Goldie
Another
bright and sunny day, with the perfect shade of blue sky that came from
the beginning days of autumn stretching high up ahead. Only a few
clouds here and there raced by to give a visual of how quickly the wind
blew. It wasn't brisk, but refreshing-- it cooled the skin of the sun
above that still soaked and baked it.
Goldie was in goddamn heaven.
"It's
too fucking gorgeous out," she'd told Matthew around 10:30am on a rare
mutual day off work. "Trade in them trainers for your hiking boots,
Matty, let's go pay our dues!"
And that's how they wound up
walking through the Roxborough National Forest's land, having parted
from hiking trail about twenty minutes back. Goldie was dressed in a
pair of hiking boots and tube socks up to her knees, with a pair of
khaki shorts and cropped white top and green canvas vest. That's
impractical, she'd have been accused, but Goldie just insisted she would
be fine. As has been the case since she was 15 and came across her own
sense of style, she refused to be told otherwise when it came to her
choice of clothes.
"Besides," she would advise, "It's not like I'm
going to stay wearing them anyways." And that's precisely what had her
chattering excitedly behind Matthew on the hike out toward and into the
Bawn, glancing over her shoulder and tugging the bill of a cap she was
wearing her hair ponytailed through the back of.
"We're far enough
out that I can change, right? You think? Because I don't know if I've
bitched about this in the past five minutes or not, but just to be sure
we're clear-- you are unfair to hike with on two feet."
Matthew
"Yeah,
you know, it's a good thing you keep saying that, otherwise I'd start
thinking you were staying humanized on account of it's easier to talk a
mile a fucking minute."
10:30 in the morning had seen Matt lying
on the couch like he'd never left it last night even though she knows
damned well that he was out the door before the sun came up and had gone
through the shower before she had even started thinking about waking
up. Of course he had already smoked a bowl and put down a beer or two.
That doesn't mean he wasn't going to fucking drive it just meant he had
to sober up a bit.
The bane of every Fiann's existence.
It's
80 degrees right now and Goldie's outfit is more practical than Matt's
is. He's wearing jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt because fuck ticks and
chiggers and whatever the fuck else lives out in the woods. It's a
wonder he isn't wearing a hat. He is wearing sunglasses. Blue eyes are
not particularly renowned for their ability to deal with bright light
even if the owner isn't hungover.
He does take a moment to look around before he answers her question though.
"Yeah, you're fine. Go for it."
Javed Anubis-Sight
Javed
Anubis-Sight is known for his wandering. Go figure, he's a
Strider...that's what they do. As such, while he identifies as a member
of the Sept of the Cold Crescent he can often be found around the rural
sept. One might argue that he considers himself more of a visitor here
than he does in the city sept, but that would demonstrate a lack of
understanding: to the Striders, and as such to Javed, they are visitors
at any and every Sept no matter how long they stay. Such is the way
when you have no home.
He's sitting some distance up ahead from
where Goldie and Matthew are, in the path of their eventual approach.
He likes to meditate here. He doesn't look like the meditating kind,
but when you radiate as much Rage as he does, you have to try to find
piece of mind. For Javed, a creature for whom discipline is paramount,
it's doubly the case. His army jacket sits at his side, leaving him in
his heavy pants, A-shirt and military-style boots. As he hears voices,
he doesn't immediately respond; he has his focusing to finish. It is
only after a few moments that he finally opens his eyes and rises to
stand, reaching to get his jacket and them moving to approach.
Mary
Mary
has been hiking, too. It has dawned on her that she has neglected, this
past week, some of her rites and rituals, and while her conscience is
slow to stir her desire to avoid nagging is ever at the ready, so to the
wilderness she went.
The past hour or so: hiking, hiking, hiking,
tromping and ambling and bumbling, annoying and aweing and annoying and
glorying whatever crosses her path. There was a jack rabbit or a bunny
or something a bit earlier. Mary isn't good naming small things that run
fast, unless one counts four year olds, and four year olds start out
slow and small. Are bunnies wild animals or just rabbits? What about
ponies? This is the kind of thing one would expect an educated young
woman given every advantage to know without thinking about it. This is
also the kind of thing one begins to think about when one has been
hiking and it is hot and one likes nature and one certainly feels, or
knows one is supposed to feel, and even in unguarded moments may attest
to feeling (although sometimes one needs to think about it or forgets
about it or takes it for granted), a certain holy reverence away from
those dirty dirty dirty scabs, which is to say that Mary is or is not an
affectionate creature and she may or may not enjoy being out in nature
(she does! She does, it's just), but then she got hot.
And the
whole nature thing just kept on being nature and vast and beautiful and
wild, and Mary remembered that she does not like exercise or really
anything, and Mary has sharp ears too! Very, very sharp ears, so
naturally once she is close enough to the Fianna and the Strider those
sharp ears will bring her bounding
or at least dragging her feet
to
say hello and be bothersome. But how often do convergences happen all
at once? Soon, however: EH? PEOPLE? PEOPLE TO INVESTIGATE? First: mm,
trail mix.
Goldie
The only pack that Goldie had
carried along with her was the same smaller one that she was toting
around the night before-- she'd added a bottle of water and canister of
nuts and dried fruit and called it a day. She glanced about, to the
left and to the right, then stopped walking and shrugged the thin straps
of her pack off her shoulders to let it thump onto the ground.
Out
here there weren't so many trees as back home. Coverage and shelter
weren't quite the same concept-- you wanted to find a ditch or some
taller grass and shrubs out this way more realistically to hide in. But
Goldie had also been checking a map she'd picked up from the city
Sept-- a big fold-out brochure from the state park's office marked with
highlighters to indicate boundaries. Yesterday had proved a helpful
visit. It was a good thing that she got doused in Wyrm-fungus after
all.
The map had been consulted a few minutes previously. They'd
crossed into the Bawn border already, and after passing round the side
of a hill they were out of sight of the hiking trail. So Goldie wasn't
worried about who might be up ahead when she crouched down onto her
knees and found her way through one form into another-- choppy but
effective and quick a change from girl-skin to wolf.
Given a dozen
seconds or so to complete the transition, the wolf Goldie appeared as
an almost storybook representation of her namesake. Her pelt was best
described as precisely that-- golden, with lighter white-yellow on the
underbelly and chest, and a dark muzzle and paws. The big brown eyes
carried through all of her forms. Small, and still sleek with a
summer's coat, she immediately rolled on the ground and kicked legs in
the air, then wriggled her way on her back to her pack to make a show of
trying to get her head and leg through the straps so she could wear it
on her back like some kind of pack horse.
Matthew
When
the Ragabash returns from her costume change the kinsman is scrolling
through text messages on his cellphone and not paying attention to his
surroundings. They're out in the woods in broad daylight. Broad daylight
doesn't mean anything to their people and it sure as shit doesn't mean
monsters and mutated humans and other minions of the Wyrm are can't
stumble past any moment but he'd like to think the odds of their
encountering a boogeyman two days in a row are fairly fucking slim.
So
he's on his phone. He puts it back in his pocket when Goldie rejoins
him and then stands watching her as she rolls around on the ground
trying to get her upper body through the pack straps.
The sight makes him laugh.
"What
the fuck," he says and steps forward. "Why don't you let me carry the
fucking bag, huh? You look like you escaped from the wildlife refuge or
something."
Javed Anubis-Sight
He approaches
slowly enough, so that they have time to see him coming. The metis is
not the kind of person who takes pleasure in sneaking up on people, even
ones he knows well...but then, how many people he ever really know
well? It takes him so much time, after all, to get the outward clues
that allow him to bypass his curse. It's a slow process, as face
blindness has the added problem of making it difficult to cognitavely
associate details with people. Anyway, he's no prankster and if it's
people he can't be sure he knows well, he's even less inclined to do so.
So
it's not difficult to see him as he walks onto the path, several yards
ahead, slipping his jacket on. He walks up toward Goldie and Matthew,
offering them a nod with his ever-neutral expression. However unamused
he may seem, the gravelly baritone of his voice is nothing but
courteous.
"Good afternoon." He leaves it there, so as not to
make assumptions of whether these are people he has met or not. It's
easier to rely on their response as to whether they recognize him or not
before trying to make introduction (or not, as the case may be).
Matthew
[you bet your sweet ass i'm rolling recognize garou]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (3, 6, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Mary
Time for:
EH? PEOPLE? PEOPLE TO INVESTIGATE?
Though
strictly speaking, one is not currently occupying people form in her
small honey and cream gold and ivory fairy tale wolf shape. Laughter and
the thud of pack through dirt make more of an impression, at first,
than any sort of visual, because of that distance thing. And also
because Mary is someone who listens more than she looks.
And
unlike the metis, Mary is a prankster. One wouldn't say that she takes
pleasure in sneaking up on people, because she isn't as good at it as
she'd like to be, perhaps, but also because she's just supposed to be sneaky so she can be sneaky or unsneaky as she pleases as long as she does first what she is supposed to.
Trail mix away, sneaking toward PEOPLE power activate!
[Dex and Stealth, sneak sneak hide hide spy spy]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Goldie
[Is there a sneak about?? Perception 3 + Alertness 2, -2 diff Lupus]
Dice: 5 d10 TN4 (1, 3, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Javed Anubis-Sight
[[Per+Alert, +1 diff due to One Eye]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (5, 5, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 2 )
Matthew
[derp.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )
Goldie
Bits
of dust kicked up from the dirt that Goldie squirmed and writhed in.
She had the pack strap between her teeth, pulling her upper lip to
expose gums. This was how she stilled when Matt laughed and walked over
to detangle the situation and carry the backpack for her instead.
He
asked a wolf a question and got a chuffing noise and thump-thump-thump
of the tail in answer. Matthew's blood was very close to the Wolf, but
that didn't mean he was able to transcend language barriers like that.
So she waited until Matthew had gathered the pack up before she twisted
about and found her feet once more.
Nostrils wriggled wet in the
breezy air. There were scents, plenty of them, but two distinctly
human-fleshed ones that stood out in the air among foliage and animals
and things brought in on the wind. There were bootfalls, rustling
leaves and grasses, and footsteps that were being placed oh so
deliberately off in another direction entirely. Then came the
deep-voiced greeting, and Goldie swung her head to look over at the
dark-skinned man making his way toward her and Matthew both.
Hello! I'm Little Uproar, and we're new! Where do I check in?
Goldie's
wagging tail and whuffing yipping noises translated to this for Javed
when combined with ear-stature body language. But she was a distracted
thing, one ear turned back toward where Mary lurked and listened.
Matthew
The
man who joins them on the path does not look like a park ranger or a
game warden or anyone else who wields authority but in the moment
between their convergence and speech Matt stills. Now that he has the
pack in his hands it occurs to him that talking to vicious predators and
manhandling knapsacks away from them isn't normal behavior. No way in
Malfeas would Goldie pass for a domesticated dog.
This isn't a
hiker come upon them though. Recognition comes to Matt quick as it would
have come to anyone else quick. Same as Javed can recognize the man for
what he is. He looks like he put no more effort into his appearance
than picking his outfit off the floor and climbing into it after
checking it for rude odors. He keeps his brown hair cut close to his
scalp and hasn't shaved his face in so long the scruff is threatening to
become a beard and despite all that it's obvious he's a member of the
Fianna tribe.
He has accomplished nothing of note and seems
hellbent on maintaing that streak and yet he carries himself like he's
worth something. It's unintentional. He doesn't realize he's doing it.
"Hey," he says to Javed.
Yes. Brilliant. That will go down in the Silver Record as an introduction worthy of his blood.
A breeze slinks through the trees. The kinsman is oblivious. He doesn't notice Goldie's ear perked.
Javed Anubis-Sight
"Hello,
Little Uproar." That is a name that he's sure he doesn't know, so he
nods his head. "I am Anubis-Sight, Fostern Ahroun of the Silent
Striders." The introduction is to both of them; he doesn't ignore
Matthew, but it's rude to specifically ask someone's name if they're not
willing to give it so that goes unaddressed.
And here he gives the appropriate instructions for Where do I check in
because it's been a while and the player has actually forgotten the
details that he thinks are "make introduction here" but Javed would know
and not have to guess so yeah.
Something is sneaking through the
trees. Whether it is the rustle of a leaf of what, Javed picks up on
it. He turns his head in that direction but doesn't see her; only
detects the presence. He doesn't say anything, just watches the
treeline to try and track with his one eye.
Mary
Mary
slows and slows and loses something of what Goldie is communicating
before she can see the Fianna but then she has reached a good place with
a slanting view and she crouches down on her haunches, sucking in her
stomach so her belt doesn't annoy her, then exhaling not all at once
because that would be a dead give away.
It is not her best sneaking display ever, what with it being a display, but it will do.
She
has crouched beside some plant that offers a shield, grass & scrub
& something brown and dessicated and dead (sleeping, autumn's here),
in the dappling of shadow offered by a sparse tree leaning dawnward
lightward horizonward reaching as plants do twisting in an attitude of
prayer, and she is herself a reverent-seeming invisibility, dark dark
Spanish eyes nothing but shadows cast through the sere-yellow of grass.
Her
ears don't prick up; human ears don't, but she hunkers further down
(ridiculous, dust on her black and white polka-dotted blouse).
That
Fostern sees her, doesn't he? Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't? He's
looking he's looking oh shit and he's a Fostern Ahroun and oh shit isn't
that the name of one of those guys who --
Mary doesn't move, or at least attempts to play statue.
Goldie
Oh, I forgot. I'm Cliath, Ragabash of the Fianna. My manners are really rusty.
The explanation was tacked on with a bit of an embarrassed, maybe
somewhat apologetic wriggle of the hindquarters before she plunked
herself to sit.
Javed explained where she could reliably find a
member of the Warder's pack, where the Caern proper was, who to speak
with and all of that. Goldie listened well enough, being still and
quiet for a change while taking in what important information she
needed. But there was still that one ear, twisted back, paying mind to
the fact that the movement had stopped and the breathing sounds stopped
too, so whoever (female, thrones of ice and silver and blood-ruby-crowns
by the smell she'd caught) was back there had settled still.
Soon the Fostern was looking back in that direction as well, and Goldie made a dismissive sound and shake of her head. It's just an audience, Anubis-Sight. Do you get stage fright, sir?
The
shake of her head turned to a shake of her pelt, and Goldie found her
way back up to her feet. After bumping a shoulder and dragging her side
heavily along Matthew's shins, she circled back to go poke her nose in
the shrubs where Mary was crouched in hiding.
Matthew
It
isn't until the Ahroun introduces himself that the kinsman decides
maybe he ought to stop being rude and tell him who the hell he is.
Whatever Goldie conveys to Javed is foreign and formless to Matt. He
doesn't ask for a translation.
He draws a breath and then the
breeze becomes a rustle and the two wolves react to it. Never mind. Matt
is still holding onto the pack from which he'd extricated Goldie in his
left hand. He wears neither a watch nor a wedding band. If he has any
tattoos they are hidden by the jeans and long sleeves.
Again with
the barking he can't understand and then off she goes. The kinsman
withstands the force of the physical contact without staggering back and
then turns to watch the tree line.
"Should I be concerned?" he
asks. "Yesterday she went into an alleyway by herself and came back
covered in gray shit." A beat. He spares Javed a glance. "Matt, by the
way. Murphy."
Just in case there's screaming or body parts start flying everywhere in a couple seconds.
Javed Anubis-Sight
The
additional details as to Goldie's identity elicit a slight inclination
of his head. "Quite all right," he rumbles, though his attention
doesn't immediately shift from watching the treeline. The Ahroun isn't
tense, although to be fair it can be difficult to tell the difference
when even calm he's always ready for battle. The gift of the Ahroun in
their increased connection to Gaia's fury resonates strongly in Javed
and he's never one that particularly counts as relaxed. He is often calm, but never relaxed.
The
dismissive comments from Goldie cause the Strider's dark eyebrows to
furrow, and finally he looks away to regard her as she moves to
investigate. "I do not," is his only reply to her question before
Matthew speaks up. He asks if he should be concerned, and the Iranian
shakes his head.
"I do not believe so. The Sept is secure,
although one can never be overly careful. I am certain you understand.
It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Murphy. Welcome to Denver."
Mary
Meanwhile, in the grass and shadow...
Stay still. Stay still. Stay still. Stay still.
Oh, here comes Little Uproar the Fianna.
Stay still. Stay still. Stay still. Stay still.
Mary
stays still. Mary crosses her eyes. Mary stays very very still. Playing
statue is very serious business; so is refusing to let your muscles so
much as twitch. Mary is a voluptuary woman with an expressive expressive
face, so she manages to convey just how frozen she is with an
expression.
Attempts ventriloquism and a whisper.
Mary
[Eh. Ventriloquism? DEX + Perf.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 8, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Matthew
[Fuckin' Silver Fangs.]
Mary
"Why
what is this Little Uproar Ragabash sniffing at I wonder because
because I could be a log or a vessel for the spirits. I could be a
statue just looking like a no good kind of antsy didn't sneak half so
good as she wishes but glad to make your aquaintance type. Pretty much
perfectly like the land right now right??? I don't think they've
cottoned on."
Goldie
The Change is
both universal and personal. Garou across the years have described
similar yet varied experiences-- the same basic thing, but perceived and
coped with (or reveled in) differently. There were those that became
so entrenched with their other life as a Wolf that they became wolfish
even in human skins. That they gave up life among humanity to go fight a
fight protecting Gaia's still-sacred forests and diminishing wolf packs
instead.
Goldie wasn't quite that far yet, but she did understand
becoming a bit lost to the Wolf when you put on its skin. She was
slinking forward, steps careful with a practice pace of a predatory
stalk. Her nostrils were quivering, hackles beginning to lift--
--but
then a sudden pause. She lifted her head and twisted it about to look
in another direction entirely. Ears stood high and eyes were wide,
bottlebrush tail stiff. Then, like a youthful pup full of energy, she
lolled her tongue out of her mouth and tore off running toward a
different cluster of shrubs entirely, tail windmiling excitedly.
THE HUNT!
Matthew
Welcome to Denver.
"Yeah... thanks."
With
nothing to do but stand and watch his warder wheel around reacting to
things he neither can nor cares to hear Matt slings her pack over his
shoulder and crosses his arms over his chest and waits. He has the weary
posture of a father used to watching for his offspring to finish
tearing ass around the schoolyard before getting into the car. Like he's
just waiting for her to get it out of her system.
"So, how secure are we talking, here?"
Javed Anubis-Sight
"Secure
should not be a matter of relativity," he says as he watches Goldie
dive in an opposite direction. "A place is either secure, or it is
not."
And whether it is in relation to that comment or not could
be debated, he then shifts his way up into his breed form, the
Anubis-headed war shape. Some people really don't take being snuck up
on as something to just joke about with. Kind of comes with travelling
the world on your own, you see. He doesn't move to follow Goldie;
instead he stands there, just as calm-not-relaxed as before. Some
people like to be prepared for the worst of situations.
Secure? Yes, but but not impregnable.
Mary
Mary's eyes begin to shine when Goldie darts off and away, but she stays so still.
Still
still still still still. Mary is still. Mary is a ghost of stillness.
Mary can totally hold being still in the grass for a long, long time --
right?
Javed shifts and it's a thing to watch, the transformation
into Crinos, war-form, mightiest-of, the shape of many nightmares, the
Delirium-bringing terror of men and women.
The shine in her eyes
takes on a curious light. Mary doesn't know what it means, the standing
and the shifting, but she suspects it means he is not to be diverted if
he was ever verted (???) in the first place.
This crouch is not as comfortable as Mary thought it was when she first crouched. Her muscle quavers.
Okay.
A little more stillness. Just to see what would happen, understand.
What will happen now? It's a question. Is it a useful one?
[Stamina- can Mary be still for one more round of UM WHAT ME NO?? ultimate question.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Goldie
Though
the Kinsman seemed exhausted but patient with her none the less, and
that was something that might be noted in a dynamic between the two,
Goldie's attention was pulled away from frantically sniffing and
brushing against the shrub she had rushed over to before not by Matt,
but by Javed. In particular, the subtle ripple of energy that Garou
tended to be sensitive to that indicated someone had shifted forms--
never strong enough to track and monitor, really, but just a sense.
Like so many other things spiritual.
Goldie-Wolf jerked her head
to look where the stern-faced man had been standing, now replaced by a
sleek black-furred beast that stood stern like a sentry, staring firmly
in the direction that Goldie totally knew her new friend was curled up
in, not to be fooled by Goldie's antics to throw attention away from
that particular spot.
Oh don't worry, sir, the Goldie-Wolf
reassured Javed, and came trotting past his side to stand a couple feet
in front of him, somewhat but not 100% entirely between him and Mary
with how she'd positioned herself.
This isn't the kind of audience that throws things at the stage. At least, not while you're standing on it.
Matthew
It
could be debated. Matthew might even want to debate the point. But then
the full moon abandons his human skin to take on one that provides
claws and fangs. The kinsman has no way of knowing that this was the
body in which the creature was born and he isn't about to get into a
semantics debate with a nine-foot-tall monster with a head like the
Egyptian god of the fucking underworld.
"Whatever you say, man," he says.
He
pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and checks the time and stays
rooted in place until Goldie finishes barking. With the return of
silence he puts the phone back in his pocket and jerks his thumb back
the way they came. She knows he hates stillness unless he has something
to smoke or drink in front of him. It isn't like he runs five times a
week because he's in danger of gaining weight if he doesn't.
"I'm gonna keep walking. Play nice."
Javed Anubis-Sight
He
frowns as Goldie tries to reassure him with idioms he doesn't
understand, and Matthew turns to walk off and someone is hiding
somewhere in the woods. Nothing about this meeting seems comfortable to
him, yet he remains stoic.
As shocking as it might sound, someone
an Ahroun has only just met telling him not to worry about someone else
trying to sneak around them in a Sept isn't exactly a reassurance. And
as such, he remains silent. Waits. He's good at being patient for
someone so angry.
Matthew, to his credit, does get a look and a nod, to acknowledge his walking.
Mary
Mary
is good, today, at holding her position; is good, right now, at being
as still as a log, a shrub, a tree, a bit of earth, a dead thing, a
dryad. Mary is trouble. Mary is in trouble? Javed with his Devil-dog
ears as black as pitch you expect to see tar bubble out of and of course
he's got all that Rage because the Big-bellied Moon is the angriest and
Mary is watchful.
Matt is gonna keep walking.
Goldie is between the Metis and the Homid.
Mary waits. And waits.
He's
more patient. He's more sure, too. He's more certain of his position
here; Mary, her eyelid twitches, and then she stands up out of the
grass, which she does not brush off. She stays in her girl-skin, her
young-woman-skin, her not-a-silver-blaze-of-glory skin; stays voluptuous
and round with her cheeks red from heat and her make-up not running
because she has good make-up but her blouse askew. Demurely she buttons
it.
Dramatically she clasps her hands, rounds her shoulders, puts
her head down and looks up through her lashes, wilting in a Permission
To Speak Sir fashion.
It's rote and it's ritual.
Goldie
Javed
stared blankly. Matt got uncomfortable with the fact that he'd shifted
and expressed that he was going to keep walking, advised her to play
nice. Goldie gave Javed a few seconds of staring right back at him,
while Mary kept doing a good job of holding-holding-holding....
Finally
and all at once both, Goldie snapped back into her Homid form quick as a
blink of the eye (because that change, the return to Birth, is always
so easy and smooth and right, isn't it?). In an instant the gold-furred
wolf was replaced by a young woman-girl, arguably somewhere at the end
of her teenage years or barely barely tiptoing into her twenties. She
was petite, short, with lean limbs and overall build to boot, with long
sandy colored hair in a ponytail under a cream-colored cap. Her eyes
were still big and brown, and she rolled them in pleading exasperation
at Javed with her hands held out to either side, palms facing forward.
"Oh my gawd,
have you never seen fun before? I mean, really, didn't they play Hide
And Go Seek in your house? Or litter, or whatever? It's just--"
When
Goldie talked her slightly bucked front teeth were more noticeable,
especially since she was so expressive when she did. She was sweeping
an arm back to where Mary had been hiding when the full-figured girl
rose to her feet and adjusted herself. The Silver Fang's sudden
appearance had put a halt on Goldie's train of thought, but it would be a
lie to say that the full impact of the other Ragabash's royal presence
didn't knock the wind from her just a bit as well.
Ooh, look, a
pretty ritual. Goldie looked over at Matt, perhaps met his eye and
widened her gaze in a silent 'Well that's interesting' before looking
back to Mary to see what she was going to do.
Matthew
But
all Goldie gets is the sight of Matt's skinny ass walking back down the
path. Pack still over his shoulder and sunglasses still keeping the
afternoon sun out of his eyes. Once he's gone a few steps he pulls out a
pack of cigarettes but whatever he ends up doing with it becomes part
of the mystery surrounding the man. He goes around a bend and a copse of
trees snarfs him up.
He'll be baked by the time Goldie comes back to the car but that's a story for another time.
Javed Anubis-Sight
There's
a slight flicker in Javed's one good eye, before he shakes his head at
Goldie's exasperated rant. His expression remains as it is, even as it
morphs down into his Homid form once more.
"You will excuse me,
Little Uproar. You are correct in that I do not have the clearest
understanding of such things. I should have been clearer earlier; I am
metis, from the land the humans call Iran. I would imagine that my
version of 'Hide and Seek' was...quite different from what you were used
to."
He nods to her, and to Mary. "My apologies for disturbing
the situation. I should be going back to the Cold Crescent anyway.
Good day."
A little nod, as he turns to depart.
Mary
Permission wasn't granted, precisely, was it? But he's a metis so Mary doesn't stay quiet (sad truths [shameful ones]).
"But
Anubis Sight-rhya," she is meticulously polite in her tone, "Please do
not go away with the idea you disturbed the situation. Hide and Seek is
very fun, but if people don't hide and people don't seek, don't you
think terrible things would happen?"
"I do hope we can have a
conversation in Cold Crescent. I'm so curious about it and those who
faced the Pit. You were one of those, weren't you?"
Her hands are
still clasped; she sneaks a quick sidelong look at Goldie. She does not
pull a face; observe how very virtuous Mary is.
Goldie
There
was no shared glance between the Fianna-- the Kinsman was on his way
back to the car, he'd entertained his Ragabash ward enough by
accompanying her this far. Now that she had Garou to introduce herself
to, he could dust his hands and go back to smoke some pot and steal back
some time to himself, probably listen to music and dick around on his
phone, who knew, whatever he felt like.
That left the three Garou,
and the Full Moon among them shrank back down to a man's body once
more. Still so stoic, so flat and bland like carbonated water left
open, he explained himself.
Mary was graceful and gracious and so
well poised. She pleaded for him to join in the understanding of fun,
and went on to further press for information. To ask about the Pit, to
learn the condition here. This earned her a side-glance from the
doe-eyed Fianna; so the Silver Fang was new to the area too, huh?
But
that, that was just a minor distraction, because something Javed had
said caught Goldie's attention even more. One particular word, one
confession like a flashing red light in an LED panel of white bulbs, had
gotten under her skin and made it crawl enough for her to breathe out
the word:
"Gross."
And her button nose even wrinkled a bit so she could hardly deny that she stated such a reaction aloud.
Javed Anubis-Sight
It's
conceivable that he was going to respond to Mary . Maybe he wasn't.
Either way, he continues walking away after Goldie gives her response,
without any pause. He doesn't rebuke her, doesn't show hostility. It's
his onus to bear and he does so with dignity.
However, his rank also says that he doesn't have to dignify her response.
And he's gone.
Mary
Mary watches Javed until he is gone.
Then
her eyes return to Goldie. She unclasps her hands and her shoulders
straighten, her posture becoming less demure and more casual. Demure
posture is only for certain moments, hm, button-up precise moments, and
Mary is quite buttoned-up believe-it (OR-NOT HERE I COME) sometimes.
"Hey."
"Thanks thanks, so your name is Little Uproar, huh? Mine is Glory's Shadow, Honor's Thorn, and we share a moon."
Little wiggle of fingers.
Goldie
The
Full Moon didn't so much as pause when he heard Goldie's disdain for
what he was. He kept on walking, and the Fianna watched him go with a
particular kind of scorn radiating from eyes and shoulders both until
he, like Matt, was out of her line of sight.
Then there were two.
Mary
turned to look at Goldie, and Goldie did the same. She blinked big
eyes at the other Ragabash, and then her face split into a big wide
smile of greeting and pleasure both. Delighted by the news of her moon
and the little wriggle of fingers.
"Which one do you use more?
Glory's Shadow or Honor's Thorn? Because it's nice to meet you,
whichever you are." She didn't wriggle her fingers back, but she did
pat her pockets down like she was looking for something-- specifically,
her cell phone, which she had left in the pack which Matt was carrying
with him back to the car. "Hmm," she concluded when she realized the
fate of her phone, but it didn't seem to reroute her all that much.
Hands went to hips and her eyes went back to Mary's face.
"You can call me Goldie, though. Hey. How do you like ice cream?"
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