Making friends and influencing spirits
Apr. 21st, 2010 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently Wed Apr 21 2010.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (51% full).
Umbra: Center of the Caern
A subtly spine-vibrating thrum of power issues from the Caern and its pathstone, pricking hairs and fur. Slowly but surely, the rejuvenating actions of the Garou have been transforming the once spiritually dead spot into something befitting a caern. It is alive with a wide variety of spirits, Wyld and chimerical, nature spirits and others, traveling about on missions of their own; though Wendigo spirits are never seen. The caern, visually, falls just short of the wildest rural utopia imaginable. Bare hints of a former pollution remain; tentatively green grass, hearty young trees where there ought to be mighty oaks and pines--and these are things that, with time and care, are slowly replacing what was lost.
The air crackles with tingles of spiritual potency. It is not, for those with long memories, as powerful as it was before the Black Spiral Dancers took over for a time, but there is power, and there is energy, dancing in the air.
Obvious exits:
South North West
As Luna fattens in the sky, Zosia has begun preparing Shelby for a trip to the umbra. She has emphasized several things: be very careful what she says, be respectful of everything she encounters (or cautious enough to appear respectful) and don't agree to anything. And stay on your toes! What sounds ominious is explained that it is hard to get the real feel for the umbra from words--you have to see it to believe it.
So, the day comes and the pair set off to the heart of the caern. Kneeling by the pool that comes from the waterfall, Zosia points to the surface. "You need a reflection. Something shiny so that you can see yourself. A lot of us get a mirror dedicated to us--that is a very good idea. Either way, the idea is to look through the reflection, like those 3D art things that they used to have at malls, right? So you look through it and once you concentrate, you can feel a barrier. That's the Gauntlet and you want to concentrate on pushing through. I won't cross until you start to, in case you get stuck and need help."
Shelby, with one eyebrow raised, settles down onto her knees beside the Theurge, looking uncertainly at both the pool and the other girl in turn. "The mirror lets you see through the Gauntlet," she guesses, "because it's a... it's a bridge and a window. Like that time you showed me back in the house." After a second the Ragabash adds, "...Get ...stuck?" She shakes off the question as soon as she's asked, though, to concentrate on leaning forward. Forward... forward... In less time than might be expected, she starts to shimmer, her form hazy as a mirage.
The quickness of it causes Zosia to grunt, though she isn't displeased. As the cub begins to move through the Gauntlet without seeming to get caught, she leans over and studies the water too. It is with a great deal of ease that she passes through as well--it helps, being at the heart of the caern!--and soon enough, the pair of Garou are kneeling on soft green grass--a green that -should- exist in the realm but doesn't, making everything more alive, more amazing. The air feels purer as they breathe, the moonlight is more illuminating, the sounds more intense. The key, of course, is more. And there's a less obvious feeling, of something once missing that has been found. Spirits move about in their nightly actions, lunes and birds and plants and little animals and other things that aren't anything so obvious. Zosia's obvious demeanor change is notable too. She is very happy here, her face lighting up as she greets spirits she knows and even those she doesn't with words that have a strange harmonic to them. She is answered, it appears, but the sounds are chimes or wind or squeaks.
Shelby clambers to her feet and turns about, trying to take it all in. "This is... It's nothing like what you showed me." Unseen by the cub, for her face is tilted to the trees and the sky, a small spirit - vole? chipmunk? - darts out of the shelter of a bush and to her feet. "Wow. How do you talk to them?"
"This is what's meant by the Wyld. The Weaver doesn't have influence here, like it doesn't on the umbra back at the house." Zosia's watching more carefully. The chipmunk is given an amused look and a wink, which causes it to giggle with delight before running about all over the cub's feet. "And I can speak to them because of a gift from the spirits. Theurges can and some Uktena. The rest of you lot have to hope that the spirit speaks Mother's Tongue. Or in very rare cases English but that almost never happens."
"Or bring a - hey!" When Mr. Chipmunk gets curious about her pants leg Shelby jumps, startling them both. She kneels - carefully - and holds her hand out, palm flat, to be investigated, looking back at Zosia. "It's a... a chipmunk, isn't it? What's it doing?" Attracted by the giggling, a lune drifts by to dance through Zosia's hair.
Meanwhile, behind the cub, a larger spirit has taken an interest. It seems to be a mix of goat, snake, and lion in the classical sense, a chimera spirit complete with mirrored eyes on all three heads. It is behind Shelby as she invesigates the chipmunk, who squeaks cheerfully up at the ragabash. "He's asking if you want to know where the best acorns are buried," Zosia supplies helpfully before looking up into her hair. *Hello, you.*
Does Shelby want to know? "Uh... thank you, but I wouldn't want to take away from you and your family," she tells the little spirit politely. "Or your friends. That's very kind of you to offer." A glance at Zosia: polite enough? The turn of her head is enough to let her catch sight of the much large thing behind her, and the cub freezes, letting the chipmunk roam where he will. "Um, Zosia?"
Zosia bows to the chimera, carefully. *Greetings, child of the Lady of the Mirrors,* she says in a polite voice. The chimera raises its head and studies the theurge for a moment before replying, ~Greetings, children of Falcon.~ Which should mostly make sense to Shelby. The gist, at least. "And now we shift up," Zosia says, bulking up into crinos with ease. ~I have brought my cub into the umbra to meet spirits and see this holy place.~
Shelby's chipmunk chatters at her before scampering back to his day, all but unnoticed by the ragabash. When the thing doesn't attack or make any threatening moves she slowly turns to face it and stands. 'Shift up' makes her grimace but she does as ordered, faster than usual but nowhere near actually zippy. Her ears laid back nervously, Stops-too-late offers a diffident ~Hello.~
The grimace is noted but not commented on especially given how fascinated the spirit is by the cub. ~Very new cub,~ the goat head responds thoughtfully, looking her over. ~Veeeeery new,~ the snake agrees. The lion just yawns. ~This is a chimera spirit,~ the theurge explains.
Stops-Too-Late's ears twitch at the words she knows: Cub. New. Chimera. Spirit. ~Doesn't Know When to Stop, Ragabash cub of Falcon, and great-great-granddaughter of Winter's Snow on Summer's Branches.~ Her rote-learned introduction comes easily enough, and the cub keeps her eyes on the chimera's feet, rather than trying to meet its eyes. After a moment she adds apologetically, ~Do not speak good.~
The spirit looks her up and down--the snake head goes down and the goat head goes up while the lion sniffs toward the middle. ~Riddlesolver,~ the spirit offers lazily as all three heads sniff simultaneously. ~You will speak better, child of Falcon. With more practice.~ The goat looks thoughtfully at Falcon's Grace. ~And also child of Unicorn. This is new.~ The theurge shuffles her feet before allowing that this is true.
Stops-Too-Late almost - almost - takes a step back from the feline head, but another look at Falcon's Grace keeps her feet planted. ~Riddlesolver,~ she agrees politely, repeating the new word with due care. ~Much words make better.~ When the chimera turns its attention to the theurge the ragabash steals the opportunity to sidle one step over and just a smidgen back, putting the Elder that much closer to the spirit.
The goat was looking at Falcon's Grace. The lion and snake had been still inspecting her. That's the tricky thing about a three-headed spirit who protests at the movement, demanding that the cub return to where she was. ~I'd recommend...~ Zosia starts to say then stops. A luna, attracted by the hubbub, adds to things, speaking in a softly chiming voice to the theurge before mingling in among the silvery-hairs of the cub, making her fur glow and glimmer faintly.
Stupid three-headed spirits. Stops-Too-Late catches the 'stop' and does, but the rest of the chimera's demands go right over her head. As does - literally - the lune. The cub's ears flatten again but she keeps still, though her lips peel nervously away from her teeth and her eyes roll over to Falcon's Grace. ~No speak good,~ she reminds all and sundry, in case it has the slightest chance of making a difference.
~Relax,~ Falcon's Grace instructs the cub as the lune continues to explore its way through her hair. ~It is telling me that your hair is a nice silvery color, like moonbeams. So it will make it -more- like moonbeams.~ This causes the theurge to laugh, informing the lune that this is a good joke! The chimera chuffs its own amusement in a rush of warm breath from three different mouths. ~Now you shine like the moon,~ it informs the cub. Indeed, as the lune pulls back, the cub's fur does glow and glimmer just like a moonbeam.
Stops-Too-Late tries, she really does, not to duck away from the esthetician lune. Her ears refuse to straighten. After a moment she manages to put her teeth away, though her hackles lift instead, and when the lune lifts the ragabash sinks into a three-point crouch, her head ducked as far between her shoulders as it can turtle. ~Want shift, Falcon's-Grace-rhya. Do not know what speak.~
~No. Stay like this.~ Falcon's Grace isn't being cruel, for all that she knows the cub's discomfort. ~I shall show the cub about,~ she informs the other spirits politely, causing them to back off a bit. She motions out, so that they can go further about the caern. Many spirits inspect them but none come quite as close. ~This is our other place. The place for the other half.~
Rising again only after the lune and chimera have backed off, Stops-Too-Late keeps within arm's length of the theurge as the pair explore. With the cub providing her own light source their shadows flicker and merge, an effect that Stops-Too-Late explores with some interest, only barely paying attention to the elder's words. ~Moon,~ she informs Falcon's Grace, tapping her on the shoulder and offering a glowing hand as demonstration. ~Me moon.~
Falcon's Grace laughs softly, a strange sound in crinos. ~Yes, like moon. The lune played a prank. Gentle but amusing.~ Darker things lurk in darker corners--not menacing so much as alien. A bird flies by overhead but when the wings are studied, they are marked with small eyes that watch the pair of Garou as the eagle-looking spirit continues the flight. ~Many spirits in a Wyld caern. Ever shifting, ever changing.~
Stops-Too-Late's ears flip backward at the laugh, but when nothing untoward follows they cautiously creep up again. ~Lune,~ she repeats, one hand flickering and darting around her head as the spirit did. ~Lune?~ When the eye-winged bird soars over she gasps and follows it with her eyes but neither ducks nor runs; afterward takes a better look at the surrounding forest, and the curious eyes that follow them. ~Lots spirits. --No,many spirits. Shifting.~ Followed by the slightly different, ~Changing.~
~Yes,~ the theurge says, looking up to study the various spirits that shift around, watching and ignoring the Garou by turns. ~Spirits of animals and plants and ideas and things we do not remember and things that might never be. Many spirits.~
~Say again,~ the cub begs, edging closer to the theurge when something furry and massive that outweighs both of them together in homid plods past, just out of sight. ~Say slow - slowing? Slower. Know 'spirits' and 'animals' and 'plants' and....~ She shakes her head helplessly, spreading massive hands.
~Ideas,~ Falcon's Grace says, tapping her forehead then miming thinking. It is less effective in crinos than it would be in her birth form. ~Things,~ she gestures vaguely, to ground, to sky, to trees and spirits and the like. ~Things. No remember.~ Now it is a puzzled look, implied as much from body language as facial expression. ~Never be?~
Stops-Too-Late repeats 'ideas' easily enough. The rest take more time, their gestures and sounds learned by rote, rather than with understanding of the concepts behind them. ~Do not like no speak good.~ She growls, frustrated. ~Others think...,~ she doesn't have 'stupid' yet, but mimes jabbing into her own ear, tongue lolling. ~Why this no like lupus talk?~
~Others are stupid,~ that word is said slowly and carefully and even repeated several times, ~when speak good. You are not stupid even when speak bad. Do not worry about others. They are not Falcon's children.~ And she manages, in that simple statement, to thus imply that they are less. ~This both wolf and human. It is Garou. Like us.~
~Falcon,~ the cub agrees, blowing out her breath. ~Need more words.~ She nods, though, at the explanation, watching her glowing hand for a moment before looking back at her elder. ~Hard learn words. No can learn in human, no can learn in wolf. Do not know many many words you say.~
~But in here,~ Falcon's Grace takes one clawed finger and gently points toward Stops-Too-Late's chest, ~you remember. Your ancestors help you remember. Sometimes a little, like me. Sometimes a lot, like others.~ She shrugs, the expression universal. ~Practice.~ Then she has mercy and shifts down into her birth form. "And all of this, all to learn, all to experience. This is why cubs just...disappear until they rite. You see? There is so much and kin can't understand, not really."
Stops-Too-Late looks quickly down where Falcon's Grace points, back up when there isn't a new and exciting difference. Like glowing. Mostly she listens, cupped ears focused intently on the theurge. When she slips into homid the cub takes a step back before crouching again, putting her head below the other's. She nods, slowly, not noticing when something that resembles a fish more than a bird and neither exactly 'swims' through the air behind her, intent on its own path. ~Know cubs many... much to learn. Not stupid.~ Hooray, a new word! ~I like you teach me.~
She might notice the hopping toad who moves along in lazy leaps. Mostly because it is the size of a doberman. At least it is polite, the spirit croaking ~Excuse me~ as it makes it's way between the pair of Garou. "I like when you listen. And it's easier to teach when," Zosia looks up, her hair falling down her back as she studies the sky. "I like coming here. It feels right. And there's so much to teach you. Fighting, tracking, learning Mother's Tongue and glyphs and the various spirits and so on. So much."
Polite is good: it reminds Stops-Too-Late not to stare, her mouth snapping closed and attention returning bungee-like to Zosia and not on the toad. ~Listen much!~ she protests. ~Here good.~ She'd add more, she wants to add more, but hasn't the vocabulary and ends up screwing up her nose in frustration. ~Silent Strider wolf teach me follow. With wind. He...,~ again she pauses, frowning at the sky. ~He *rahr* me,~ she finishes, 'pouncing' at Zosia with fierce claws in lieu of the missing words.
Zosia doesn't display the fear one might expect a small blonde girl to display in the face of a fierce giant werewolf. Perhaps she can be forgiven. Grinning, she nods. "Tim's good for that. Very clever, very devious. August will be good for fighting. I will be good for spirits and glyphs and language. You should talk with Claude for the Litany. He's a very good mediator."
A fierce giant glowing werewolf, don't forget. Who's sitting on her haunches. ~No like *rahr*.~ A moment later, head tilted curiously, ~What names them? You say in human? Know Litany,~ she adds half-apologetically. ~Garou,~ she mimes shooting a gun, ~teach me.~
"Al taught you. But still, you should talk to him about -why- each of those are important. You're a ragabash and part of that is questioning and making people think. What names?" She tilts her head as well, not quite sure what the cub wants.
Stops-Too-Late nods, awkwardly; yes, Al. ~Names of them. Others.~ Another grimace and she looks around as if expecting a computer or even a notepad to appear out of the aether; finally bends to trace letters through the grass. A-L. Fast and easy, and she looks hopefully up. Then T-I-M.
"Oh, name some other Garou?" Zosia gives her a puzzled look. "Al is Glass Breaker. Tim is Golden. August is Blood Guard. Claude is Steadfast." She says all of those slowly and carefully. "I am Falcon's Grace. Greg--you haven't met him--is Driftwood. Leila is Nightmare-Slayer. Jacey, that young cub, is Riftmender."
Halfway through Stops-Too-Late starts nodding again, impatient. ~Know names. Not know how speak names.~ She gestures at herself. ~Doesn't Know When to Stop.~ A hand opens at the theurge. ~Falcon's Grace. Not know how speak others.~
Zosia rolls her eyes and shifts up, speaking each Garou name carefully as she does, her voice ever-so-slightly-impatient.
Stops-Too-Late ducks her head submissively and remains sitting, keeping her head far beneath Zosia's. ~Thank you for names. No can say in human? Too....~ Searching for the word, she gives up after a few seconds with an irritated chuff and repeats the names, matching them correctly - save for Greg - to tribe and auspice. A reminder from the theurge gets the Fianna identified correctly as well. ~Other names to tell me? Or you want do other now?~
Through a complicated series of shifting between homid and crinos, Zosia manages to explain who Kaz is, who KL is, who Fernando is, and who Little Silvertip is. The rest she waves off with a vague wiggle of her hand and a "eventually you'll meet the rest but that'll be as it comes. Still, now that you know your forms and the like, start to practice the Mother's Tongue. The more you practice, the easier it will get."
Stops-Too-Late nods, resigned, mutters something about ~many words~ and, after a glance at Zosia for permission, drops back into homid. "They say if you know more than one language, it's easier to pick up others. They never knew about Mother's Tongue. No way to write it down, it's half body language anyway...." She shakes her head and tugs at her jacket hem, offers Zosia a rueful smile. "I hate feeling - and sounding - stupid. Thank you for being patient."
As she moves them back toward the pool where they started--or rather, the reflection of it, complete with gossipy duckweed spirits determined to show off their knowledge--Zosia grunts. "I know. But you're a new cub just learning these things. The more you practice, the better you'll be though none of this can be written down, you know that. Still, stay in hispo and crinos and make the others speak to you in Mother's Tongue and it will come more quickly."
"Immersion teaching," Shelby agrees, still wryly resigned. "I just know that Tim's going to use it as an... hey! I'm not glowing anymore!" She stops underneath a birch tree to study her hands, jumps when the tree brushes her hair with one leafy bough. "They keep touching me," she mutters at Zosia in Polish, while a thin smile seems to have set up shop on her face. To the tree, it's all, "Yes, very nice, very pretty leaves."
"The lune said it wanted to make your hair look more like the moon. Your hair in this form isn't silvery-white," Zosia points out wryly. There's a whispery sound in the air and the theurge looks up toward the tree. Whatever it is that the tree says, she bursts into laughter, shaking her head before waving for Shelby to look into the water. "Come on, back we go."
Backing away from the touchy-feely tree, Shelby runs fingers through her distinctly non-white hair and slants Zosia a wry version of the smile. "Great. Do I want to know what it said?" Probably not. Again her journey through the Gauntlet is not nearly as slow and painful as one might expect, considering her trials in shifting.
Zosia follows with unnerving speed, still giggling to herself. "Some things are best left to theurges," is all she'll say.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (51% full).
Umbra: Center of the Caern
A subtly spine-vibrating thrum of power issues from the Caern and its pathstone, pricking hairs and fur. Slowly but surely, the rejuvenating actions of the Garou have been transforming the once spiritually dead spot into something befitting a caern. It is alive with a wide variety of spirits, Wyld and chimerical, nature spirits and others, traveling about on missions of their own; though Wendigo spirits are never seen. The caern, visually, falls just short of the wildest rural utopia imaginable. Bare hints of a former pollution remain; tentatively green grass, hearty young trees where there ought to be mighty oaks and pines--and these are things that, with time and care, are slowly replacing what was lost.
The air crackles with tingles of spiritual potency. It is not, for those with long memories, as powerful as it was before the Black Spiral Dancers took over for a time, but there is power, and there is energy, dancing in the air.
Obvious exits:
South North West
As Luna fattens in the sky, Zosia has begun preparing Shelby for a trip to the umbra. She has emphasized several things: be very careful what she says, be respectful of everything she encounters (or cautious enough to appear respectful) and don't agree to anything. And stay on your toes! What sounds ominious is explained that it is hard to get the real feel for the umbra from words--you have to see it to believe it.
So, the day comes and the pair set off to the heart of the caern. Kneeling by the pool that comes from the waterfall, Zosia points to the surface. "You need a reflection. Something shiny so that you can see yourself. A lot of us get a mirror dedicated to us--that is a very good idea. Either way, the idea is to look through the reflection, like those 3D art things that they used to have at malls, right? So you look through it and once you concentrate, you can feel a barrier. That's the Gauntlet and you want to concentrate on pushing through. I won't cross until you start to, in case you get stuck and need help."
Shelby, with one eyebrow raised, settles down onto her knees beside the Theurge, looking uncertainly at both the pool and the other girl in turn. "The mirror lets you see through the Gauntlet," she guesses, "because it's a... it's a bridge and a window. Like that time you showed me back in the house." After a second the Ragabash adds, "...Get ...stuck?" She shakes off the question as soon as she's asked, though, to concentrate on leaning forward. Forward... forward... In less time than might be expected, she starts to shimmer, her form hazy as a mirage.
The quickness of it causes Zosia to grunt, though she isn't displeased. As the cub begins to move through the Gauntlet without seeming to get caught, she leans over and studies the water too. It is with a great deal of ease that she passes through as well--it helps, being at the heart of the caern!--and soon enough, the pair of Garou are kneeling on soft green grass--a green that -should- exist in the realm but doesn't, making everything more alive, more amazing. The air feels purer as they breathe, the moonlight is more illuminating, the sounds more intense. The key, of course, is more. And there's a less obvious feeling, of something once missing that has been found. Spirits move about in their nightly actions, lunes and birds and plants and little animals and other things that aren't anything so obvious. Zosia's obvious demeanor change is notable too. She is very happy here, her face lighting up as she greets spirits she knows and even those she doesn't with words that have a strange harmonic to them. She is answered, it appears, but the sounds are chimes or wind or squeaks.
Shelby clambers to her feet and turns about, trying to take it all in. "This is... It's nothing like what you showed me." Unseen by the cub, for her face is tilted to the trees and the sky, a small spirit - vole? chipmunk? - darts out of the shelter of a bush and to her feet. "Wow. How do you talk to them?"
"This is what's meant by the Wyld. The Weaver doesn't have influence here, like it doesn't on the umbra back at the house." Zosia's watching more carefully. The chipmunk is given an amused look and a wink, which causes it to giggle with delight before running about all over the cub's feet. "And I can speak to them because of a gift from the spirits. Theurges can and some Uktena. The rest of you lot have to hope that the spirit speaks Mother's Tongue. Or in very rare cases English but that almost never happens."
"Or bring a - hey!" When Mr. Chipmunk gets curious about her pants leg Shelby jumps, startling them both. She kneels - carefully - and holds her hand out, palm flat, to be investigated, looking back at Zosia. "It's a... a chipmunk, isn't it? What's it doing?" Attracted by the giggling, a lune drifts by to dance through Zosia's hair.
Meanwhile, behind the cub, a larger spirit has taken an interest. It seems to be a mix of goat, snake, and lion in the classical sense, a chimera spirit complete with mirrored eyes on all three heads. It is behind Shelby as she invesigates the chipmunk, who squeaks cheerfully up at the ragabash. "He's asking if you want to know where the best acorns are buried," Zosia supplies helpfully before looking up into her hair. *Hello, you.*
Does Shelby want to know? "Uh... thank you, but I wouldn't want to take away from you and your family," she tells the little spirit politely. "Or your friends. That's very kind of you to offer." A glance at Zosia: polite enough? The turn of her head is enough to let her catch sight of the much large thing behind her, and the cub freezes, letting the chipmunk roam where he will. "Um, Zosia?"
Zosia bows to the chimera, carefully. *Greetings, child of the Lady of the Mirrors,* she says in a polite voice. The chimera raises its head and studies the theurge for a moment before replying, ~Greetings, children of Falcon.~ Which should mostly make sense to Shelby. The gist, at least. "And now we shift up," Zosia says, bulking up into crinos with ease. ~I have brought my cub into the umbra to meet spirits and see this holy place.~
Shelby's chipmunk chatters at her before scampering back to his day, all but unnoticed by the ragabash. When the thing doesn't attack or make any threatening moves she slowly turns to face it and stands. 'Shift up' makes her grimace but she does as ordered, faster than usual but nowhere near actually zippy. Her ears laid back nervously, Stops-too-late offers a diffident ~Hello.~
The grimace is noted but not commented on especially given how fascinated the spirit is by the cub. ~Very new cub,~ the goat head responds thoughtfully, looking her over. ~Veeeeery new,~ the snake agrees. The lion just yawns. ~This is a chimera spirit,~ the theurge explains.
Stops-Too-Late's ears twitch at the words she knows: Cub. New. Chimera. Spirit. ~Doesn't Know When to Stop, Ragabash cub of Falcon, and great-great-granddaughter of Winter's Snow on Summer's Branches.~ Her rote-learned introduction comes easily enough, and the cub keeps her eyes on the chimera's feet, rather than trying to meet its eyes. After a moment she adds apologetically, ~Do not speak good.~
The spirit looks her up and down--the snake head goes down and the goat head goes up while the lion sniffs toward the middle. ~Riddlesolver,~ the spirit offers lazily as all three heads sniff simultaneously. ~You will speak better, child of Falcon. With more practice.~ The goat looks thoughtfully at Falcon's Grace. ~And also child of Unicorn. This is new.~ The theurge shuffles her feet before allowing that this is true.
Stops-Too-Late almost - almost - takes a step back from the feline head, but another look at Falcon's Grace keeps her feet planted. ~Riddlesolver,~ she agrees politely, repeating the new word with due care. ~Much words make better.~ When the chimera turns its attention to the theurge the ragabash steals the opportunity to sidle one step over and just a smidgen back, putting the Elder that much closer to the spirit.
The goat was looking at Falcon's Grace. The lion and snake had been still inspecting her. That's the tricky thing about a three-headed spirit who protests at the movement, demanding that the cub return to where she was. ~I'd recommend...~ Zosia starts to say then stops. A luna, attracted by the hubbub, adds to things, speaking in a softly chiming voice to the theurge before mingling in among the silvery-hairs of the cub, making her fur glow and glimmer faintly.
Stupid three-headed spirits. Stops-Too-Late catches the 'stop' and does, but the rest of the chimera's demands go right over her head. As does - literally - the lune. The cub's ears flatten again but she keeps still, though her lips peel nervously away from her teeth and her eyes roll over to Falcon's Grace. ~No speak good,~ she reminds all and sundry, in case it has the slightest chance of making a difference.
~Relax,~ Falcon's Grace instructs the cub as the lune continues to explore its way through her hair. ~It is telling me that your hair is a nice silvery color, like moonbeams. So it will make it -more- like moonbeams.~ This causes the theurge to laugh, informing the lune that this is a good joke! The chimera chuffs its own amusement in a rush of warm breath from three different mouths. ~Now you shine like the moon,~ it informs the cub. Indeed, as the lune pulls back, the cub's fur does glow and glimmer just like a moonbeam.
Stops-Too-Late tries, she really does, not to duck away from the esthetician lune. Her ears refuse to straighten. After a moment she manages to put her teeth away, though her hackles lift instead, and when the lune lifts the ragabash sinks into a three-point crouch, her head ducked as far between her shoulders as it can turtle. ~Want shift, Falcon's-Grace-rhya. Do not know what speak.~
~No. Stay like this.~ Falcon's Grace isn't being cruel, for all that she knows the cub's discomfort. ~I shall show the cub about,~ she informs the other spirits politely, causing them to back off a bit. She motions out, so that they can go further about the caern. Many spirits inspect them but none come quite as close. ~This is our other place. The place for the other half.~
Rising again only after the lune and chimera have backed off, Stops-Too-Late keeps within arm's length of the theurge as the pair explore. With the cub providing her own light source their shadows flicker and merge, an effect that Stops-Too-Late explores with some interest, only barely paying attention to the elder's words. ~Moon,~ she informs Falcon's Grace, tapping her on the shoulder and offering a glowing hand as demonstration. ~Me moon.~
Falcon's Grace laughs softly, a strange sound in crinos. ~Yes, like moon. The lune played a prank. Gentle but amusing.~ Darker things lurk in darker corners--not menacing so much as alien. A bird flies by overhead but when the wings are studied, they are marked with small eyes that watch the pair of Garou as the eagle-looking spirit continues the flight. ~Many spirits in a Wyld caern. Ever shifting, ever changing.~
Stops-Too-Late's ears flip backward at the laugh, but when nothing untoward follows they cautiously creep up again. ~Lune,~ she repeats, one hand flickering and darting around her head as the spirit did. ~Lune?~ When the eye-winged bird soars over she gasps and follows it with her eyes but neither ducks nor runs; afterward takes a better look at the surrounding forest, and the curious eyes that follow them. ~Lots spirits. --No,many spirits. Shifting.~ Followed by the slightly different, ~Changing.~
~Yes,~ the theurge says, looking up to study the various spirits that shift around, watching and ignoring the Garou by turns. ~Spirits of animals and plants and ideas and things we do not remember and things that might never be. Many spirits.~
~Say again,~ the cub begs, edging closer to the theurge when something furry and massive that outweighs both of them together in homid plods past, just out of sight. ~Say slow - slowing? Slower. Know 'spirits' and 'animals' and 'plants' and....~ She shakes her head helplessly, spreading massive hands.
~Ideas,~ Falcon's Grace says, tapping her forehead then miming thinking. It is less effective in crinos than it would be in her birth form. ~Things,~ she gestures vaguely, to ground, to sky, to trees and spirits and the like. ~Things. No remember.~ Now it is a puzzled look, implied as much from body language as facial expression. ~Never be?~
Stops-Too-Late repeats 'ideas' easily enough. The rest take more time, their gestures and sounds learned by rote, rather than with understanding of the concepts behind them. ~Do not like no speak good.~ She growls, frustrated. ~Others think...,~ she doesn't have 'stupid' yet, but mimes jabbing into her own ear, tongue lolling. ~Why this no like lupus talk?~
~Others are stupid,~ that word is said slowly and carefully and even repeated several times, ~when speak good. You are not stupid even when speak bad. Do not worry about others. They are not Falcon's children.~ And she manages, in that simple statement, to thus imply that they are less. ~This both wolf and human. It is Garou. Like us.~
~Falcon,~ the cub agrees, blowing out her breath. ~Need more words.~ She nods, though, at the explanation, watching her glowing hand for a moment before looking back at her elder. ~Hard learn words. No can learn in human, no can learn in wolf. Do not know many many words you say.~
~But in here,~ Falcon's Grace takes one clawed finger and gently points toward Stops-Too-Late's chest, ~you remember. Your ancestors help you remember. Sometimes a little, like me. Sometimes a lot, like others.~ She shrugs, the expression universal. ~Practice.~ Then she has mercy and shifts down into her birth form. "And all of this, all to learn, all to experience. This is why cubs just...disappear until they rite. You see? There is so much and kin can't understand, not really."
Stops-Too-Late looks quickly down where Falcon's Grace points, back up when there isn't a new and exciting difference. Like glowing. Mostly she listens, cupped ears focused intently on the theurge. When she slips into homid the cub takes a step back before crouching again, putting her head below the other's. She nods, slowly, not noticing when something that resembles a fish more than a bird and neither exactly 'swims' through the air behind her, intent on its own path. ~Know cubs many... much to learn. Not stupid.~ Hooray, a new word! ~I like you teach me.~
She might notice the hopping toad who moves along in lazy leaps. Mostly because it is the size of a doberman. At least it is polite, the spirit croaking ~Excuse me~ as it makes it's way between the pair of Garou. "I like when you listen. And it's easier to teach when," Zosia looks up, her hair falling down her back as she studies the sky. "I like coming here. It feels right. And there's so much to teach you. Fighting, tracking, learning Mother's Tongue and glyphs and the various spirits and so on. So much."
Polite is good: it reminds Stops-Too-Late not to stare, her mouth snapping closed and attention returning bungee-like to Zosia and not on the toad. ~Listen much!~ she protests. ~Here good.~ She'd add more, she wants to add more, but hasn't the vocabulary and ends up screwing up her nose in frustration. ~Silent Strider wolf teach me follow. With wind. He...,~ again she pauses, frowning at the sky. ~He *rahr* me,~ she finishes, 'pouncing' at Zosia with fierce claws in lieu of the missing words.
Zosia doesn't display the fear one might expect a small blonde girl to display in the face of a fierce giant werewolf. Perhaps she can be forgiven. Grinning, she nods. "Tim's good for that. Very clever, very devious. August will be good for fighting. I will be good for spirits and glyphs and language. You should talk with Claude for the Litany. He's a very good mediator."
A fierce giant glowing werewolf, don't forget. Who's sitting on her haunches. ~No like *rahr*.~ A moment later, head tilted curiously, ~What names them? You say in human? Know Litany,~ she adds half-apologetically. ~Garou,~ she mimes shooting a gun, ~teach me.~
"Al taught you. But still, you should talk to him about -why- each of those are important. You're a ragabash and part of that is questioning and making people think. What names?" She tilts her head as well, not quite sure what the cub wants.
Stops-Too-Late nods, awkwardly; yes, Al. ~Names of them. Others.~ Another grimace and she looks around as if expecting a computer or even a notepad to appear out of the aether; finally bends to trace letters through the grass. A-L. Fast and easy, and she looks hopefully up. Then T-I-M.
"Oh, name some other Garou?" Zosia gives her a puzzled look. "Al is Glass Breaker. Tim is Golden. August is Blood Guard. Claude is Steadfast." She says all of those slowly and carefully. "I am Falcon's Grace. Greg--you haven't met him--is Driftwood. Leila is Nightmare-Slayer. Jacey, that young cub, is Riftmender."
Halfway through Stops-Too-Late starts nodding again, impatient. ~Know names. Not know how speak names.~ She gestures at herself. ~Doesn't Know When to Stop.~ A hand opens at the theurge. ~Falcon's Grace. Not know how speak others.~
Zosia rolls her eyes and shifts up, speaking each Garou name carefully as she does, her voice ever-so-slightly-impatient.
Stops-Too-Late ducks her head submissively and remains sitting, keeping her head far beneath Zosia's. ~Thank you for names. No can say in human? Too....~ Searching for the word, she gives up after a few seconds with an irritated chuff and repeats the names, matching them correctly - save for Greg - to tribe and auspice. A reminder from the theurge gets the Fianna identified correctly as well. ~Other names to tell me? Or you want do other now?~
Through a complicated series of shifting between homid and crinos, Zosia manages to explain who Kaz is, who KL is, who Fernando is, and who Little Silvertip is. The rest she waves off with a vague wiggle of her hand and a "eventually you'll meet the rest but that'll be as it comes. Still, now that you know your forms and the like, start to practice the Mother's Tongue. The more you practice, the easier it will get."
Stops-Too-Late nods, resigned, mutters something about ~many words~ and, after a glance at Zosia for permission, drops back into homid. "They say if you know more than one language, it's easier to pick up others. They never knew about Mother's Tongue. No way to write it down, it's half body language anyway...." She shakes her head and tugs at her jacket hem, offers Zosia a rueful smile. "I hate feeling - and sounding - stupid. Thank you for being patient."
As she moves them back toward the pool where they started--or rather, the reflection of it, complete with gossipy duckweed spirits determined to show off their knowledge--Zosia grunts. "I know. But you're a new cub just learning these things. The more you practice, the better you'll be though none of this can be written down, you know that. Still, stay in hispo and crinos and make the others speak to you in Mother's Tongue and it will come more quickly."
"Immersion teaching," Shelby agrees, still wryly resigned. "I just know that Tim's going to use it as an... hey! I'm not glowing anymore!" She stops underneath a birch tree to study her hands, jumps when the tree brushes her hair with one leafy bough. "They keep touching me," she mutters at Zosia in Polish, while a thin smile seems to have set up shop on her face. To the tree, it's all, "Yes, very nice, very pretty leaves."
"The lune said it wanted to make your hair look more like the moon. Your hair in this form isn't silvery-white," Zosia points out wryly. There's a whispery sound in the air and the theurge looks up toward the tree. Whatever it is that the tree says, she bursts into laughter, shaking her head before waving for Shelby to look into the water. "Come on, back we go."
Backing away from the touchy-feely tree, Shelby runs fingers through her distinctly non-white hair and slants Zosia a wry version of the smile. "Great. Do I want to know what it said?" Probably not. Again her journey through the Gauntlet is not nearly as slow and painful as one might expect, considering her trials in shifting.
Zosia follows with unnerving speed, still giggling to herself. "Some things are best left to theurges," is all she'll say.