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Apr. 8th, 2010 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It is currently 12:03 Pacific Time on Thu Apr 8 2010.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (37% full).
Country House
It's sort of a chilly, dreary day in St. Claire this afternoon and so Kate has settled at the house for a change. She's at the kitchen table with a newspaper laid out in front of her, and a small pocket knife in hand. A slowly taking shape carving is on the newspaper as the girl fusses with the knife.
Shelby's a polite roommate, even if she doesn't spend much time there. The word came down from Zosia: NO REDECORATING, and really, other than the towel, Shelby doesn't have much to decorate with. She descends the steps now wearing her track suit, hair finger-combed into place, and heads for the kitchen and all-important fridge. "What are you doing, Kate-rhya? she asks politely, straightening with an apple in hand.
Kate looks up with a grin, "Hey Shelby. You can just call me Kate, I don't need the rhya." She glances around, "Which is probably not what Zosia would want to hear, but if it's just us, you can just go with Kate. As for what I'm up to. Whittling. Just a hobby of mine. You do any crafty type stuff?" The small figurine on the table looks like it might end up as an otter down the road.
"If Zosia doesn't beat me for neglecting my manners, Al will," Shelby points out. She fetches some cheese as well, unwrapping and slicing off a good-sized hunk of the cheddar before glancing back. "You want anything?" "--Whittling," she adds after a polite pause. "No, I can't say I ever thought about it. Some of the others knit or sew, but mostly I read."
Kate raises her head up at that, "I haven't met Al yet. And, if I insist on it being just Kate, then it's my manners that they can question. We're just sitting here at home and hanging out. I don't need a rhya." She picks up wooden creature and knife again, putting blade to work. "What kind of things do you read?"
"With all due respect... Kate-rhya, it's not you they're going to be beating." Shelby offers over an apologetic smile and what-can-you-do shrug, returns to slicing her apple. "All sorts of things. Anne Rice, until she got too... weird. Dan Brown. Grisham. What about you? Which Sept are you from, again? I don't think I caught it."
Kate looks to the cub. "So wait." She sets the knife and carving down carefully. "Did they say that you should disregard whatever I say? Or did they specifically say, 'If Kate tells you to call her just Kate, don't do it, call her Kate-rhya?' Listen. This isn't a trick or a test, I'm telling you, for real, that I'd rather you call me just Kate when it's all casual like this. Seriously. If you told them that I said so, they gotta take it up with me. And I hardly think a beating is going to be the first choice of reprimand on something like that."
Shelby cuts through the apple with one last ku-chunk before bending her attention to coring it, not looking back. "Zosia-rhya informed me that once you had done with your chiminage, you could begin to teach me. It's nothing personal. And just because you don't think Al would beat me - or you - over this, doesn't mean I care to risk it. Heal it or not, it still hurts."
"What rank is Al?" asks Kate then, changing her approach. "And I'm from Birch Pool in upstate New York to answer your question.
"My teacher is Cliath, like you," Shelby says, setting both apple and cheese on a small plate before moving to clean her knife. "Upstate... like near Rochester? I've never been there; been anywhere but Sunlit Waters and here. What's it like there?"
"So how is it that my request gets completely thrown aside?" The Ahroun's question comes across evenly toned, but there is the faintest hint of either frustration or surprise there. Kate's only answer to what her home Sept is like, is a somewhat sarcastic answer of, "Well back home, if a ranking Garou told me how to address her, I'd probably listen. So I guess it's different here."
Shelby dries the knife and replaces it in the block before she answers, carefully drying her fingers as well. "Al is my teacher," she repeats carefully. "If - when - he tells me I don't have to be respectful, then I will."
"I'll talk to him." The girl continues to push out some of the wood from her carving. "Out of curiosity sake, what would you do if I told you to do something right now?"
Shelby, halfway through turning about, goes still, her eyes sliding over to where the ahroun sits at table. "That depends on what you ask me to do," is her answer.
Kate looks up, "If three Dancers busted through the front door, and I told you to run, get to the woods, and use your nose to find help. What would you do?"
"Probably die," the cub admits after a few seconds. "I'm not very good at shifting, I can't really run in lupus, and I have no idea how to track. So even if I managed to get to the door, it wouldn't do me much good."
Kate looks up, "So, you would attempt it at least. Despite the obvious rules that you'd have to break in order to listen to my command?"
Shelby points out, "There's a world of difference between your asking me to be socially improper and the scenario you've described. If Al told me to hold still and then threw a hammer at my head, I'd probably duck even though he told me not to."
"I know there's a big difference between the two. I was just curious if there were any circumstances in which you'd honor a request or command from me. That's all." Kate picks up the carving again, growing more quiet.
Shelby leans one hip against the counter and is quiet for a good handful of seconds while she has a bite of apple. "You're pouting."
Kate looks up more sharply at that. "And you're crossing a line. You won't give me the respect of calling me by the name I tell you to call me, but you'll make a comment like that? It irritates me and that makes me scowl. Not pout. So just drop it." A very brief pause follows. "How long ago did you first anyway?"
Shelby quite deliberately pauses her lunch to take a good look at the ceiling. "Two weeks tomorrow," she answers promptly, and has more apple.
"Prior to that you knew about the Garou and the Silver Fangs, and all that? You just had the notion you were kin, not Garou?" Thwick, thwick. The whittling continues as Kate makes small talk with the cub.
Shelby says, "Yes, that's right. They performed the Baptism of Fire on me, and Falcon said I was kin. I'd come to Saint Claire to attend college. Pre-law." She nibbles on a bit of cheese, carefully watching Kate and her knife. "You?"
"My brothers are kin, both older than me. I was the youngest and bred true, but my father was Garou as well, so my upbringing was always tinted with lessons for the future I guess. A lot of stories of our past, the legends and heroes. Just exactly what they were was left off, but, a Galliard doesn't need every last hair of detail to spin a good story."
Shelby glances out the kitchen window and back again. "Oh, he's a Galliard? How long have you been a cliath?"
"He is, he's also Adren." There's pride there, but the Ahroun is less about bragging and more about just filling in details for the cub. "I rited about a half year ago. Firsted when I was fourteen and I'll be sixteen this year. In June actually. I'll probably go home for a visit then, at least a short one."
Shelby ohs? "When in June? I'm the 29th."
Kate grins a little, "June first. Which was nice in school when it landed on the Memorial Day weekend. Extra days off for celebrating. But, you're older than that, right?"
"1992," Shelby agrees. "Eighteen this year." She blows out a breath and wrinkles her nose down at the plate, as if suddenly revolted by what's there. "Is your family going to do something for it? Big number, sixteen."
Kate considers the question then offers a shrug and a grin, "I don't know. I've never turned sixteen before. My brother Ruslan got a car, but it came with the condition of driving me around whenever I needed it. Which is how I got out here, so that was one huge condition. I imagine we'll celebrate it somehow, but I'm not sure it will be anything huge." A breath is drawn and she stands up, pocketing knife and carving. The newspaper is carefully gathered up so the shavings don't leak out, and then she throws them out. "I'm going to go run for a bit. I'll see you later."
"Your own wheels are nice," Shelby agrees, a touch wistful. She has another bite of apple and wipes at a stray bit of juice with a wrist, gives the ahroun a nod. "Enjoy your run. I'll be here when you get back." A joke - Shelby's always here.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (37% full).
Country House
It's sort of a chilly, dreary day in St. Claire this afternoon and so Kate has settled at the house for a change. She's at the kitchen table with a newspaper laid out in front of her, and a small pocket knife in hand. A slowly taking shape carving is on the newspaper as the girl fusses with the knife.
Shelby's a polite roommate, even if she doesn't spend much time there. The word came down from Zosia: NO REDECORATING, and really, other than the towel, Shelby doesn't have much to decorate with. She descends the steps now wearing her track suit, hair finger-combed into place, and heads for the kitchen and all-important fridge. "What are you doing, Kate-rhya? she asks politely, straightening with an apple in hand.
Kate looks up with a grin, "Hey Shelby. You can just call me Kate, I don't need the rhya." She glances around, "Which is probably not what Zosia would want to hear, but if it's just us, you can just go with Kate. As for what I'm up to. Whittling. Just a hobby of mine. You do any crafty type stuff?" The small figurine on the table looks like it might end up as an otter down the road.
"If Zosia doesn't beat me for neglecting my manners, Al will," Shelby points out. She fetches some cheese as well, unwrapping and slicing off a good-sized hunk of the cheddar before glancing back. "You want anything?" "--Whittling," she adds after a polite pause. "No, I can't say I ever thought about it. Some of the others knit or sew, but mostly I read."
Kate raises her head up at that, "I haven't met Al yet. And, if I insist on it being just Kate, then it's my manners that they can question. We're just sitting here at home and hanging out. I don't need a rhya." She picks up wooden creature and knife again, putting blade to work. "What kind of things do you read?"
"With all due respect... Kate-rhya, it's not you they're going to be beating." Shelby offers over an apologetic smile and what-can-you-do shrug, returns to slicing her apple. "All sorts of things. Anne Rice, until she got too... weird. Dan Brown. Grisham. What about you? Which Sept are you from, again? I don't think I caught it."
Kate looks to the cub. "So wait." She sets the knife and carving down carefully. "Did they say that you should disregard whatever I say? Or did they specifically say, 'If Kate tells you to call her just Kate, don't do it, call her Kate-rhya?' Listen. This isn't a trick or a test, I'm telling you, for real, that I'd rather you call me just Kate when it's all casual like this. Seriously. If you told them that I said so, they gotta take it up with me. And I hardly think a beating is going to be the first choice of reprimand on something like that."
Shelby cuts through the apple with one last ku-chunk before bending her attention to coring it, not looking back. "Zosia-rhya informed me that once you had done with your chiminage, you could begin to teach me. It's nothing personal. And just because you don't think Al would beat me - or you - over this, doesn't mean I care to risk it. Heal it or not, it still hurts."
"What rank is Al?" asks Kate then, changing her approach. "And I'm from Birch Pool in upstate New York to answer your question.
"My teacher is Cliath, like you," Shelby says, setting both apple and cheese on a small plate before moving to clean her knife. "Upstate... like near Rochester? I've never been there; been anywhere but Sunlit Waters and here. What's it like there?"
"So how is it that my request gets completely thrown aside?" The Ahroun's question comes across evenly toned, but there is the faintest hint of either frustration or surprise there. Kate's only answer to what her home Sept is like, is a somewhat sarcastic answer of, "Well back home, if a ranking Garou told me how to address her, I'd probably listen. So I guess it's different here."
Shelby dries the knife and replaces it in the block before she answers, carefully drying her fingers as well. "Al is my teacher," she repeats carefully. "If - when - he tells me I don't have to be respectful, then I will."
"I'll talk to him." The girl continues to push out some of the wood from her carving. "Out of curiosity sake, what would you do if I told you to do something right now?"
Shelby, halfway through turning about, goes still, her eyes sliding over to where the ahroun sits at table. "That depends on what you ask me to do," is her answer.
Kate looks up, "If three Dancers busted through the front door, and I told you to run, get to the woods, and use your nose to find help. What would you do?"
"Probably die," the cub admits after a few seconds. "I'm not very good at shifting, I can't really run in lupus, and I have no idea how to track. So even if I managed to get to the door, it wouldn't do me much good."
Kate looks up, "So, you would attempt it at least. Despite the obvious rules that you'd have to break in order to listen to my command?"
Shelby points out, "There's a world of difference between your asking me to be socially improper and the scenario you've described. If Al told me to hold still and then threw a hammer at my head, I'd probably duck even though he told me not to."
"I know there's a big difference between the two. I was just curious if there were any circumstances in which you'd honor a request or command from me. That's all." Kate picks up the carving again, growing more quiet.
Shelby leans one hip against the counter and is quiet for a good handful of seconds while she has a bite of apple. "You're pouting."
Kate looks up more sharply at that. "And you're crossing a line. You won't give me the respect of calling me by the name I tell you to call me, but you'll make a comment like that? It irritates me and that makes me scowl. Not pout. So just drop it." A very brief pause follows. "How long ago did you first anyway?"
Shelby quite deliberately pauses her lunch to take a good look at the ceiling. "Two weeks tomorrow," she answers promptly, and has more apple.
"Prior to that you knew about the Garou and the Silver Fangs, and all that? You just had the notion you were kin, not Garou?" Thwick, thwick. The whittling continues as Kate makes small talk with the cub.
Shelby says, "Yes, that's right. They performed the Baptism of Fire on me, and Falcon said I was kin. I'd come to Saint Claire to attend college. Pre-law." She nibbles on a bit of cheese, carefully watching Kate and her knife. "You?"
"My brothers are kin, both older than me. I was the youngest and bred true, but my father was Garou as well, so my upbringing was always tinted with lessons for the future I guess. A lot of stories of our past, the legends and heroes. Just exactly what they were was left off, but, a Galliard doesn't need every last hair of detail to spin a good story."
Shelby glances out the kitchen window and back again. "Oh, he's a Galliard? How long have you been a cliath?"
"He is, he's also Adren." There's pride there, but the Ahroun is less about bragging and more about just filling in details for the cub. "I rited about a half year ago. Firsted when I was fourteen and I'll be sixteen this year. In June actually. I'll probably go home for a visit then, at least a short one."
Shelby ohs? "When in June? I'm the 29th."
Kate grins a little, "June first. Which was nice in school when it landed on the Memorial Day weekend. Extra days off for celebrating. But, you're older than that, right?"
"1992," Shelby agrees. "Eighteen this year." She blows out a breath and wrinkles her nose down at the plate, as if suddenly revolted by what's there. "Is your family going to do something for it? Big number, sixteen."
Kate considers the question then offers a shrug and a grin, "I don't know. I've never turned sixteen before. My brother Ruslan got a car, but it came with the condition of driving me around whenever I needed it. Which is how I got out here, so that was one huge condition. I imagine we'll celebrate it somehow, but I'm not sure it will be anything huge." A breath is drawn and she stands up, pocketing knife and carving. The newspaper is carefully gathered up so the shavings don't leak out, and then she throws them out. "I'm going to go run for a bit. I'll see you later."
"Your own wheels are nice," Shelby agrees, a touch wistful. She has another bite of apple and wipes at a stray bit of juice with a wrist, gives the ahroun a nod. "Enjoy your run. I'll be here when you get back." A joke - Shelby's always here.