Seeing eye to eye

[shelbyrou]

It is currently 10:04 Pacific Time on Sun Jul 10 2011.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (64% full).

Bawn: Southern Forest
Evergreen trees spread their overhead branches wide across the forest floor. Each tree limb interlinks with its neighbor, forming a thick overhead canopy of pine needles that leaves the forest floor dim even at noon. An apparent tenseness seems to permeate the air here, and there is a somewhat less than subtle feeling that perhaps something is watching. The behavior of the wildlife in the area betrays a certain wariness that suggests the presence of predators nearby.

The southern edge of the bawn is marked here by the railroad tracks which run from St. Claire and Kent's Crossing to the west, towards the mountains to the east.

Obvious exits:
Ash Grove Railroad South Into the Caern Sept Compound Half Moon Pool Western Bawn Central Bawn Eastern Bawn

It's fair weather, not too hot but neither is there any hint of chill. The calm wind does not carry much hint of the sandy-coloured, wolfish creature trotting across the Bawn. The eye, however, if in range, can easily pick up the flash of neon pink and black-and-white zebra-stripes of the bulky bundle the wolf (or perhaps wolf-dog) carries in her mouth. She seems to be sniffing something, or someone, out, in a casual sort of fashion.

Enter one Falcon's Gambit on a tangent, her path rather absently intersecting that of the Bone Gnawer. Maybe it's the neon that catches the Fang's attention, but her ears perk and her steps quicken to a lope to bring her that much closer that much faster. Rat-Tale!

From several angles there is a decidely wolflike cast to this sandy-coloured creature. She stands perhaps two feet tall and is light of build, with the proportions of a wolf, wolf hybrid or pariah dog. She has a wedge-shaped head with pointed ears and nose. Her tail is long and curving, her tawny pelt is short with black ticking across the shoulders and back, and she has four white paws. To add to the impression of some sort of wolflike dog rather than a true wolf, she wears a ratty dog-collar: leather, with a plain round tag.

Rat-Tale swings around to face the approaching Fang, the tip of her long tail curling almost into an 'o' as it swishes behind her. Her pointed ears airplane, and she drops the bundle in her mouth before her tongue pokes out to lick her black nose. Falcon's Trick! She lowers her chest slightly towards the ground, forelegs straight.

Not far away, there's a black wolf trotting through the woods ...with a battered backpack in his jaws. Today must be the day of wolves carrying handbags. The theurge is carrying it like it contains something valuable, anyway, though his posture is loose and he seems relaxed. He doesn't notice the pair until Rat-Tale drops her bundle, thus causing a rustle, which causes him to startle and whip around, which in turn causes one ear to turn out a bit sheepishly. He whuffs. Hi.

Falcon's Gambit rather perfunctorily sniffs at the Gnawer's dropped bundle and is about to do the same to the Gnawer herself when Night's Shadow makes his presence known. Stiff-legged and hackling, Falcon's Gambit stares toward him for a half-second before relaxing, welcoming the Shadow Lord. You both have something. I have nothing. Should I get a stick?

Walking down the railroad tracks, Marcos is the odd man out by being in his homid form. His pace is easy as he steps from the tracks on the edge of the bawn and makes his way through the trees. Pausing as he catches sight of movement, it takes him a while to settle on what it is. Upon noticing that it is three wolves together he crosses the remaining distance toward them calling out, "Hello there."

Rat-Tale also stiffens at Night's Shadow's approach, but she relaxes as she recognises him from other Sept gatherings and Shelby's obvious familiarity. Her tongue slops out of one side of her mouth, tail sweeping wider. Stick? Play? Play fun! She noses the dropped bundle though, with a 'but business first' air. There is another, approving tail-swish. Good warm. She tilts her head with a questioning air, neck bowed, nose poking forward towards Shelby. Need place to put this... Marcos' approach cuts her off. Her head shoots back up, tensed again until the scent reaches her. She tailswishes another greeting.

I could throw one for you, the Shadow Lord teases. Night's-Shadow carefully sets his bundle down at the base of a tree. He greets Rat-Tale mildly, but gives her a bit of an odd look, eyeing that collar for a moment; he clearly recognizes her, but likely not from close up. He swivels his head around to greet Marcos, too.

Falcon's Gambit lets her tail wave once. Howls-the-Dawn. If a wolf could sound smug, she would - she definitely looks smug. Good to see you. Not just the other Fang - the sentiment includes the other pair as well. She surges into Crinos and drops into a casual, three-point stance. ~I wanted to speak to all three of you.~

Marcos offers a nod to each of the gathered wolves, "Man, I feel a little left out. Some kind of wolf party going on here?" Marcos regards the other Fang with a raised brow, pondering her smug expression, "How convienient that you have found all three of us together then." His tone is mild and joking.

Rat-Tale plunks her backside down on the ground and licks her lips. Her head tilts the other way. Bring food? Twolegs always bring food for meetings.

Night's-Shadow, instead of crinos, takes hispo and plops down in a heap. ~Sure. I talked to Thunder's-Daughter, by the way.~ And, to Rat-Tale, he looks amused, though apparently he doesn't have food, because he doesn't offer.

The Ragabash's ears twist, pleased. ~Good. Thunder's-Daughter is looking for a pack.~ She looks at each of the others in turn - first Night's Shadow, then Marcos, and finally Rat-Tale. ~I do not know if we would make a good pack with her, but we are all looking for one.~

Marcos chooses to keep his raises brow as he crosses his arms over his chest. He says nothing but glances to the non-Fangs curiously, seeming to be evaluating them, especially the Bone Gnawer, before shifting his gaze back toward Shelby.

Rat-Tale's ears slant backwards and her tail stills. Many Rat-pups gone. Lonely here.

Night's-Shadow doesn't seem surprised by the conversation topic, really. He looks toward Rat-Tale, first, and then back to Shelby, flicking at ear. ~The question would be if we're all looking for the same sort of thing.~

Rat-Tale sniffs in the direction of each of the others, ears relaxed and tail starting to slowly brush the ground behind her. What do you want?

~Would not be lonely with a pack,~ Falcon's Gambit points out to the Gnawer. Then to Marcos, ~Rat-Tale does not speak "English" well.~ And to the Lord, ~You and I have spoken of what we might want. But a pack is not two. Perhaps the four of us might speak of packs, to see if we wish the same thing.~

Marcos surges into his Glabro form, but remains silent.

~We talked about Respect or Wisdom,~ Night's-Shadow explains to Rat-Tale. ~Osprey, Merlin, Dragonfly. And a pack that might be both of the city and of the bawn.~

~Dragonfly might think better of me after the Hunt,~ Falcon's Gambit points out, unable to hide either pleasure or her discomfiture for that statement.

Marcos shrugs his shouldes and says, ~I am naturally, more interested in a war pack.~

Nobody that eats rats, the Gnawer indicates with a flash of tooth. The other aspects don't seem to bother her overmuch.

Night's-Shadow grunts. ~I wish I would have been on that side,~ the Shadow Lord broods, but he's over it quickly. To Marcos, ~You and I have spoken before. Is a war pack the only thing you would consider?~

Falcon's Gambit affects wide-eyed innocence. ~No Owl or Rattlesnake?~ she teases Rat-Tale quietly, letting the males' conversation take precedence.

The Ahroun shrugs his shoulders, ~Respect may be considered. What packs of war do we have currently?~

Rat-Tale bares another tooth in Shelby's direction, not a threat but enough to make her feelings clear.

Night's-Shadow huffs, thinking. ~Rat. Weasel. I think that may be it.~

~Yes - The Crew and Coup de Grace,~ Falcon's Gambit agrees. ~The Crew is mostly city, I believe. It is Ears-rhya's pack, so it may be disbanding without her here.~ One clawed hand offers sympathetic scratches for Rat-Tale's ears. ~Oath-Ring is a member of the other.~

Marcos nods his head along with the other two's words and then shrugs, "There are no war totems you two are comfortable with?"

Falcon's Gambit's ears twist. ~Hummingbird, maybe.~ Even saying it makes her reluctant. ~I do not think many of the War totems would look kindly on me for petitioning them. Maybe in a few years, but not now.~

Night's-Shadow looks aside to Shelby, uncertain. ~I'm not in a place where I should be looking at many war totems,~ the theurge admits, slowly. ~I wouldn't...refuse certain war totems, if they thought I was ready, but I don't think that's very likely.~

Winged-horse. Magpie. ~Dragonfly~. Wind, the Gnawer lists, lapsing into the Mother Tongue when the correct lupus indication excapes her. Dog. ~Great Trash Heap~. Not all war, she accedes with an apologetic head-drop.

~I have always thought Cuckoo seemed like a fun totem. Dragonfly as well,~ Marcos shrugs, finally bending on the war totem issue a little.

Falcon's Gambit's ears go utterly flat in shock. ~Cuckoo?~ She rallies a moment later, literally shaking off her surprise to address them all. ~Dragonfly is a name I keep hearing. We have found a totem we could follow - have we found possible packmates as well? Rat-Tale, have you met Thunder's-Daughter yet? She is an Ahroun of Fenris' tribe. Newly arrived, and still working on chiminage.~

~Dragonfly can be hard to get,~ Night's-Shadow warns. ~But I think it would be worth trying for.~

~Dragonfly likes bright colors,~ Rat-Tale points out cheerfully.

~You like bright colors,~ Falcon's Gambit points out, amused.

Marcos regards Shelby curiously at the shock over cuckoo. ~I am fine with going for Dragon Fly. One of you who is more knowledgable of the spirits will have to tell me what to do.~

Night's-Shadow stretches out his forelegs a bit. ~Dragonfly is a difficult totem to find and an even more difficult one to ally with.~ One ear twists back. ~But we can try. He's... a very secret spirit.~

Falcon's Gambit teasingly reaches out a claw as if to sneak away Rat-Tale's neon-pink (with stripes!) bundle. ~Dragonfly might look on me - on us - with more favor after the Great Hunt,~ she repeats. ~We saved her from Wyrmtaint. I have not had more dreams of her since that night, however.~

Marcos sighs and says, ~I realize that it is a secretive spirit, but that doesn't help me know how to get in her good graces.~

~Still,~ Night's-Shadow points out, ~She did come to us for help. And we -did- help her. Sometimes - but not always - that can hold weight with the spirits.~ And then, he looks to Marcos with an ear tipped backwards. ~That's the problem with Dragonfly,~ he admits. ~Not many know how to get in her good graces.~

~Rat-Tale heard a story once,~ the Gnawer says thoughtfully.

~We will do what we can,~ Falcon's Gambit decides. ~That is all we can... oh?~ She looks down to the Gnawer. ~What have you heard? --Remind me to tell you about the days before the Hunt,~ she adds, sotto-voce, to Night's Shadow.

Marcos looks toward the Gnawer with a curious, if somewhat doubtful expression.

Rat-Tale must think to remember it, the Gnawer responds, lying down and tucking her nose between her forepaws.

Night's-Shadow bobs his muzzle to Shelby, but he, too, looks to Rat-Tale, interested. He seems fairly patient, really. And, to Shelby, he adds, ~Thunder's-Daughter seemed interesting. I liked her, for the little I talked to her.~

Falcon's Gambit barks a laugh. ~It is not a pack I ever saw myself in: two Silver Fangs, a Shadow Lord, a Get of Fenris, and a Bone Gnawer. But it is a pack of the Hidden Walk. I think you will like Thunder's-Daughter,~ she adds to Marcos. ~She has been exploring the bawn lately, if you wish to look for her here.~

~Change,~ the Gnawer pipes up after half-listening to the conversation, lifting her head again. ~Dragonfly goes forwards. Never back. Listen!~ She sits straight up, almost statue-like. ~Once, O best beloved, once long ago, there was a pond. It was cool under the water. There were many bugs. They lived happily in the mud.~

Marcos listens to the Bone Gnawer without comment after giving Shelby a small nod.

~Once in a moon, a child of the water would seem to forget his friends,~ the Gnawer continues, part recitation and part tail-swishing, tongue-lolling cheerful intensity. ~He would crawl to a reed-stalk and climb it. He would leave the cool darkness. He would vanish through the bright light that was the heaven of the world of the bugs. The other bugs talked about it but they did not know why it happened. They did not know if it was a bad thing or a good thing. They decided to make a promise.~

Falcon's Gambit promptly quiets as Rat-Tale starts speaking, listening (and no longer trying to sneak the Gnawer's bundle away from her).

Night's-Shadow turns his attention to the Galliard, settling and listening.

~They promised that one of them would climb a reed-stalk and find out what was beyond the heaven, and then come back and tell the others,~ Rat-Tale continues, well warmed to her tale. ~So the bravest of them set out. She pushed through the light. She found that beyond the light, outside the world of earth and water, was a world of air, watched over by an eye of fire. She turned to go back down. But she found she could not. And when she looked at her reflection, she saw that she had changed. She was not a dark bug of water and earth. She was a bright creature of air and fire. She could not keep her promise to go back. She could only wait as each of her friends found out for themselves. But she remembers them, even as she rejoices in the bright air, and she looks kindly on those who protect them.~

Marcos nods, listening to the tale in silence.

~A good story, Rat-Tale,~ says Falcon's Gambit after a moment. ~Look forward, not back. It is something my tribe must remember to do more often.~

Rat-Tale licks her nose and relaxes, which seems to signal the end of the story.

~So we need to make sure that nothing is killing the bugs in the water around here. We need to make sure that they stay pure and safe?~ The ahroun shrugs and says, ~That seems easy enough.~

Night's-Shadow ponders this. ~Well told,~ he tells the Gnawer, with a certain amount of new appreciation. And then, he exhales a breath and nods, a very human gesture in a lupine body. ~It makes sense. She looks favorably on those who protect those she cannot.~

~It would seem to be,~ Falcon's Gambit agrees ruefully. ~But only last year people had forgotten that, and the spirits of water were angry with us. The water on the bawn was undrinkable for months.~ She traces abstract, absent shapes in the earth. ~If Dragonfly does end up choosing us, and we do end up in the city - which I want - it will be hard to find quiet water for her children, and harder to keep it protected.~

Marcos raises an eyebrown and says, ~I thought we were wanting to have a pack that would span each the City and the Wilds?~

Rat-Tale prefers the twoleg places, the Gnawer indicates, with an 'if that's all the same to you' sort of air.

~Harder, but not impossible,~ the theurge says. And, to the rest, ~Well, yes. It would be difficult not to. However, I don't think it'd be wise to actually have territory in each, because it would be hard to keep up with.~

~Dragonfly is a child of two places,~ the Ragabash muses. ~As should we be, I think.~ She quiets for the Theurge, then adds pensively, ~I do want territory. I want someplace to call my own.~

Marcos sighs and says, ~Could we not just adopt a stream or pond outside the city that we could protect? Even if it meant scheduling times when one or two of us would have to be there for extended periods of time?~

There are big water-places in the city, Rat-Tale notes.

Night's-Shadow agrees with Shelby readily. ~Yes, we need to claim a place. I'm just saying, claiming a place in the city and out of it may get too difficult. But we don't need it to be our territory to help when needed.~

After a few more seconds of thought Falcon's Gambit's ears pop forward and she huffs a laugh. ~We are getting ahead of ourselves, thinking which territory to claim before we even have a pack, much less a totem. I assume we are all interested in packing together? I think we should consider Thunder's-Daughter as well.~

Marcos nods his head, ~I dont have a problem with any of you. I would like to get things on the way if it is possible to do so this early in the game.~

Rat-Tale seems to take everything in her stride. Nothing new in any of this for her, most likely.

Night's-Shadow looks amused, as well. ~I'm fine with packing with any of you. Thunder's-Daughter seems good, as well, though she would need to wait until she finishes chiminage.~

Falcon's Gambit also notes that, ~We are not a pack, not yet. If one of us decides this is not the pack for them, they will not lose respect or honor in my eyes. I would rather have a smaller pack or none at all than one where we are not happy.~

Night's-Shadow agrees with this. And, he also notes, ~We have a ragabash, two ahroun, a galliard, and a theurge. It's a good balance, so far, for the people we are considering.~

Pack without spirit. Still pack, the Gnawer contradicts, although with splayed ears to diffuse offense. Short pack. Spirit makes long pack. Rat-Tale has known short packs. Not bad. Spirit pack better.

Marcos says nothing, listening to the others instead.

Falcon's Gambit doesn't ruffle those splayed ears, but from the way she keeps an eye on them it's probably a near thing. ~Silly,~ she says instead, as fond as Crinos voicebox and Mother's Tongue can make it. ~With two Ahroun and Dragonfly - if she chooses us - it is likely as close to a War pack as I'm likely to be in for a while.~

Night's-Shadow snorts a bit, seeming to agree with the sentiment. ~Though she's right. Packs are what you make of them. Spirits make the pack closer, but they do not make the pack.~

Marcos shrugs and says, ~I have not packed before.~

Falcon's Gambit swivels an ear toward the Ahroun. ~Neither have I. So?~

Marcos rolls his eyes and says, ~I meant that in relation to the other's experience in pack situations. I have none.~

The giant lump of Shadow Lord hispo flicks an ear. ~All packs are different. I've packed before, but I expect this one to be a different experience. For one,~ he muses, wryly, ~this one will not be all Shadow Lords.~

Falcon's Gambit bares her teeth at the Ahroun before firmly turning away, to face Night's Shadow. She asks with audible restraint, ~What was your other pack like?~ Rat-Tale takes this moment to steal away, her pink tiger-patterned... whatever safely in her teeth.

Night's-Shadow watches the interaction, but says nothing. ~War,~ he states frankly, though quietly. ~Under Buzzard. That totem isn't common here, but it was down south.~ He clears his throat. ~It was an interesting time. But I need...something less grounded in battle, now, I think.~

Marcos' eyes narrow and his brow furrows at the other Fang's bared teeth. He growls slightly and then lets it go as he forces himself to maintain his control. He listens to the Shadow Lord's words, though his eyes don't leave Shelby.

~I'm not familiar with it,~ the Ragabash admits, paying Marcos no mind. ~Not that there would have been much talk of Buzzard at a Lion sept anyway, but it wasn't one of the ones I was taught. How long were you in that pack? Or is it something you would rather not speak of, for now?~

Night's-Shadow shrugs a hispo-shoulder. ~It was a cub-pack,~ he explains, ~that found a totem after we all Rited. It lasted for--~ he ponders, ~A year and a half or so. It dissolved when I left.~ There is a bit of discomfort there, though. ~It was a good enough pack, just-- we were all young.~

Marcos watches the two, a deep frown on his face.

One of Falcon's Gambit's ears twitches. ~You are very old now, of course,~ she assures the Lord gravely.

Night's-Shadow's tongue lolls out. ~Ancient,~ he agrees, amused. ~I creak when I get up in the mornings.~ That's a joke, clearly. ~Why have you never packed?~

Marcos watches the two and then after a while moves closer to the two to better participate in the conversation. ~I would like to know that as well.~

The ragabash shrugs. ~Haven't found the right people. That is part of why I decided to become a Guardian. I decided I could search for a pack on the bawn earning honor and renown as easily as off it. It seems to have worked, too.~ She glances over at the other Fang. ~Didn't you ask me this question already? Or am I thinking of someone else?~

~True,~ the theurge muses. ~I looked into some of the packs already here, but none of them seemed to fit, really.~

Marcos smirks and says, ~If I did, then I don't remember it.~ He shifts his gaze toward the Shadow Lord and says, ~I can relate to that. I had spoken with Owen about forming a pack as well. He's interested in one, kind of, though I doubt he would be one to fit what everyone seems to be looking for.~

Falcon's Gambit goes very still at Marcos. ~No,~ she agrees coolly, ~you didn't. Perhaps Owen-rhya,~ she stresses the honorific, ~would be interested in a War pack.~ Turning back to the theurge she adds, ~There were one or two I might have joined, but nothing ever came of it.~

Night's-Shadow looks between the two Fangs, but the hispo's features are unreadable. Ahem. Awkward? Never! ~Yes, it seems like Wildfire is more of the war type,~ he agrees, though something in his manner seems to be almost expecting one of the two to snap the tension.

Marcos turns back toward Shelby, his eyes cold, ~If there is a problem here, then speak it and be done with it.~

Those watching might notice a certain tensing of the Ragabash's jaw before she turns to Marcos, her manner as pleasant as though she's attending a garden party. ~You appear to be the one with the problem, Howls-the-Dawn. You and your disrespect.~

Night's-Shadow goes quiet at that, apparently letting them solve the dispute by themselves - at least for the time being.

Marcos grins and says quietly, ~I do not know what disrespect you are talking about. But while we're on the issue of it, it seems as if you do have a problem with showing it yourself. I have done nothing to earn your snide comments. Should you wish to place challenge, then do so. If not, then get over yourself so that we can go back to acting like adults rather than playing the games of childish pups.~

'Snide comments' flattens Falcon's Gambit's ears, but she still waits out the rest of Marcos' words before replying... by rolling her eyes and smirking. She even adds a bored sigh that any mall brat would be pleased to claim. Half a breath later she stands, towering over hispo and glabro alike, fists bunched at her sides. ~That was -your- disrespect, Howls-the-Dawn, and if you cannot see it, you were never taught manners. Those petty jabs are not worthy of you as Ahroun, and certainly not as Silver Fang.~

Night's-Shadow smoothly inches back in case claws come into play.

Seeming unimpressed by the Crinos Silver Fang, Marcos keeps his grin, his fists bunched at his side. ~When I rolled my eyes, it was out of frustration that you did not understand my comment. That little smirk you did, while impressive in how natural of an expression it seemed for you, was meant as no respect at all. More a grin of acceptance at my own lack of memory. Maybe if you're vision was not so clouded by your own pride you could have seen such things. Alas for the weaknesses of our people.~ He boils up into his war-form regardless and offers a growling chuckle before saying, ~As I said, make your challenge and be done with it.~

From the peanut gallery, the Shadow Lord notes, ~If one feels slighted, challenges should be made, not demanded for.~ Ahem. He grooms a foot and makes a show of casualness, but one eye is kept on the two.

Rat-Tale's sandy form slips back towards the group, sliding wide around the outside until she can approach with Night's Shadow between herself and the Silver Fang standoff.

When the Ahroun grins Falcon's Gambit's own teeth bare; as he continues talking she snarls, silently, hackles lifting. She doesn't seem to have noticed the Gnawer's return but stares fixedly at the other Silver Fang.

Howls-the-Dawn doesn't move as Shelby locks eyes with him, his eyes stare into hers, his hackles raised and a slow steady snarl escaping his jaws.

The smaller garou leans in to the contest, lips twitching as her snarl gains volume. As she nears the Ahroun first one ear flattens, then the other despite efforts to keep them upright; a second later she jerks back as if she'd pressed her nose to a hot oven and yanks her eyes away.

The Ahroun forces himself to maintain the contest as the Ragabash leans forward. He matches her growl volume as she leans forward and then maintains it a few seconds after she jerks away before lifting his head and howling skyward. His chest heaves afterwards as he looks toward the smaller garou.

Falcon's Gambit's ears flatten again at the howl and her lips, which had been nearly forced over her fangs, retreat once more. She continues to look away from the Ahroun, and after several seconds, manages to reclaim some semblance of her usual disposition.

Howls-the-Dawn calms himself a look of regret for his outburst flashing across his face and then whispers something quiet enough to where only the Silver Fang can hear. Afterwards he looks around to the other garou, unsure of what happens next. (~That was a good contest. I'm sorry for my outburst and I hope you can forgive me for that.~ His eyes and his expression are genuine.)

Night's-Shadow has remained quiet through this whole ordeal, and when it's over he merely stands and shakes out his ruffled coat. ~Anyway. So we should find someone soon who can run the Rite of the Totem. I don't know it yet.~

The ragabash huffs to whatever Howls-the-Dawn whispers to her, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and shrinks back into homid, turning to face the others as she does. "Yes, that would be good," she agrees, voice neutral, all of her attention apparently on smoothing wrinkles out of her clothes. Only then does she look up, giving first Night's-Shadow and Rat-Tale, then Marcos brief nods. "I need to get back to my patrolling. If you need Tori's contact information, leave me a note at Edgewood."

Howls-the-Dawn folds down into his glabro form, a frown on his face as he considers Shelby's actions. ~If there is someone you three have in mind, I would be willing to seek them out, if needed." His tone is uncertain in light of the recent happenings.

Night's-Shadow bobs his muzzle in a nod. ~I will ask around. I'm not sure who has it.~ He huffs a farewell to Shelby, apparently set on not referencing the earlier events. ~I should get on with my duties, as well.~

"Gaia watch," the ragabash informs the trio pleasantly, before slipping into lupus and trotting away, generally toward the Caern.

Marcos watches her go, regret evident on his face as he turns his gaze back toward the Shadow Lord. "I may not need to be in the pack."

Night's-Shadow hesitates, squinting at Marcos. ~Why do you say that?~