All the lucky ones get to conjugate verbs
May. 30th, 2010 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently 16:07 Pacific Time on Sun May 30 2010.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (84% full).
Country House
It's the long dark teatime of a Sunday afternoon, and even if it isn't raining just this second it was drizzling earlier and will probably do so again later. Shelby leans against the kitchen counter, morosely frowning out the window and lightly kicking the kitchen cabinets with a Kate Spade wedge. Last season's, of course. All around her the room is as clean as if she's expecting to show the house, without even a trace of this morning's bacon hanging about temptingly.
Coming in from the threatened-rain, Zosia looks rather grumpy. "You don't have to clean as obsessively as you do," she observes as she enters the house proper. Her shoes, luckily, are left in the pseudo mudroom space by the front door.
Shelby turns about, leaning back on trapped hands. Now the tap-tap of toe into hollow wood is more of a thunk-thunk, though the girl leaves off with that once the Theurge enters the kitchen proper. "Please," dismissively teen-age. "If I didn't clean, you or Al or somebody would complain about how messy the place is. It's not like I go into Claude or August --rhya's rooms or anything."
"If you say so," Zosia says to the first part, a faint smile touching her lips as she does. She nods sharply. "They won't be around, really, as my pack is a semi-Guardian pack. But they don't have much, we don't need the space so they should keep their own rooms."
Shelby offers hesitantly, looking down at the kitchen floor as she does so, "If they aren't here, then maybe we could put their things together. You know, in the big bedroom. Then Kate could have her own room."
"All right, that sounds fair." Zosia smiles at Shelby as she says that, already moving to get milk from the fridge.
...Really? Already mustering another argument, the Ragabash is side-swiped for a second at Zosia's easy acquiescence, and only blinks. "Oh. Uh, yes. I'm glad you agree."
Pouring a glass, the theurge glances over at her. "It's a reasonable suggestion while still taking my concerns into consideration. No reason not to do it."
Shelby doesn't bother to try and hide the slow smile that lights her face, even if she manages not to wriggle like a puppy. She does bring her hands around to clasp them in front of her, and straighten from her lean. "Good. Um, Zosia? Can I ask why you didn't want me to go to the Moot? Is it because of my Mother's Tongue?"
"No. August said there was a Get cub that gave his introduction in English which really, they should be ashamed." Zosia shakes her head--as if!--before grunting. "No, I wanted you to see the OTHER side of moot. What a Guardian has to do, how a Guardian patrols."
Shelby rolls her eyes right along with the Elder. Doesn't anyone have standards? "Oh, that makes sense. Plus, it means by the next Moot I'll understand even more." Bonus all around! "Being a Guardian's kind of - no offense meant - kind of boring. What I mean is," she hurries to explain, "I feel like I'm doing that all the time, whenever I'm out there. I know it's honorable and all, but is that all there is?"
"No, wandering around the Bawn and actually -Guardianing- are two different things. First, you'll have the ability to sense the presence of the Wyrm by the time you're a proper cliath because I will be teaching you myself. But also, as a Guardian, you focus on patroling the Bawn, both in the realm and shadow, looking for changes, things that don't belong and so on."
"Well," Shelby points out, "that weird Uktena has us all doing that all the time anyway. You know, picking up all the trash and crap. What happens to it, anyway? Can't just go to a landfill - it'll still be trash there, just a big pile of it."
"No, that's Groundskeeping. And I don't know what he does with it." Zosia doesn't not care so much as not ask. "No, as a Guardian you are watching for threats, not trash."
Shelby says, "So you said." Yesterday. "Being a Guardian's sort of being a bodyguard, huh. Nothing happens ninety-nine times out of a hundred, but that hundredth time is when it counts, and you have to be ready for it any time."
"I've been injured a number of times while a guardian. Things of the wyrm often end up moving toward pure places such as the bawn. There's plenty to fight. Speaking of, I'll be speaking with August. It is time to start your proper training." Zosia gives her a Look.
Shelby's nose wrinkles - ew - but the girl says nothing, only traps her hands between her back and the counter again, letting Zosia raid the fridge unmolested. "Proper training," she repeats, like the words might explode like puffballs if she says them too sharply. "Not the sling." Not a question.
"Fighting. With claws and teeth and biting, yes. As a Garou." Zosia says this casually but firmly.
This time Shelby's lips join her nose, though she's quick to look away in an attempt to hide it. "Yes, Zosia-rhya." If she were any less enthusiastic, Zosia'd have to check for breathing.
"Look. I'll make sure you understand. Either you learn how to fight and how to do everything that comes with being a Garou or we'll have something to worry about. I trust you don't want to make me worry." Zosia says that calmly.
"Yes, Zosia-rhya. No, Zosia-rhya." Shelby glances back at the Elder and then to the floor, where she's nominally studying her peep-toe shoes. "You don't have to. I don't want to, but then, I didn't want any of this, and I'm doing it anyway, aren't I? Trust me, I have no intention of being culled."
"You don't have to be able to fight well. I'm nothing special when it comes to fighting. But you have to be able do an admirable job in a fight and to have courage. We are Silver Fangs." Zosia studies her. "And no, I don't think you intend to be culled. It'd be a waste of a good mind, I personally think. But we have to do all of it."
"I'd rather it was August than Al, anyway," Shelby says, utterly forgetting the appropriate honorifics in her study of her pedicure.
"August-rhya and Al-rhya. Even if they aren't here," Zosia says, her voice hardening just a fraction.
The cub's eyes flicker over; she tilts her head awkwardly to reveal throat without moving a fraction more than she must. "Yes, Zosia-rhya," she repeats, docile as a lamb. "I'd rather it was August-rhya than Al-rhya, anyway."
"It's what he was born to to do and he's good at it. And he follows Unicorn twice and won't be cruel, either." Zosia nods, partially mollified.
Shelby opens her mouth to protest, at least until Zosia reaches the end and Shelby realizes which one she's speaking of. "--Yes," she agrees, shoulders sagging as the tension drains away. "I think he's a better teacher than Al-rhya. Like Mr. Petruski, remember? The maths teacher."
"There was no helping me with math, it was boring. He let me stare out the window during class." Zosia sighs and adds, "You realize, they never really taught the few of us Garou much of anything beyond what we felt like learning."
"Really?" Shelby can't quite believe it, her nose wrinkling again. "I wish I'd known earlier, then. Who cares about conjugating a verb?"
"I don't even know what that means," Zosia admits. She conjugates in various languages just by knowing the language, after all!
Shelby says, "It's boring," which doesn't explain much, but she doesn't go into detail. Zosia's curiosity will just have to suffer unchecked. Out of nowhere, "Saint Claire graduates on Saturday. It was finals, last week."
Zosia gives Shelby a very blank look, not understanding at first. Then it dawns and she blinks again. "Oh. Human stuff."
"College," Shelby agrees, looking back down at the floor and thunking one cork heel, very quietly, into the cabinet. She is not, is not going to cry, and to prove it, folds her arms tight across her middle and stares at the back door.
Having never had dreams beyond surviving her teens, Zosia just studies the cub. No sympathy from her, just a sense that she's waiting.
Shelby keeps that back door firmly in line for several seconds until, with a sniff, she acknowledges its submission. Here's a safer subject: "How's Ellie?"
"Growing like a weed," Zosia says with a wistful smile. "Won't see her for another week and a half but Tristan sent a rather darling picture of her. I can't believe she's five months old already. I've missed half of everything already." At least she isn't whining; her voice is resigned.
The cub discreetly wipes at an eye before tucking her hands again, offering Zosia what can be called, at best, a wobbly smile. "She's adorable. She ought to be growing into some of those outfits your sisters sent, right?"
"The ones I kept, yes. The girl has a closet full of enough clothes to outfit half the city." Zosia digs about in the fridge again, finally, pulling out a few things to make a sandwich.
Wistfully, "I wish I could go shopping. Though all the summer things are long since picked over, and it's too early for fall." Shelby tears her eyes away from Zosia's fascinating sandwiching to study her own clothes, lips twisted in dissatisfaction. "Could I - if Kate came with me, maybe - could I go shopping? In town?"
"When you rite--which won't be long once you get the basics of fighting down--I'll get you a new wardrobe that you will have a say in," Zosia says before taking a bite. She swallows before continuing. "So it will wait. Besides, she may be a cliath but Kate is still a child as far as humans are concerned. She will not be taking you into town."
It's almost sad, to see how Shelby brightens at the promise. "Really?" A quick check to the door - August isn't standing there, is he? No - and back to the Theurge. "Well, yes, but she's an adult for Garou. I thought that'd be OK. We'd take my car, and she could be my little sister, or something." Not really begging, she's explaining, and doesn't press the issue.
"No." Zosia doesn't bother to explain why but she doesn't especially -have- to explain to Shelby her reasoning.
Shelby shrugs, the non-verbal 'whatever' as loud as any spoken one. "Do I have to wait to Rite to get back into St. Claire too?"
"Yes. And to drive your car. You are a cub, Shelby." Zosia's beginning to get angry, the edges of her temper fraying. "You are not more special than any other cub. Is that clear?"
Pop! Just like a toaster finishing its cycle, up goes Shelby's chin, giving the Ragabash a lovely view of the ceiling. "Yes, Zosia-rhya," she says, fighting to keep her voice even and the quaver of fear subdued. "I just thought it would be all right if someone went with me. It's not, though."
"No, it isn't. You haven't proven that you are capable of completely controlling your rage by finishing a rite and, frankly, the city is a privledge and a distraction." Zosia moves, taking her sandwich and milk to the table and seating herself primly.
It's a good skill to possess, that of keeping your eyes on the Garou while most decidedly not looking at them. It's not until a good handful of seconds after Zosia's seated that Shelby looks down, and even then, she doesn't look directly at the Theurge. "Yes, Zosia-rhya," she says quietly.
"Once you have the basics of fighting," Zosia continues as she eats, only speaking when her mouth is empty. "We will be going to fight wyrm creatures. So learn quickly."
Really, is there anything else Shelby could say here besides, "Yes, Zosia-rhya,"? How about, "May I go to the Bawn to look for August-rhya?"
"Yes, you may. Oh, Shelby. How has the gift practice been going?" Zosia looks up at the cub, her hands folded before her.
Shelby's halfway off the counter before Zosia's next question stops her; she eyes the Theurge warily, as if expecting a trap. "All right," which sounds like 'not well'. "It's hard, but I'm trying to remember what the mouse told me. I'm not very good at it yet."
"I find that gifts like that, that require concentration, do take a great deal of practice. It took me time to learn how to shine with Falcon's light and I have experience with gifts. But! It will get easier." Zosia smiles then, more relaxed.
Shelby studies the smile sidelong and without returning it. "Yes, Zosia-rhya." Even if the Theurge is relaxed, the Ragabash is still on edge - justified, perhaps, for the size of the moon.
"I will be teaching you a rite soon, once you've practiced that more. When you've a good handle on it." Zosia watches her for a moment before returning to the food.
Shelby murmurs another agreement. A moment or three later, gesturing toward the back door, "May I walk there myself? Or shall I wait until you're finished?"
"You may walk yourself. Straight to the bawn, however," Zosia says, glancing up but not actively watching her.
Shelby nods and exits the kitchen head-down and moving quietly. Not out the back door - not in those clothes - but up to her room to change first.
Zosia does at least clean her things up when she's finished eating. Then she sits back at the table and starts to stare into space.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (84% full).
Country House
It's the long dark teatime of a Sunday afternoon, and even if it isn't raining just this second it was drizzling earlier and will probably do so again later. Shelby leans against the kitchen counter, morosely frowning out the window and lightly kicking the kitchen cabinets with a Kate Spade wedge. Last season's, of course. All around her the room is as clean as if she's expecting to show the house, without even a trace of this morning's bacon hanging about temptingly.
Coming in from the threatened-rain, Zosia looks rather grumpy. "You don't have to clean as obsessively as you do," she observes as she enters the house proper. Her shoes, luckily, are left in the pseudo mudroom space by the front door.
Shelby turns about, leaning back on trapped hands. Now the tap-tap of toe into hollow wood is more of a thunk-thunk, though the girl leaves off with that once the Theurge enters the kitchen proper. "Please," dismissively teen-age. "If I didn't clean, you or Al or somebody would complain about how messy the place is. It's not like I go into Claude or August --rhya's rooms or anything."
"If you say so," Zosia says to the first part, a faint smile touching her lips as she does. She nods sharply. "They won't be around, really, as my pack is a semi-Guardian pack. But they don't have much, we don't need the space so they should keep their own rooms."
Shelby offers hesitantly, looking down at the kitchen floor as she does so, "If they aren't here, then maybe we could put their things together. You know, in the big bedroom. Then Kate could have her own room."
"All right, that sounds fair." Zosia smiles at Shelby as she says that, already moving to get milk from the fridge.
...Really? Already mustering another argument, the Ragabash is side-swiped for a second at Zosia's easy acquiescence, and only blinks. "Oh. Uh, yes. I'm glad you agree."
Pouring a glass, the theurge glances over at her. "It's a reasonable suggestion while still taking my concerns into consideration. No reason not to do it."
Shelby doesn't bother to try and hide the slow smile that lights her face, even if she manages not to wriggle like a puppy. She does bring her hands around to clasp them in front of her, and straighten from her lean. "Good. Um, Zosia? Can I ask why you didn't want me to go to the Moot? Is it because of my Mother's Tongue?"
"No. August said there was a Get cub that gave his introduction in English which really, they should be ashamed." Zosia shakes her head--as if!--before grunting. "No, I wanted you to see the OTHER side of moot. What a Guardian has to do, how a Guardian patrols."
Shelby rolls her eyes right along with the Elder. Doesn't anyone have standards? "Oh, that makes sense. Plus, it means by the next Moot I'll understand even more." Bonus all around! "Being a Guardian's kind of - no offense meant - kind of boring. What I mean is," she hurries to explain, "I feel like I'm doing that all the time, whenever I'm out there. I know it's honorable and all, but is that all there is?"
"No, wandering around the Bawn and actually -Guardianing- are two different things. First, you'll have the ability to sense the presence of the Wyrm by the time you're a proper cliath because I will be teaching you myself. But also, as a Guardian, you focus on patroling the Bawn, both in the realm and shadow, looking for changes, things that don't belong and so on."
"Well," Shelby points out, "that weird Uktena has us all doing that all the time anyway. You know, picking up all the trash and crap. What happens to it, anyway? Can't just go to a landfill - it'll still be trash there, just a big pile of it."
"No, that's Groundskeeping. And I don't know what he does with it." Zosia doesn't not care so much as not ask. "No, as a Guardian you are watching for threats, not trash."
Shelby says, "So you said." Yesterday. "Being a Guardian's sort of being a bodyguard, huh. Nothing happens ninety-nine times out of a hundred, but that hundredth time is when it counts, and you have to be ready for it any time."
"I've been injured a number of times while a guardian. Things of the wyrm often end up moving toward pure places such as the bawn. There's plenty to fight. Speaking of, I'll be speaking with August. It is time to start your proper training." Zosia gives her a Look.
Shelby's nose wrinkles - ew - but the girl says nothing, only traps her hands between her back and the counter again, letting Zosia raid the fridge unmolested. "Proper training," she repeats, like the words might explode like puffballs if she says them too sharply. "Not the sling." Not a question.
"Fighting. With claws and teeth and biting, yes. As a Garou." Zosia says this casually but firmly.
This time Shelby's lips join her nose, though she's quick to look away in an attempt to hide it. "Yes, Zosia-rhya." If she were any less enthusiastic, Zosia'd have to check for breathing.
"Look. I'll make sure you understand. Either you learn how to fight and how to do everything that comes with being a Garou or we'll have something to worry about. I trust you don't want to make me worry." Zosia says that calmly.
"Yes, Zosia-rhya. No, Zosia-rhya." Shelby glances back at the Elder and then to the floor, where she's nominally studying her peep-toe shoes. "You don't have to. I don't want to, but then, I didn't want any of this, and I'm doing it anyway, aren't I? Trust me, I have no intention of being culled."
"You don't have to be able to fight well. I'm nothing special when it comes to fighting. But you have to be able do an admirable job in a fight and to have courage. We are Silver Fangs." Zosia studies her. "And no, I don't think you intend to be culled. It'd be a waste of a good mind, I personally think. But we have to do all of it."
"I'd rather it was August than Al, anyway," Shelby says, utterly forgetting the appropriate honorifics in her study of her pedicure.
"August-rhya and Al-rhya. Even if they aren't here," Zosia says, her voice hardening just a fraction.
The cub's eyes flicker over; she tilts her head awkwardly to reveal throat without moving a fraction more than she must. "Yes, Zosia-rhya," she repeats, docile as a lamb. "I'd rather it was August-rhya than Al-rhya, anyway."
"It's what he was born to to do and he's good at it. And he follows Unicorn twice and won't be cruel, either." Zosia nods, partially mollified.
Shelby opens her mouth to protest, at least until Zosia reaches the end and Shelby realizes which one she's speaking of. "--Yes," she agrees, shoulders sagging as the tension drains away. "I think he's a better teacher than Al-rhya. Like Mr. Petruski, remember? The maths teacher."
"There was no helping me with math, it was boring. He let me stare out the window during class." Zosia sighs and adds, "You realize, they never really taught the few of us Garou much of anything beyond what we felt like learning."
"Really?" Shelby can't quite believe it, her nose wrinkling again. "I wish I'd known earlier, then. Who cares about conjugating a verb?"
"I don't even know what that means," Zosia admits. She conjugates in various languages just by knowing the language, after all!
Shelby says, "It's boring," which doesn't explain much, but she doesn't go into detail. Zosia's curiosity will just have to suffer unchecked. Out of nowhere, "Saint Claire graduates on Saturday. It was finals, last week."
Zosia gives Shelby a very blank look, not understanding at first. Then it dawns and she blinks again. "Oh. Human stuff."
"College," Shelby agrees, looking back down at the floor and thunking one cork heel, very quietly, into the cabinet. She is not, is not going to cry, and to prove it, folds her arms tight across her middle and stares at the back door.
Having never had dreams beyond surviving her teens, Zosia just studies the cub. No sympathy from her, just a sense that she's waiting.
Shelby keeps that back door firmly in line for several seconds until, with a sniff, she acknowledges its submission. Here's a safer subject: "How's Ellie?"
"Growing like a weed," Zosia says with a wistful smile. "Won't see her for another week and a half but Tristan sent a rather darling picture of her. I can't believe she's five months old already. I've missed half of everything already." At least she isn't whining; her voice is resigned.
The cub discreetly wipes at an eye before tucking her hands again, offering Zosia what can be called, at best, a wobbly smile. "She's adorable. She ought to be growing into some of those outfits your sisters sent, right?"
"The ones I kept, yes. The girl has a closet full of enough clothes to outfit half the city." Zosia digs about in the fridge again, finally, pulling out a few things to make a sandwich.
Wistfully, "I wish I could go shopping. Though all the summer things are long since picked over, and it's too early for fall." Shelby tears her eyes away from Zosia's fascinating sandwiching to study her own clothes, lips twisted in dissatisfaction. "Could I - if Kate came with me, maybe - could I go shopping? In town?"
"When you rite--which won't be long once you get the basics of fighting down--I'll get you a new wardrobe that you will have a say in," Zosia says before taking a bite. She swallows before continuing. "So it will wait. Besides, she may be a cliath but Kate is still a child as far as humans are concerned. She will not be taking you into town."
It's almost sad, to see how Shelby brightens at the promise. "Really?" A quick check to the door - August isn't standing there, is he? No - and back to the Theurge. "Well, yes, but she's an adult for Garou. I thought that'd be OK. We'd take my car, and she could be my little sister, or something." Not really begging, she's explaining, and doesn't press the issue.
"No." Zosia doesn't bother to explain why but she doesn't especially -have- to explain to Shelby her reasoning.
Shelby shrugs, the non-verbal 'whatever' as loud as any spoken one. "Do I have to wait to Rite to get back into St. Claire too?"
"Yes. And to drive your car. You are a cub, Shelby." Zosia's beginning to get angry, the edges of her temper fraying. "You are not more special than any other cub. Is that clear?"
Pop! Just like a toaster finishing its cycle, up goes Shelby's chin, giving the Ragabash a lovely view of the ceiling. "Yes, Zosia-rhya," she says, fighting to keep her voice even and the quaver of fear subdued. "I just thought it would be all right if someone went with me. It's not, though."
"No, it isn't. You haven't proven that you are capable of completely controlling your rage by finishing a rite and, frankly, the city is a privledge and a distraction." Zosia moves, taking her sandwich and milk to the table and seating herself primly.
It's a good skill to possess, that of keeping your eyes on the Garou while most decidedly not looking at them. It's not until a good handful of seconds after Zosia's seated that Shelby looks down, and even then, she doesn't look directly at the Theurge. "Yes, Zosia-rhya," she says quietly.
"Once you have the basics of fighting," Zosia continues as she eats, only speaking when her mouth is empty. "We will be going to fight wyrm creatures. So learn quickly."
Really, is there anything else Shelby could say here besides, "Yes, Zosia-rhya,"? How about, "May I go to the Bawn to look for August-rhya?"
"Yes, you may. Oh, Shelby. How has the gift practice been going?" Zosia looks up at the cub, her hands folded before her.
Shelby's halfway off the counter before Zosia's next question stops her; she eyes the Theurge warily, as if expecting a trap. "All right," which sounds like 'not well'. "It's hard, but I'm trying to remember what the mouse told me. I'm not very good at it yet."
"I find that gifts like that, that require concentration, do take a great deal of practice. It took me time to learn how to shine with Falcon's light and I have experience with gifts. But! It will get easier." Zosia smiles then, more relaxed.
Shelby studies the smile sidelong and without returning it. "Yes, Zosia-rhya." Even if the Theurge is relaxed, the Ragabash is still on edge - justified, perhaps, for the size of the moon.
"I will be teaching you a rite soon, once you've practiced that more. When you've a good handle on it." Zosia watches her for a moment before returning to the food.
Shelby murmurs another agreement. A moment or three later, gesturing toward the back door, "May I walk there myself? Or shall I wait until you're finished?"
"You may walk yourself. Straight to the bawn, however," Zosia says, glancing up but not actively watching her.
Shelby nods and exits the kitchen head-down and moving quietly. Not out the back door - not in those clothes - but up to her room to change first.
Zosia does at least clean her things up when she's finished eating. Then she sits back at the table and starts to stare into space.