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Sniffing out the road. I mean Wyrm.
It is currently 14:23 Pacific Time on Sat Jul 16 2011.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (94% full).
Bawn: Northern Forest
Dark and forboding woods stretch in all directions but the north, the trees close together as if they were soldiers closing ranks against the enemy of Man. The trees here are tall, and close off all light from above, like they were pillars in some vast cathedral to Nature. Songbirds flit between the branches and the snuffling of small animals comes from the brush if one listens close enough. The busy interstate highway to the north, though, drowns out most of the subtler sounds in that direction.
The northern edge of the bawn is marked here by the unavoidable length of Interstate 90. Near it, the sounds of traffic drown out the more natural sounds of water and wildlife. In all other directions, the traffic noise recedes into the background.
Obvious exits:
Interstate 90 North Lone Boulder Western Bawn Central Bawn Eastern Bawn
Dark the woods may be, but the weather is a good fifteen degrees warmer than it has been - almost 70! - and this is cause for celebration. At least, that's one possible explanation for why Falcon's Gambit is trotting through the woods with a largish stick in her mouth. Bits of wood fall off as she moves, and now and again she pauses to readjust her grip on the thing, sneezing when a piece of rotting bark goes up her nose.
Her tribal elder is on current patrol on the northern side of the bawn and, seemingly out of nowhere, rather abruptly howls for the ragabash to join her. Once the distance is closed, the theurge can be found perched atop a rather large log. The sound of the highway is a gentle buzz, just out of range for sight but not overly far.
Whatever the ragabash's plan for the stick it goes out the window at the summons - a howl that she comes has Falcon's Gambit arriving just barely out of breath, only a few stubborn flecks of bark marking its presence in the first place. Yes? What do you need, Bright Falcon's Grace-rhya?
The blonde is studying her fingernails. To be fair, they are in need of a manicure, the current job marred by chipped polish and a few snapped nails. That said, it is more of a waiting pattern than anything else as the arrival of the other garou leads the theurge to abandon her scrutiny. Stretching, she waves a hand at the younger woman. "Shift up, I'm going to start teaching you to sense the wyrm."
With only a flick of her ears the wolf does so, hands smoothing out and brushing off her clothes as she approaches the blonde. "Oh? Good, thank you. I've felt sort of Guardian-Lite without it."
"Silver Fang-lite," the theurge corrects, nodding toward a (lower) place to sit on the fallen log. "It isn't hard once you get the correct mindset for it but sometimes achieving the mindset is a bit tricky."
Shelby accepts that (lower) place without so much as a twitch. "All right. So what's the mindset? I suppose... opening your mind to, I don't know, the feel of something?" She frowns at her own explanation, but as she has no other, looks back to Zosia.
"No, before you even try to sense anything, you must understand what it is you are sensing for. Everything--all of Gaia--ultimately has some of Wyld, Weaver, and Wyrm in them. Not to the extreme of the Triat themselves, of course, but in what we are. We are things being born--cells and the like--" she says in the vague voice of someone who discovered the latest trends of Milan in Biology class, not the actual subject, "we are maintained, and then we die. That is the way of life--all life."
"Right," Shelby nods, attending closely. "Birth, existence, death. Morning, noon, night. Weaver, Wyld, Wyrm. It's all a circle." Something about that brings a grimace to her lips, but she nods for the theurge to continue.
The grimace causes the theurge to pause before she says anything else. "What?"
Shelby says, "I was just thinking about those dreams I had before the Great Hunt. Cycles being backwards, and all. But it shouldn't have anything to do with this." Unspoken: she hopes. "Please, go on."
"Oh. That. Worldwarpers are like that," Zosia says. "They warp reality, change it from the natural order. As are vampires--all things must die but fucking leeches drain living things to maintain a warped and artificial life." That stated, she waves a hand impatiently. "What we are sensing--for any of the gifts that do that, wyrm, weaver, and wyld--are imbalances. We should all have a little of each. But when you have too much--too much Wyrm or too much Wyld or too much Weaver, the imbalance can be sensed."
"They said it wasn't over," Shelby protests mildly, waving off her own argument nearly as quickly to settle in to listen. "All right, that makes sense. I imagine everything's balance is going to be different, too - yours is different from this tree's, is different from a rock."
Zosia just stops, staring at Shelby. "And? What the hell does that have to do with learning this? And yes, that balance will be different. And if someone is dying, they won't suddenly be heavy Wyrm or some such. It will still be the same balance, just a different predominate state. So these gifts allow us to focus on the imbalance, to detect it. And that's it. They aren't even specific, you just get a general sense of 'this area over here seems to have more wyrm presence than that area'."
"I don't know. I said it shouldn't have anything to do with this," the Ragabash repeats, meeting Zosia's eyes for a moment. "It was just brought to mind." She listens more intently as the theurge continues, as if that will not only yank the conversation back to the actual Gift, but keep it from wandering away again.
Zosia's eyes narrow slightly, though she moves on in the conversation. "You can't tell that that fern, for example," the theurge points at a lonely fern tucked behind a small struggling tree a few feet away, "is tainted. You can tell that something in that general area has more wyrm in it than other areas. Do you understand?"
Shelby follows Zosia's finger to consider the fern, eyeing it thoughtfully. "I... think so? Even if I were to triangulate, it would still just give me that area, not the specific thing within it. And there isn't a way to be more specific, simply because of that balance you mentioned. There will always be Wyrm, everywhere. There's no way to put something in a non-Wyrmy environment."
"You could take something from that place and move to a place you know to be balanced correctly and check again. But yes. When you sense the presence in the middle of a fight or something, you don't learn as much as may be immediately apparent, though you can get a fairly good idea." Zosia's fingers tap restlessly against her legs.
Eyes intent on the hapless fern, Shelby nods again. "I see. Sometimes the Wyrm's influence will be visible to our eyes, and sometimes it won't be." She glances Zosia's way again. "It's when you aren't immediately sure that things can get... lengthy. Right?"
"Well, standing in the midst of chaos and going 'well, I think that area over there may be more tainted' isn't especially useful, no," Zosia says in a dry voice.
Shelby snickers and pulls her ankles in, tipping her knees toward the other Fang. "All right."
"So," the theurge says, glancing over her shoulder toward the noise of the freeway, "we are heading that direction. Now. It isn't a given that just because there are cars and people it is going to be more wyrm-feeling but you will at least get more of a sense of that then if we tried it in the middle of the bawn."
The Ragabash follows Zosia's look, eyebrows lifting and realization dawning a mere moment later. "Oh, I see. Yes. I'd imagine the wyrm-feeling would get stronger as you approach St. Claire, too, though that isn't exactly feasible right at the moment." Preparing to stand, she waits until Zosia's given the go-ahead.
Zosia's rise is combined with a stretch, her arms raising over her head as she makes a little grunting noise. "Yes. The city is a tough place to try to narrow down a taint, though it is certainly possible."
Shelby says, "Maybe when I get more practice." She takes a step toward the highway, then stops and turns back. "So this mindset you mentioned... how do you get into it?"
"At first you have to just center yourself, like you're going to meditate." At first glance, Zosia seems the least likely person in the world to be talking about meditating. "Then you just let your senses extend out and look for something that...well. I don't know. Feels? Smells wrong? Is off? Hard to describe."
Incongruous or not, the ragabash nods as if Zosia's words were not unexpected. "All right. I'll probably close my eyes at first, to help my concentration."
"I would aim to get out of that habit as quickly as you can," Zosia says in a thoughtful voice as she starts to lead the way toward the highway. "Given that usually, you are not in a situations where closed eyes are a good idea."
"Oh no, of course not," Shelby agrees, falling into step just a fraction behind. "Just to start. Like the other day, when I met that Adren. If he had been Wyrm-tainted, the perfect time to strike would be if I was just standing there with my eyes closed like a dork."
"Among other things. An Adren dancer, for example, is a rather terrifying thing. Though an Adren in generally has some seriously ridiculous abilities," she adds with a laugh.
"It'll be a few years before I get to try them out myself," Shelby notes, tone both self-deprecating and wry. There are undoubtedly several hundred other things she could say at this point but doesn't, simply falls silent save for the trudge of feet through forest.
"My father told me that when you get to athro in our tribe, you can learn to ignore a blow that would have killed anyone else, like it didn't happen at all. And that elders can turn their entire body into pure silver as they fight." Zosia shivers, shaking her head. "Unreal."
"I... remember something like that." It's not quite clear if Shelby means she's also heard those rumors, or something a bit more personal. Shaking off the mood she adds, a bit more chipper, "I'd love to see them in action, if it weren't for the fact that 'in action' probably means I'm a bit busy, and don't have time to stare."
"I've seen the silver claws gifts that Adren Silver Fangs have." Zosia ponders that and adds, "And probably the ignoring a death blow on the Great Hunt back in Virginia. Those are rather chaotic at the best of times."
Shelby says, "I'll say," and rubs ruefully at her forehead. "--Is this close enough? Or do you think we should get closer before I give this a go?"
"Within sight of the road," Zosia says as the roar of engines grows louder. "This early on in your practice, you'll need to be closer. And even so, it'll be difficult for you to tell for sure." It takes another minute of steady walking and then they are right within the edge of the woods that border the road. Cars rush by, likely not even noticing the two young women lingering just at the edge.
Shelby grimaces again as the stink of petroleum hits her nose, nodding to Zosia's words. "Practice, practice, practice. I understand. Plus there's the added twist of 'do I think I'm sensing the wyrm because I think I should, or am I actually sensing its presence'." A shrug. "Which will only get better with practice." Speaking of, she closes her eyes and begins with her back turned to the road, only turning after a short while.
Zosia waits silently, her eyes on the passing traffic as the younger Fang concentrates. She does not speak, for the time being, her hand resting on the trunk of the tree she is half-hidden behind.
Beneath closed lids Shelby's eyes move; minute twitches of facial muscles and slight shifts in the angle with which she addresses the road prove that the girl hasn't simply fallen asleep. After long moments those eyes finally open to rest thoughtfully on the stretch of I-90. "...Maybe," she decides. "Possibly. Again, I'm not sure if I'm really sensing something or I just think I should be."
"There's some," Zosia says immediately, her eyes still on the road. "Not anything particularly striking but it is enough, when at the edge of the bawn, that it can be noticed."
Shelby glances sidelong, still thoughtful. "Well, good. I'm glad I'm not just imagining it. How much time would you recommend I practice? A couple of hours a day? As much time as I can spare?"
"It is only useful to practice if you can find a source of taint," Zosia says. "Won't do you any good if you are in a place that is not tainted."
"There's that farm, somewhere southwest of the bawn," Shelby says promptly. "Unless that's been cleared, which I haven't heard. That building site too, but that was months and months ago. Neither one of which I can really go visit, but they'd make good sites to see if I've really got the gift or not."
"You can for short periods of time if you are learning a gift that will, ultimately, benefit you as a Guardian. Which is how you should put it to August," Zosia hints.
A corner of the ragabash's mouth slips upward. "A good idea. Thank you, Zosia-rhya."
Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (94% full).
Bawn: Northern Forest
Dark and forboding woods stretch in all directions but the north, the trees close together as if they were soldiers closing ranks against the enemy of Man. The trees here are tall, and close off all light from above, like they were pillars in some vast cathedral to Nature. Songbirds flit between the branches and the snuffling of small animals comes from the brush if one listens close enough. The busy interstate highway to the north, though, drowns out most of the subtler sounds in that direction.
The northern edge of the bawn is marked here by the unavoidable length of Interstate 90. Near it, the sounds of traffic drown out the more natural sounds of water and wildlife. In all other directions, the traffic noise recedes into the background.
Obvious exits:
Interstate 90 North Lone Boulder Western Bawn Central Bawn Eastern Bawn
Dark the woods may be, but the weather is a good fifteen degrees warmer than it has been - almost 70! - and this is cause for celebration. At least, that's one possible explanation for why Falcon's Gambit is trotting through the woods with a largish stick in her mouth. Bits of wood fall off as she moves, and now and again she pauses to readjust her grip on the thing, sneezing when a piece of rotting bark goes up her nose.
Her tribal elder is on current patrol on the northern side of the bawn and, seemingly out of nowhere, rather abruptly howls for the ragabash to join her. Once the distance is closed, the theurge can be found perched atop a rather large log. The sound of the highway is a gentle buzz, just out of range for sight but not overly far.
Whatever the ragabash's plan for the stick it goes out the window at the summons - a howl that she comes has Falcon's Gambit arriving just barely out of breath, only a few stubborn flecks of bark marking its presence in the first place. Yes? What do you need, Bright Falcon's Grace-rhya?
The blonde is studying her fingernails. To be fair, they are in need of a manicure, the current job marred by chipped polish and a few snapped nails. That said, it is more of a waiting pattern than anything else as the arrival of the other garou leads the theurge to abandon her scrutiny. Stretching, she waves a hand at the younger woman. "Shift up, I'm going to start teaching you to sense the wyrm."
With only a flick of her ears the wolf does so, hands smoothing out and brushing off her clothes as she approaches the blonde. "Oh? Good, thank you. I've felt sort of Guardian-Lite without it."
"Silver Fang-lite," the theurge corrects, nodding toward a (lower) place to sit on the fallen log. "It isn't hard once you get the correct mindset for it but sometimes achieving the mindset is a bit tricky."
Shelby accepts that (lower) place without so much as a twitch. "All right. So what's the mindset? I suppose... opening your mind to, I don't know, the feel of something?" She frowns at her own explanation, but as she has no other, looks back to Zosia.
"No, before you even try to sense anything, you must understand what it is you are sensing for. Everything--all of Gaia--ultimately has some of Wyld, Weaver, and Wyrm in them. Not to the extreme of the Triat themselves, of course, but in what we are. We are things being born--cells and the like--" she says in the vague voice of someone who discovered the latest trends of Milan in Biology class, not the actual subject, "we are maintained, and then we die. That is the way of life--all life."
"Right," Shelby nods, attending closely. "Birth, existence, death. Morning, noon, night. Weaver, Wyld, Wyrm. It's all a circle." Something about that brings a grimace to her lips, but she nods for the theurge to continue.
The grimace causes the theurge to pause before she says anything else. "What?"
Shelby says, "I was just thinking about those dreams I had before the Great Hunt. Cycles being backwards, and all. But it shouldn't have anything to do with this." Unspoken: she hopes. "Please, go on."
"Oh. That. Worldwarpers are like that," Zosia says. "They warp reality, change it from the natural order. As are vampires--all things must die but fucking leeches drain living things to maintain a warped and artificial life." That stated, she waves a hand impatiently. "What we are sensing--for any of the gifts that do that, wyrm, weaver, and wyld--are imbalances. We should all have a little of each. But when you have too much--too much Wyrm or too much Wyld or too much Weaver, the imbalance can be sensed."
"They said it wasn't over," Shelby protests mildly, waving off her own argument nearly as quickly to settle in to listen. "All right, that makes sense. I imagine everything's balance is going to be different, too - yours is different from this tree's, is different from a rock."
Zosia just stops, staring at Shelby. "And? What the hell does that have to do with learning this? And yes, that balance will be different. And if someone is dying, they won't suddenly be heavy Wyrm or some such. It will still be the same balance, just a different predominate state. So these gifts allow us to focus on the imbalance, to detect it. And that's it. They aren't even specific, you just get a general sense of 'this area over here seems to have more wyrm presence than that area'."
"I don't know. I said it shouldn't have anything to do with this," the Ragabash repeats, meeting Zosia's eyes for a moment. "It was just brought to mind." She listens more intently as the theurge continues, as if that will not only yank the conversation back to the actual Gift, but keep it from wandering away again.
Zosia's eyes narrow slightly, though she moves on in the conversation. "You can't tell that that fern, for example," the theurge points at a lonely fern tucked behind a small struggling tree a few feet away, "is tainted. You can tell that something in that general area has more wyrm in it than other areas. Do you understand?"
Shelby follows Zosia's finger to consider the fern, eyeing it thoughtfully. "I... think so? Even if I were to triangulate, it would still just give me that area, not the specific thing within it. And there isn't a way to be more specific, simply because of that balance you mentioned. There will always be Wyrm, everywhere. There's no way to put something in a non-Wyrmy environment."
"You could take something from that place and move to a place you know to be balanced correctly and check again. But yes. When you sense the presence in the middle of a fight or something, you don't learn as much as may be immediately apparent, though you can get a fairly good idea." Zosia's fingers tap restlessly against her legs.
Eyes intent on the hapless fern, Shelby nods again. "I see. Sometimes the Wyrm's influence will be visible to our eyes, and sometimes it won't be." She glances Zosia's way again. "It's when you aren't immediately sure that things can get... lengthy. Right?"
"Well, standing in the midst of chaos and going 'well, I think that area over there may be more tainted' isn't especially useful, no," Zosia says in a dry voice.
Shelby snickers and pulls her ankles in, tipping her knees toward the other Fang. "All right."
"So," the theurge says, glancing over her shoulder toward the noise of the freeway, "we are heading that direction. Now. It isn't a given that just because there are cars and people it is going to be more wyrm-feeling but you will at least get more of a sense of that then if we tried it in the middle of the bawn."
The Ragabash follows Zosia's look, eyebrows lifting and realization dawning a mere moment later. "Oh, I see. Yes. I'd imagine the wyrm-feeling would get stronger as you approach St. Claire, too, though that isn't exactly feasible right at the moment." Preparing to stand, she waits until Zosia's given the go-ahead.
Zosia's rise is combined with a stretch, her arms raising over her head as she makes a little grunting noise. "Yes. The city is a tough place to try to narrow down a taint, though it is certainly possible."
Shelby says, "Maybe when I get more practice." She takes a step toward the highway, then stops and turns back. "So this mindset you mentioned... how do you get into it?"
"At first you have to just center yourself, like you're going to meditate." At first glance, Zosia seems the least likely person in the world to be talking about meditating. "Then you just let your senses extend out and look for something that...well. I don't know. Feels? Smells wrong? Is off? Hard to describe."
Incongruous or not, the ragabash nods as if Zosia's words were not unexpected. "All right. I'll probably close my eyes at first, to help my concentration."
"I would aim to get out of that habit as quickly as you can," Zosia says in a thoughtful voice as she starts to lead the way toward the highway. "Given that usually, you are not in a situations where closed eyes are a good idea."
"Oh no, of course not," Shelby agrees, falling into step just a fraction behind. "Just to start. Like the other day, when I met that Adren. If he had been Wyrm-tainted, the perfect time to strike would be if I was just standing there with my eyes closed like a dork."
"Among other things. An Adren dancer, for example, is a rather terrifying thing. Though an Adren in generally has some seriously ridiculous abilities," she adds with a laugh.
"It'll be a few years before I get to try them out myself," Shelby notes, tone both self-deprecating and wry. There are undoubtedly several hundred other things she could say at this point but doesn't, simply falls silent save for the trudge of feet through forest.
"My father told me that when you get to athro in our tribe, you can learn to ignore a blow that would have killed anyone else, like it didn't happen at all. And that elders can turn their entire body into pure silver as they fight." Zosia shivers, shaking her head. "Unreal."
"I... remember something like that." It's not quite clear if Shelby means she's also heard those rumors, or something a bit more personal. Shaking off the mood she adds, a bit more chipper, "I'd love to see them in action, if it weren't for the fact that 'in action' probably means I'm a bit busy, and don't have time to stare."
"I've seen the silver claws gifts that Adren Silver Fangs have." Zosia ponders that and adds, "And probably the ignoring a death blow on the Great Hunt back in Virginia. Those are rather chaotic at the best of times."
Shelby says, "I'll say," and rubs ruefully at her forehead. "--Is this close enough? Or do you think we should get closer before I give this a go?"
"Within sight of the road," Zosia says as the roar of engines grows louder. "This early on in your practice, you'll need to be closer. And even so, it'll be difficult for you to tell for sure." It takes another minute of steady walking and then they are right within the edge of the woods that border the road. Cars rush by, likely not even noticing the two young women lingering just at the edge.
Shelby grimaces again as the stink of petroleum hits her nose, nodding to Zosia's words. "Practice, practice, practice. I understand. Plus there's the added twist of 'do I think I'm sensing the wyrm because I think I should, or am I actually sensing its presence'." A shrug. "Which will only get better with practice." Speaking of, she closes her eyes and begins with her back turned to the road, only turning after a short while.
Zosia waits silently, her eyes on the passing traffic as the younger Fang concentrates. She does not speak, for the time being, her hand resting on the trunk of the tree she is half-hidden behind.
Beneath closed lids Shelby's eyes move; minute twitches of facial muscles and slight shifts in the angle with which she addresses the road prove that the girl hasn't simply fallen asleep. After long moments those eyes finally open to rest thoughtfully on the stretch of I-90. "...Maybe," she decides. "Possibly. Again, I'm not sure if I'm really sensing something or I just think I should be."
"There's some," Zosia says immediately, her eyes still on the road. "Not anything particularly striking but it is enough, when at the edge of the bawn, that it can be noticed."
Shelby glances sidelong, still thoughtful. "Well, good. I'm glad I'm not just imagining it. How much time would you recommend I practice? A couple of hours a day? As much time as I can spare?"
"It is only useful to practice if you can find a source of taint," Zosia says. "Won't do you any good if you are in a place that is not tainted."
"There's that farm, somewhere southwest of the bawn," Shelby says promptly. "Unless that's been cleared, which I haven't heard. That building site too, but that was months and months ago. Neither one of which I can really go visit, but they'd make good sites to see if I've really got the gift or not."
"You can for short periods of time if you are learning a gift that will, ultimately, benefit you as a Guardian. Which is how you should put it to August," Zosia hints.
A corner of the ragabash's mouth slips upward. "A good idea. Thank you, Zosia-rhya."