Place : Fury House, Common Area.

Time :It is currently 15:43 Pacific Time on Thu Apr 7 2005.

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.75 and rising, and the relative humidity is 77 percent. The dewpoint is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (10% full).

Common Area(#2409RAJh$)

This is the central hub of the house. From here, you can still see the entrance foyer, as well as the stairway that heads to the second story. Towards the back of the common area is a set of glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. To the east, an arched doorway leads to what apparently serves as a library, office, and workroom, and to the west, an arched doorway leads to what appears to be a kitchen and dining area..
There are several chairs here, simple, elegant, yet functional in their design and intent. The room has a comfortable feel to it, but is a bit ascetic in design. The walls are off-white, the molding dark cherry wood and decorated with acanthus-leaf ornamentation at the corners. A pair of antique spears are hung crossed against each other on one wall, and a wall-relief depicting a scene of Grecian warriors hangs on the other. Above the mantle of the fireplace is a small statue of Artemis, on either side of that, dark metal candlesticks with ivory pillar candles. The entire room is a study in the contrast of light and dark.


At a little over five foot tall and with a slim build, KL is hardly awe-inspiring on first sight. She appears to be around seventeen years old and still carries a teenager's air of disenchantment and irritation.
Her mid-length mousy-brown hair is brushed back out of her eyes and behind her ears. It's not exactly styled, as it appears to have been hacked at without any hint of hairdressing expertise, but it's at least had contact with a brush at some point recently. She would be quite attractive - in particular she has a very cute, upturned, nose - were it not for the sullen and aggressive set of her mouth and the hostility of her gaze. Her hazelnut eyes look out with disappointment and poorly hidden anger, as if the world were a holiday villa that didn't match the travel agent's description. Her skin is oddly pale, and on her right shoulder-blade a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse is visible. Physically, she's well proportioned, and her bare arms show a tight musculature that speaks of regular exercise.
She's got a habit of slouching and of leaning up against any available support. When she forgets to slouch, however, she moves with a surprising degree of grace and compact poise.
She is wearing a faded and beaten up pair of blue jeans that are just a little too large for her, and have holes in the knees, a pair of worn combat boots and a faded red tank top with "And your little doggy too!" emblazoned across the front. The tank top has a badly-repaired tear across the chest, causing the word "little" to be have its second "t" deformed. Similarly, the jeans have a set of unrepaired holes on her left thigh, pale skin showing behind the rents.

It's a cloudy day in St. Claire, and the temperature is hovering indecisively between cold and warm, settling on a muggy ten degrees Celsius. The Fury house is beginning to look a little decrepit, the lawns in drastic need of a cut and much of the house could do with a lick of paint. From within comes the sound of fierce swearing, audible to anyone within 20 yards of the building. A girl's voice, yelling the word "Fuck!" over and over again.

The blue streak of epitaphs is interrupted by a knock on the front door, from a tall, older woman with auburn hair and wistful eyes, who spends the time waiting for the knock to be answered looking around the house and grounds.

The stream of invective cuts off mid word, and there is the sound of shoe on flooring, footsteps getting nearer. The door is opened by a brown-haired teenage girl wearing a red t-shirt and a scruffy pair of jeans. "Yeah?" KL says, peering around the edge of the door. "Can I help you?" Her left hand, visible at the side of the door, has a cut on the palm that's bleeding fairly copiously.

Megan's eyebrows go up in a exaggerated show of mild surprise, given that it is coupled with a faint upturn of the corners of her mouth, before falling back into place, expressing sliding into pleasent bemusement. "Possibly. You're not Helen, so are you Kathryn-Laura? You left a note for me asking me to stop by to see you."

KL looks surprised, her eyebrows rising and her eyes widening. She quickly schools this expression into a more controlled one, and swings the door open wider. "Yes, I'm Kathryn-Laura, but please call me KL. Please, come in." She says, much more quietly and less aggressively than the 'yeah?' of her greeting. Noticing her bloody hand, she shoves it into a pocket. "Can I get you some coffee? or juice? or mi..." her voice trails off. "Or juice. I think the milk is cheese."

Megan's smile widens fractionally at the change in the Ahroun's demeanor. "Juice would be lovely, as long as it's not citrus. Or water would be just fine," she adds, as she trails after the Cliath into the house. KL may or may not notice the slight grimace she gives as she sees the state of the interior, there and gone. "I'm Megan, by the way, now that I'm not sure I'm dealing with someone who is what they're not. Megan Firewatcher, sometimes called Keeps-Her-Patience, Adren Philodox and elder of the Fianna, Alpha of the Sept of the Hidden Walk and of the pack, Resonance, child of Stag." She takes in an audible breath after rattling all that off, then grins again disarmingly. "That's the short, but official, version. So, what's up?"

The Black Fury, still with a hand shoved in a pocket, nods her head in a mini-bow. "Pleased to meet you, Megan-rhya." For some reason, the word comes out sounding slightly unnatural. In fact, there's a forced measuredness to her speech in general. "I am KL Cole. Called Escapes-From-Money, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies, originally from the Sept of the Eternal Circle in Denver." She smiles nervously, and dips her head again, the fore-finger of her free hand rubbing against her thumb. "Um, apple OK? And I wanted for membership of the Sept, and discuss chiminage with you, if you're willing."

Megan tilts her head at KL's full name, then gives a slight grin. "No relation to Brian Cole, are you? Fianna Galliard. No idea where his dad's from, but his mom's out in Boston." A slight pause, to indicate a break in her thoughts, then she adds, "Apple juice is fine, and sure, we can discuss chiminage. Have you tried talking to Helen about it?"

"Please, have a seat." KL says, gesturing at one of the dark wood chairs. "I'll only be a second." She disappears off through the arch into the kitchen, returning maybe thirty seconds later with a glass of apple juice and a mysteriously healed hand - though there are still some blood marks on it. "I don't think so," she says. "It's not an uncommon surname. Helen said to talk to you, when I last saw her. Which was a little while ago."

Megan grimaces noticably this time, maybe its even a scowl, but then schools her expression to a touch annoyed. "Very well, then. What do you have to offer the Sept?"

KL purses her lips, and drops onto a chair with rather more velocity than is probably good for its long-term structural integrity. "That was the question I was dreading," she admits, with a little sigh. "On the one hand, I'm an Ahroun. Charge, rend, rip, tear, chew. But I guess that's just what I'm supposed to do. I have little in the way of useful skills, though if you need an outhouse building I can probably manage it." For some reason, this is accompanied by a rueful smile. "I've got a little money - enough to pay my way, and I dropped some provisions into the safehouse the other day." She pauses, and gives a shrug. "Other than that, it's manual labour and a willingness to work." She looks away, and down, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

Megan's nose wrinkles briefly, before giving KL a rueful half-smile. "It's too bad you're about two months too late coming to me, or I would've put you to work on...something," she corrects herself. "How much money?"

"Um..." KL says, with a wince. "I've got about two hundred bucks in cash. I should...there's something else... My Dad. It's been five years since I've seen him, but up until a year or so ago he was chasing after me. With investigators and stuff. I was here briefly before, you know?" She looks up at Megan. "And his PI appeared. So I...ran. I think he's given up now. But the money's in a trust fund, and while there's some Walker-shit going on to hide where the money goes, if I pull loads of it, it might be a bit obvious. But I could probably lay my hands on a thousand or so without a problem."

"Hmmmm," Megan intones non-committally, then narrows her eyes, studying the Ahroun, as she asks neutrally, "How are you with the Get of Fenris?"

"Which ones?" KL replies. "Emma and I get on great. I've only met Signe in passing. Gunnar didn't seem to notice I existed." There's an affronted note to her voice at this. "But...Brom...we shout at each other a lot." She bites her lip, and her brow furrows, after she mentions him.

Megan sniffs, then says with a measure of distaste. "Signe. I was going to suggest you go seek her out. She has something she needs to do that requires warm bodies. Fighters. Half the cash as a downpayment, and you help her out with that and survive it, and I'll consider you fully in. Fair?"

"Five hundred bucks, and help out with whatever Signe wants to do? And it's a fight? Sure!" KL seems vastly relieved at this, tension dropping out of her body, her arms falling down to hand loosely by her sides. "Thanks, Megan-rhya!"

Megan holds a staying finger up. "The money is just for the next six months, which is about how long Signe has to do her thing. If it's not done by, say, Samhain, we'll need to revisit the deal."

"OK," says the Fury Ahroun, looking somewhat confused by this. "I'll go talk to Signe about her thing. Um... if there's anything else that needs doing in the mean time...I go stir crazy here." She gestures at the corner of a room, where a bundle of white and purple fabric rests, trailing threads onto the floor. "I've been trying to sew."

Megan glances at the fabric, smiling faintly. "Things have been blessedly slow recently. But I heard that Requiem...well, that's a Fenris pack with two Get of Fenris and a Shadow Lord in it," she says with a smirk, "is going after something soon. But I heard Brom joined that pack."

"He did?" KL looks immensely pleased by this. "I'm sure he'll do very well. He's a very good fighter." There's a saccharine sweetness in her voice, but the grin on her face is genuine enough. "I thought he was looking to join HAVOC."

Megan shrugs. "Beats me. I rarely keep up on what any of the Get of Fenris are up to, as long as they stay out of trouble." Color flushes through her too thin cheeks briefly, but then she squares herself. "Anyway. If you ever need to get in touch with me, leaving a note at the Farmhouse is the best way, for now. Any further questions?"

KL's nose twitches as she considers. "I'm not allowed on the Bawn," she waves in the direction of the forest at the end of the Fury garden, "until I've finished my chiminage?" she asks. " I get my ass into gear, would you come to my birthday party? I'm eighteen in a little over a month."

"When I see the money," Megan says with a wry smile, "you can go onto the Bawn--at least for six months. And I would be honored to attend your birthday, if you get your ass into gear," she says, smile widening fractionally.

"One second, Megan-rhya." KL says, springing to her feet. She darts up the stairs, boots thundering on the wooden steps, and returns at the same pace moments later, carrying a small money pouch. "There's two hundred to begin with," she says, proferring the cash. "I'll have the rest by next week."

Megan opens up the pouch to peek at the contents, then grins. "I'll count it later. Get the rest next week, and you can go onto the Bawn then."

KL nods. "Thanks. And thanks for coming round - you could have just left a note and summoned me somewhere." the Ahroun says. "Um... weird question...are there any blacksmiths in the Sept?"

Megan shakes her head. "None that I know of. Blacksmiths, that is. As for the other--I could've, but it's not usually my style. Unless I'm really pissed off." Her grin flashes warmly. "Besides," she says, tone changing, gentling. "It's been a while since I've been here. The original owner of this house, the sister of the Kinfolk who owns it now, was my packmate. She died fighting at my side." Her tone firms a little, as she goes on. "I used to come here frequently, inducted one of our packmates here, even. I wanted to see how the place was doing."

"It needs some doing up." KL admits. "But I've sort of felt a bit reluctant to do it. Though I ought to at least mow the lawn. Kind of...not my place, really. Do you think it would be OK if I painted bits of it, repaired the archery targets, that sort of thing?"

Megan's expression turns uneasy, glancing around, but then seems to come to a decision. "As long as Helen objects, I don't see why not. I *may* still have Di's sister's contact info, to verify she's okay with it."

KL nods. "Thanks. I'll try not to trash the place too much." She folds her arms and looks around. "And tidy, too."

Megan grins, which is a rather warm one when she puts a mind to it. "I'll stop by next week to collect the rest of the money, and also see how you're faring in the clean-up department. I should be heading back home, however. Take care, KL," she says to the ahroun, by way of friendly farewell.

"You too," The Ahroun girl replies, opening the door for the Sept Alpha. "And thanks again!"

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