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They're falling out of the sky
It is currently 08:42 Pacific Time on Thu Jul 7 2011.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (43% full).
Edgewood House: Meadow
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Cooler today and with a heavy overcast, the weather has actually pulled Tori out of the house this morning. She's on the side of the house working through a series of calistenics; push ups, planks, squats, and a variety of other exercises. There is also a very polished, well kept broadsword leaning up against some of the debris stored at the house.
Shelby emerges from the woods, track jacket zipped to her neck and hands in light fists at her sides. "This weather," she declares as soon as she's in easy earshot of the exercising girl, "is just awful." She stops about five yards away from Tori, watching with polite interest.
Average of height and athletically built, this young woman appears to be just shy of her twenties. She has long, straight hair that varies between sandy-blonde and strawberry-blonde, possibly depending on the season -- or her current mood and dye job. Her eyes are a light crystal-blue and just slightly wideset that lends a suggestion for mischief and playfulness which is confirmed by the quick easy smile she is capable of. Her posture is at the same time both easy going and almost heroically confident, and she moves with a sense of fearlessness about her. Clothing styles vary for her; ranging from casual jeans and tops, to more pop-fun styles, and occasionally harder more rugged wear as well.
Tori pauses in her routine to look over at the newcomer, eyes studying her subtly but with a gauging manner. "I'd say it were perfect weather. No glare, mild. Perfect for a run, but I haven't gotten that far yet." She stands up and falls into a more relaxed posture- well, relaxed compared to one of exercise, but not to say slouching. A few steps are taken toward the other. "Tori Jensen. Modi of the Fenrir, called Thunders-Daughter, or Little Thor." This is spoken quietly enough to be meant for only their ears, and only after a cautious look around the area is given.
"But it's July," Shelby points out. "If this were March or even April I'd agree with you. But July?" She shivers and tucks her hands into her pockets, but only for a moment. "Shelby Zaleski-Leveque, cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs, called Falcon's Gambit Accepted. I'm the great-great-granddaughter of the Adren Galliard Winter's-Snow-on-Summer's-Branches, the Adren Philodox Silver-Sword-with-Two-Blades, and Adren Galliard Falcon's-Cry-Turns-Tears-to-Blood. It's very nice to meet you, Tori." Her introduction is as quiet as Tori's. "Good spot for the sword, by the way."
Tori gets a rather odd look as the Fang outlines her introduction; a mix of tension and awkwardness almost. It's only the mention of the sword that brings her attention back to the here and now. "Oh. Aiy. I was working with it earlier, I keep it better tucked away otherwise." She doesn't make a move to fetch it but her eyes now keep a more careful watch on it. "This is July weather where I am from." This brings a smile to the girl. "You have been here long?"
Shelby doesn't bother to hide her wince-and-shiver at wherever-it-is Tori's from, but she manages to do it lightly. "I'm glad I'm not from there - it's in the nineties, back in Virginia. Which is where I'm from." Her own accent isn't nearly as strong as the Get's, though it's readily apparent. "About a year. I don't suppose you know knife-fighting, do you? A sword just isn't convenient to carry, most of the time."
Tori chuckles a bit, "In some ways it can be the same, but, it is just part of my heritage. Hvitingr. I have these for more conveniently carried defense." She holds up her hands, now balled into fists, and offers a mischievous grin. "Do you like it here? Is your tribe well represented? My home had only Get and Glass Walkers, I have met a few Silver Fangs, but only in quick passing. Perhaps it is in your blood to dislike the cold of Norsca."
The Fang laughs wryly at the Get's fists. "True, but when you look like we do, it never hurts to carry something a little more... traditionally dangerous. Or dangerous-looking, anyway." She balls her own but only to replace them in her pockets, wandering a bit closer to the other girl. "It was a big change from Sunlit Waters to here, that's for sure. There are only three of us here - Ahroun, Ragabash, and Theurge, but Zosia-rhya's Ritemaster. Have you met her yet? She's one of the Guardians, as am I."
Tori nods again, "I suppose I will find out how well they suit me as they are. I have never fired a handgun, and carrying a rifle or shot gun would be even more clumsy than the sword." The last bit of news though perks her up further, "Guardian. Do you have authority to grant me clearance to the bawn? I've met with Viv and we are discussing chiminage, but I have been staying put around here."
"If you're planning on spending time in the city," Shelby nods vaguely toward the west, "it never hurts to be prepared." Tori's request has her searching the other girl's face as if looking for the hidden writing. "Good idea, for the most part. Have you been sniffed yet?"
"No one has come right out and told me they've checked. So I will have to assume no. I don't suppose you can..." she offers a wan smile at this, "but it is worth asking. I haven't met too many yet."
"If they have, they haven't passed it along to the Guardians," the Ragabash admits with a little shrug. "Zosia-rhya can, but I haven't learned it yet. We might as well get you taken care of. Just a moment." She trots back into the woods; a few moments later a wavering howl rises, requesting the Ritemaster's presence. Shortly after that Shelby returns, brushing off her clothes. "Hopefully she's in earshot; if she isn't, I'll escort you and we'll try somewhere else."
Tori waits patiently at each request for a moment, and at the return, offers a genuine smile. "That's very generous, thank you for this." Somewhere during the waiting, she's managed to pick up the sword from its resting place and both resheath it and wrap it up in a soft canvas fabric that has a strap so it can be slung over her shoulder. "So far, everyone I've met has been pretty nice."
"One of the... perks? to being at a multi-tribe Sept, maybe," Shelby shrugs. "We all share the Caern, so there's no point in being brats about it. --For the most part," she amends with a wry half-smile. "There are always going to be people you won't get along with, of course."
A howl--not TOO far but far enough--can be heard: I come.
Tori nods, "Impossible to think otherwise. If all personalities were similar enough to get along, then we'd be missing varying links in our armor. Each piece has to fit and yet be unique, or else our defenses become weaker. Even at home, among the Get there were some I did well to stay away from." A pause, "And some I should have."
Shelby says, "This is where Jahjah would say," something fast and brief in a Slavic language, apparently. "Which roughly translates to, 'And a good thing too, or think of the price of oatmeal'." The return howl pauses her hands on the way back into her pockets. "Oh good, she's on her way. --And I know what you mean. Some puddles you only learn are too deep after you're hip deep in 'em, right?"
When the Silver Fang elder emerges from the woods, she is on two feet. She likely ran, however, and her hair manages to look just a bit wild with twigs and such stuck in it. Strolling toward the pair of Garou near the house, she has a pleasant expression. The bulk of her attention is on the Get.
Tori grins at the dip into the foreign language, and then laughs outright in amusement of the odd saying. "I don't understand what the oatmeal has to do with it, but that is what, grandmas I assume, are like?" Another nod follows, this with a tsk. "Oh yes. I should have invested in waders as a cub." It's at the tail end of the conversation here that she notices the woman approaching. "Is this who you were looking for?" she asks with a nod.
Shelby corrects easily, "Grandfather, but yes. Being a cub sucked." She doesn't explain about the oatmeal but turns easily to greet the incoming blonde, waiting until Zosia's in easy earshot before attempting speech. "Zosia-rhya, thank you for coming. Tori hasn't yet been checked for Wyrm. Would you mind?"
The young woman who approaches is just that--young and small and blonde and utterly stylish. But to a Garou's eyes, her presence and breeding is decidedly impressive, drawing the eye and filling space beyond the physical. When she speaks, however, she has the same genteel accent as Shelby. "I would not mind," she answers, focusing her full attention on the Get and seeming to look through her. "Introductions would be good too."
Becoming more surrounded by breeding as heavily noticable as her own, the young Get seems almost to fall into a more habitually regal posture as the elder Fang arrives. A nod is given though to the request, "Tori Jensen. Modi of the Fenrir and cliath. Called Heart of Thunder Bows Before the Dawn, though mostly shortened to Thunder's-Daughter, or Little Thor." Her accent is as noticable as her breeding; this one comes from the Scandinavian homeland of the tribe. "It's an honor to meet you."
"I am Zosia Sulkowski, called Bright Falcon's Grace. I am a theurge, a fostern, elder of my tribe, child of Unicorn, alpha of Temperance, and Ritemaster of the Hidden Walk." Apparently the theurge is only bothering with the abbreviated version today. "She's clean, I'll pass word," she adds to Shelby, relaxed.
"Thank you Zosia-rhya. Is there another's permission I need to have before exploring the bawn yet?" Tori shifts the canvas wrapped item on her shoulder, letting it hang a little more on her back instead of her side.
The Ragabash relaxes as well - not that she was terribly tense to begin with. "Good. --No, that should be it. I can take you around in a couple hours if you like. I was going to grab something hot and a shower before heading out again." Her glance to Zosia is polite, but clearly she doesn't expect to be contradicted.
"For the bawn you're clear," Zosia agrees, crossing her arms over her chest without making her posture either tense or aggressive--just a place to put the arms. "For the caern, you need permission of the Warder or the Alpha until you are a Sept member. Have you presented chiminage?"
"Understood." She looks to Shelby, "And I'd like that." Tori's reply back to Zosia is more articulated, though the gesture it comes with is a side tilt of her head. "I've met with my Jarl, Viv. She's going to find me something suitable. I'm rather young in experience, so I have not much more than a good work ethic to offer. Viv's told me there are things that need cleaning up and she'll let me know within a week."
Shelby says, "Another warrior is always welcome. I'm sure Viv-rhya will come up with something suitable," as casually as Zosia's arm-folding. "What Sept did you Rite at? Mostly Get and Glass Walkers, you said?"
"There are always things to be done here. Viv's good for that." Zosia then waits for the answer to Shelby's questions.
Tori nods to both, though Shelby gets the majority of the attention since she's asked the next question. The answer comes with a stutter of hesitation. "It is in Norway. Near one of the national parks. The Glass Walkers are mostly found in Oslo, but we had a good handful of them at our sept to help sort most of the federal red tape and such. Likewise, some of our tribe would seek their cities to help bolster their physical strength. We worked well together."
"You could show me on a map, maybe," the Ragabash suggests, enough diffidence in her tone to leave it as that, and not something more pointed. "The Walkers here... I haven't had much experience with them. Mostly they stay clear of the bawn, which is a shame."
Zosia nods quietly, watching the Get, but doesn't seem to feel a need to comment for the time being.
Tori mmms and gives a rather uneager nod to Shelby's suggestion. "That is a shame. I'm pretty comfortable in either place, the tangle of concrete or of woodlands. Not to mention the fact you get to face a bigger variety of challenges from the enemy if you venture to both battlefields." She chuckles a little at this. "Viv spoke poorly of the Walkers here, and suggested the Bone Gnawers were more capable and dependable?"
Shelby chuckles as well. "True. I've spent more of my time in the woods, though. Wouldn't mind spending time in the city, but...." A delicate shrug and inclination of her head toward the trees ends that line of thought. "Now that I couldn't answer. There's a Galliard I rather like, but I haven't seen her for a while. I think - for the most part - they stay in the city too. What do you think, Zosia?"
"Urrah are urrah," Zosia says with a faint smile. "Some are good, some are morons. But I've learned, that's with every tribe." That stated, she looks toward the forest. "I need to meet up with Greg. I'll see you all later." That stated, she turns and just starts to walk off. She adds, "Pleasure to meet you."
Tori watches the Fostern leave, then turns back to Shelby, letting out a sigh that might be described as relief. "I forget how much the breeding of your tribe shines. Oh! Have you ever met one of the really big, really famous Fang kings?"
The brunette sends Zosia off with a, "Falcon watch," waiting until she's gone before turning back to Tori. "Zosia's the center of attention nearly everywhere she goes," she says with an almost rueful turn to her voice. "And considering what she's like, then no, I'm grateful I haven't. Her father's the Sept Elder at Sunlit Waters and he's...." She pauses for a moment, finally ending with, "A lot like her, actually. You just want to sit up a little straighter whenever she's around."
Tori nods knowingly at that, but doesn't expound on it. "So, when there is no enemy at the doorstep, and no patrols or cleaning to be done, what's to do around here?"
"You're asking the wrong person," laughs the Ragabash. "I'm a Guardian. There are always patrols to do. But - I assume you're planning on staying a while, and looking for a pack?"
Tori nods, "Yes. I'd like to stay on for a few years at least. Which is plenty long enough to get truly settled and involved."
Shelby says, "Well, depending on what sort of pack you're looking for, I know Marcos is looking and so are Xander and I. Marcos wants more of a War pack, while we're thinking about Respect or Wisdom." She shrugs and glances toward the house, adding, "Shall we go inside? It might be summer, but for me, this is a little too chilly to be standing around in, at least without fur."
Tori laughs and nods, "Alright, we can go inside, if it were in Norway, we'd be called skjitlest for this but I could use something to drink as well." She makes move toward the door, but stops to let the other take the lead. "You are unpacked and guardian? Is that usual here?"
"Happily we're in Washington state instead so no one will so much as think it." Shelby moves easily past the Get, pushing the door wide behind her as she heads straight for one of the cupboards. "Hard to say, really. Temperance - that's Zosia's pack - is all Guardians. There are a couple other unpacked ones, but we hardly ever see them." Hands on a pair of mugs, she looks back at the Get. "What are you looking for, in a pack?"
Tori follows in and shuts the door behind her, slipping her shoes off but keeping her wrapped parcel on her shoulder. "I haven't learned enough about the area to know what kind of pack I would think most helpful. I know that this is the last stronghold of Gaia in the area. That has to keep everyone busy."
"Mmm, don't think of it as 'most helpful,'" is Shelby's advice as she gets down two mugs and heads to another cupboard for tea, pausing on the way to fill the kettle. "As you say, we're the last Gaian sept in the area. Any help is better than nothing. Better still is to play to your strengths. That's why I'm not thinking about a War pack... but of course, if one falls into my lap I won't automatically discount it," she adds with a grin.
"After riting, I packed with my father. We followed Falcon actually," she casts a smile at the Silver Fang here. "So I'm no stranger to packs formed under the totems of respect. Wisdom. Hmm, I think that those totems would find me either a laughable jest, or a worthy challenge. Get are not always known for their restraint when the scent of battle is present. And, well, a child of Fenris in a warpack is like a fish in the sea. But all packs can benefit from having a, what does Hollywood call it, a muscle?"
The admission of Falcon earns Tori another long, considering look from Shelby before she turns back to the tea. "We have black, a couple of green, mint, and chamomile. Which would you like?" Lightly, "Muscle, right. But the right sort of muscle. Grandmother Tree probably wouldn't be impressed with a scream-and-leap ahroun, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't accept one, period." Almost off-handedly she adds, "Tim-rhya's looking for a pack too, and I'm pretty sure he's not considering respect. That's all I can think of off the top of my head, though."
Tori nods. "Quite a handful. Any chance of the whole group getting together with eachother?" She grins at this, before adding a rather uncertain, "Black?" Perhaps the Nord hasn't done much tea drinking in her time. "Ah yeh, I don't know that I'd fit in with Grandmother Tree, though I also, honestly, wouldn't fare well with Fenris himself or Bull. Such wild abandon is a luxury not all Get are allowed. Not that I'd want it... I don't think."
"Don't think I haven't thought about it," Shelby laughs, pulling down a couple different tea bags. "Mint for me, black for you - that's the one with the caffeine - and if you don't like it, we can switch." Turning, she traps her hands behind her to better consider the Ahroun. "Me, Xander, Tim, Marcos, you. Two ragabash, two ahroun, a theurge. Two Fangs, but no one else from the same tribe. Hmm." It's enough to make her thoughtful, at least, if not fling her hands into the air and shout hallelujahs.
Tori grins a little. "Well, I must have made a somewhat acceptable first impression. My father would be pleased. What other tribes are the others, and are they older Garou, or all cliath? My pack, I was the only cliath. It was... humbling."
"Xander's a Shadow Lord theurge, Marcos a Fang ahroun. Tim's a Strider Ragabash, and the only Fostern of the lot." Shelby shrugs at that. "He and I have been talking packs off and on for the last six months or more, but nothing's come of it. He doesn't like planning; just likes the pack to drop out of the sky. I could pack with Marcos, I'm just not sure we're after the same thing. You should try and meet everyone, see if anyone fits your idea of packmates."
"If Tim is not a planner, would he not want to take alphaship of the pack, even as Fostern? And are any of the others in that group capable and desiring of it in his stead?" Tori looks to the tea mug as it's prepared and handed over, offering a soft thank you for it. "Meeting them sounds good, if for nothing other than needing to meet people and get my face familiar to the sept here."
"Hard to say," Shelby answers - or doesn't-answer. "Maybe. I know he was in an Owl pack most recently, but I don't know who led it. Again, it depends on the type of totem. War? Probably not Tim. Wisdom? Probably not Marcos. I could pack with any of you, I think, but I don't know if all of us belong in the same pack, if that makes sense. But talk to Xander and Marcos, at least. You may or may not find Tim."
Tori nods to that, "Right, I get you. What kind of pack do you see yourself in mostly? I wonder if there are totems here that I would not have the chance to meet back home. Totems of the spirits here maybe."
The kettle starts to whistle and Shelby drifts over to rescue it, apportioning out teabags and pouring. "Ideally? Something with wings. Falcon, Kestrel, Osprey. I really like Dragonfly, and I think Hummingbird would suit me from the war side of things." While the tea steeps she tidies up, almost absently.
Tori considers that. "Falcon was a good totem for me. I enjoyed that pack and what I learned in it. What is Hummingbird like, we don't have them in Norway I think. Osprey we do! We've so much water we have more osprey than we can handle sometimes."
"Fast," replies Shelby promptly, holding up one hand palm down and quivering it slightly. "They feed on flower nectar, and their wings beat so fast you can't see them. They're really tiny, usually about the length of a finger, and always hungry. You see more of them where it's warmer, but I've spotted a few around here. Near the wildflowers, mostly."
"Wow, I can't imagine what packing under that would be like. I would feel, hyper?" she questions the word choice there. "Osprey is much like Falcon though. Hmm." Tori's thoughtful silence suggests a growing idea in the Ahroun. "Who have you packed under?"
"Fast," Shelby says again, with a grin this time. She rescues the two teabags and carries the mahogany brew over to the Get, keeping the mint for herself. "Give it a taste - if you don't like it we can trade. And nobody." She offers this with another little shrug and rueful half-smile. "It's been less than a year since I passed my Rite of Passage."
Tori takes a sip of her tea and then looks up, either caught off guard with the others answer, or really trying to mask the rather unexcited reaction to her drink. "Did you rite here? Or back home?"
Shelby says lightly, "Oh, here. --I'm sorry, I never asked if you'd like milk or sugar. I usually drink my black tea sweet, and I never even thought." She looks poised to dash across the kitchen to fetch either, or possibly both.
Tori looks down and laughs, "Will that help? Whatever will make it taste less like I am chewing on a sour weed please. Did you have a sept back home that you could have rited at, with family? I think if I didn't have family there, it may have been different. Though, in Norway too, all the populations are very close together in the same places, not spread out like they are here. So everyone is very close."
The ragabash laughs. "Milk mellows the aftertaste and sugar removes some of the bite, but you might just be happier with mint? I haven't had any, yet. I'm just enjoying holding it. --That's the thing. My Baptism of Fire marked me as kin, and I had my first Change really late. Like, last year really-late, and I just turned nineteen. If they'd known I was Garou, I'd probably still be at Sunlit Waters and have several years as a Cliath behind me, if not be Fostern by now. Zosia's not that much older than I am."
Tori shakes her head at the offer, "I'll manage. It'll make me a stronger woman in the long run I'm sure." As the story unfolds, she drops her head in apparent surprise. "Oh wow. That is late, and quite the surprise I imagine. So you came out here and firsted and ... wow. I was somewhat late to first too, I was nearly through seventeen. And I rited just ten months ago actually. So we're in pretty similar shoes. I'm nineteen too. Which," here she looks exasperated, "is not old enough in this country to purchase beer or ale!"
Shelby snerks and has some tea, then, settling in. "We're practically twins! -At least when it comes to Garou-things, anyway. I Rited at the very end of August, last year. Isn't it even more rare for an Ahroun to change that late than a Ragabash? Did your Baptism of Fire have you mismarked, too?"
Tori nods, "They knew I was garou. They went to great lengths to temper my anger and rage even as a child. It's still there, and it gets the better of me more than I'd like, but it doesn't control me. They actually had to force my change on me, I think they got worried if they didn't, I'd dawdle too long. But, it gave me a chance to finish school, and so I'm thankful. Hmm. Did you want to show me around the bawn then?"
"I," Shelby confides as though it were a great secret, "was going to go to college. Become a lawyer. But Falcon had other plans." Another shrug - what can you do? - and she nods at the other girl. "Sure. Let me warm up and we can go for a run. The shower will still be there tomorrow."
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (43% full).
Edgewood House: Meadow
A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Obvious exits:
Narrow Path Sunrise Road Front Door Barn/Garage
Cooler today and with a heavy overcast, the weather has actually pulled Tori out of the house this morning. She's on the side of the house working through a series of calistenics; push ups, planks, squats, and a variety of other exercises. There is also a very polished, well kept broadsword leaning up against some of the debris stored at the house.
Shelby emerges from the woods, track jacket zipped to her neck and hands in light fists at her sides. "This weather," she declares as soon as she's in easy earshot of the exercising girl, "is just awful." She stops about five yards away from Tori, watching with polite interest.
Average of height and athletically built, this young woman appears to be just shy of her twenties. She has long, straight hair that varies between sandy-blonde and strawberry-blonde, possibly depending on the season -- or her current mood and dye job. Her eyes are a light crystal-blue and just slightly wideset that lends a suggestion for mischief and playfulness which is confirmed by the quick easy smile she is capable of. Her posture is at the same time both easy going and almost heroically confident, and she moves with a sense of fearlessness about her. Clothing styles vary for her; ranging from casual jeans and tops, to more pop-fun styles, and occasionally harder more rugged wear as well.
Tori pauses in her routine to look over at the newcomer, eyes studying her subtly but with a gauging manner. "I'd say it were perfect weather. No glare, mild. Perfect for a run, but I haven't gotten that far yet." She stands up and falls into a more relaxed posture- well, relaxed compared to one of exercise, but not to say slouching. A few steps are taken toward the other. "Tori Jensen. Modi of the Fenrir, called Thunders-Daughter, or Little Thor." This is spoken quietly enough to be meant for only their ears, and only after a cautious look around the area is given.
"But it's July," Shelby points out. "If this were March or even April I'd agree with you. But July?" She shivers and tucks her hands into her pockets, but only for a moment. "Shelby Zaleski-Leveque, cliath Ragabash of the Silver Fangs, called Falcon's Gambit Accepted. I'm the great-great-granddaughter of the Adren Galliard Winter's-Snow-on-Summer's-Branches, the Adren Philodox Silver-Sword-with-Two-Blades, and Adren Galliard Falcon's-Cry-Turns-Tears-to-Blood. It's very nice to meet you, Tori." Her introduction is as quiet as Tori's. "Good spot for the sword, by the way."
Tori gets a rather odd look as the Fang outlines her introduction; a mix of tension and awkwardness almost. It's only the mention of the sword that brings her attention back to the here and now. "Oh. Aiy. I was working with it earlier, I keep it better tucked away otherwise." She doesn't make a move to fetch it but her eyes now keep a more careful watch on it. "This is July weather where I am from." This brings a smile to the girl. "You have been here long?"
Shelby doesn't bother to hide her wince-and-shiver at wherever-it-is Tori's from, but she manages to do it lightly. "I'm glad I'm not from there - it's in the nineties, back in Virginia. Which is where I'm from." Her own accent isn't nearly as strong as the Get's, though it's readily apparent. "About a year. I don't suppose you know knife-fighting, do you? A sword just isn't convenient to carry, most of the time."
Tori chuckles a bit, "In some ways it can be the same, but, it is just part of my heritage. Hvitingr. I have these for more conveniently carried defense." She holds up her hands, now balled into fists, and offers a mischievous grin. "Do you like it here? Is your tribe well represented? My home had only Get and Glass Walkers, I have met a few Silver Fangs, but only in quick passing. Perhaps it is in your blood to dislike the cold of Norsca."
The Fang laughs wryly at the Get's fists. "True, but when you look like we do, it never hurts to carry something a little more... traditionally dangerous. Or dangerous-looking, anyway." She balls her own but only to replace them in her pockets, wandering a bit closer to the other girl. "It was a big change from Sunlit Waters to here, that's for sure. There are only three of us here - Ahroun, Ragabash, and Theurge, but Zosia-rhya's Ritemaster. Have you met her yet? She's one of the Guardians, as am I."
Tori nods again, "I suppose I will find out how well they suit me as they are. I have never fired a handgun, and carrying a rifle or shot gun would be even more clumsy than the sword." The last bit of news though perks her up further, "Guardian. Do you have authority to grant me clearance to the bawn? I've met with Viv and we are discussing chiminage, but I have been staying put around here."
"If you're planning on spending time in the city," Shelby nods vaguely toward the west, "it never hurts to be prepared." Tori's request has her searching the other girl's face as if looking for the hidden writing. "Good idea, for the most part. Have you been sniffed yet?"
"No one has come right out and told me they've checked. So I will have to assume no. I don't suppose you can..." she offers a wan smile at this, "but it is worth asking. I haven't met too many yet."
"If they have, they haven't passed it along to the Guardians," the Ragabash admits with a little shrug. "Zosia-rhya can, but I haven't learned it yet. We might as well get you taken care of. Just a moment." She trots back into the woods; a few moments later a wavering howl rises, requesting the Ritemaster's presence. Shortly after that Shelby returns, brushing off her clothes. "Hopefully she's in earshot; if she isn't, I'll escort you and we'll try somewhere else."
Tori waits patiently at each request for a moment, and at the return, offers a genuine smile. "That's very generous, thank you for this." Somewhere during the waiting, she's managed to pick up the sword from its resting place and both resheath it and wrap it up in a soft canvas fabric that has a strap so it can be slung over her shoulder. "So far, everyone I've met has been pretty nice."
"One of the... perks? to being at a multi-tribe Sept, maybe," Shelby shrugs. "We all share the Caern, so there's no point in being brats about it. --For the most part," she amends with a wry half-smile. "There are always going to be people you won't get along with, of course."
A howl--not TOO far but far enough--can be heard: I come.
Tori nods, "Impossible to think otherwise. If all personalities were similar enough to get along, then we'd be missing varying links in our armor. Each piece has to fit and yet be unique, or else our defenses become weaker. Even at home, among the Get there were some I did well to stay away from." A pause, "And some I should have."
Shelby says, "This is where Jahjah would say," something fast and brief in a Slavic language, apparently. "Which roughly translates to, 'And a good thing too, or think of the price of oatmeal'." The return howl pauses her hands on the way back into her pockets. "Oh good, she's on her way. --And I know what you mean. Some puddles you only learn are too deep after you're hip deep in 'em, right?"
When the Silver Fang elder emerges from the woods, she is on two feet. She likely ran, however, and her hair manages to look just a bit wild with twigs and such stuck in it. Strolling toward the pair of Garou near the house, she has a pleasant expression. The bulk of her attention is on the Get.
Tori grins at the dip into the foreign language, and then laughs outright in amusement of the odd saying. "I don't understand what the oatmeal has to do with it, but that is what, grandmas I assume, are like?" Another nod follows, this with a tsk. "Oh yes. I should have invested in waders as a cub." It's at the tail end of the conversation here that she notices the woman approaching. "Is this who you were looking for?" she asks with a nod.
Shelby corrects easily, "Grandfather, but yes. Being a cub sucked." She doesn't explain about the oatmeal but turns easily to greet the incoming blonde, waiting until Zosia's in easy earshot before attempting speech. "Zosia-rhya, thank you for coming. Tori hasn't yet been checked for Wyrm. Would you mind?"
The young woman who approaches is just that--young and small and blonde and utterly stylish. But to a Garou's eyes, her presence and breeding is decidedly impressive, drawing the eye and filling space beyond the physical. When she speaks, however, she has the same genteel accent as Shelby. "I would not mind," she answers, focusing her full attention on the Get and seeming to look through her. "Introductions would be good too."
Becoming more surrounded by breeding as heavily noticable as her own, the young Get seems almost to fall into a more habitually regal posture as the elder Fang arrives. A nod is given though to the request, "Tori Jensen. Modi of the Fenrir and cliath. Called Heart of Thunder Bows Before the Dawn, though mostly shortened to Thunder's-Daughter, or Little Thor." Her accent is as noticable as her breeding; this one comes from the Scandinavian homeland of the tribe. "It's an honor to meet you."
"I am Zosia Sulkowski, called Bright Falcon's Grace. I am a theurge, a fostern, elder of my tribe, child of Unicorn, alpha of Temperance, and Ritemaster of the Hidden Walk." Apparently the theurge is only bothering with the abbreviated version today. "She's clean, I'll pass word," she adds to Shelby, relaxed.
"Thank you Zosia-rhya. Is there another's permission I need to have before exploring the bawn yet?" Tori shifts the canvas wrapped item on her shoulder, letting it hang a little more on her back instead of her side.
The Ragabash relaxes as well - not that she was terribly tense to begin with. "Good. --No, that should be it. I can take you around in a couple hours if you like. I was going to grab something hot and a shower before heading out again." Her glance to Zosia is polite, but clearly she doesn't expect to be contradicted.
"For the bawn you're clear," Zosia agrees, crossing her arms over her chest without making her posture either tense or aggressive--just a place to put the arms. "For the caern, you need permission of the Warder or the Alpha until you are a Sept member. Have you presented chiminage?"
"Understood." She looks to Shelby, "And I'd like that." Tori's reply back to Zosia is more articulated, though the gesture it comes with is a side tilt of her head. "I've met with my Jarl, Viv. She's going to find me something suitable. I'm rather young in experience, so I have not much more than a good work ethic to offer. Viv's told me there are things that need cleaning up and she'll let me know within a week."
Shelby says, "Another warrior is always welcome. I'm sure Viv-rhya will come up with something suitable," as casually as Zosia's arm-folding. "What Sept did you Rite at? Mostly Get and Glass Walkers, you said?"
"There are always things to be done here. Viv's good for that." Zosia then waits for the answer to Shelby's questions.
Tori nods to both, though Shelby gets the majority of the attention since she's asked the next question. The answer comes with a stutter of hesitation. "It is in Norway. Near one of the national parks. The Glass Walkers are mostly found in Oslo, but we had a good handful of them at our sept to help sort most of the federal red tape and such. Likewise, some of our tribe would seek their cities to help bolster their physical strength. We worked well together."
"You could show me on a map, maybe," the Ragabash suggests, enough diffidence in her tone to leave it as that, and not something more pointed. "The Walkers here... I haven't had much experience with them. Mostly they stay clear of the bawn, which is a shame."
Zosia nods quietly, watching the Get, but doesn't seem to feel a need to comment for the time being.
Tori mmms and gives a rather uneager nod to Shelby's suggestion. "That is a shame. I'm pretty comfortable in either place, the tangle of concrete or of woodlands. Not to mention the fact you get to face a bigger variety of challenges from the enemy if you venture to both battlefields." She chuckles a little at this. "Viv spoke poorly of the Walkers here, and suggested the Bone Gnawers were more capable and dependable?"
Shelby chuckles as well. "True. I've spent more of my time in the woods, though. Wouldn't mind spending time in the city, but...." A delicate shrug and inclination of her head toward the trees ends that line of thought. "Now that I couldn't answer. There's a Galliard I rather like, but I haven't seen her for a while. I think - for the most part - they stay in the city too. What do you think, Zosia?"
"Urrah are urrah," Zosia says with a faint smile. "Some are good, some are morons. But I've learned, that's with every tribe." That stated, she looks toward the forest. "I need to meet up with Greg. I'll see you all later." That stated, she turns and just starts to walk off. She adds, "Pleasure to meet you."
Tori watches the Fostern leave, then turns back to Shelby, letting out a sigh that might be described as relief. "I forget how much the breeding of your tribe shines. Oh! Have you ever met one of the really big, really famous Fang kings?"
The brunette sends Zosia off with a, "Falcon watch," waiting until she's gone before turning back to Tori. "Zosia's the center of attention nearly everywhere she goes," she says with an almost rueful turn to her voice. "And considering what she's like, then no, I'm grateful I haven't. Her father's the Sept Elder at Sunlit Waters and he's...." She pauses for a moment, finally ending with, "A lot like her, actually. You just want to sit up a little straighter whenever she's around."
Tori nods knowingly at that, but doesn't expound on it. "So, when there is no enemy at the doorstep, and no patrols or cleaning to be done, what's to do around here?"
"You're asking the wrong person," laughs the Ragabash. "I'm a Guardian. There are always patrols to do. But - I assume you're planning on staying a while, and looking for a pack?"
Tori nods, "Yes. I'd like to stay on for a few years at least. Which is plenty long enough to get truly settled and involved."
Shelby says, "Well, depending on what sort of pack you're looking for, I know Marcos is looking and so are Xander and I. Marcos wants more of a War pack, while we're thinking about Respect or Wisdom." She shrugs and glances toward the house, adding, "Shall we go inside? It might be summer, but for me, this is a little too chilly to be standing around in, at least without fur."
Tori laughs and nods, "Alright, we can go inside, if it were in Norway, we'd be called skjitlest for this but I could use something to drink as well." She makes move toward the door, but stops to let the other take the lead. "You are unpacked and guardian? Is that usual here?"
"Happily we're in Washington state instead so no one will so much as think it." Shelby moves easily past the Get, pushing the door wide behind her as she heads straight for one of the cupboards. "Hard to say, really. Temperance - that's Zosia's pack - is all Guardians. There are a couple other unpacked ones, but we hardly ever see them." Hands on a pair of mugs, she looks back at the Get. "What are you looking for, in a pack?"
Tori follows in and shuts the door behind her, slipping her shoes off but keeping her wrapped parcel on her shoulder. "I haven't learned enough about the area to know what kind of pack I would think most helpful. I know that this is the last stronghold of Gaia in the area. That has to keep everyone busy."
"Mmm, don't think of it as 'most helpful,'" is Shelby's advice as she gets down two mugs and heads to another cupboard for tea, pausing on the way to fill the kettle. "As you say, we're the last Gaian sept in the area. Any help is better than nothing. Better still is to play to your strengths. That's why I'm not thinking about a War pack... but of course, if one falls into my lap I won't automatically discount it," she adds with a grin.
"After riting, I packed with my father. We followed Falcon actually," she casts a smile at the Silver Fang here. "So I'm no stranger to packs formed under the totems of respect. Wisdom. Hmm, I think that those totems would find me either a laughable jest, or a worthy challenge. Get are not always known for their restraint when the scent of battle is present. And, well, a child of Fenris in a warpack is like a fish in the sea. But all packs can benefit from having a, what does Hollywood call it, a muscle?"
The admission of Falcon earns Tori another long, considering look from Shelby before she turns back to the tea. "We have black, a couple of green, mint, and chamomile. Which would you like?" Lightly, "Muscle, right. But the right sort of muscle. Grandmother Tree probably wouldn't be impressed with a scream-and-leap ahroun, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't accept one, period." Almost off-handedly she adds, "Tim-rhya's looking for a pack too, and I'm pretty sure he's not considering respect. That's all I can think of off the top of my head, though."
Tori nods. "Quite a handful. Any chance of the whole group getting together with eachother?" She grins at this, before adding a rather uncertain, "Black?" Perhaps the Nord hasn't done much tea drinking in her time. "Ah yeh, I don't know that I'd fit in with Grandmother Tree, though I also, honestly, wouldn't fare well with Fenris himself or Bull. Such wild abandon is a luxury not all Get are allowed. Not that I'd want it... I don't think."
"Don't think I haven't thought about it," Shelby laughs, pulling down a couple different tea bags. "Mint for me, black for you - that's the one with the caffeine - and if you don't like it, we can switch." Turning, she traps her hands behind her to better consider the Ahroun. "Me, Xander, Tim, Marcos, you. Two ragabash, two ahroun, a theurge. Two Fangs, but no one else from the same tribe. Hmm." It's enough to make her thoughtful, at least, if not fling her hands into the air and shout hallelujahs.
Tori grins a little. "Well, I must have made a somewhat acceptable first impression. My father would be pleased. What other tribes are the others, and are they older Garou, or all cliath? My pack, I was the only cliath. It was... humbling."
"Xander's a Shadow Lord theurge, Marcos a Fang ahroun. Tim's a Strider Ragabash, and the only Fostern of the lot." Shelby shrugs at that. "He and I have been talking packs off and on for the last six months or more, but nothing's come of it. He doesn't like planning; just likes the pack to drop out of the sky. I could pack with Marcos, I'm just not sure we're after the same thing. You should try and meet everyone, see if anyone fits your idea of packmates."
"If Tim is not a planner, would he not want to take alphaship of the pack, even as Fostern? And are any of the others in that group capable and desiring of it in his stead?" Tori looks to the tea mug as it's prepared and handed over, offering a soft thank you for it. "Meeting them sounds good, if for nothing other than needing to meet people and get my face familiar to the sept here."
"Hard to say," Shelby answers - or doesn't-answer. "Maybe. I know he was in an Owl pack most recently, but I don't know who led it. Again, it depends on the type of totem. War? Probably not Tim. Wisdom? Probably not Marcos. I could pack with any of you, I think, but I don't know if all of us belong in the same pack, if that makes sense. But talk to Xander and Marcos, at least. You may or may not find Tim."
Tori nods to that, "Right, I get you. What kind of pack do you see yourself in mostly? I wonder if there are totems here that I would not have the chance to meet back home. Totems of the spirits here maybe."
The kettle starts to whistle and Shelby drifts over to rescue it, apportioning out teabags and pouring. "Ideally? Something with wings. Falcon, Kestrel, Osprey. I really like Dragonfly, and I think Hummingbird would suit me from the war side of things." While the tea steeps she tidies up, almost absently.
Tori considers that. "Falcon was a good totem for me. I enjoyed that pack and what I learned in it. What is Hummingbird like, we don't have them in Norway I think. Osprey we do! We've so much water we have more osprey than we can handle sometimes."
"Fast," replies Shelby promptly, holding up one hand palm down and quivering it slightly. "They feed on flower nectar, and their wings beat so fast you can't see them. They're really tiny, usually about the length of a finger, and always hungry. You see more of them where it's warmer, but I've spotted a few around here. Near the wildflowers, mostly."
"Wow, I can't imagine what packing under that would be like. I would feel, hyper?" she questions the word choice there. "Osprey is much like Falcon though. Hmm." Tori's thoughtful silence suggests a growing idea in the Ahroun. "Who have you packed under?"
"Fast," Shelby says again, with a grin this time. She rescues the two teabags and carries the mahogany brew over to the Get, keeping the mint for herself. "Give it a taste - if you don't like it we can trade. And nobody." She offers this with another little shrug and rueful half-smile. "It's been less than a year since I passed my Rite of Passage."
Tori takes a sip of her tea and then looks up, either caught off guard with the others answer, or really trying to mask the rather unexcited reaction to her drink. "Did you rite here? Or back home?"
Shelby says lightly, "Oh, here. --I'm sorry, I never asked if you'd like milk or sugar. I usually drink my black tea sweet, and I never even thought." She looks poised to dash across the kitchen to fetch either, or possibly both.
Tori looks down and laughs, "Will that help? Whatever will make it taste less like I am chewing on a sour weed please. Did you have a sept back home that you could have rited at, with family? I think if I didn't have family there, it may have been different. Though, in Norway too, all the populations are very close together in the same places, not spread out like they are here. So everyone is very close."
The ragabash laughs. "Milk mellows the aftertaste and sugar removes some of the bite, but you might just be happier with mint? I haven't had any, yet. I'm just enjoying holding it. --That's the thing. My Baptism of Fire marked me as kin, and I had my first Change really late. Like, last year really-late, and I just turned nineteen. If they'd known I was Garou, I'd probably still be at Sunlit Waters and have several years as a Cliath behind me, if not be Fostern by now. Zosia's not that much older than I am."
Tori shakes her head at the offer, "I'll manage. It'll make me a stronger woman in the long run I'm sure." As the story unfolds, she drops her head in apparent surprise. "Oh wow. That is late, and quite the surprise I imagine. So you came out here and firsted and ... wow. I was somewhat late to first too, I was nearly through seventeen. And I rited just ten months ago actually. So we're in pretty similar shoes. I'm nineteen too. Which," here she looks exasperated, "is not old enough in this country to purchase beer or ale!"
Shelby snerks and has some tea, then, settling in. "We're practically twins! -At least when it comes to Garou-things, anyway. I Rited at the very end of August, last year. Isn't it even more rare for an Ahroun to change that late than a Ragabash? Did your Baptism of Fire have you mismarked, too?"
Tori nods, "They knew I was garou. They went to great lengths to temper my anger and rage even as a child. It's still there, and it gets the better of me more than I'd like, but it doesn't control me. They actually had to force my change on me, I think they got worried if they didn't, I'd dawdle too long. But, it gave me a chance to finish school, and so I'm thankful. Hmm. Did you want to show me around the bawn then?"
"I," Shelby confides as though it were a great secret, "was going to go to college. Become a lawyer. But Falcon had other plans." Another shrug - what can you do? - and she nods at the other girl. "Sure. Let me warm up and we can go for a run. The shower will still be there tomorrow."