Place : Fury House, Common Area
Time : It is currently 16:04 Pacific Time on Tue Apr 19 2005.
Moon Phase : Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (72% full).
Weather : Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 61 degrees Fahrenheit (16 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.18 and falling, and the relative humidity is 47 percent. The dewpoint is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)
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.
Penelope | The phone rings.
Kathryn-Laura | It rings for quite a while before it's picked up, and a "Hello?" is bellowed down it in a mid-range female voice.
Penelope | "Hello," says a pleasent voice. "Signe gave me this phone number, I was just checking that someone is home. Will you be there for, say, 15 minutes? I was hoping to stop by."
Kathryn-Laura | "Sure!" says the still over-loud voice. "I'm here all day. Just roll up and knock on the door."
Penelope | "Be there in a tic!" the female voice says, before the line disconnects.
It's actually about twenty minutes before a knock comes to the front door of the house, a bright, rap-rap-rapping sound that is too perky to be business.
It's a surprisingly short amount of time - barely five seconds - before the door opens about a foot, and KL peers around the edge, looking suspiciously out onto the porch. "Yes?" she says in a flat, hostile voice, staring balefully at the person standing there.
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.
In appearance, there seems nothing much remarkable to this young woman outside of, perhaps, her hair color and that she looks fit. Somewhere in the indeterminate age of late teens or early twenties, she is just above average height, around 5'7", with the lean build of someone in top physical condition. A grace in her movement suggests, to the perceptive, that she is comfortable in her skin and well-familiar with how her body works. Her hair is a pale shade of washed out copper, somewhere between strawberry blonde and 'true red', and her eyes a green-brown hazel. Despite the hair-color and the fair complexion which goes with it, those familiar with the phenotype of the Northern European racial phenotypes may perceive a cast to the structure of her plain features that hints that her racial stock may include other branches than the Celtic or Nordic her coloration suggests.
Her attire may say something of her personality, usually appropriate to the weather conditions and comfortably functional without conforming to the latest style.
In the face of Kathryn-Laura's hostility, Penelope's friendly smile may be almost blasphemy. "So are you the one who saw Signe recently, or the other one? Oh, and I'm Penelope," she adds with an offer of her hand to shake.
The door opens a fraction wider, and KL steps clear of it and shakes the proffered hand, her grip firm. Her eyes, however, stay locked on the other women. "I'm the one who met with Signe recently." she says, after a pause that went on a fraction longer than it should. "My name is KL. How do you know Signe?"
A corner of Penelope's mouth twitches, to mar her smile. "It's a long story, and I'm no taleteller. Pleased to meet you KL." Her eyes then look around the house, and her voice drops, a hint of seriousness entering her demeanor, "Is it safe to speak openly here?"
KL switches off her glare, blinks twice, and looks around the open lawn area. "Probably, but you'd be better off coming inside." she says, taking a couple of steps back and letting the door swing open more widely, allowing Penelope enough space to enter. She folds her arms over her chest, and studies the other women - this time with more curiosity and less open hostility.
Penelope slips in after the Ahroun, grinning a, "Thanks," until the door is closed. She takes a quick visual peek around, then looks back to the shorter woman. "I figure I'm taking less of a chance than you probably would feel you are, some random stranger off the street claiming to know Signe, so--Penelope Karras. You may call me Night's Daughter. Fostern Ragabash, and a Sister. I hail from the Sept of the Hand of Gaia," she says, naming the rather famous, Black Fury Caern in upstate New York. "I was passing through and knew about the Sept here, and wanted to, at the very least, pay my respects while I recovered from my journey."
"Oh. Cool!" KL says, frosty air dissipating instantly as Penelope introduces herself. She kicks the door closed with her right boot, before turning to face her. "I'm KL Cole, sometimes called Escapes-From-Money, Cliath Ahroun. Pleased to meet you! Welcome to St. Claire." There's a pause, and the Ahroun's expression clouds slightly. "So, what can I do for you, Penelope-rhya?" The honorific sounds strangely forced, as if she hasn't said it for a long time. "Do you need somewhere to stay? Helen, who's the Elder, isn't about at the moment, but I'm sure it would be OK for you to stay here."
Penelope's nose wrinkles, and she mutters, "I'm *still* not used to that. Please," she says in a more normal voice, "Just Penelope. When I hear the honorific sound, it makes me look around for my elders. Especially...nevermind," she says, interrupting herself with a sheepish grin. "Thank you. I've been sleeping in the woods south of that little town...Kent Crossing, I think it's called, in some territory that doesn't smell claimed. If you really think it'd be okay to stay here, I would appreciate that. But, really. I just wanted to let the Sisters know I was here for a little while longer, at least, and see if there's anything I can help out with, while I am."
KL grins and unfolds her arms. "I'm sure it will be cool for you to stay here. If it turns out not to be, get Helen to take it out on me." She takes a couple of steps deeper into the house, and then turns and looks back over her shoulder. "Come in! Sit down! Do you want a drink? We've got..." There's a very long pause, as KL visibly works down the list of what's not on the menu. "Water." she says, eventually. "Basically, we've got water. Do you want some?"
"Let's see, I'll have...water," Penelope chooses after a dramatic pause, smiling before finding a seat where indicated. "Helen, huh? That's the name of my sister. *Real* sister," she clarifies. "But also Sister. Are there any more, or is it just the two of you?"
"Just the two of us." KL says, before dissappearing into the kitchen area, to return a couple of moments later with two glasses of water. "Oh, and there's a women called Anji - she's kinfolk - who's just arrived. I was helping her move into her apartment in the city the other day. Other than that, we're a bit understaffed here." KL hands Penelope one of the glasses before turning a chair around the wrong way and sitting over it like a cowboy astride a horse, her right forearm resting on the top of the back of the chair, glass held loosely in her hand.
Penelope pushes back to her feet, moving around the room to examine the contents curiously as she speaks, glass held absently in her hand. "Understaffed?" she asks, fastening on the word KL used as she glances to the Ahroun.
"Well, yeah. There's me, and I'm not even properly part of this Sept yet, and there's Helen, and she's not been around very much." KL says, with an airy wave of her glass. "And there are an awful lot of Get of Fenris here. And Signe and Emma are great, and Gunnar's OK too, but there are some others," She sniffs dismissively, "who are a bit regressive. So, yeah, understaffed. Could do with more Sisters. I mean, a theurge would be really useful, as rites involving one person who doesn't know what they're doing, really, don't work very well."
Penelope's nose wrinkles pertly as she meanders around the perimeter of the room. "There are *more* Get of Fenris than three? And only the two of you? That sucks," she summarizes. "How do you live with it?"
KL starts counting on her fingers, murmuring names under her breath. "Um...There are five, I think. And there's a cub who's currently with the Glasswalkers but has a Get of Fenris past life, so who knows where he'll end up." She shrugs. "The female ones really are OK. It seems likely I might even end up in a pack with them. So, I guess, I live with it the best I can. I get along the same with most anyone, anyway."
Penelope suddenly sniffs, and grins. "The teachers failed you, huh? Not to properly instill in you about how they're a tribe of male chauvanists who oppress woman, including *their* women, and therefore are against everything we believe in?"
The smile on KL's face snaps off like someone had flicked a switch. "_They_" she says, half-rising from her chair, "may well be a bunch of chauvinists as a tribe, and fucking Brom certainly is a fucking lump of testosterone-addled cat shit, but that doesn't mean that every single one of them is without fucking value and they have at least been fucking _there_ for me since I pitched up back here with fuck all to offer apart from a bad attitude and some of my fucking father's money." She steps clear of the chair, pushing the back away from her, causing it to topple and fall to the floor with a crash. The Ahroun doesn't move to pick it up, but instead re-folds her arms, her fingers digging into her flesh as she hugs herself, staring daggers at the fostern ragabash.
Penelope barely stifles a laugh, the sound turning into a snort as she grins and looks at the downed furniture. "Well. I guess you showed that chair there who's boss. Just checking." She raises her index finger to the air, the rest of the fingers curled down to the palm, as she makes an imaginary mark onto an imaginary vertical surface. "Teachers failed to properly instill in you that particular tradition. Check."
KL flicks a momentary glance at the chair, before returning her gaze to Penelope. She lets out a low exhalation of air, almost a hiss, and then breathes in deeply. Her cheeks redden, and she bites her bottom lip, her fingers still pressing into the flesh of her upper arms. She doesn't say anything, though.
Penelope continues to look amused at KL's discomfiture, finally saying in a light tone, with a hint, nonetheless, soothing, "Relax, Xena. I'm a Questioner, not a Keeper. Or has it been that long since you've had a Ragabash around?"
This gets a snort from KL, and she looks away, relaxing her pose slightly. "It's that long since I've had a ragabash have a go at me." she admits, eventually. "I guess I deserved that?" she says, looking down at the floor, before stepping to the chair and righting it. "Damn. I'm going to have to polish that mark out." She points at a small graze in the wood of the chair.
Penelope smiles, then lifts her chin. "I'll buy the polish--and some dinner--to make it up to you. It'll have to be takeout, though. Least I can do for the offer to put me up for the duration."
KL laughs. "OK. But I should warn you - I tend to go running after takeout in atonement, and if you eat it too I'm going to insist on you joining me." She smiles widely, and brushes her hair back behind her right ear. "I mean, unless you'd really rather not?"
Penelope shakes her head. "I would enjoy breaking bread with you," she says with a smile. "I'll just need to see if I can find someplace in Kent Crossing that *does* takeout. I'll be back in a few?" she asks, making towards the door.
"Cool, I'll still be here." KL says. "I might even manage a few clean plates."