![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Bad fashion. Bad!
It is currently Sun Oct 17 2010.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (64% full).
Phoenix Park Plaza
It's been a fine, clear day, which makes for rather more people in the park at night than is really comfortable. Long after dark there are lights and activity over by the skate park, on the opposite side of the lake. The lights on the lake side are inexplicably nor working tonight, which has kept the less adventurous amorous couples away. The remainder find themselves unaccountably put off as Garou begin to convene in the area, several of them finding somewhere more comfortable to be. There is an area of cropped lawn, reasonably well concealed by a few trees and a large patch of pampas-grass, just out of view of the waters' edge but still quite close to the lake. Hopefully, it will be secure enough.
Zosia has little difficulty getting the group into the park; knowing the owner has certain advantages. Having brought them in the back employees entrance, the theurge winds them through various backends of the park itself, mostly managing to avoid people and giving frosty, haughty glares to those she doesn't. Once they make it to the little area of cropped lawn, she hunkers down a bit, waving them closer. "Right. So on the other side of the umbra here, are the shadow remains of what was likely some sort of tiger or penguin or something or other pit. There's the remains of a moat and a little island. Tristan said when they were working on this place, it was just easier to leave the whole and make the lake, once they pulled out all the concrete." She shrugs. "When I scouted, it was empty, beyond the usual spider presence so I think would be the safest place to cross over. If a place in the city can be called safe." She pulls out a mirror and looks around at her little group. "Stay on your toes. I'll be leading the ritual, Meg backing me up. Kevin and Shelby, we'll need your sharp eyes and your wits. You'll have to keep an eye on us during the ritual. Everyone clear?"
Kevin glances over at Shelby as if to exchange eye contact before nodding. "Clear as."
As out of place as Meg looks in a city, by now, she is perhaps slightly less so in a zoo. Well, theoretically, anyhow. She nods to Zosia, glancing briefly at the ragabashes.
Shelby nods as well. Already her scent is masked, and she's dressed down from her usual, so that now she looks like an Eddie Bauer or J. Crew model rather than one from Vogue. "I understand."
"Right. In we go." Zosia nods toward the others to look into the mirror. Unless they have their own. She herself starts to concentrate on the shiny surface.
Kevin hunkers down next to Zosia ready to head sideways once the party leader is safely through.
Meg has her own mirror, fished out of her satchel, and uses it.
Shelby borrows Zosia's to step through - not as fast as either of the theurges, and the least experienced, she might be the last one to disappear from the Realm.
The gauntlet parts stickily. The sensation is like pressing through decaying rubber, still strong enough to resist yet mouldy enough to be unpleasantly gluelike. For a small eternity, the garou are poised between worlds, neither one place nor another. It is on that sight that a young couple walk in, searching for privacy, fortunately to wrapped up in each other that they see only what is reflected back at them within their lover's eyes, and not the shadowy figures crouched ghostlike on the short grass. By the time they come to their surroundings enough to look around, the Garou are gone.
The other side of the gauntlet is powder-grey. The ever-present webs coat the clusters of small, plocky buildings, sprawl over the expanse of what might once have been concrete on the other side of the gauntlet, and line the sides of the large, fairly shallow pit that they emerge beside. Tiny pattern-spiders work over the area, steadily spinning one minute silken strand at a time, undaunted by the scale of their task. Currently it is as Zosia recalls- empty of any larger spirits.
Zosia launches to her feet once she's crossed over, immediately turning about to survey their surroundings. Taking a breath in, she's moving to a likely ritual spot before they even have fully crossed--she is that concerned with their time there. Several small items have been dedicated in a bag hanging from her shoulder and even as the others get settled in, she's setting up a small crude clay bowl at each of the cardinal points. There's a small handful of feathers, a small bit of wood that she lights on fire with a lighter, a bit of water poured from a little glass jar and a pile of earth. Looking up, she calls in a low voice, "Right to business. Don't want to be here longer than we have to."
Kevin crawls back to his feet and does a quick patrol of the immediate surroundings -- a twenty-foot circle or so around Zosia, looking outward all the time for any potential sources of trouble.
Nothing much changes while Zosia is setting up. One of the pattern-spiders starts trying to spin the bowl of earth down onto the ground, but it's a large bowl for such a tiny spirit.
Meg looks around and sighs quietly, shifting to glabro as she moves to Zosia's side. ~What'd you decide on?~
"--Ew," is Shelby's opinion of that experience, the elongated vowel slipping through octaves as she shifts first into glabro, then Crinos. She scents the air before prowling to a spot opposite the Fostern Ragabash, settling down to study their surroundings with only occasional glances at what the theurges are doing.
Zosia stays in homid but gestures at the others. "I do my best ritual work in Polish so I'm staying in this form. You all might want to shift up into something more useful in a fight." She glances at Meg, smiling to herself faintly. "I'm trying for the cat. But we'll just see who decides to come visit." Shaking her limbs out, she exhales firmly then concentrates inward. It takes a moment for her to settle and then she's moving counter clockwise about the circle, starting a lot chant in Polish, stopping at each elemental location and calling skyward before moving on to the next. This goes on, for some time.
Kevin does one circle in homid, then shifts into crinos and repeats, ears and nose on the alert once he's changed form.
Meg closes her eyes while Zosia concentrates, a less simple thing to do in this environment than it might be. She stands at the center, anchoring, as Zosia goes from one element to the next, turning her body to follow the other theurge's every movement, silent: her absolute attention forms an almost tangible cord between Zosia and the center of her circle.
Falcon's Gambit continues to keep both eye and ear (as well as the other senses) out, one ear twitching toward the so-familiar language.
It's not long after the Sept's Master of the Rite begins her ritual chanting that the spirits start to take an obvious interest. It is the spiders that work their way closer to begin with, small things the size of those found in the physical realm that scuttle closer and start spinning over anything that stays still long enough, including stationary Garou feet and paws. They stay clear of the flames in the bowl, though. After several minutes, more can be seen approaching around the surrounding grey blocks of webby buildings. Some are mere shadowy forms; one is only a sensation of sound, an irritating buzz that sets the teeth on edge; there's an empty, ragged coat that moves on its own; and bounding over the rooftops from some considerable distance away, it is possible to spot a group of four monkeys- one lime-green, one strangely elongated. From far closer to hand, slinking from the base of the pit, come three wary grey shapes, one considerably larger than the other two. They scuttle up the pit sides and stop, staring towards the Garou- three rats, with dark fur and naked tails, twitching whiskers and bare, pink ears. The smaller ones are barely larger than their animal cousins, and watch with feral wariness. The largest one, when it sits up on his hind legs, would reach almost to Zosia's waist, and its face holds the impression of intelligence as well as caution.
Speech-and-Silence continues to circle, giving the first small spirits to show an interest warning growls, hoping this will keep them at bay without him having to use force. When the monkeys and rats start to arrive, he can think of no more apposite action than to repeat the warning growl, and picking the elongated monkey, tries to match gazes with it and stare it down.
The young Silver Fang theurge isn't as focused, perhaps, as the Gaian theurge and notices the gathering spirits from the corner of her eye. She continues the ritual but, for those listening and understanding, starts to slowly, slowly, shift the nature of the call. From a call to something specific to something just a bit more general, calling to clever and intelligent spirits, to spirits who are survivors, to spirits who are good at the city. You know. Like Rats.
It would be impossible to say, at this point, whether Meg has noticed the encroaching spirits or not, though some minute shift in her posture seems to open her to the rats' presence. She continues to direct all of her concentration to Zosia.
The large rat sniffs around itself, seeming as cautious of the other approaching spirits as the Garou are, and backs away from the growling. It squeaks, and the other two rats go scuttling back into the pit as the group of monkeys continue to get closer. Then it squeaks again, its nose twitching in the direction of the Fang Theurge.
Falcon's Gambit nudges those too-intent spiders away at first, and when they remain stubbornly insistent on trying to entangle her, finally gets up and moves. She notices the monkeys and bares fangs at them, watching the quartet until the rats' arrival draws her attention. Those she lets pass after another look to the theurges, and comes up beside Speech and Silence to keep a closer eye on the primates.
Once the rat starts to speak, Zosia's chanting and movement ceases. *I know. It was a risk,* she agrees with the spirit. She holds a hand toward Meg before returning her attention. *We cannot linger and we will have to drive them away once this is done, so that we can return to the realm. But I need a scout. Will you talk with me, once I deal with them?*
~Keep an eye out round the other side,~ Speech-and-Silence orders Falcon's Gambit. ~I can keep this lot away for now. Don't let us get backstabbed.~
The rat's nose twitches several times and it drops its forelegs to the floor to scratch itself with a back leg, then squeaks again with a sort of shuddering gesture. The monkeys pause atop the closest of the web-covered buildings, chittering nonsense and pushing each other around. The lime green one slowly turns to desert camo-pattern; the elongated one continues to stretch; and the other two somehow merge into one, then re-emerge as two again, but one with two heads an no tail, the other with no head and two tails. Obn the other side, the coat moves closer, as though watching- eyeless, headless, hovering as though there were an invisible body inside. The Umbra dims; a pall is cast over the Garou, the shadows deepening, the air growing dank and lifeless.
Falcon's Gambit tips her chin up in acquiescence and backs away from the Walker with a last silent baring of fangs at the monkeys. Circling around the rite and rats she casts a wary eye on the hovering coat and snarls at it as well, encouraging it to move back.
*Because I would like to make a bargain with you, to both of our benefits.* That stated, the Silver Fang seems to suddenly shine with a more impressive light. Or radiate it? Or just....she's more. More personality, more presence, more of what makes a Fang a Fang. She tilts her head at the rat, adding, *I do keep my bargains.* Once that is stated, she turns toward the monkey spirits, holding out a hand toward them. She shouldn't look impressive in her birth form but she does, commanding and stern. *Be gone!* she shouts authoritatively. *Flee!*
Meg comes over to Zosia as soon as the other theurge gestures for her. She hunkers down, beside and just behind Zosia; if she were in homid, she might not be much taller than the rat. In glabro, it's not that different. Her voice, when she speaks to support Zosia's response, as the commanding presence is turned on the monkeys, is soft and a touch coaxing, a gentleness quite at odds with her usual manner. *We want to make this a better place, so that when someone calls, there are no more of those to come. That will serve everyone including folks like you, if we can do it, but we can't do it alone. We offer sustenance and protection, and will bargain with you for more.* And she holds out her hand to the rat, palm back, inner wrist up and exposed.
Speech-and-Silence fidgets uncomfortably at the antics of the monkeys. But he stands his ground, neither retreating nor attacking, at least until and unless they or the rats make a hostile move.
All the Garou feel themselves not quite on their best form. The words spoken were not quite the right ones to have chosen. They're not quite prepared enough. They could have brought something else that would have served them more effectively, chosen a better time to come. Niggling little doubts invade, and yet the heaviness of the air starts to make the effort of working out the exact nature of the doubts too much to trouble with. Zosia's impressive glowing aura seems almost tarnished, her voice weaker than it ought to be, the note of command, that started so well, sounds faintly uncertain once it reaches the ears. Uncertain or not, the monkeys back off at the command, leaping away to the next building out where they fall to squabbling among themselves in a burst of screaming and fighting. The coat continues to hover nearby, unmoving and unmoved. The rat also seems unmoved and inclined to go away again, until the Gaian offers her hand. It darts a gance around then, then runs forwards towards the offered limb.
Falcon's Gambit, her ears flattening, growls at the coat this time, escalating matters since the snarl didn't seem terribly effective. She glances back at the others again before making a short rush at the outer garment, a threat rather than an actual attack.
Leaving coaxing to the Gaian for the time being and, frankly, a bit unnerved by the general aura around the place, Zosia turns to the scary coat that hangs there. Steeling herself and sucking her breath in, she raises her chin and goes for her most arrogant and furious possible mood. *YOU!* she roars at the thing, flinging a hand toward it. *You will leave this place NOW!*
Meg braces herself with one hand against the ground, shoulders bowed under the weight of the place, and holds quite steady for the bite. *See?* she says with wry humor. *I'm sustenance and she's protection. All right?*
Speech-and-Silence fidgets, nervous, uncomfortable. He keeps a close eye on the monkeys even now that they've retreated, obviously expecting them to return in short order.
The coat seems to slump around the shoulders, as though everything is just too much effort; and the Garou can sympathize, for they feel much the same. Why bother? What's the point? The coat drifts further off in a desultory fashion, and the oppressive gloom lifts slightly, although the place still seems more colourless even than usual for the city Umbra. The rat-spirit shivers and crouches, chittering impatiently. The monkeys carry on squabbling. Three of them seem to be ganging up on the fourth now.
Zosia relaxes visibly as the coat moves off and the mood eases slightly. *I need to know the lay of the land on this side before we bring in Garou to start clearing out both problems and freeing those trapped. We also need to know why the spiders in some parts are behaving strange and wrong--I saw one yesterday wrapping another up in a cocoon and others not weaving in a way that makes sense. We need to know the best places to cross over and what needs the most help first. In short, we need scouting help from a true survivor.* Flattery? Yes, but there's a ring of truth to the Silver Fang's words. *This will make this a better place for you here and for your children. And I hold a great deal of influence over the one who owns this place on the realm side.* She stops short of promising certain things yet.
Whether by her doing or Zosia's, Falcon's Gambit takes the coat's retreat as a success, with one ear popping up to follow its slink away. The young Ragabash retreats a pace or two closer to the others; after a second or two she turns in a circle, keeping an eye on the already-known spirits and looking out for newcomers.
The rat-spirit sits up again, one paw resting lightly on Meg's wrist. It squeaks rather crossly. The watching Garou stay on the alert, but for the moment it is only the little pattern-spiders who have remained.
Meg holds steady, something approaching a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth as she regards the rat. *You and we both know you can scope out this place and understand what you're seeing in a way we never could. And she does have influence.* She doesn't promise anything specific either, but gives Zosia a faintly brow-raised look.
Speech-and-Silence glances over his shoulder at Zosia, plainly wishing he could understand all of what's going on. A quick glance at Shelby and the empty coat, and then he's facing outward again, vigilant once more, but with a weary droop to his shoulders.
*If I put back too many,* Zosia points out with the barest hint of impatience, *The humans will come and do more harm to your kind. But. I will arrange places for your children to get food that will not have poisons or traps. And we will work on,* but not promise, *ways to make tunnels for your children.* Somehow. There's a moment of pain as Zosia imagines explaining that one, flashing across her face all at once. *Deal?*
The rat's whisker's twitch, and it chitters again, mostly towards Zosia but a little towards Meg.
Falcon's Gambit spares the conversation another fragment of her attention before she drifts a quarter or so of the way around the circle separating her from the other Ragabash.
Meg nods provisionally, looking to Zosia for confirmation.
Zosia breathes in and out slowly. Then, making the decision, she nods sharply. *Deal. I will bring it here, bring food to realm, make holes for your children.*
The rat sniffs in Zosia's direction suspiciously, then squeaks once and scuttles away into the pit. That may have something to do with the large gorilla-spirit which has lumbered into view between the buildings. It is still quite a distance away, but moving fast.
The Silver Fang ragabash's other ear pops at the sight of the gorilla. ~Large hairy ape coming,~ she reports, shifting to face the oncoming primate. ~Fast. Are we almost done here?~
Zosia drops to her knees and seems determined to leave her ritual items behind. Pulling the mirror from her pocket, she practically yells for them to switch back to their birth form. Waving to them, she holds out the mirror for all to see. "Move it, move it, move it."
Meg drops down to her birthform and goes through on her own mirror again, so as not to contribute to gridlock. She does call a soft, *Thank you!* after the rat, first.
~Go go go,~ Kevin snarls at the other garou, windmilling his arms at them like a paratroop sergeant urging his men out of the hatch in a plane. Once Shelby and Meg are through he drops back to homid and dives after them.
Jumping as if goosed, Falcon's Gambit gladly leaves off her observation of the gorilla and dashes back to Zosia, just barely remembering to shift back to homid before locking gaze with herself in the Ritemistress' mirror.
Zosia goes last, of course, once the others are pushing through the gauntlet.
It's a near thing; but even the charging gorilla's mood seems to grow more subdued when it gets closer to that gloomy coat, and it buys the Garou enough time to pull through the cloying, clinging Gauntlet's reluctant barrier and emerge into the fresh air of the park. The young couple are half-dressed and entirely absorbed in one another beneath the shadow of the pampas-grass, just enough out of sight that they can be easily stumbled over by retreating Garou as they depart the area once they have crossed.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (64% full).
Phoenix Park Plaza
It's been a fine, clear day, which makes for rather more people in the park at night than is really comfortable. Long after dark there are lights and activity over by the skate park, on the opposite side of the lake. The lights on the lake side are inexplicably nor working tonight, which has kept the less adventurous amorous couples away. The remainder find themselves unaccountably put off as Garou begin to convene in the area, several of them finding somewhere more comfortable to be. There is an area of cropped lawn, reasonably well concealed by a few trees and a large patch of pampas-grass, just out of view of the waters' edge but still quite close to the lake. Hopefully, it will be secure enough.
Zosia has little difficulty getting the group into the park; knowing the owner has certain advantages. Having brought them in the back employees entrance, the theurge winds them through various backends of the park itself, mostly managing to avoid people and giving frosty, haughty glares to those she doesn't. Once they make it to the little area of cropped lawn, she hunkers down a bit, waving them closer. "Right. So on the other side of the umbra here, are the shadow remains of what was likely some sort of tiger or penguin or something or other pit. There's the remains of a moat and a little island. Tristan said when they were working on this place, it was just easier to leave the whole and make the lake, once they pulled out all the concrete." She shrugs. "When I scouted, it was empty, beyond the usual spider presence so I think would be the safest place to cross over. If a place in the city can be called safe." She pulls out a mirror and looks around at her little group. "Stay on your toes. I'll be leading the ritual, Meg backing me up. Kevin and Shelby, we'll need your sharp eyes and your wits. You'll have to keep an eye on us during the ritual. Everyone clear?"
Kevin glances over at Shelby as if to exchange eye contact before nodding. "Clear as."
As out of place as Meg looks in a city, by now, she is perhaps slightly less so in a zoo. Well, theoretically, anyhow. She nods to Zosia, glancing briefly at the ragabashes.
Shelby nods as well. Already her scent is masked, and she's dressed down from her usual, so that now she looks like an Eddie Bauer or J. Crew model rather than one from Vogue. "I understand."
"Right. In we go." Zosia nods toward the others to look into the mirror. Unless they have their own. She herself starts to concentrate on the shiny surface.
Kevin hunkers down next to Zosia ready to head sideways once the party leader is safely through.
Meg has her own mirror, fished out of her satchel, and uses it.
Shelby borrows Zosia's to step through - not as fast as either of the theurges, and the least experienced, she might be the last one to disappear from the Realm.
The gauntlet parts stickily. The sensation is like pressing through decaying rubber, still strong enough to resist yet mouldy enough to be unpleasantly gluelike. For a small eternity, the garou are poised between worlds, neither one place nor another. It is on that sight that a young couple walk in, searching for privacy, fortunately to wrapped up in each other that they see only what is reflected back at them within their lover's eyes, and not the shadowy figures crouched ghostlike on the short grass. By the time they come to their surroundings enough to look around, the Garou are gone.
The other side of the gauntlet is powder-grey. The ever-present webs coat the clusters of small, plocky buildings, sprawl over the expanse of what might once have been concrete on the other side of the gauntlet, and line the sides of the large, fairly shallow pit that they emerge beside. Tiny pattern-spiders work over the area, steadily spinning one minute silken strand at a time, undaunted by the scale of their task. Currently it is as Zosia recalls- empty of any larger spirits.
Zosia launches to her feet once she's crossed over, immediately turning about to survey their surroundings. Taking a breath in, she's moving to a likely ritual spot before they even have fully crossed--she is that concerned with their time there. Several small items have been dedicated in a bag hanging from her shoulder and even as the others get settled in, she's setting up a small crude clay bowl at each of the cardinal points. There's a small handful of feathers, a small bit of wood that she lights on fire with a lighter, a bit of water poured from a little glass jar and a pile of earth. Looking up, she calls in a low voice, "Right to business. Don't want to be here longer than we have to."
Kevin crawls back to his feet and does a quick patrol of the immediate surroundings -- a twenty-foot circle or so around Zosia, looking outward all the time for any potential sources of trouble.
Nothing much changes while Zosia is setting up. One of the pattern-spiders starts trying to spin the bowl of earth down onto the ground, but it's a large bowl for such a tiny spirit.
Meg looks around and sighs quietly, shifting to glabro as she moves to Zosia's side. ~What'd you decide on?~
"--Ew," is Shelby's opinion of that experience, the elongated vowel slipping through octaves as she shifts first into glabro, then Crinos. She scents the air before prowling to a spot opposite the Fostern Ragabash, settling down to study their surroundings with only occasional glances at what the theurges are doing.
Zosia stays in homid but gestures at the others. "I do my best ritual work in Polish so I'm staying in this form. You all might want to shift up into something more useful in a fight." She glances at Meg, smiling to herself faintly. "I'm trying for the cat. But we'll just see who decides to come visit." Shaking her limbs out, she exhales firmly then concentrates inward. It takes a moment for her to settle and then she's moving counter clockwise about the circle, starting a lot chant in Polish, stopping at each elemental location and calling skyward before moving on to the next. This goes on, for some time.
Kevin does one circle in homid, then shifts into crinos and repeats, ears and nose on the alert once he's changed form.
Meg closes her eyes while Zosia concentrates, a less simple thing to do in this environment than it might be. She stands at the center, anchoring, as Zosia goes from one element to the next, turning her body to follow the other theurge's every movement, silent: her absolute attention forms an almost tangible cord between Zosia and the center of her circle.
Falcon's Gambit continues to keep both eye and ear (as well as the other senses) out, one ear twitching toward the so-familiar language.
It's not long after the Sept's Master of the Rite begins her ritual chanting that the spirits start to take an obvious interest. It is the spiders that work their way closer to begin with, small things the size of those found in the physical realm that scuttle closer and start spinning over anything that stays still long enough, including stationary Garou feet and paws. They stay clear of the flames in the bowl, though. After several minutes, more can be seen approaching around the surrounding grey blocks of webby buildings. Some are mere shadowy forms; one is only a sensation of sound, an irritating buzz that sets the teeth on edge; there's an empty, ragged coat that moves on its own; and bounding over the rooftops from some considerable distance away, it is possible to spot a group of four monkeys- one lime-green, one strangely elongated. From far closer to hand, slinking from the base of the pit, come three wary grey shapes, one considerably larger than the other two. They scuttle up the pit sides and stop, staring towards the Garou- three rats, with dark fur and naked tails, twitching whiskers and bare, pink ears. The smaller ones are barely larger than their animal cousins, and watch with feral wariness. The largest one, when it sits up on his hind legs, would reach almost to Zosia's waist, and its face holds the impression of intelligence as well as caution.
Speech-and-Silence continues to circle, giving the first small spirits to show an interest warning growls, hoping this will keep them at bay without him having to use force. When the monkeys and rats start to arrive, he can think of no more apposite action than to repeat the warning growl, and picking the elongated monkey, tries to match gazes with it and stare it down.
The young Silver Fang theurge isn't as focused, perhaps, as the Gaian theurge and notices the gathering spirits from the corner of her eye. She continues the ritual but, for those listening and understanding, starts to slowly, slowly, shift the nature of the call. From a call to something specific to something just a bit more general, calling to clever and intelligent spirits, to spirits who are survivors, to spirits who are good at the city. You know. Like Rats.
It would be impossible to say, at this point, whether Meg has noticed the encroaching spirits or not, though some minute shift in her posture seems to open her to the rats' presence. She continues to direct all of her concentration to Zosia.
The large rat sniffs around itself, seeming as cautious of the other approaching spirits as the Garou are, and backs away from the growling. It squeaks, and the other two rats go scuttling back into the pit as the group of monkeys continue to get closer. Then it squeaks again, its nose twitching in the direction of the Fang Theurge.
Falcon's Gambit nudges those too-intent spiders away at first, and when they remain stubbornly insistent on trying to entangle her, finally gets up and moves. She notices the monkeys and bares fangs at them, watching the quartet until the rats' arrival draws her attention. Those she lets pass after another look to the theurges, and comes up beside Speech and Silence to keep a closer eye on the primates.
Once the rat starts to speak, Zosia's chanting and movement ceases. *I know. It was a risk,* she agrees with the spirit. She holds a hand toward Meg before returning her attention. *We cannot linger and we will have to drive them away once this is done, so that we can return to the realm. But I need a scout. Will you talk with me, once I deal with them?*
~Keep an eye out round the other side,~ Speech-and-Silence orders Falcon's Gambit. ~I can keep this lot away for now. Don't let us get backstabbed.~
The rat's nose twitches several times and it drops its forelegs to the floor to scratch itself with a back leg, then squeaks again with a sort of shuddering gesture. The monkeys pause atop the closest of the web-covered buildings, chittering nonsense and pushing each other around. The lime green one slowly turns to desert camo-pattern; the elongated one continues to stretch; and the other two somehow merge into one, then re-emerge as two again, but one with two heads an no tail, the other with no head and two tails. Obn the other side, the coat moves closer, as though watching- eyeless, headless, hovering as though there were an invisible body inside. The Umbra dims; a pall is cast over the Garou, the shadows deepening, the air growing dank and lifeless.
Falcon's Gambit tips her chin up in acquiescence and backs away from the Walker with a last silent baring of fangs at the monkeys. Circling around the rite and rats she casts a wary eye on the hovering coat and snarls at it as well, encouraging it to move back.
*Because I would like to make a bargain with you, to both of our benefits.* That stated, the Silver Fang seems to suddenly shine with a more impressive light. Or radiate it? Or just....she's more. More personality, more presence, more of what makes a Fang a Fang. She tilts her head at the rat, adding, *I do keep my bargains.* Once that is stated, she turns toward the monkey spirits, holding out a hand toward them. She shouldn't look impressive in her birth form but she does, commanding and stern. *Be gone!* she shouts authoritatively. *Flee!*
Meg comes over to Zosia as soon as the other theurge gestures for her. She hunkers down, beside and just behind Zosia; if she were in homid, she might not be much taller than the rat. In glabro, it's not that different. Her voice, when she speaks to support Zosia's response, as the commanding presence is turned on the monkeys, is soft and a touch coaxing, a gentleness quite at odds with her usual manner. *We want to make this a better place, so that when someone calls, there are no more of those to come. That will serve everyone including folks like you, if we can do it, but we can't do it alone. We offer sustenance and protection, and will bargain with you for more.* And she holds out her hand to the rat, palm back, inner wrist up and exposed.
Speech-and-Silence fidgets uncomfortably at the antics of the monkeys. But he stands his ground, neither retreating nor attacking, at least until and unless they or the rats make a hostile move.
All the Garou feel themselves not quite on their best form. The words spoken were not quite the right ones to have chosen. They're not quite prepared enough. They could have brought something else that would have served them more effectively, chosen a better time to come. Niggling little doubts invade, and yet the heaviness of the air starts to make the effort of working out the exact nature of the doubts too much to trouble with. Zosia's impressive glowing aura seems almost tarnished, her voice weaker than it ought to be, the note of command, that started so well, sounds faintly uncertain once it reaches the ears. Uncertain or not, the monkeys back off at the command, leaping away to the next building out where they fall to squabbling among themselves in a burst of screaming and fighting. The coat continues to hover nearby, unmoving and unmoved. The rat also seems unmoved and inclined to go away again, until the Gaian offers her hand. It darts a gance around then, then runs forwards towards the offered limb.
Falcon's Gambit, her ears flattening, growls at the coat this time, escalating matters since the snarl didn't seem terribly effective. She glances back at the others again before making a short rush at the outer garment, a threat rather than an actual attack.
Leaving coaxing to the Gaian for the time being and, frankly, a bit unnerved by the general aura around the place, Zosia turns to the scary coat that hangs there. Steeling herself and sucking her breath in, she raises her chin and goes for her most arrogant and furious possible mood. *YOU!* she roars at the thing, flinging a hand toward it. *You will leave this place NOW!*
Meg braces herself with one hand against the ground, shoulders bowed under the weight of the place, and holds quite steady for the bite. *See?* she says with wry humor. *I'm sustenance and she's protection. All right?*
Speech-and-Silence fidgets, nervous, uncomfortable. He keeps a close eye on the monkeys even now that they've retreated, obviously expecting them to return in short order.
The coat seems to slump around the shoulders, as though everything is just too much effort; and the Garou can sympathize, for they feel much the same. Why bother? What's the point? The coat drifts further off in a desultory fashion, and the oppressive gloom lifts slightly, although the place still seems more colourless even than usual for the city Umbra. The rat-spirit shivers and crouches, chittering impatiently. The monkeys carry on squabbling. Three of them seem to be ganging up on the fourth now.
Zosia relaxes visibly as the coat moves off and the mood eases slightly. *I need to know the lay of the land on this side before we bring in Garou to start clearing out both problems and freeing those trapped. We also need to know why the spiders in some parts are behaving strange and wrong--I saw one yesterday wrapping another up in a cocoon and others not weaving in a way that makes sense. We need to know the best places to cross over and what needs the most help first. In short, we need scouting help from a true survivor.* Flattery? Yes, but there's a ring of truth to the Silver Fang's words. *This will make this a better place for you here and for your children. And I hold a great deal of influence over the one who owns this place on the realm side.* She stops short of promising certain things yet.
Whether by her doing or Zosia's, Falcon's Gambit takes the coat's retreat as a success, with one ear popping up to follow its slink away. The young Ragabash retreats a pace or two closer to the others; after a second or two she turns in a circle, keeping an eye on the already-known spirits and looking out for newcomers.
The rat-spirit sits up again, one paw resting lightly on Meg's wrist. It squeaks rather crossly. The watching Garou stay on the alert, but for the moment it is only the little pattern-spiders who have remained.
Meg holds steady, something approaching a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth as she regards the rat. *You and we both know you can scope out this place and understand what you're seeing in a way we never could. And she does have influence.* She doesn't promise anything specific either, but gives Zosia a faintly brow-raised look.
Speech-and-Silence glances over his shoulder at Zosia, plainly wishing he could understand all of what's going on. A quick glance at Shelby and the empty coat, and then he's facing outward again, vigilant once more, but with a weary droop to his shoulders.
*If I put back too many,* Zosia points out with the barest hint of impatience, *The humans will come and do more harm to your kind. But. I will arrange places for your children to get food that will not have poisons or traps. And we will work on,* but not promise, *ways to make tunnels for your children.* Somehow. There's a moment of pain as Zosia imagines explaining that one, flashing across her face all at once. *Deal?*
The rat's whisker's twitch, and it chitters again, mostly towards Zosia but a little towards Meg.
Falcon's Gambit spares the conversation another fragment of her attention before she drifts a quarter or so of the way around the circle separating her from the other Ragabash.
Meg nods provisionally, looking to Zosia for confirmation.
Zosia breathes in and out slowly. Then, making the decision, she nods sharply. *Deal. I will bring it here, bring food to realm, make holes for your children.*
The rat sniffs in Zosia's direction suspiciously, then squeaks once and scuttles away into the pit. That may have something to do with the large gorilla-spirit which has lumbered into view between the buildings. It is still quite a distance away, but moving fast.
The Silver Fang ragabash's other ear pops at the sight of the gorilla. ~Large hairy ape coming,~ she reports, shifting to face the oncoming primate. ~Fast. Are we almost done here?~
Zosia drops to her knees and seems determined to leave her ritual items behind. Pulling the mirror from her pocket, she practically yells for them to switch back to their birth form. Waving to them, she holds out the mirror for all to see. "Move it, move it, move it."
Meg drops down to her birthform and goes through on her own mirror again, so as not to contribute to gridlock. She does call a soft, *Thank you!* after the rat, first.
~Go go go,~ Kevin snarls at the other garou, windmilling his arms at them like a paratroop sergeant urging his men out of the hatch in a plane. Once Shelby and Meg are through he drops back to homid and dives after them.
Jumping as if goosed, Falcon's Gambit gladly leaves off her observation of the gorilla and dashes back to Zosia, just barely remembering to shift back to homid before locking gaze with herself in the Ritemistress' mirror.
Zosia goes last, of course, once the others are pushing through the gauntlet.
It's a near thing; but even the charging gorilla's mood seems to grow more subdued when it gets closer to that gloomy coat, and it buys the Garou enough time to pull through the cloying, clinging Gauntlet's reluctant barrier and emerge into the fresh air of the park. The young couple are half-dressed and entirely absorbed in one another beneath the shadow of the pampas-grass, just enough out of sight that they can be easily stumbled over by retreating Garou as they depart the area once they have crossed.