Nation. She could slip away into some ordinary life, but she doesn't. But you're a Fostern Garou, her warder, her leader. And if you think she completely disapproves of you and it concerns you you need to speak with her about it.

"And you start by sitting down and apologizing, outright, for attacking Starla's honor in her hearing. No excuses. No explanations. Apologize for the anger you showed, and offer her your contrition. Show her that you respect those above and below. That's the honorable thing to do, Roman." A supple, bittersweet twist to Kora's mouth, then. "That's step one."

"Step two, yeah? Is Starla," her voice is low and steady, her eyes rapt on his face now. A certain animal gleam answers his own. "You owe her that unmitigated apology, too. No matter her betrayal, you still owe her that underlying level of respect. That's the compact we have with our kin, and if you don't apologize - without reservation, without excuse - she'll remember that for the rest of her life.

"And after you've apologized, you have to set down the law. Listen, she was in the room when Simon insulted our hospitality, raged at both of us, and vowed to stay away from our territory. She still fucked him. And she owes you contrition for that. I said before you shouldn't be the sex police, and that's right. If she wants the freedom to sleep around," a supple twist of her shoulders, " - maybe you should give it to her. I wouldn't care about Hunter; but Simon - that's a material betrayal. You have to set boundaries you expect her to abide by, and punish her if she crosses the line. When Drew punched August, I told Drew that she was to stop gossiping about August, and come up with a material means of helping her.

"She recognized her fault; accepted it the way you or I would accept punishment from an Elder if we transgressed. You have to give Starla the respect both to set boundaries and to hold her accountable for breaking them." A brief pause here, that steady look follows. "Make sense?"

[Roman Turner] "Yes and no."

His nose wrinkled and a moment later he was rubbing it.

"I will apologize, I have once, I will again. I recall the trouble with Drew and August, but I don't recall Drew doing anything to make up for it other than a list of places in the area that August might afford."

He waved that off with the same hand that he'd been scratching his nose with.

"What I need to know is, how do I set boundaries with Starla and still not care who and how many she sleeps with? What am I suppose to do if she happens to sleep with someone she shouldn't? If I ever figure that out? Ground her? I really need the advice of a woman in this."

[Kora] "You're not her brother, Roman. You're not her mate. You're not her father. You cannot get emotionally involved. You don't need a woman's advice; you need to be able to separate your feelings from your duty and honor as her warder. You're here to see that she's safe; not to police her love affairs, yeah?" Kora is quiet, level, steady here. "And it's up to you to figure out how to punish her. It depends on what she's done, and what she continues to do. You have to respond to the situation, and come up with something reasonable and appropriate under the circumcstances. Something that holds her accountable. But that's always true. If she were to spit in the face of a Garou, you would have to figure out how to punish her. If she were to slander another pack, you would have to figure out how to hold her accountable; how to repay the debt of honor she owes.

"This is no different. If she is too-long-recalcitrant, you could withdraw your protection, or even send her home. Last resort, that. It's situational."

[Roman Turner] He nodded faintly with her advice.

"I'll take that in to consideration. Is that all ya wanted?"

[Kora] "Yep."

[Roman Turner] "Great, there's also a few things I need to say to you. I had Janis asking if she has been approved to be in the pack yet, what ya thought. I told her she should come ask her yourself. She also is recommending Rory to the pack. I got no problems with either. I invited Rory around to supper whenever she wants. Also, I know you aren't all friendly and outgoing. But ya've know from the start I use to be a little lighter at heart. That's changing I reckon. I'm working hard not to step in your space. Not to use my manners I grew up with by calling ya Miss and Ma'am. By not calling others Miss or Ma'am. I'm trying not to touch ya, when I grew up with a very touchy feely open show of affection. All I ask is ya bear with me and please understand while I'm trying to change, it don't happen overnight. Not easy to change what I am inside so fast."

[Kora] "Rory?" - a note of surprise, there, her pale brows rising in twin arcs above her deep blue eyes. It settles into something else - quieter, considered. Then shifts away as Roman forges onward.

Her regard from there on is steady as Roman continues in a different vein. When he finishes, she sighs - all at once - narrow shoulders curling forward, her swinging feet stilling. "Roman, I don't want you to change what or who you are." Still her voice is steady, direct - forward-moving. "I just want you to respect who I am, too. I know you think manners mean you have to call me Miss - but aren't manners about respect, underneath? If someone asked you to call them Ms rather than Miss, would you balk? Or would you keep calling them what you wanted to call them?

"When you say Miss Kora I feel like an elderly aunt, not your Alpha. Not a Garou. And right now, I don't need anything else that reminds me that I'm stuck in this skin, a walking target, liability in any fight. Dreaming of all the battles my ancestors fought - dreaming of - " A sharp breath exhaled. "I never asked you to stay out of my space; we're packmates. We should be close. But I don't hug or kiss my pack, and never will. It's harder for me now, too. I don't want - "

Here she breaks off, sharply.

"I think you should respect my wishes; about my name. About these human shows of affection to me. But I don't think you should change who you are while you're doing it. Find a way to be yourself while respecting me, Roman. That's what I want from you."

[Roman Turner] "You want me to be me, but not be me. Me, I touch. Me I touch in all forms. I stepped in when someone approached the other day, not because I thought you weak, not because of your condition, but because it is me. Yet I felt your disapproval like a weight. I need touch from those I love. I need to feel close, like I got someone that cares. I'm respecting your wishes. I ain't talking like I was raised. I ain't touching ya. I'm giving ya space. I ain't gonna heal none of your's without them asking, cause I finally learned ya rather suffer. All I'm asking is ya understand where I come from too."

He rose with a cant of his head to her.

"I'm gonna head out. Ya have a good evening. If ya need me, call."